#UGLY HASTILY MADE GIFS BUT WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FOR ME

[strawwritesfic]

Bilbo Baggins x Female!Hobbit!Reader: Save

Summary: The beginning of your own story might be worth writing down someday as well.

Rating/Tags: All (Post-Hobbit; pre-Fellowship of the Ring; The Green Dragon; Drinking; Alcohol; Server!Reader; family problems; inheritance problems; meet cute)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Save

Any Hobbit worth their salt could recite upon command any number of stories about far-off lands and daring adventures. Children might shudder in their beds thinking of shadowy forests filled with creeping spiders; even adults could blanch over news of wolves spotted near Buckland. But that was all such tales were in the end: Distant news and exciting fiction, meant to entertain and never to touch its listeners. Nothing could ever really involve the Shire. The people of Hobbiton were free to continue their vicarious quests–until one day such a quest did involve the Shire.

“I already told you, Otho, I don’t have a mountain of gold hidden away to give to you. I’m certain that if I did, there would be nothing left after I was forced to buy back my home and all my possessions.”

You looked up from your work behind the counter to see one Bilbo Baggins sitting at a table across the room. He had a mug of ale clutched in one hand and a look of polite distaste on his face. 

Upon recognizing his drinking companions, you couldn’t say you blamed him for looking like that. Otho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins were not your favorite customers when they were minding their own business. Throw in harassing other patrons, and you couldn’t help but shoot them an ugly look of your own behind their backs.

Normally, you would have tried to throw them out. Now that you were in serious competition with your younger brother over the inheritance of the inn, however, you decided it would be better not to make a scene. "A patron is a patron, so long as they’ve got gold to spend," as your father had reminded you since you’d started working at the Green Dragon in your tweens. Apparently your brother had no trouble remembering this, though you suspected his good memory was because he didn’t spend much of his time on the clock doing any work, not because he lacked any hint of your admirable temper.

“[Name], quit lollygagging. Table Eight wanted supper fifteen minutes ago,” your father called over the usual evening hubbub. 

His watchful eye prevented you from eavesdropping further on Bilbo and his guests, so you flashed your haggard father a grin, picked up a waiting tray of food, and dove back into the throng.

The Green Dragon had been owned by your family since it had been built several generations ago. Sometimes you got the feeling your father would have gladly given up five square meals a day to be rid of the responsibility of running the place. Not so you. Working at the inn made you come alive more than any other place in the whole of the Shire. You had been hanging around it since you were old enough to follow your father to work as a youth and working there since you were bold enough to convince him to give you a job. By necessity, you knew every nook and cranny, every regular’s name, and every story ever told by the grand stone fireplace.

Except, that was, for Bilbo’s story. Even knowing that the mere sight of Otho and Lobelia would anger you, you sneaked another peek over at their table as you set the food down on another surrounded by ravenous tweens. Sure enough, the trio was still there. Bilbo’s polite façade appeared to be fading quickly as he listened to the two of them rant.

“[Name],” whined one of the tween boys, “you’re in the way.”

You hastily removed your hand before any of them could mistake it for part of their meal. Your constantly-hungry youth wasn’t so far behind you that you had forgotten what it felt like.

“Make sure to pay before you leave this time. Don’t want me to have to talk to your parents again, do you?” you asked.

None of them replied. 

With a deep breath and a roll of your eyes, you turned away. Before you lay a buzzing dining hall. Hobbits laughed and ate and drank in seemingly every inch of the building. It warmed your heart to see so many happy people enjoying your family’s business. All except for Bilbo, of course, who had dismissed faking politeness entirely and now stared grumpily into the space about his relatives’ heads as they prattled on about whatever it was they had a bone to pick about that night.

Before you could even attempt to interrupt the conversation, your father caught your eye and motioned impatiently at the growing assortment of food and drink waiting to be delivered. You picked your way toward him, progress hindered by the many customers that stopped you to say hello. The conversation at Bilbo’s table had grown quite lively by the time you arrived at the bar to pick up another order.

Truth be told, Bilbo’s fascinating disappearance and reappearance were not the only things about him that kept you looking at him. Neither were his rumored riches; you planned to take over the Dragon and raise your own small fortune, after all. Bilbo had, in fact, always interested you. He had had his own schedule before he’d left the Shire, coming in once a week to drink and listen to the same old stories you did day after day. Always polite, that Bilbo, if admittedly not forcibly friendly like most of the others. You had never had to throw him out for poor behavior, at any rate.

That night was the first night he’d been back to the inn after all his time away. You’d been dying to talk to him since the minute you saw him walk through the door. Between your job and the Sackville-Bagginses, you hadn’t had a chance.

Then an idea occurred to you–a wonderful, terrible, perfect idea. Before any of your fellow workers could guess that you were up to something, you filled your tray with the waiting glasses of ale. Your plan might not have had the best timing, considering the dinner rush and how flustered your father had already become, but he would have to do without you. You were only one Hobbit, and if your father truly believed passing the Green Dragon onto your brother (who was, as usual, suspiciously absent that evening), then what good was your working your fingers to the bone to please customers?

You turned and marched purposely toward the table at which Bilbo, Lobelia, and Otho sat. As you drew nearer, you could understand why Bilbo looked as pained as he did.

“As far as I’m concerned, you forfeited your right to Bag End when you left without saying a word and without electing an heir. The hole is ours,” Otho was saying.

“Is it,” said Bilbo.

Lobelia gave him a very nasty, almost un-hobbotish sneer. “You clearly aren’t right in the head anymore. Dragons? Dwarves? Why don’t you just admit you got into some messy business with that Gandalf fellow and step aside for Otho to be head of the family?”

“Difficult to do when I’m not at all mad, my dear Lobelia. For why should you think I had gold to spare if I never had my grand adventure?”

“You’re a fool,” she said, “a fool and perhaps even a criminal. We could go over your head, Bilbo. Mark my words.”

“Consider them marked. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“We aren’t done here,” Otho growled, getting up to follow Bilbo away from the table.

Oh, yes you are, you thought. 

Just as Otho reached over to pull Bilbo back into his seat, you arrived along with half the dining hall’s drinks. Otho standing up actually provided you with the perfect opportunity. All you had to do was angle your feet just right, and–

Lobelia’s scream told you that you had succeeded. Your staged trip and fall managed to tip all the ale on your tray so that it spilled over the Sackville-Baggginses heads. There they sat, dripping in abject shock, as Bilbo stood staring on in astonishment.

“Oh no!” you squealed dramatically. “Did I do that? I’m ever so sorry. I’m such a klutz!”

With a lurch toward Lobelia, you made to press a towel to her sopping hair. She flinched away before turning the full brunt of her wrath on you.

“You-You-You,” she said. Apparently, your act had rendered her unable to form complete sentences. 

This unforeseen bonus didn’t last long; before you could so much as attempt to offer a fake apology, Otho got in your face: “I’ll have your job for this, girl,” he said, and any desire to apologize, falsely or otherwise, vanished. 

You hooked a thumb over your shoulder toward where you’d last seen your father running around like a chicken with his head cut off. “Boss is that way.”

The two left without more than several glares in your direction. You watched only long enough to see your father shoot you a knowing, aggrieved sort of look when the Sackville-Bagginses approached him. 

Shrugging, you turned away. Well, it was difficult to feel sorry for him. If he really wanted a supper rush without incident, he really ought to have forced your brother to show up for his shifts every once and awhile, especially if you were expected to give up your inheritance without a fight.

All the same, you knew better than to leave a mess behind. You began to pick up the (thankfully unbroken) glasses littering the table and were almost finished by the time Bilbo spoke:

“Thank you.”

You had assumed he had taken the opportunity to escape your inn entirely, actually. His voice surprised you, and even more so that he was standing exactly where you’d left him. 

“You don’t need to thank me for being clumsy,” you answered, then smiled mischievously at his blank expression. “It looked like you could use a rescue. Those two shouldn’t bother you again tonight.”

“Thank you,” he said with more feeling.

“It’s your first time back since your adventure. Wouldn’t want you spooked off forever.”

Much to your confusion, Bilbo hesitated before he replied. His eyes slid toward the door and back to you, and then he took a wide step backward. “Right,” he said. “All the same, I think I had better get going.”

As you looked on, he began to shuffle toward the front door. You realized with a jolt exactly what he thought: Bilbo believed you, too, were after his gold. He didn’t exactly look less nervous when you followed after him either.

“That’s a shame,” you said. “I really was hoping to hear your story.”

That got him to pause. “You…were?”

“Sure. Dwarves and dragons and spiders and elves. Sounds better than half of the stories the rest of them have been telling all week. I'm getting a little tired of the time the creek froze over and let the wolves in, personally. ”

“Mine is a rather exciting tale,” Bilbo confessed, then seemed to decide you weren’t so frightening that he couldn’t size you up. “And you are?” 

“[Name]. My dad owns the place.”

At that, a look of slight disappointment crossed his face. You didn’t understand it, not until he went on: “Then I suppose you wouldn’t be able to join me at my hole for a cup of coffee and a chat? I find myself wanting a quieter atmosphere, but I could do with some company still.”

The words no, not tonight were right on your lips. You couldn’t just abandon the inn, or your father for that matter. 

But on second thought, why couldn’t you? Really, your brother ought to have been there by now to take over, and there were other servers, too, picking their slow ways from table to table. Besides, when was the last time you’d been given time off, or even a break for that matter?

“You know what?” you said. “I’d love to.”

“Delightful!” cried Bilbo, and he held out his arm. 

It took you less than half a second to place your tray on top of one of the other server’s trays as she passed by. She gave you a wild-eyed, panicked looked, but you did not explain. 

You’d hear all about your lack of responsibility in the morning once your father discovered you had slipped away. For the time being, you were just like any other Hobbit. Who cared about work, the inheritance, or the inn when there was such a fine story to hear and such a fine Hobbit to tell it? Even as you thought about the lecture you were in for, you couldn't find yourself regretting your decision. 

[not-bcring]

It was something Gundham never thought he would get to experience, waking up next to someone he could say he loved on a daily basis, so used to fleeting flings or simply waking up alone. He found that he liked sleep more when sharing it with another, the comfort of another person and soothing warmth that came from another body lulling him in ways he never thought possible. Waking up was still difficult, but now it stemmed from wanting to cuddle just a moment longer instead of trying to drag as much sleep as he could out of any given morning.

Gundham couldn't help but smile now as he eyed Kazuichi from across the room, the breeder just having pulled himself out of bed to sit at it's edge, still undressed with his hair mussed and face sporting a bit of scruff as he took in his equally disheveled boyfriend. Rising from the bed with first a stretch and a tried huff, Gundham followed Kazuichi as he made his way into the bathroom, pulling the hairbrush from his lover's hand as he placed a kiss to his crown. "Allow me to assist you, love. I fear this mess will never be tamed otherwise." A playful jab as careful fingers unwound the mechanic's small braid with his free hand, the digits then carding through the pink locks to lessen the snarls for the brush. "Did you sleep well?" //wait i thought of something cute too,,,,,,,

-  ✩   「 @from-across-the-stars 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」   Kazuichi didn’t ever think he’d enjoy waking up—

Internally wincing at how unintentionally-morbid that observation sounds, he tries again. He didn’t think waking up would be… something to look forward to. Better, but still pretty weird if he dwells on the wording. If only because opening his eyes means being greeted with the sight of Gundham beside him. Sometimes that isn’t the case, whenever the breeder’s work demands him to rise earlier. But Kaz still sees the indent of where Gundham USED to be. Sees himself surrounded by his boyfriend’s possessions. His scent lingering on the shirt Kaz stole to wear to bed. Even when Gundham isn’t there, he’s still there…

It’s comforting. 

Stretching with a whine, Kaz feels his back pop in a way that both offers relief and startles him. Yelping despite not being injured, nerves quickly settle with a soft exhale and a hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Hardly a graceful riser, Kazuichi’s demeanor has notably grown sluggish since sharing Gundham’s bed. Normally one to rush about in the morning, as if expecting to be punished for being late to the act of simply EXISTING, that habit had been broken thanks to his reluctance to leave Gundham’s arms. True, there’s still plenty to do in the day. And that feeling of wasting time does occasionally rear it’s ugly head… but if laying about is wasteful, there’s no one else he’d rather waste that time with.

Going to the bathroom on autopilot, he doesn’t even notice Gundham is behind him until the hairbrush is taken from his hand. Blinking back his surprise, he emits a soft laugh at the kiss to his head, the mechanic in a more-relaxed state than anyone has witnessed from him. Or anyone else ever will.  ❝  Hey— what you call a mess, I call style…  ❞  He playfully retorts, offering no resistance as Gundham’s fingers card through his tangled hair. Leaning INTO the touch for a moment before letting Gundham go back to tending to his knots, eyes shut with a pleased hum, Kaz still trying to talk shit through the contented sound,  ❝  I could walk outta this room right now and be good to go…  ❞  Says the man who always hides his ‘ stylish ’ hair underneath a beanie.

Looking at Gundham in the mirror, cheeks flush with pink at the domestic sight reflected. His boyfriend brushing his hair, both of them still draped in the cozy dishevel of sleep. Smiling far more dorkily than he’d like, Kaz doesn’t even notice his lovestruck expression, too focused on the other man.  ❝  … Huh?  ❞  Missing the question at first, color in his face grows, Kaz hastily answering through an embarrassed laugh,  ❝  O-Oh, yeah— Heh, I slept pretty good.  ❞  Slept pretty damn great.

❝  Could have had a few more hours though.  ❞  He adds, stifling another yawn before flashing a playful grin at Gundham,  ❝ You don’t exactly make it easy to get outta bed, y’know.  ❞     「 ☆ 」

[gay-dorito-dust]

Vox Machina; the mini moments

“I could kill you if I wanted.” The bandit uttered, having had successfully cornered you off from the rest of Vox Machina thanks to a well timed, out of the blue ambush. His dagger was dangerously close to your throat, in an cliche attempt to strike fear you presumed from how confident this ugly fuck looked as he huffed his rancid breath into your face that made you want to dry heave like a cat; instead of showing your disgust you decided to smirk smugly and lean forward to his face so the sharp blade was just barely skimming the surface of your skin.

“Then why haven’t you? Pussy much?” The bandit sneered at your snarky remark but you weren’t phased as you only continued provoking him, “besides another human could kill me, a dog with rabies could kill, Fuck! A dedicated duck could fucking kill me! Hate to break it to ya but you ain’t special.” That seemed to piss him off more as he roared,“YOU BITCH!” As he was just about to cut your throat open, an arrow had imbedded itself in his chest causing him to scream in pain, followed by two more arrows within his shoulders that made him drop his dagger that you were quick to pick up and slit his throat, silencing his screams.

“You know in combat there’s usually not this much talking.” Vex scolded as she fired two more arrows that found their home in the chests of two more bandits. “It was a distraction tactic! I was buying you guys enough time to pull a surprise attack!” you grunted say you stabbed, slit and dismembered the ones that tried to get the better of either of you till you were standing side by side with the half elf. “No, you didn’t.” Vex said matter of factly, “your right I didn’t.” You quickly admitted before running off to help aid Percy while Vex unsuccessfully tried to fight the smile on her face as she watched your backside a second longer then usual.

You, Percy and Vax stood over the corpse of a mercenary, in an alleyway that lead to the back entrance of a local tavern, as he bled out onto the cobblestone. “Did you really have to stab him?” Percy asked you, exasperated. He, Vax and you were given the simplest of tasks of going into the market square and gather some things Keyleth had requested on the small sheet of paper, tucked away in the depths of Percy’s coat pocket. A menial task didn’t require any negative attention to be put on them for once. Vax had stayed with him the entire time whilst you had wandered off elsewhere, bored out of your mind obviously, until a scream came from the alleyway, putting himself and Vax on edge; their minds believing that something terrible must’ve happened to you as their attention was elsewhere that they rushed into the alleyway looking for a fight only to end up where you were now. Percy knew it would be too good to be true to have a normal day out from the stuffy keep.

“You weren’t there! You didn’t hear what the fucker said to me!” You exclaimed loudly while subtly utilising Vaxs’ cloak to clean the blood off of your dagger then hastily shoving it in it’s sheath on your side, shooting the half elf a innocent smile when he cast his gaze upon you, brow raised in suspicion. “What did he say y/n? Enlighten me.” Percy sighed, pinching the skin of his brow with regret as Vax awaited patiently, arms across his chest as he smirked at Percy’s distraught. He thrived on the chaos as much as the next guy. “What’re you going to do? Stab me?” Vax could see the disbelief in Percy’s eyes clear as day as his brows were now skimming his hairline that he had to cover his mouth with his hand as he attempted to snickered quietly. “So you took that as a challenge?!” Percy cried as he stared at you as though you’ve grown a second head, still trying to grasp at how utterly baffling you could be when provoked that he sometimes wonders how you’ve survived this far.

“To me he came off as ‘I’m not a masochist, I’m just testing how much punishment my body can withstand.’ Fucker was asking for it. Disagree with me all you like.” You shrugged nonchalantly, “now help me prop the body against this wall so it seems like he just passed out.” “No!” Percy cried before checking if anyone heard and or saw the three of you. “What about the bloodstain.” Vax inquired as he helped you drag the body against the nearby wall, covering the stab wound with their torn and tattered cloak. “Grape juice.” You suggested, “now hurry up I wanna get back to the keep as soon as possible, It’s Scanlans time to cook and he makes a mean sandwich.”

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part two

summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: swearing, sex toys, masturbation, sexual/suggestive themes, and yenno, mathew :(

↳ genre: angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+ minors dni*

↳ length: series; part one, part two (5.9k), part three, part four, part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: listened to a lot of beyoncé for this one !!

note: part two’s here!! and i know it’s late for an update but i just wanna thank everyone for commenting on the first part 🥺 really glad that you guys liked it. reading your tags are everything to me it means a lot! happy reading <3 (gif used: mine)

You come out of your bedroom dressed and ready for work. Your handbag was slung over the depth of your forearm as you headed for the kitchen and the other, scrolling past emails on your phone, admittedly bracing yourself for the mess you know will eventually greet you.

To your surprise, what you see instead were Mat Barzal’s guns rippling through the jet black sweater he had worn last night. A memory that sent your mind to less than eight hours ago, before eventually landing on what happened shortly when the two of you had woken up.

“Thank god you haven’t burnt the house down.” you kid, placing your handbag atop the island.

Mat spares you a quick glance, rolling his eyes whilst he lets you watch him whisk some eggs for breakfast.

“Like it?” he cocks, pertaining to how your eyes were pinned hard on his biceps that he was, for the most part, effortlessly sporting. It’s true, though. He didn’t need to flex because it was just there.

“Coffee or Juice?” he asks, as the kind friend and roommate that he is. 

Anthony, as surprising as it was, takes incredibly long showers. If people hadn’t known him well, they’d easily think he’s abusing himself there. But you’ve got to admit that not having him around felt nice for you didn’t have to feel so seen with Mathew.

‘Course, there’s nothing more, like a fix-in on the side, to your set up. You just appreciate the feeling of not having to lie to Beau about all the ugly concealed underneath all the innocent gazes you and Mathew exchange.

“Coffee.” you answer shortly, realizing that you forgot the material you need for today’s meeting.

“Where are you going?” Mat asks when he catches you receding out into the hallway. You didn’t bother looking back, “Forgot something!”

He gets back to whisking the eggs when a chime comes off his phone. He takes it from the counter, placed just before the plates he left to dry last night, absent-mindedly putting the bowl he was holding onto the island, toppling over the green juice he has prepared for himself. 

“Shit.” he curses as soon as he sees it for it was already spilling all over the place, making the mess you’ve been secretly anticipating the moment Mathew said he’d make breakfast.

Panicking at how you’d see he’s successfully screwed such a no-brainer task, Mat grabs the first thing he sees on the marbled surface and uses it to clean the mess he’d made.

“Huh.” he muses to himself, realizing that the silk fabric didn’t do much in helping him clean up. He tosses it over the sink carelessly and grabs a few napkin rolls from one of the cupboards. 

So much for making an effort to feed Anthony Beauvillier. 

“Now, that was fast.” you say with a smirk once you’ve entered the kitchen, startling Mathew as he continued cleaning up after his mess. 

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” he sarcastically laughs, discarding the paper towels onto the sink along with the used ones. 

Thankfully, your stuff was at the other side of the island so it was very much safe from all the chaos happening at the other end of the marbled surface. However, your laugh dies down the second you realize that your handkerchief was no longer where you’ve last put it.

“Hey,” you call on Mathew, “What’s up?”

“Have you seen my handkerchief? I know I left it somewhere.” you anxiously ask, eyeing every corner of the room hoping to see Nana’s handkerchief, the one she gave to you on your 18th birthday.

“What does it look like?” Mat asks, now holding a pan in his hand as he prepares breakfast.

You proceeded to describe your grandma’s handkerchief in the most specific and perhaps excruciating detail Mathew has ever heard someone talk about something as mind-numbing as a handkerchief.

Despite that, Mat lights up the moment it hits him, not realizing the bigger mess he’s about to walk into. He rejoices at how he knew exactly what you were looking for, “Oh! You mean this?” 

With clueless eyes, you watch Mat go over the sink after he wipes his hands dry, fishing out an all too familiar fabric from the sink. Once your eyes land onto the cream colored silk handkerchief, with details carefully sewn by hand, drenching in what seems to be Mat’s morning drink, your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. 

“What did you do??” The sudden rise in your voice startles an unsuspecting Mathew. You eagerly went over to his side and hastily snatched the smooth fabric off his hands, “It’s ruined!”

“What? I didn’t know it was yours!” Mat’s eyes are wild with confusion. Puzzled at how you were so fixated on the useless fabric. It didn’t help him anyway. There’s nothing much left to do but to throw it. It’s garbage. 

“You ruined it!” you lash out, letting Mat get eaten up by the sudden anger bubbling inside your guts but he was rather quick in defending himself, “I didn’t know it was yours since I grabbed the first thing I could find. Why are you getting upset over a shit-ass handkerchief?” 

Your mouth falls and you shake your head, finding his defensiveness quite appalling. “You’re an ass.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was yours.” he explains, “Come on, it’s just a stupid handkerchief I’ll just buy you a new one.” he tries to laugh the tension off, sporting his signature grin.

Mat take shots of the stunned expression on your face, “Stupid?” you repeat what he said, your eyes already starting to sting with tears. Clearly, you were far too overwhelmed to even acknowledge Mathew’s half-assed apology.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” your words bite and that’s when things took a turn for the worse. 

“I said I was fucking sorry! What the hell do you want from me? Shit a fucking hanky?” he rans a hand through his hair, “Do you realize how childish you’re being right now?”

Outraged, and perhaps disappointed by how he was too high up his horse, your voice takes up a higher tone, entering what seems to be an early screaming match between you and Mathew.

“Could you just–” you breathe, “for one second– stop being so goddamn stupid and get over yourself!?” were words that welcomed Anthony the moment he stepped into the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist, a grin on his face visible as he poured himself a glass of water, inviting himself in the screaming match you and Mathew have exclusively put forth for him.

“Stupid is not when you’ve already apologized a hundred times! Stupid is being such a crybaby and a bitch about it!” Mathew retorts, gaining his better end of the argument.

“What a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Anthony chimes in, a hand resting on his chin, adoring his two best friends upon getting used to the best worst duo he’s ever known in his life. 

“Shut up, Beau.” you say, throwing him a glare.

“Well, beautiful is definitely not in Y/N’s dictionary.” Mathew chides with a smirk, enough to earn himself a scoff from you. 

“You know what? I don’t have the time for this bullshit.” you cuss, finally retreating, your already heavy heart taking a better hold on your thoughts, blocking your ability to even come up with a clever remark to come back at Mathew.

You throw the delicate, yet already ruined piece of fabric towards his way as hard as you could before marching out of the kitchen and head off for work.

“Fucking unbelievable.” Mathew curses under his breath once he catches the silk linen, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the morning task at hand. 

You were fucking unbelievable.

Once the boys were left alone, Tito raises a brow, briefly looking back after your footsteps, “What happened here, anyway?” he asks, having realized what must’ve caused such a heated argument so early in the morning. 

“I used this handkerchief to wipe the whole thing off and she just went ape shit! I mean–” Anthony cuts Mathew the moment he recognizes the thin cloth he was holding.

“Woah, woah. Wait a minute, you used this?” he muses, stressing on the possibility of what might have been Mathew’s biggest mistake of the day, his eyes darting between him and the fabric.

With furrowed brows, admittedly weirded by how Anthony reacted almost the same way you did a while ago. “It’s just a handkerchief, man. I can go buy her a bunch if that’s what she wants.” he says defensively.

Anthony shakes his head wildly, his irises now dilated as he examined the stain already sitting on the material. “No no. Oh god no.” He says, snatching Mathew’s phone from the counter to google quick remedies that might remove the said stain from the already ruined cloth. 

“What do you mean no? You guys spend way too much time together, you’re beginning to be as weird as her.” He scoffs, sipping on a glass of water. 

“No, you dumbass. This was her grandma’s!” Anthony says, eyes fixated on the delicate handkerchief. Remembering how you’d told him how long it has been in your family that having Nana give it to you after all the years you’ve spent admiring it from afar meant so much to you than anything anyone could have possibly given you.

“So?” Mat casually replies, closing his arms to his chest before adding, “Is she dead or something? Didn’t you guys visit her for the Holidays?” 

“What?? Why would you even say that?– You’re such a jerk.” Tito shakes his head, appalled by how Mathew easily shrugged the matter off when he knew full well how sentimental he himself could be.

“Well, how am I supposed to know?? If that thing’s so important I wouldn’t leave it on top of some random shit lying around!” He counters, defending himself for reaching for the nearest cloth he could find when he did whatever he does best when he’s in the kitchen.

Tito clicks his tongue and looks at Mathew exasperatedly, “Tell me, where did you find this exactly?”, to which Mathew only answered with a quiet voice, “It may or may not have been placed on top of her purse…” he avoids Tito’s gaze, finally catching on how he was the one in the wrong. 

“See? Jerk. Now, go figure out how you’ll take the stain off.” Anthony demands, his voice embraced by a definitive tone. One that made Mathew know he wouldn’t be able to persuade him into letting this go. 

Tito takes one good look at Mat’s catastrophic attempt to feed the house, striding his way out of the kitchen, “And make sure you apologize!” he adds, footsteps receding into the hallway, leaving Mathew scratching the back of his head out of guilt and frustration.

You have spent the following days either avoiding Mathew or ignoring his existence completely. Anthony talked to you the night that incident happened and assured you that he would do his best to have it fixed. You didn’t want to bother him nor take time off his already busy schedule, but you were just so bummed to even say a word.

That night, you spent the entire evening in your room, facetiming your mother, saying how much you’re missing home. You can’t bring yourself to tell her about the handkerchief. For some people, and that people being Mathew, it might’ve been just some silly thing but Tito knew how much that small piece of cloth meant to you. 

Mathew, on the one hand, was for sure guilty to his bones. He didn’t see you that night nor the nights that followed. He didn’t think much of it but when he found himself searching for that same handkerchief in the hopes of replacing it only to find out that it was nowhere to be found in the market, was when he did realize that ruining the one thing that held you closer to home was the last push your non-existent relationship with him had to have for you to finally lose any ounce of amour nor civility you once had for him. 

Anthony wasn’t a stranger for said changes either. He began waking up to a still apartment enveloped by a wall you profusely built between you and Mathew. You even unknowingly shut Tito out in the process as well. It was like you were grieving. Like, it was a whole different kind of heartbreak he knew he can’t get you out of that easily. 

You tried making it up for your best friend of course. Knowing that you haven’t been yourself since that day. You thought about the possibility of having taken the whole thing too seriously that you might’ve overreacted a bit. Nonetheless, no matter how much you try to push it in the back of your head, Mathew’s mere presence began irking you in ways it never did back when you used to enjoy the bickering you exchange with him, especially in bed.

“Thanks for dinner, belle.” Anthony politely says, earning a smile from you so effortlessly upon hearing the pet name he uses for you. Something Mat only shrugged off, trying to piece out the same gratitude, “Thanks, y/n.” he genuinely adds. But as expected, he had nothing.

You pick up all the empty plates, including Mathew’s, who was sitting in front of you while Anthony sat at the end of the table. Tito hurriedly wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes the plate from you, “Let me help you with that.” he says with the same kind eyes that has never failed to win you over. 

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” you shortly answer, leading the way towards the kitchen, leaving one Mathew Barzal feeling small and alone at the dining table. 

𖥸

If there was one thing you’d gladly acknowledge after all the years of watching people kiss Mathew’s ass was that he was is really good. He’s fast and he can do unimaginable damage on the ice. There’s no denying that he deserves to be the face of the New York Islanders. But we know you don’t care about any of that. The only thing you care about was how unbelievably good he is at everything he does that not even you or your pink rubber toy could suffice. 

He was just that damn good. 

As your eyes shut whilst you mount your pleasures on your own, biting your lips to choke in your own moans, Mathew handling you was what circled your mind since you started defiling yourself in the bathroom. You let your arousal be washed away by the warm water trickling down your skin, envisioning Mat’s rough hands grazing your body, touching your core like his hands were meant to do nothing else but that. 

It was wrong and pathetic, but you couldn’t think about anything else. You and Mathew have been avoiding each other for days. The dynamic went so much worse than when you weren’t sleeping together and you know that Tito was bound to notice it soon. Thankfully, the boys were on another roadie for a week so you had quite some time to think things through about your current sitch with Mathew. You didn’t like any of it because it felt like you gave a fuck (which obviously, you didn’t). You just feel obligated to sort things out with the biggest ass that ever lived because you didn’t want to involve Tito into the mess you’ve wrongfully made yourself. 

You hop off the shower feeling unsatisfied. You haven’t gotten laid since the last time you were with Mat. Which is sad, not just for you but also for her. You’d think considering the boys aren’t around you’d bring someone home, maybe even one or two. But just thinking about going on bars alone so you could find a potential bone-mate is already far too tedious and you weren’t in the right state to do so. You had so much going on at work, anyway. And you can always use a wand to scratch an itch. Neither would satisfy you more than how someone-who-will-not-be-named could, but you might as well be pathetic without having to hook up with some random dude whose name you’ll eventually forget in the morning. 

You opted to wear an old pull-over you borrowed (took) from Tito years and years ago and partnered it with some leggings so you’d be comfortable enough for the rest of the night. You have nothing else to do and you are already fed up with your workload that watching a crappy movie off of Netflix doesn’t sound like a bad idea. 

With a giant bowl of popcorn and two bottles of beer in your hands, you march your way into the living room, ready to spend the night binge watching romantic comedies, crying and laughing in between. Or maybe just fall asleep on the couch while your comfort TV series is on. 

The boys won three games out of the four that they had during the trip and you only saw the ones they won so you were thankful that you didn’t have to sit at home alone watching their faces fall after that OT lost against the Flyers. Anthony phoned you that night and you can just feel the relief in his voice that you didn’t have the time to see it. They weren’t playing like they should. Thankfully, they were able to bounce back. 

Your eyes were beginning to grow tired halfway into the movie when you hear the front door open, followed by luggages dragged into the house tirelessly. 

“Y/N?” Anthony calls out.

You hit the movie on pause and hurriedly make your way towards the hallway. “You’re home already?”

They were already taking their coats off when you met them halfway, Tito was putting his away while Mat had just taken off his toque and was running his hands through his hair, unconsciously meeting your eyes upon hearing your voice. 

You quickly break it off when you give Tito a quick embrace and plant a small kiss on his cheeks, “I texted you.” he says, eyebrows quirked, surprised that you didn’t know. 

In an effort to avert any more of his questions you immediately point towards the movie you had on, “Haven’t checked my messages, sorry.” 

“So, you guys ate dinner?” you ask, passing Mat a quick look. One that came as a surprise because he wasn’t even hoping to hear a word from you given the way you two left things a little too on the edge, screwing with the whole thing even more. 

Mat avoids your irises and faintly nods. 

“Big win tonight huh? Told you, you can do it.” you say with a beaming smile, nudging Tito with your hips as you get back to watching your film. “You gotta do what you gotta do, babe.” he winks, lugging his stuff around towards his bedroom. 

“Barz, don’t stay up, Trotz needs us first thing in the morning.” he looks back, reminding Mat who was already standing in front of his door, “Yeah. Sure.” he replies shortly with a tired voice. 

You and Anthony bid your own goodnights whilst Mat mutters a quiet “Night.” when you nodded his way, clearly not enjoying any of the first awkward encounters he’s yet to have with you. Seven days is quite a reasonable time for your anger to dissipate, a short yet seemingly long period of time that’s just enough to kill off whatever guilt Mat had initially felt before you parted ways.

𖥸

“Alright, I’m off.” Tito casually declares, putting on his watch. “There’s food in the fridge, and tell Mat to go easy on my beers.” he gives you a knowing look as he bends down to give you a kiss on the cheek. 

Tito had been seeing some mystery girl for quite some time now. He hasn’t told you anything spicy in particular but by the looks of it, you could already tell that she has him towed. 

“Good luck, loverboy.” you say, swatting his hand away and pushing him out to the door. The two of you cringe at what you said, sharing one last laugh before you watch him disappear out into the hallway.

The apartment was cramped the whole day because Anthony and Mat had the day off. Tito had plans for the night, obviously. As per you, you had plans lounging in the living room, switching through channels in the hopes of stumbling on a show that isn’t half as bad than the rest. 

Thankfully, a Sandra Bullock film was on HBO.

The Proposal, to be exact.

You decide to dive in the film with a cold bottle of beer on your hand. There was no way you’d be washing down the effects of a naked Ryan Reynolds with a glass of water. You haven’t gone mad. 

The film was already at the part where Sandra was proposing to Ryan when you hear Mathew’s door open. You haven’t talked since the night they came back home other than the small nods you exchange upon passing by each other. All of which are mind-numbing and impossible to swallow. The awkwardness has not dissipated completely unlike what you presumed. You were just grateful Tito was always around that you didn’t need to be alone together. 

Alarmed by another impending awkward encounter, you clear your throat and turn up the volume a little to remain focused on the film, investing your sole attention to it even if you have seen the movie countless times. 

Mathew, in his sweats and a gray shirt on, carefully makes his way out the hallway and into the common area after snatching a glass of water from the kitchen. You see him move further into the room but you make sure that he knows you weren’t paying attention. You take that he must’ve been thirsty and needed a drink but you don’t see him move further in the corner of your eye like he was making his way back in his room. It almost seemed like he was actually waiting for you to look his way.

Hesitantly, you follow your gut feel and see him standing a few feet away from you. “Yes?” you ask when you catch him staring. 

Mat blinks a few times, “Hi.” he takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness circling the two of you.

When the only thing he gets from you is a tight lipped smile, he shakes his head and proceeds to walk where you were seated. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice deep and clear enough to send your mind elsewhere. 

Regardless, you contain yourself and return a polite smile, “No. Not at all.”

“So, what are we watching?” he sits once you gestured onto the other end of the couch. 

“The Proposal.” you answer before throwing a question yourself, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting now?” you shake your head, absentmindedly chuckling. Not intending to make him feel that you’ve forgotten about what he’d done weeks ago. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” he props his back and lets himself sink in the cloud couch, his legs spread wide eating up most of the space left for the two of you to share. “Oh. I only like him when he’s Deadpool” he points out, cringing at how you were watching another one of your romantic comedy films.

You roll your eyes, admiring how he’s trying to break the tension between the two of you despite his unsolicited sentiments, “I like it when we were on not-speaking terms.” 

Mat mocks you for a while but decides to watch the movie so you let him be and get back to the film, letting a giggle slip every now and then. Something you thought Mat wouldn’t notice.

Watching the remainder of the film went with ease. ‘Course, Mat would steal a few glances here and there (ones he thought had gone unnoticed), but overall the quietude between the two of you was bearable. Almost like it was just two buddies hanging out. 

Although, not long after, your eyes were torn away from the huge flat screen when Mat spoke, “By the way,” he looks at you and calls your attention. 

Puzzled, you watch him take something from his pocket, “Here.” 

Once you see what he has in his hands your heart froze. Mat carefully hands you the cloth with an apologetic smile; his eyes soft with a hint of hope as he watches your reaction. 

“What– How?” you ask in bewilderment, failing to comprehend how he was able to fix the handkerchief. It looked the same as before. All of its details were in place, it was good as new. You were holding Nana’s handkerchief. 

Mathew didn’t bother to dance around and just offered you a quiet chuckle, evidently enjoying the wide smile painted on your lips. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” he apologizes, shielding you from all the strings he had to pull just to get that cloth fixed up.

You hold the smooth and delicate piece in your hands as you look at Mat, letting your feelings get a better hold of you, “Thank you.” you say, unknowingly reaching out, your arms wrapped around his neck as you give him a quick peck on the cheek. 

Mathew’s hand instinctively finds your back to support you, startling himself in the process. Nonetheless, the thought was easily shrugged off by how close your faces were, your smiles fading once you meet each other’s gaze. You feel the same rush you felt the night you and Mat got involved for the first time. Your hand was placed rather endearingly on his cheek, your faces, just like all the other times, unreasonably close to each other. Mat then clears his throat and only looks you in the eye. 

Afraid that the innocent hug would lead to something more, perhaps another mistake to be jotted down on the board, you breathe a laugh and break away, “Uh, thanks again. It really means a lot.” 

Mat must’ve sensed that you were being cautious so he puts his guards up and returns a chuckle, “So… we good?” he asks, reaching out a hand your way. 

Your fingers slide into his, gliding its way perfectly, your hands fitted well with his despite the obvious difference in proportion. His grip tightens in the most comfortable way possible. 

A smile breaks off his lips once he hears you answer, “We’re good.”

“I should probably get some sleep.” Mat tells you the moment you pull your hand away.

“Are you gonna be okay here?” he adds.

You looked at him, not wanting him to be obligated to keep you company, “Oh, yeah. I’m a big girl.” you say, making Mathew grin, shaking his head.

“Alright. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

Not picking up on whatever sloppy insinuation Mat has thrown out carelessly into thin air, he hears a simple “Mkay.” 

Thus far, letting him know that his subtle invitation was far from being RSVP’d.

𖥸

“You’ll be in your room?” Mat scoffs, staring at the ceiling while he lays on his bed, “The fuck was that, Mat?” he scolds himself for always coming up with the worst things to say. 

Mathew would be lying if he’d say he hasn’t thought about you (or doing you) for the past week of not being around home. But he definitely wouldn’t deny that the roadie kind of made things easier for him because then he didn’t have to stomach seeing you walk around the flat looking like the hot piece of ass that you were in his eyes. 

Mat knows he needs to pull his shit together. He wasn’t some 13 year-old boy raging with hormones. He needs to control himself around you and he could only do that once he learns how to push this whole thing between the two of you behind him. 

What happened with you and Mathew shouldn’t have happened at all. It was just a moment of weakness, and he hated that he’d let his dick (and apparently, him being one) ruin the relationship he once had with you. 

Before that night, seeing you do yoga and work out on the terrace was just seeing you drenched in sweat, and in your work out clothes looking icky and constipated. Something he’ll later on tease you about and he’ll end up catching the water bottle you throw in his face. But now, after all that fucking, seeing you sweaty and all worked out in the same yoga pants is just like walking into a porn commercial. Like the ones they show before the actual porn. In fact, he doesn’t even have to watch any of it. Tents and Boners were pretty much sponsored by you from then on. It’s sick, and he knows it. 

However, the tension he feels with you is palpable that he’s even certain that you feel it too. But how can he be wrong? He sees how your eyes blink a few times when he’s fresh out the shower, he sees you follow his trance when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, and you never fail to slide him shadowed hints with every touch you “accidentally” pass at him. The kind that’s short enough to remain innocent but not so much as to keep him at bay. Mat hated everything about it. He hated that he wanted you– and he hated that he thinks he might be right about you wanting him too.

All that self-loathing aside, did he regret it? 

That was one of the things he feels bad about. Because as much as he wants to lie and push it aside, he didn’t regret any of it. He didn’t like you that way and just thought about you sexually but he just wishes that you could push past this and just be friends. He was still sexually attracted to you, yes. But he knows he’d eventually get over it and be back on his game. That is if he can ever find someone who’d be as good as how you were the last three times you’ve let him be with you because it would really help him a lot if he could stop picturing your mouth getting stretched by his cock every time he hops into the shower.

Mat was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a knock on his door. The shy banging sound made his heart beat rapidly in an instant, knowing full well that the two of you were alone in the house and that Tito was, in no way, going to be home for another hour or two.

A faint knock follows the first one before he gets to the door. 

“Hi.” you greet him, a moment unfolding like it was déjà-vu.

“Hi.” 

“Did I wake you?” you sheepishly ask, your hands balled into fists before eventually settling down to hug your own build, unsure of where to put your hands exactly.

Mat quickly shakes his head, “No. I couldn’t sleep myself.”

You offer him a smile, acknowledging how he’s been nothing but good to you ever since they got home. Of course you wanted to get your hands on him being that you were completely dry and horny ever since you’ve ignored him completely, but you haven’t gone mad and you weren’t a complete neanderthal. You can keep your hands to yourself and act like a decent human being. 

“I’m sorry for making things weird between us.” you say, your eyes heavy with guilt. “But I’m only apologizing for being so unreasonable for the last couple of weeks.” you reiterated.

To which he only answers with, “You shouldn’t be. You have every right to be unreasonable– and I know that I’ve been a giant prick that day. It’s what I deserve.” he bites his lower lip, scratching his brow as he continues, “That’s why if there’s someone who owes someone an apology, it should be me. What I did was pretty crappy, so… I’m sorry.”

Like all the other times, Mathew towers over you wearing the same confidence he does when you’re around. Your bodies were reasonably apart from each other but close enough to mean something else if someone had walked by. Mathew was still in his room while you were out in the hallway, separated by the thin line made by the door frame. 

You feel Mat’s steady breathing and everything went still. He looks down at you, pretty eyes drowning yours. His messed up bed hair ridiculously makes up for how dressed down he was. No, actually, he looks fine even when he is. And all of that sight instantly makes your throat dry as you feel something curl in your belly, enough to make your hands sweaty as the thought of tasting his lips again cruised your mind entirely.

Mathew was no stranger to the said feeling either. He watched you punish him more at how plump and inviting your lips were. Or how your hand brushed on your clothes as you remain uncomposed under his gaze. 

Mat was becoming accustomed to how the two of you meet. Same time, same place, only this time, a different hallway. He steps further and crosses the line that divides the two of you, making you take a deep breath as his scent floors every nerve in your body. Waking what has been awake ever since that moment you shared back in the living room even more. 

“Yeah, okay.” you gather yourself, “I– I should probably head back.” 

Just by how his shoulders dropped, you knew you had said the wrong thing. And you hated that you did. Mat clears his voice and swallows, breaking off his gaze, “You probably should.” 

“Good night, Mat.” you smile, trying to regain yourself. 

“Good night.” he replies as he watches you turn your back before finally closing the door behind him. 

Frustrated for he was already starting to feel things more than just being “sorry”, Mat leans against the door and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and tries to get you out of his head. 

He was about to walk away from the door and sleep off his frustration when he hears your faint footsteps on the other side of the door. He rests his head back on the wooden surface and sighs, “You’re still out there, aren’t you?”

There was a total silence for a moment, devoid of the knowledge of how you had your fist, ready to knock yet again, suspended in mid-air. 

Mathew hears you deny sheepishly, “No.” 

You hear him let out a small laugh, knowing that he was trying to contain himself. 

The door sprung open again, and for a second you thought how what you’re about to walk into will start another mess for you and Mathew. But how could you possibly think about it that way when you have nothing else but this man standing at the other end? 

A friend that took no seconds to waste as he finally lets his thirst and perhaps foolishness, get the better hold of him once he cages your heated face in his hands, crashing into your lips as fast as he’d taken you to his end of that thin gray line that has once irkingly parted him from you. A gray line you’re both willing to cross if that meant sharing another night in between halls and thin walls.

[yourmcu]

V-Day

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary:

You’re not like most people who enjoys Valentine’s Day. Can a certain redhead change that?

A/n: just a late valentine related imagine for all of u bc I’m incapable of posting this sort of stuff on the exact day. enjoy! (I’m finally using this iconic gif don’t mind me)

Word count: 1,753

Warnings: fluff

The 14th of February is just another normal day for you. You always find Valentine’s Day cheesy, you don’t see the point of celebrating it. That sort of thing isn’t as important as Christmas or Halloween. Not that you're bitter because you're single, you couldn’t care less about that, it just isn’t the occasion for you.

Tony outdone it this year. The compound looks like it was powdered pink and red overnight from all the decorations when you step out of your room. You almost don’t want to know what the main area looks like. Sam and Wanda are probably getting started on breakfast which would consist of everything shaped like hearts.

Your plan for the day is to stay in your room, only coming out for snack and drink refills, simple as that.

“Hey, Happy Valentine’s...” you pretty much tone out every v-day greeting that came your way, rolling your eyes playfully as you sit down with everyone, greeting them with the usual good morning. You expect the compound to be deserted by midday since surely all of them have plans with their partners for the rest of the day, which is perfect. For you. And for them, of course, yeah.

Sam and Bucky made their way to you. “So, Y/N, how are you?” Sam greets. You already suspect that they were hyping you up for something. “Food good, coffee good... sleep well?”

You turn to them with a smile on your face. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Well,” Bucky lets out a breathy laugh. “Sam here was just helping me-”

“That is not what’s happening. What he wanted to say was,” the birdman cuts him off. “We both wanted to take you out to dinner tonight, we can’t settle on who, so we’re letting you pick.”

You blink. They have to be joking. Do they not notice your routine during this time of the year? After socializing with the team you’d grab a day’s worth of snack, head back to your room, lock the door and lose your mind on video games until the next day.

Unhealthy, but it's for one day.

“Only if you want to,” Bucky adds hastily.

“Come on, this is a chance of a lifetime!” Sam insists, wiggling his eyebrows.

“We’ll go to your favorite restaurant.”

“It’s just a friendly date.”

What you fail to notice was Natasha listening to the events happening. Her foot taps against the floor as she discreetly waits for your response, taking coffee sips and bites of food and looking away whenever she looked like she's eavesdropping. No one else is paying attention, everyone has their own conversations.

Inside, she pleads that you’d turn both of them down, just because she’s planning to ask you out herself. They just beat her to it.

“I appreciate the thought but I’m sorry, I have plans,” you shrug. “Why don’t you take each other out instead? Not literally.” You give them another smile and walk out of the room, coffee in hand. 

Sam and Bucky nods indicating they understood. Sam tells his friend that if he had more appeal you’d agree to the date. But they take you up on your advice, already planning a guy’s night.

Natasha almost cheers when she hears the first part, only to spiral when she hears that someone had already asked you beforehand. You're unavailable. She could ask you out any day, but you deserve something extra special. She sees this day as her only chance to confess her feelings for you.

Her eyes trail you as you walk out, turning to Wanda when you were out of sight. “Do you have any idea who asked Y/N out?”

“I don’t,” Wanda replies, a bit distracted. “They’re lucky, I’ve never seen Y/N show interest in anyone since I met her. Anyway, I have to go, Vision and I have a whole day planned...”

Natasha huffs while people slowly file out of the kitchen. As far as she knows, Tony's with Pepper, of course, Wanda and Vision, Steve is probably going to join Sam and Bucky on their night out, and Clint is back at his farm celebrating with his wife.

And you’re with that person, which most likely someone who isn’t on the team otherwise she’d know. She's left by herself to mope.

-

Few hours have passed, maybe three, it’s lunchtime. As you suspected the compound is empty, so you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

Boxed mac and cheese is the only thing you knew how to make.

“Y/N?”

You almost drop your stirring spoon at the sudden voice. You feel embarrassed about your choice of outfit, you feel and look like a grizzly bear while she looks stunning, even if it’s just plain workout clothes.

“Hey, Nat.”

“I thought you were... out with someone?” Knowing you, she might’ve misunderstood when you said you ‘had plans’. You look so cozy she would love to hug you on the spot if she isn’t so sweaty.

You let out a curious hum, turning off the stove. “I was?” You giggle. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I didn’t, just, I assumed you’d be,” she mutters and finishes her water bottle. 

You're now grabbing a bowl for the mac and cheese you made. “I mean, Sam and Bucky did ask me if I wanted to but... y’know, if I’m being honest they’re not really my type.” You pause to look at her who was staring back. “Have you eaten? This batch I made is enough for three people, I think.”

Natasha nods at your offer. “They did say it was a friendly date.”

You stop scooping the macaroni and perk your head up with a grin. “So you were listening.”

“Not like I had any choice, I was in the same room.” Quick save.

“Mmhm.” 

Then there's  a minute of comfy silence as you clean the area you made the meal on, putting the pot away and stuff.

“Why don’t you have a date today?”

“What?”

“Anyone would kill to go on a date with you, Nat.” Is what you say in your head. But instead you say, “Well, you know, I didn’t expect you be here too.”

Natasha shrugs and before she could answer you add, “No one’s caught the notorious Black Widow’s attention yet?”

She chuckles at your words, looking up at you. “Who did you think I’d go out with?”

“I dunno, Steve-”

“God, no,” she quickly cuts you off and laugh,  you laugh along but at the same time sigh in relief.

“Crap, I just remembered I have a game to finish,” you hold the bowl of cheese and macaroni and stick two spoons on the side. “I’m cordially inviting you to my room, you are very much welcome, after you change.”

Natasha tells you she’ll see you there in a bit.

-

“Huh. I just noticed you do this every Valentine’s Day,” Natasha notes as she takes everything in. Your PlayStation's on, your trash bin is almost full of snack wrappings, couple of beers tucked at the side of your bed. “Cozy.”

“Why, thank you,” you say sarcastically, picking up a controller and waving a vacant one at her. “Feel free. Or you can just watch me fail at this game.”

Natasha decides to join the game a little later, now she's lost in thought on how someone like you spends such a day like this, or how beautiful you looked as your eyes dart at every direction of the screen and how you sometimes bite your lip when you're that focused in the game.

It's always the little things she likes about you.

Glancing at you one more time before eating a spoonful of mac, she turns back to the TV to watch how you're doing.

But you're witty, kind and easy to get along with, why wouldn’t you have a date - or why wouldn’t you want a date on Valentine’s Day?

If only you knew how she feels, she’d make sure to treat you well. Like you deserve. She’d take you on dates you’d enjoy every time the 14th rolls by. If you don’t like the holiday for some reason she’d find a way-

“NO WAY,” you cover your mouth and bump your head to Natasha’s shoulder in defeat, making her come back from her trance to look at the big red words on the screen, indicating you lost. “I almost had it!”

Natasha leans into your touch and pats your back. “You can try again.”

You groan. “I definitely will but for now, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Great,” she shifts a bit to get comfy, switching to Netflix and choosing whatever’s trending right now. “I’m just curious but, do you like someone?”

You hum in response, sipping on a beer, not completely processing what she said. “I - yeah. I guess so,” you tug the blanket closer and pout at the movie that’s on. You don’t like romance movies. You always prefer an action or a mystery one any day. “Do you?”

Natasha feels her heart ache for a moment. “Yeah. She’s kind and sweet, goofy but can still seriously kick your ass type.” Your eyes land to her hands. You knew fully well Natasha isn’t straight, she admitted and definitely doesn’t act like it. “There’s just something about her that makes me... love her.”

“She sounds great,” you mumble, starting to get lost in your own thoughts. “I guess I just-” you hesitate, just because the woman you're about to describe is the same one sitting next to you. “I feel bad for her that someone like me likes her.”

“Why would you think that?” Natasha chuckles, shaking her head.

You shrug. “She’s amazing. So out of my league, I’d say she’s so close but so far away but that would be really cheesy and ugly,” you laugh. “I don’t know, she deserves way better.”

Natasha hums. “Sometimes I think she needs to her worth, because what she doesn’t know is, she’s very much amazing in her own way.”

Looking up at her from her shoulder, your eyes light up and you don’t know when it happened, but you just found her lips pressed against yours softly.

Even if it was just a short kiss you feel breathless when she pulls away to look at you again.

“Just so we’re clear, we’re just describing each other like idiots right?”

“Yeah.”

Natasha leans in to kiss you again.

---

oh my god I want a hug

[shameless plug] check out my natasha romanoff ambience here

[colossal-fallout]

Coming right up ❤️

Fem!Reader X Eren

Warnings: 18+ NSFW smut / slight angst / cheating

Eren's brooding eyes snap towards his roomates bedroom door when he hears the muffled voices of you and your boyfriend. Your voices weren't quite yells - yet. But it was abundantly clear that there was almost certainly a storm brewing. Ignoring it, he returns his emerald greens onto the manga book he was reading, silently telling himself not to pry. This would be the fourth argument you two had this week - and it was only Wednesday. Over the course of the month...? He'd lost count.

He pushed away the irritation that began to claw under his skin. He'd always secretly had a thing for you and he seen that his douche bag of a roommate did not treat you as well as he should.

He leasuirely turns the page, his usual calm exterior hiding his frustration as sure enough, the volume of your voices begin to rise through the wood of the door.

He tries to ignore it, focusing on the magnificent art work that brought his pages to life. But he couldn't help but wonder in the back of his mind how much happier you'd be if you just left his ass and got together with himself.

When he hears your voice crack and an uncontrolled sob break through your lips, he leaps up with a sigh, scratching the back of his head and heading into his room. Hopefully by the time he has a shower and is dressed, the two of you would have hashed it out and made up.

Fat chance.

"You don't even have sex with me anymore..." He hears you cry tragically as he passes by the door to his room. "Do you think I'm ugly now...? I'm desperate here!"

His eyes widen and hands form into a fist, his entire body freezing at the sound of you sobbing those words.

Are you - no. Is he for real?! You're gorgeous. You're kind. Funny. Caring. Strong... What the fuck is wrong with him?!

He shakes his chestnut brown head and storms into his room, unintentionally slamming his door a lot louder than he'd meant to.

Eren takes his time in the shower - allowing the steam and hot water to relax him and refocus his mind. Really, it had nothing to do with him.

So why couldn't he shake you out of his mind?

He was relieved when he eventually got out, dried and dressed and he no longer heard the yelling. His eyes scanned the alarm clock next to his bed.

21:43

He'd been in the shower for a little over an hour. The warm water soaking into his skin and making it feel that extra bit soft. With a lazy yawn, he strolls to his door to pick up his book from the living room. He's surprised to see you sitting on the couch, alone reading his manga.

"Hey." He sounds, eyes wide as your beautiful form is melted onto the sofa.

"Oh, hey." You sit up nervously, placing his book down. "Sorry Eren, is this yours?"

"Where is he?" Eren asks, walking into the room.

"...I don't know." You mutter.

He could see that spark behind your eyes becoming extinguished due to that Jack ass and he wasn't going to just stand by and watch that happen.

He places his hands in this trouser pockets, leaning against the wall. His man bun a lot more loose than usual from his freshly washed hair; a couple of strands falling over his handsome face.

"You know... I think you're gorgeous." He admits without a care in the world.

You blink in surprise, not really knowing what to say. "I... Uh... Thank you, Eren. It means a lot."

"I know." He shrugs, slinking over to you and plonking himself down next to you, the weight of him making you sink slightly. "I couldn't help but hear you arguing. If you ask me..." He turns his head to look at you - his dark smouldering eyes peircing your very being. "He's an idiot."

Your cheeks begin to burn as you glance away shyly, your confidence well and truly in the back pocket of your boyfriend's jeans - wherever they may be or who's floor they're on right now.

He returns his gaze ahead, arms splaying over the back of the couch, his left arm over your shoulders but not touching you.

"I'm sorry you heard us arguing." You whisper.

"Doesn't bother me." He shrugs. "What bothers me is the burning question of why you're even still with him."

You don't answer. You don't have an answer. It's a question you'd asked yourself all too often.

Whatever shower gel Eren uses rolls off him into your nose. A mixture of spiced sandalwood with a hint of teatree maybe? Whatever it was, it combined with the warmth of his skin, blanketing you with such compassion you could almost feel his increased heart rate as his eyes slyly drink you in.

"I heard other things, too." He mutters, suddenly leaning his face close to yours with a smirk. "I can help you, if you want."

"H-help me?" You heart palpitates and butterflies flutter within you, his demeanor totally changing into something you'd never seen from him before.

"I can make you feel good." He explains with such simplicity, you were certain he couldn't possibly be taking about what you thought he was.

Your vacant expression forces him to spell it out for you.

With his large hand cupping your face , he brushes his lips against yours his eyes then scanning your orbs for any resistance. All he can see is how startled you are; wanting to kiss him but your conscience holding you back.

"Let me take care of you..." He reiterates, his hand now slowly moving up your thigh. "In more ways than one."

"E-eren..." You breathe, your logical thinking quickly being taken over by your now throbbing libido as this gorgeous man now gently slides his tongue into your mouth, catching your lips tenderly once he was fully inside.

He's beyond elated when you return his affections, your hands quickly finding their way to his hair; your breathing rate quickened yet heavy. His tongue caresses yours, swirling and entwining, his throat buzzing with a low, short moan.

It's a hurried kiss - your hands roaming each others face and hair with quick succession, your inhales and exhales pushing through your nostrils loudly, the both of you quickly becoming flustered.

Whether it were his alpha male DNA coming into play, or he got too fired up (maybe both) he ends up scooping you up with ease and carrying you, bridal style, into his bedroom. His lips never leave yours as he pushes the door closed with his foot behind hiny, reaching around and clicking the lock, before lowering you gently onto the bed.

He crawls over you, his breath heavy and eyes heavy lidded; his mouth finding its way to your neck and grazing it.

"Eren... I can't. It's not right..."

You hear yourself but it didn't feel like it was you saying those words, your body screaming at you to just shut the fuck up.

"I'm just showing you how you should be treated." He breathes, hand now roaming up your shirt. "You're not doing anything. It's all on me."

Your moan that escapes you as he pulls at your nipple pushes him on the verge of crazed lust, his lips returning to yours as he rolls your breast around in his large palm, squeezing and pulling. It had been so long since you'd been touched in this way, your body craved it so badly. You found yourself grinding against his thigh, your kisses now desperate as you tug at his hair.

Somewhere within enjoying his touches and kisses, he'd removed your pants. You weren't sure when, just one moment they were there, the next your legs were bare as his hand cups your crotch, your wetness soaking through the material of your panties.

"Eren..." You gasp, back arching at his warm skin - even through the material it felt so good.

His fingers hastily push them to the side with a groan, wanting nothing more than to have you fully. But he knew that wouldn't be possible. Not with the thought of him looming over you like a shadow.

You cry out a lot louder than expected when his long finger slides into you, followed by a second, his thumb circling your external magic spot as he continued to nuzzle into your neck; kissing, whispering and biting.

"Do my fingers feel good inside you?"

You nod, your grip on the sheets tightening, your legs tensing and releasing as he begins to wiggle his digits.

He'd spent many-a-night imagining you under him like this. His long cock was solid, and you could feel his yearning for you pressing tightly against your thigh.

Your body is on fire as he works you, picking up speed as your insides suck him in, caressing him and begging for more.

"You're so fucking gorgeous..." He hums, now looking down into your eyes. "Fuck... You've got me so hard."

You whine loudly at his words, back arching and nails digging deeper into his matress. Your face is burning, boardering on hysterical as your untouched sex is so lovingly caressed.

"yes, Eren... It's so good..." You sob, your mouth hanging open and your eyes clasping closed. "Ah~ Ah~~!"

"Fuck..." He marvels, watching you squirm at his charity.

"I'm going to... Already..." You warn, feeling suddenly full as the pleasure begins to get too intense.

"yes, cum baby..." He smiles softly yet devishly, his pace getting faster.

Your silent scream confirms your climax, your back springing and your insides clamping down, sprinkling his palm with your water as you swirl right down the drain and into the palm of Eren Yeager.

He watches you in sheer awe as you come undone, unweaving and unravelling at his mercy. Squirming and trembling, your body now under his control during those few seconds of unrestricted ecstasy.

You expected to be riddled with guilt when you'd come back to earth. But strangely you didn't. It felt... Right.

"Do you feel better?" He mutters, his mouth caressing your shoulder.

You nod, speachless.

He removes his fingers reluctantly; placing them on his flat tongue. "You taste good too." His tone has a bitter sting to it, you're perfect, just like he'd always thought.

"Be with me. Leave him." He states. "You deserve so much better. I want to be the one who takes care of you."

You think about it for a moment. It makes so much sense to do so. But well, y/n... Whether you take him up on his offer or not - it's up to you.

[literate-lamb]

Man of the House | five

Sam Wilson/fem!Reader, dark!Bucky Barnes/fem!Reader | 18+

A visit to your landlord uncovers a past.

► word count: 3.6k

► warnings(!): injuries, masturbation, hallucination. this is a dark fic.

|| Series Masterlist ||

A/N: A bit of a slow chapter but we’re nearing the end lads! 

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

“We’ve checked everything, sir.”

It was hard to believe. There must be somewhere they had overlooked. Something felt amiss, you knew it.

“There were no signs of a forced entry. Everything was locked. Well, except for the balcony doors, but she had opened those.”

Had they checked the attic? The basement? He was there in the parlour windows, and the next, he was at the bottom of the stairs, close to the front door. You refused to believe he had came in easily, as if he had apparated in.

“The door she claimed the assailant kicked showed no damage whatsoever.”

That was impossible. You had heard it. You watched it shake as he demanded entry. You had  felt  it, the vibrations from his heavy boots passing through the floorboards. If there were no marked footprints, there should’ve been at least a splinter in the wood.

“We’ve received complaints like these before regarding the Rogers’ house, but we can’t really do anything when there’s no evidence. A ‘ghostly’ touch on the ankle can’t be taken as evidence.”

And just like that, your case was dismissed. Your encounter, taken with a grain of salt. Your experience, dismissed as a mere ghostly tale.

You had almost wanted to show them the purples around your neck. To take off the makeup and show them, to pass them off as evidence of an assault. But with no recollection of the event, and no solid evidence, you refrained. It would only backfire; not only towards you, but towards Sam as well.

“Thank you, officers. For all your help, but we can handle it from here.”

It was a long night and it ended when the officers had left. They had searched your house, taken your statement, and calmed you down. They were polite enough, listening when you recounted your harrowing experience, giving you comfort in the form of a shock blanket. However, their quick dismissal left a sour aftertaste within you. The disheartening feeling of being seen as a hysterical woman. 

You only had Sam who believed. You hoped he did.

“Sam, you believe me... right?”

“Of course, baby. Of course.”

Too shook up after last night’s incident, sleep evaded you until the wee hours of the morning, all the while curled up next to your saviour. He had soothed you, a protective arm at all times, giving you time. He never left your side throughout the night.

Now, huddled under the warm comforter of your guest room, you played last night’s events on loop. Heart palpating by even the sight of your bedroom door, Sam had decided a switch was in order.

At the end of the bed, Peaches laid in a white loaf by your feet, softly purring. She was a comforting presence, the heavy weight a reminder you weren’t alone. A guardian angel in her own way.

The day came and went faster than you could register.

In the morning, Wanda had came by with Vis to check up on you. She was worried after your abrupt goodbye on the phone and she was right to be. You missed their visit, being at the forefront of sleep. The warm serving of Paprikash you had for lunch was the sole indication of her visit.

Tony and Pepper had called and sent a large bouquet of colourful assortments with a ‘get well soon’ card attached right to your doorstep. They had heard from Sam, who had taken the duty of taking messages and answering your calls for you, citing your need for rest. Both had expressed the desire to visit, unfortunately corporate obligation had swamped them both.

In the late afternoon, Sam had came in with snacks in bed to soothe your cravings before dinner. He had prepared a few biscuits and fruits and made the grand gesture of feeding you with grapes. 

“Some folks in the area actually came by to give these to you,” Sam said, shooing a hissing Peaches off the bed. Those two will never get along. “A Mrs Proctor and her grandkid, said you’ve met before at her shop. Seems like you’ve been making friends.”

You hummed, confirming the information. It’s been a while, yet you still remembered your little visit and the incident. Warm, welcoming grandmother and her sour, distrustful grandchild. But after your harrowing experience, you came to realize maybe the teen had known something; it wasn’t just a tale told to scare teenagers off the property on Halloween.

If the both of them knew, then the whole neighbourhood knew. It isn’t a secret when the local police visited you in the middle of the night. Word always traveled fast in small neighbourhoods.

“She sent her regards and hope you’ll come visit soon,” he continued. “Her grandkid told me to relay a message to you too.”

You eyed him, prompting him to resume.

“She said ‘all the best’.”

There was no help coming for you.

 —

 As the Sun slowly descended into the horizon, you received your last visitor at the end of the day. He came to the house while you were in the bath, finally having the energy to rid off the grime from the last horror. 

You scrubbed your skin until it felt raw, the stinging a reminder to stop. You watched as the water swirled down the drain, bringing with it the impurities of the previous night. 

You began dressing, the dark turtleneck a warm choice against frigid Autumn. Wiping the fogged up mirror, you stared at your reflection, observing your state. Your skin was deadly pale with dark rings concentrated beneath your eyes; a perfect representation of a troubled person.

Carefully rolling down the collar, you gently thumbed the delicate skin of your neck. What was once a large bruise had shrunk, covering you in patches. They were now a faded purple with a tint of green; a sign of healing. 

They disgust you.

Your stomach churned looking at them. They were a reminder of a fog: thick, dense, a swallower of memories. You stared at them hard, racking your mind for a smidge of something, for anything. The longer it took, the uglier they became.

You unconsciously wrapped a hand around your neck, covering the ugly bruises from sight. It felt familiar, yet foreign. Slowly, you began putting pressure, firmly squeezing the sides. You felt an amounting rush.

You sat yourself on the opened toilet seat, back resting against the body. With the unoccupied hand, you hastily pushed your skirt and underwear aside. You worked yourself, rubbing your clit and running fingers down your lower lips, spreading your gathering slick. You let your mind stray away, forgetting the upsetting contusions, driven by only pleasure. 

Mewling, you pleasured yourself, knees in the air. More and more, you squeezed thoughtlessly, cutting your airways to chase that building pleasure. You let your imagination wander; visualizing thicker fingers spearing you and heavier palms circling your throat. Intermittently you’d pull out, slapping your cunt while envisioning rough digits handling you. You didn’t envision the physique of anyone, just the feel of a touch. They were familiar, kept in the back of your mind like a hidden memory. You were sure they were not that of your boyfriend. 

You were becoming dizzy, high off adrenaline from your asphyxiation. Nearing the tipping point, you quickened your ministrations until you finally snapped. Your thighs quivered as you came crashing, gasping for oxygen as you released your hold. Slick painted your thighs as they trembled. Eyes brimming with tears, you eyed yourself in the opposite mirror. You sighed, lost in blissful delirium; the sound of a woman spent.

Your bliss was short-lived when a knock came on the bathroom door.

“Baby, you okay in there? Your landlord came by for a visit, he just left.”

The tenor of Sam’s voice startled you, grounding you back to reality. You sprung up, adjusting your clothes and making yourself seem proper. Thighs still shaky, your legs felt like putty as you tried to stand up.

“In a minute!” you respond.

When you’ve deemed yourself decent enough, you opened the door. Sam’s toothy smile greeted you.

“My girl’s lookin’ all fresh and smellin’ beautiful,” he whistled. 

“That’s silly,” you laughed, hitting his chest. Sam grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your lips. 

“How are you?” he asked.

“Feeling slightly better.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t closer to the truth either. “Being taken care of really did wonders, I want this to last forever,” you kissed him again. “Just the two of us.”

“I’d love that as well.”

It was quiet for a time, the both of you lost in a peaceful bliss. Foreheads touching, you both focused on the moment; taking in the scent of your partner, hearing the beat of each other’s heart, and overall enjoying being in the other’s company. If given, you would prefer to stay like this forever. The beating of his heart, it grounded you. This was your safe place. 

Minutes passed and you were both still locked in each other. It took a sudden loud thump in the ceiling for you two to part.

  THUD!

 You quickly jumped away, horribly spooked. You were on high alert, fidgety, and distraught. The loud noise triggered your flight or fight, leaving you frantically searching for the source.

“Look at me, look at me,” Sam called your name. He grabbed your shoulders, rubbing your forearms in soothing circles. “You’re fine. Breath, you’re fine. I’m here.”

Sam guided your breathing and you followed his rhythm. After a while, you were calmed once more. It was obvious you were still spooked, a second thud confirmed it when you shot up at the sound. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sam’s soothing voice cooed. “Would it make you feel better if I checked?”

You frantically nodded. Sam hastily strided through the hall with you close behind. He pulled the attic hatch but it wouldn’t open. 

“It’s stuck.” 

Sam tried again, giving it a pull a few times. On the strongest pull, it finally relented, revealing the ladder. As it slid down, a large heavy object came tumbling along with it, thudding by your feet. Sam picked it up and upon closer inspection it was an album. The word “Memories” greeted you; it was the photo album you had found a week earlier. You felt a cold run through you.

“Now, what do we have here.” 

He flipped through, stopping on the wedding photo of Mr Rogers and his wife, their fading faces smiling at you. Photos of their vacations, anniversaries, and holidays passed.

“Seems that he had a fulfilling life.”

Sam continued flipping before stopping on an older photograph. It showed a younger Mr Rogers and a brunette man with his arm slung over the shorter blonde. You immediately paled, recognizing this man. The same hair colour, except shorter. The same steel blue eyes, except brighter. The same chiselled cleft chin.

It was no doubt, this man was your  intruder .

You felt the temperature plunge upon your realization; wondering why he had seemed familiar. Panic began to consume you as Sam continued to flip through, the blue eyes in each photo seeming more sinister than the last, haunting your subconscious. 

Sam stopped when he noticed your trembling. Your eyes were glassy as you stared at the photo of the brunette decked in a peacoat.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sam asked, worried.

“T-this man,” you pointed to the photo. “It was him last night.”

“Are you sure?” Sam closed the album, giving you a concerning gaze. “Do you need to lay down?”

How dare he. He didn’t believe you. After everything, was it all pity?

“Yes, I’m freaking sure!” you shouted, tears spilling over. “And I do not need to lay down, Sam. I’m perfectly fine.”

It was tense from there. None of you spoke for a while. You could see a shine of regret reflected in his orbs, softening your anger by bit. Despite his reserved apprehension, he had saved and later, attended to you. He didn’t deserve your fury.

“I-I’m sorry for shouting, but why would I lie about this Sam?” you sighed. You were tired. “I don’t know who he is or if he’s even alive. I’ve never met him, but it seems like my landlord has.”

“Do you want to see him? Tomorrow?” Sam asked. “I can arrange it.”

“Yes, please,” you pleaded, giving him an empty smile. “Ghosts or not, I need answers.”

“Okay,” he slipped the album beneath his arm. “Let me check the attic first.”

Sam had checked every corner twice before climbing down. There was nothing unusual, saved for the coincidental album.

 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖

The wet concrete was a hazard as you exited the car. Fall brought in cold winds as well as the small drizzles and showers here and there. The smell of rain mixed in with mud was high as you and Sam took deliberate steps on the pavement. 

The mailbox was a rusted red with ‘Rogers’ scrawled in white, the lawn an immaculate green spread that showed its upkeep. Opposed to the grandeur and foreboding nature of your rental, Mr Rogers’ abode was a small little thing. It looked old and worn, with a browning chimney and paint chipping off its sides.

You rang the doorbell and waited. Soon, Mr Rogers greeted you and welcomed you both in.

“Come in, come in. Make yourselves comfy, it’s not much but it’s home.” he ushered in. “Please, take a seat. I’m making some tea in the kitchen. It won’t be long.” Mr Rogers disappeared, leaving you and Sam time in his living room.

Similar to the exterior, the interior was just as worn, with the lumpy couches and yellow staining the ceiling. This house had seen better days but you couldn’t deny the certain charm. Off to the side of the living room, a fireplace stood, its mantle littered with framed photographs. You took a step closer to observe them. 

There were many photos of Mr Rogers with his wife, but there were equally the same amount with that of this elusive ‘James Barnes’. All of them were of the brunette with shorter hair, clean shaven, and lean; a contrast of the man who had grabbed you. A feature that stood out were his eyes. They looked hopeful and bright in these, the opposite of what you’ve seen. You shivered at the memory of locking with them through many mirrors. 

“I hope you’re both fine with regular black tea.” The older man came in, carrying a tray of bone china tea set and finger sandwiches. He poured you each a cup, placing them on the coffee table.

“It’s more than fine, sir,” Sam took a cup. “Thank you for your hospitality.” 

It was quiet for a moment with everyone sipping their tea. You sat beside Sam on the lumpy couch to the opposite of the older gentleman. You didn’t know where to start.

“I heard of what happened,” Mr Rogers started to your relief. “Officers Matthews and McCray phoned me in the morning. They’re probably exasperated, those two. Always getting calls about my house.”

“Enough about that, I should be asking you about your well-being. How are you doing, dear?” he asked, giving you a forlorn expression.

The blues of his eyes began to change, taking on a much more steely quality. His platinum strands darkened and lengthened, becoming dull and greasy. His frail body began bulking and doubling in size. The wrinkles of his skin disappeared, pulling taut over his cheekbones. 

He was morphing, taking on the figure that haunts you.

In his place was your monster.

 A nudge surprised you, pulling you away. The face of your nightmare nowhere, Mr Rogers remained in his armchair.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam shook you, concerned. “We lost you for a minute there.”

“Um, yeah.” 

You looked at him, eyes vacant. You turned towards the older man, he gave you the same look of concern. 

“It’s nothing, just thought I— Sorry, it’s nothing.” you gave a nervous chuckle. 

“Is there anything I can help with?” Mr Rogers asked, refilling your cup. “I know this is far from just a friendly visit. From my experience with past tenants, I understand if you want to leave. And don’t you worry about the deposit, I’ll give a full refund. It’s the least I could do.”

Relief filled your chest at hearing those words. This wasn’t what you had come here for, but it was a welcomed balm to your already tumultuous mind. It was one less thing to worry about.

“Thank you, Mr Rogers,” you said. “But that’s not actually what we’re here for.”

Signalling towards Sam, he uncovered the photo album from a canvas bag. You took it and carefully set it on the coffee table, spreading it open to a portrait of a brunette soldier. 

“We’re sorry for bringing this here, but it dropped from the attic when we opened the hatch,” Sam explained.

You watched as the elder’s fingers ghosted over the lettering of the man’s name;  James Buchanan Barnes . They were light, careful, afraid of ruining the piece of antiquity. 

“Mr Rogers, can you tell us a bit about this man?” you asked, desperate for answers. “Were the two of you friends?”

It took a while before he answered, eyes never taking off the photo.

“Bucky was my best friend. We grew up together in Brooklyn and he always had my back. Though, he was always neckin’ with a dame once in a while,” he mirthlessly chuckled. “He was always there.”

“When my ma contracted TB and passed, Bucky always helped. Late on the rent? He’ll cover it for ya. Low on food? He can cook.” 

He flipped through the album, recounting every tale that came with a photo and you let him. This was a man who missed his youth, left for only time to claim.

He recited how they went to Connie Island and how he threw up after riding the Cyclone. The many dance hall dates that left him for his friend. The many tales of how ‘Bucky’ had saved his butt in alley fights. The war they spent together fighting in Europe, defeating Nazi base after Nazi base. The war where he returned the favour of becoming ‘Bucky’s’ saviour.

“Bucky was all I had.”

 He stopped at the last page, where a photo of them in uniform in the snowy mountains stood. 

“What happened to him?” Sam asked.

A long stretch of silence filled between the three of you, not readying you for the answer you were to receive.

“He died. Fell off a train in the Alps. I never saw him again.” 

And it was back to silence. A beat or two passed.

“What’s this sudden interest in him?” the elder man asked, accompanied by a mirthless chuckle. “I didn’t think I’d be reciting his tale again after so long.”

You flipped the pages back to the portrait, stomach becoming queasy as you prepared to tell your tale.

“This man,” you paused, pointing at the photo. “He’s the one that came into the house the other night.”

“How…? Are you sure?” Mr Rogers’ breath hitched. “He’s been long gone for 75 years.”

“We’re not sure how,” you started. “But I have a theory.”

Sam handed you a flimsy folder. You opened it, taking out clipped pieces of paper. Most of them were screenshots of blog posts from previous tenants, recounting their part of the story living in your current residence. There was a similarity in their retellings that you noticed.

“These are some of the blog posts I managed to find on the house.” You arranged the papers on the coffee table, making them face the elderly man. “Sorry to sprung these on you, but I noticed a consistency in the hauntings that tenants before me have experienced.”

“Go on.”

You let out a breath before continuing, ”In each of the stories, everyone has said that they’ve seen an apparition of a man.” 

You pointed to the highlighted texts, their descriptions of an encounter similar.

“Sometimes in an army uniform.”

You turned to the portrait film of ‘Bucky’ in his World War II uniform.

“And sometimes in a blue coat.”

You flipped to the photo of Mr Rogers and ‘Bucky’ on the Alps. It was too good of a coincidence.

“So, what you’re saying,” Mr Rogers put two and two. “Maybe it’s his spirit that has been haunting the house all along.”

“That’s a way to put it,” you confirmed.

He seemed to still be taking it all in. A conflicted expression on his face, full of sadness and worry. Minutes passed and everyone started to move on, with the elder steering the conversation away. You thought it would take time for him, after the sudden resurgence and recalling of a traumatic past. You thought he would have more questions. But he surprised you and Sam by bouncing back, carrying the conversation with the fond memories of his past. It seemed a bit odd, but you put it behind you.

 The both of you ended up staying over for dinner. 

“Won’t you keep an old man company? It can be quite lonely since I don’t have kids of my own.”

The evening flew faster, with Sam and Mr Rogers exchanging military stories over plates of spaghetti. They bonded over their shared experience, with you chiming in questions  once in a while. You looked on in fondness, enjoying the time spent. Maybe you could do it again.

When it came time to leave, you both thanked Mr Rogers for his hospitality. You slipped him an invitation to have a meal at the house some time. However, before you could leave, the elder stopped you, a hand gripping your shoulder.

“Sorry dear, I needed to know. This theory of yours,” he said, forehead creasing. “You don’t believe in them, do you?”

You were caught in surprise by his sudden line of questioning, having thought of already getting past it. Nevertheless, you answered.

“Maybe I’m starting to have a change of thought.” 

And finally, you were no longer in denial.

A/N: Next up: The Witch’s Visit

[nebulablakemurphy]

My Godson Our Godson

Sirius x Reader

Summary: After y/n’s older brother James and his wife Lily are murdered. Sirius is sentenced to Azkaban for giving their location Voldemort. Y/N is left to raise Harry, alone. Now that Sirius is free, he wants to be part of Harry’s life...and to set the record straight with y/n. Who he’s still madly in love with.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, betrayal, lovers to enemies to lovers.

Words: 2.8k+

Masterlist

You’re nineteen years old. Just turned, to be precise, when your older brother James and his wife Lily are killed. Murdered by Lord Voldemort, and Sirius Black was the one to betray them.

The first night is the worst. Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall arrive at your doorstep. Delivering the news along with your nephew, Harry. Who is little more than a year old.

“Lily was pregnant.” You say, not because it changes anything. But because someone should know, someone besides you and...that traitor who got them killed. So you don’t have to carry it around like an ugly secret.

“I’m very sorry y/n.” McGonagall rests a hand on your shoulder. “Seeing as both sets of grandparents are deceased, you are next of kin, along with Lily’s sister Petunia. But seeing as you are also named godmother-“

“I’ll take him.” You say firmly. “I’ll take care of Harry.”

“Very well.” Dumbledore places the babe into your waiting arms.

The fifteen month old latches on to a fistful of your hair.

————————————————————

Remus is the first person to visit. He comes knocking at the door, nearly a week later.

“He’ll be in Azkaban, y/n. He can’t hurt you anymore. Nothing will happen to Harry.” Remus assures you, of his former friend. Noticing how on edge you are. How you won’t let Harry out of your sight, even after he offers to watch him so you can nap.

“How could he do this Remus?” You sob, the damn breaking. You’re so angry and sad and confused. “How could he kill Petter and...James was his best friend! We took him in when he had nowhere to go, how could he-“

“I don’t know.” Remus sighs, swiping at his own tears. “Truly, I don’t.”

_______________________________________________

You pull away after that, from magic and Remus and all of your friends. Petunia never showed any interest in Harry. She hated your brother and hates you by proxy. You can’t say she’s alone in her feelings.

Harry is your world and you are his. You tell him about his parents, stories about your brother and his beautiful wife. How elated they were to have a child, how much they loved each other, how much they loved him.

“Aunt y/n?” A five year old Harry calls your attention away from the meal you’re preparing.

“Yeah?” You smile.

“Will you ever get married?” He wonders, coloring away innocently.

“Probably not.” You admit. You hardly have time to date, besides you’ve been in love once. And he...well he got James killed.

“What about a baby? We could play together.” Harry offers. He reminds you so much of James, it’s physically painful.

“No babies for me Harry, only you.” You reply. He’s enough, he always will be.

————————————————————

“Aunt y/n! Aunt y/n! It’s here!” Harry shouts, racing about the sitting room. “My letter from Hogwarts. I’m a wizard.”

“Of course you’re a wizard Harry.” You chuckle, “let’s see.” You hold your hand out for the letter, pulling it from the hastily opened envelope.

“We’ll have to go get supplies straight away.” The eleven year old boy says, lacing up his trainers.

“You’re not leaving until September.” You purse your lips.

“Oh please aunt y/n, I want to get my wand.” Harry begs.

“Tomorrow,” you promise, ruffling his dark hair. “Now take your shoes off and get washed up for dinner. I have to finish icing your cake.”

“Is it chocolate?” Harry’s eye grow wide at the prospect.

“Of course.” You nod, waving him off.

“I love you Aunt y/n.” He says before rounding the corner.

“I love you too.”

————————————————————-

‘Aunt y/n,

I made Gryffindor! Just like you and Dad and Mum. And I’ve made friends, just like you promised. One of them, Ron, has six siblings. Could you believe it? The ghosts will take some getting used to, especially nearly headless Nick. Must he remind us of his condition at the dinner table? Hope you’re fairing alright without me. I miss you, see you for Christmas.

-Love Always, Harry’

————————————————————

‘Dear Harry,

Enclosed is your new broom. Please be more careful with this one. AND, no more joy rides in the Weasley car, Molly is still very upset. I’m glad you were resourceful and concerned about making it to your second year in a timely manner. But you’ve given me gray hair, I’m far too young. If you’re ever in trouble please come to me first, before taking matters into your own hands. I love you Harry.

-Aunt y/n’

————————————————————

‘Dear Aunt y/n,

I met Sirius, and Peter. He’s been living as Ron’s rat for the past twelve years. Peter, not Sirius, just so there’s no confusion. Pettigrew was the one who gave my parents whereabouts to Voldemort. Then the coward cut off his own finger to frame Sirius. He’s innocent, Aunt y/n. Sirius is innocent. He couldn’t stay here at Hogwarts, but Hermione and I made it in time. He missed the dementors kiss. I’m not sure where he’s headed. Somewhere safe until things are sorted and we can clear his name. In the mean time, he asked me to be sure I told you, it wasn’t him. We’ll talk more in person.

-Love Harry’

————————————————————

The first time Sirius writes, you’re not sure how to respond. Or if you should even bother. Yes you had feelings for him, yes he was innocent, yes he was your brother’s friend; but that was another life.

‘Sirius,

I hope you’re doing well. Keep me posted if anything changes. Thanks.

-Respectfully y/n‘

The reply comes within hours.

‘Respectfully y/n? Did my godson forget to mention that Peter was the treacherous little bleeder, not me? Or have you found another reason to hate me, when I haven’t had contact with you in over twelve years?

-Cordially Sirius’

You scoff, setting out for ink and parchment. You have things to do, they’ll have to wait a while.

‘Sirius,

MY godson didn’t forget to tell me anything. Mind you, we should keep our correspondence to urgent matters only. Incase owls are being intercepted. Either way, I’m glad you got to keep your soul, assuing you ever had one.

-Sincerely y/n’

————————————————————

‘Aunt y/n,

I finally asked Cho to the Yule ball. Only problem is, I waited too long and buggered the whole thing! She’s already agreed to go with Cedric. He’s great and all, I just wish she was going with me. I still haven’t riddled out who put my name in the goblet, but I will. I’m doing alright though, you shouldn’t worry about me so much. You need a hobby.

-Yours Harry’

‘Dear Harry,

You are my hobby, and don’t use words like buggered. They aren’t becoming, your dress robes should be arriving shortly. I expect pictures, and not just from that old hag Rita Skeeter and the Daily Prophet. Don’t make me come to Hogwarts and get them myself, you know I will. Any girl would be happy to go with you Harry, don’t give up on a date just yet. I love you kid.

-Aunt y/n’

————————————————————

You and Sirius have been writing for over a year before you see him. Number twelve Grimmauld place has been made safe enough, by the Order, for him to hole up there.

He looks the same, the same and yet different. Older, tattooed, his curls are still gloriously intact at shoulder length.

“Sirius,” you breathe at the sight of him.

“Y/n,” he replies, just as shakily. “Won’t you come in?”

“Yes, thank you.” You clear your throat as he holds the door open.

“You’re a day early for the meeting, I’m afraid.” Sirius says, leading you down the entryway, into the parlor.

“I was hoping we could talk, about Harry.” You clarify, he wants you on better terms. “I brought scotch.”

He smirks, “of course.”

“So I have pictures. The embarrassing ones, that I’ll show to whoever he intends to marry someday. You can go through them and I’ll-“

“Sit down and have a glass with me?” Sirius arches a dark brow, “because it’d be terribly rude if you didn’t.”

“Fine. I’ll sit.” You practically stubble back onto the loveseat.

“I’ll grab the tumblers, then you can tell me the story that goes along with these pictures. I want to know all there is to know about our godson.”

“So he’s ours now?” You laugh, Sirius always refers to Harry as only his.

“He’s always been ours. Only now we both get to enjoy him properly. And hopefully you,” he points a finger, “can loosen up a bit.”

“Who says I’m uptight?” You scoff.

“I’ll fetch those glasses now.” Sirius chuckles, dashing out of the room.

By the time you’ve both had a few drinks, the awkwardness is gone. You speak openly and about everything, like you’re children again.

“Remember when I’d sneak into your room? You were so loud.” Sirius chuckles at the memory. “I perfected the silencing charm just for you, you know. James was always better at it than I was, even offered to teach me. Only if I refrained from ever telling him why I needed to use it so badly.”

“He could be an arse, that brother of mine. But James was always looking out for me. After our parents...it was just me and James. Then in the blink of an eye, everything was gone. I didn’t know what I was doing, with Harry. I didn’t know how to process all of that loss and take care of an infant. So I just shut everyone out.

When I heard you were the one that gave their location away, at first I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. But the evidence against you was so compelling, and I had no way to contact you. I started to believe, I started to hate you. When Harry told me that it wasn’t you, I was so relieved. I didn’t want to hate you, because you remind me of James. The truth is, you and Remus are all that’s left... I want you here Sirius. But I’m afraid of wanting things I can’t have.” You confess, eyes searching his.

“I won’t leave.” Sirius promises, blinking against the glistening in his own eyes.

“Do you ever think about us?” You ask, growing bolder from the alcohol. “Do you still...”

“Love you?” Sirius nods, “there was never any getting around that.”

“I- me too.” You stumble around the words.

“Stubborn girl, you could’ve had help with Harry, and a family of your own. Any man would be lucky to have you.” Sirius shakes his head, taking another swing of spirits.

You tap a finger against your glass, nervously. “You have my heart. There wasn’t a thing left to give anyone else.”

“I’m sorry you thought-“ he trails off. “I would’ve helped you raise Harry. I would’ve held you while your world was falling apart. I would’ve helped put it back together.”

“Bold of you to assume my world isn’t still in shambles.” You remark.

“If that’s the case, you've done a remarkable job of hiding it.” Sirius moves a hand to your thigh.

“I like your tattoos.” You tell him, staring down at his inked fingers. Geez, you’re definitely buzzed.

“Rebel without a cause.” He smirks at you, the girl who stole his heart. Grown into a woman, who was still holding it.

“I have a cause,” you say indignantly, crossing both arms tightly over your chest.

His lips meet yours, half expecting you to pull away. Only you move closer instead.

“I’ve missed you, my sweetheart.” He murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “That’s what I was holding onto, in Azkaban. Twelve years, I thought about you every day. The look on your face when I’d show up at your doorstep and say...”

“What would you say?” You wonder.

“I didn't do it. I would never hurt James, I would never hurt you. I can prove my innocence, it’ll take time. You don’t have to believe me, but I needed you to at least hear it from me.”

“I wouldn’t have believed you.” You confess, somewhat guiltily.

“I expected as much.” Sirius smiles sadly.

“I might have killed you before you got a word out.” You go on.

“A risk worth taking.” He lets out a laugh.

“It’s not too late, is it?” You whisper, both hands cupping his face. “Maybe we could still be happy together.”

“I would be happy with you, indefinitely.” The look on his face tells you he’s serious.

Indefinitely? You smile, “that’s a quite a promise.”

“One I intend to keep.” Sirius says pointedly. “I never want to be apart from you again.”

“Me either.” You murmur, leaning back in for a kiss to seal the deal.

————————————————————

You wake in the rumpled bed, alone. No sign of Sirius, no note, no nothing. You feel a familiar panic set in. His button up shirt from the night before lies abandon in a crumpled heap on the floor.

You pull it on quickly, holding the top closed over your chest as you head for the stairs. “Sirius,” you call once, softly. Surely you’re over reacting. He’s still here and he’s fine, you try to reason. But there’s no response and you rush down the hallway toward the staircase. “Sirius. Sirius!”

The two of you collide on the bottom step, him in just his boxers. “Are you alright sweetheart? What’s happened?” He asks, seeing your tears, before you throw your arms around him.

Crying into his neck. “You weren’t there. I thought-“

“Y/n.” Sirius sighs, stroking your hair soothingly holding you securely against him. “I was making breakfast is all.”

You nod, unable to speak. Becoming more hysterical by the second, even though he’s here. Even though he’s safe, you remember what it feels like when...

“No more tears,” he insists, pulling away slightly to thumb away the wet trails on your cheeks. “I’m right here.” He places your hand over his heart. “Right here.”

Your sobs die down to little hiccups. As Sirius peppers kisses to your forehead, cheeks, nose and finally your lips, settling your raw nerves.

————————————————————

You finish up cooking breakfast together. You sitting on the counter beside the stove top, giving gentle pecks at random intervals.

“I see you’ve got it all sorted then.” Harry’s voice startles you.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” You stammer, wrapping both arms around yourself.

“Came back early from Ron’s to be sure the two of you hadn’t murdered each other. Seems I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“We can explain.” You say.

“Oi, no thanks!” Harry protests. “I never want to talk about, this.” He motions to your current state. “But I love you both, and I’m happy if you are.”

“We love you too Harry,” Sirius gives your knee a reassuring squeeze.

“Love you Harry.” You repeat.

“Good,” Harry smiles, feeling that his dysfunctional family is finally complete. “Now get some clothes on.”

[george-fabian-weasley]

Fred Weasley — Helplessly pt. 4

Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred was rushed into the muggle hospital for better treatment of his injuries. While in a coma, his soul stayed with you for a couple of months. He watches as you went through the stages. And he watched when you started to write a song, just for him.

Words: 2,470 words

Warnings: Angst, Genuine Heartbreak, Nightmares, Fred Cries so It’s Bad

Disclaimer: I haven’t updated Helplessly in so long, so hello!!! This chapter is more to a filler chapter, as we follow Y/N in more depth of their relationship with the twins! Hope you enjoy, lovies!

TAGLIST FOR HELPLESSLY: HERE

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4| PART 5 (COMING SOON!)

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CHAPTER 4: Instant Coffee

Fred opened his eyes to you, screaming.

He had slipped into bed a few hours ago, trying his best to comfort your fragile self who cried yourself to sleep. He had his hand ghosting on your cheek the entire time, heart wrenching at every single tear that went past his thumb. He hadn’t realized he fell asleep, he never thought he could, somehow being home with you brought him comfort. It was a sad comfort as both of you couldn’t stop crying, but it was comfort, nevertheless.

You were screaming with your eyes forced shut, and Fred had never felt more heartbroken that he couldn’t do anything to help calm you down. At least at the hospital, you had Hermione to give you a comforting hug and reassuring back rubs. But with him being invisible and you alone inside a dark house, Fred felt useless.

“Y/N, darling, I’m here, I’m here!!” Fred tried, however, shouting at the top of his lungs to get you to hear him. You were sweating cold, keeping on the heart-wrenching screaming. At that moment, Fred panicked, he didn’t know what to do, he had forgotten what he was.

So he wrapped his arms around you.

You opened your eyes at the feeling of someone hugging you, you felt their hand caressing the back of your head. And you instantly knew who it was. You recognized his warmth.

“You’re fine, Y/N. I’m here, love, I’m here.” The moment you heard his voice, you burst into tears, hugging him back instantly. Fred felt his heart flutter at your touch, he hadn’t felt your skin on his for a long while-

Wait a second.

Fred felt his stomach hollowing as he realized what was going on. He could touch you. You could see him. When he realized that, he hugged your tighter, “Oh Merlin, thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

In his head raced a million wonders of how he could touch you happened, but he brushed them away because he’s here and you could see him. And that’s all that matters at the moment.

He pulled away from the hug and looked at you, a scoff of amazement escaped his lips as he realized he was cupping your face. You were still crying; your heart was hurting so bad.

“Oh, Freddie, I just had the worst nightmare.” You sobbed as he kissed your eyes. “What did you dream of, love?” He softly asked, not caring about anything else but touching you. Oh, how he yearned this for as long as he could. He could feel his heart almost beating out of his throat, the happiness he felt at the moment was unparalleled.

“I-I had a dream that there’s a war at Hogwarts and you got injured. You were injured so bad that you got into a coma and-and you’re not waking up! I-I can’t lose you again, Freddie, I can’t.”

Fred’s heart dropped. You thought it was a nightmare. You thought the war didn’t happen. 

You thought it was all a dream.

Fred gulped down slowly, trying to gulp down the tears brimming in his eyes at the same time. The bitter truth had never felt so painful. He had never seen you so distraught, and he didn’t have the heart to say anything. You looked so relieved that it was all a dream, or at least that’s what you thought. 

“Y/N. My darling. My sunshine.” He softly spoke. You sniffed and looked at him in the eyes, those eyes that are filled with love and adoration just for you. There was silence for a while, and Fred couldn’t contain his tears any longer. He wanted to say everything, just everything before it was too late. But Fred found himself speechless as he locked eyes with you.

You looked so happy that he was there with you. You looked so innocent and fragile and… beautiful.

He saw how your eyebrows furrow at the tears running down his face, so he distracted you by leaning down and kiss you. The kiss was hungry, emotional, painful yet full of love all at the same time. Fred kissed you like it was his last day, as he didn’t know when else is he going to kiss you like this again. You could feel his desperate lips engulfing yours, trying to express everything he wants to say without words. 

Of how much he loves you, and how much he wants you to be happy.

The kiss felt salty, somehow his tears were heavy and trickled down to his lips, making you both taste the salty substance. Suddenly Fred felt nervous, he felt like his golden time with you is about to end. He quietly whimpered at the thought, his heart for the nth time cracking down.

So when he pulled away, he only said one thing.

“Stay with mum, Y/N. Stay with her, for me.”

With tears rolling down his face, and a soft smile on his lips, he watched your eyes widening slowly. You looked horrified, and he knew what it meant. “W-wait, what?”

You couldn’t see him again.

“No, no. Fred, what? Fred?!” 

He was right there, still in the same position, and yet he disappeared from your view. “No, no, no, you can’t do this to me, Fred! You can’t just appear in front of me and disappear just like that!”

Tears streaming down your face as the sounds of loud sobs escaped your mouth. You smacked a fist to your chest, the place where your heart was, “Where did you go? Where in the bloody hell did you go, Freddie?” You wailed down, your fist smacking your chest a few more times, in hopes that could replace the turning of daggers inside your heart.

He didn’t go anywhere, he was right there, watching you. He closed his eyes shut at the sound of your ugly sobs, his whole body trembling from the cries that erupted from his chest. He couldn’t see you cry because of him again; it hurts. It… It hurts a lot. 

With a weak whimper as he hears your breakdown yet again, “I’m here, darling,” Silent sobs merged harmoniously with loud cries.

You woke up breathing heavily. You sat up straight as soon as you opened your eyes, panting as if you had just finished a marathon. Cold sweats were all over your body, wetting your bed slightly. You kept breathing to your mouth, your eyes widened in disbelief.

It was a different dream.

For a whole week, your dreams were finding Fred at the Great Hall, with a ghostly smile on his lips, lifeless. But your dream just now… It’s… It’s…

You didn’t know if it was better… Or worse.

The dream was so vivid, and you could remember Fred saying words as clear as day. Your heart hurts at the thought of his soul visiting you while you sleep, as his body at the hospital, struggling to cure itself. You peeped at the alarm clock; it was 4 in the morning, 12th of May 1998. Approximately, 10 days after the Battle of Hogwarts 

Only one thing was registered to your mind, ‘George.’

Without any time wasted, you found yourself Apparating to George’s apartment, which was just above the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. 

“Y/N? It’s 4 am, what-“ Was George’s words after he had opened the door to you who was knocking on it hastily. You didn’t let him finish his words as you slid into his apartment, your mind was still a mess due to your dream. Without any other words, you made your way to the kitchen, pulling two sachets of instant coffee, both for yourself. 

“Y/N, what’s going on? Why are you here?” You heard George’s footsteps from behind you. You had your back against him, facing the slowly heating kettle on the stove. You were jumping your knee constantly, your fingernails continuously tapped against the tile surface. 

George, being the observant lad he is, noticed your body language, and he softened up to the possibility that you were shaken by something. His hair was tousled messily-he did just wake up after all-and his shirt loosely hang around his body. 

“Y/N…” You noticed the change of tone in his voice, and you closed your eyes in a grimace. “What’s going on?” Simultaneously, the kettle let out a high pitched scream and you turned the stove off, pouring the hot water into the mug you had set up earlier. George noticed your hand shakily holding up the kettle, it was as if you were containing something inside you that could explode any moment. 

So, George tried again, “Hey-“ “He visited me.”

George furrowed his eyebrows, not quite catching your quiet words, “What?” You turned to him, leaning against the kitchen counter with your hands holding the coffee mug, the eye bags beneath your eyes looked so dark and tired, “He visited me, just now.”

George shook his head, hoping that would throw his confusion and dizziness away, “Wha- Who did?”

“Fred.”

Upon hearing his brother’s name, George frowned. He observed you again, your hands shakily brought the mug to your lips, sipping the cheap caffeine into your system. Your knee had stopped jumping, but your sock-covered feet kept fidgeting. George took a seat at the pantry stool, he’s wide awake now.

“What do you mean?” George asked.  

You followed him and sat across him, your hands still wrapped tightly around the mug, bringing you temporary comfort at the warmth. George could tell that you had a lot in your mind, your eyes wavering, your deep breathing, you were a wrecked mess.

“You know how these days I got dreams of him at the Great Hall?” You started, and George nodded wordlessly. Almost everybody knew of your nightmare, Hermione had told him when it first happened and he had witnessed it a couple of times, him waking up suddenly to you screaming with your eyes closed shut, only to cry on Hermione’s shoulders later. Fred’s condition took a heavy toll on all of you, but you especially. Ever since in Hogwarts, you and Fred depended on each other, and George loved that for Fred. Your presence alone made Fred calmer and happier. 

And now knowing that his brother is in a coma with a risky chance of him waking up, and his best friend frantically suffering emotionally and physically for a painful love, it put George in a very hard position.

“I had a different dream this time, after almost two weeks dreaming of the same thing.” You said, and George perked up, “What dream was it?”

  “H-he… he was there when I woke up from another nightmare. It’s… It’s like he never left. He hugged me and he kissed me, b-but he was crying.” Your eyebrows were furrowed as you told George. The dream had been so vivid and so real you were doubting if it was a dream at all. The ache in your heart was amplified by the thought of the dream being completely real and… Fred actually did visit you.

“And, and he told me to stay with Molly, for him. Before he disappeared and I woke up.”

There was silence for a moment. George was trying to process things, reaching his hand to your mug subconsciously and took a sip. You didn’t mind, you always did that with Fred and George, share food and beverages, especially at Hogwarts. 

“How are you feeling?” George finally asked, and you took a deep, shaky breath. You tried to force a smile to comfort him, yet George saw right through you. “Conflicted? Dumbfounded? Heartbroken? Shaken? Happy that I finally got to see him actually not dying whenever I close my eyes?” You muttered loud enough for you two to hear, your eyes staring at the wall behind George.

“Can I choose all of the above?” You asked, finally looking at the ginger in front of you. George scoffed a small smile, pleased at your weak attempt of a joke. “It could be just a dream.” He said carefully, not wanting to hurt your feelings.

You nodded, “I know the possibility is there. But Fred was right there in front of me, hugging me and kissing me. He even told me to stay with Molly. It’s just… It’s just a too big of a coincidence for it to be a pointless dream, George.” George nodded in understanding and sighed, “Might as well listen to the bloke.”

You frowned at George, “What? No-“ “Y/N, you are not ready to live alone in that house. You won’t be fine if you keep it this way.” George cut you off, his stern voice caught you off-guard.  George had always been a soft-spoken person, at least to you personally upon knowing him since you were 11. Usually, the stern one in the friendship was Fred.  But he’s not here, so George felt obliged to take matters into his hands to take care of you.

He sighed at your awestruck expression, “Just give it a try for a few days. Waking up to a warm crowd of people you know almost all your life is better than waking up alone in a cold space.” 

George was right. And you hated that he was right. You quietly stood up from the stool and went to open the sliding door, the view was showing the whole Diagon Alley in dim light. You took a seat and looked up to the sky, it was a full moon. 

 “Fine,” You sighed, “When do we leave?” George finished the mug of coffee, eyes wide awake at the caffeine knocking the door to his systems. “Reckon Mum won’t be awake at this hour, maybe at 8?” He said, staring at your back quietly and you brought your knees to your chest.

“We have 4 hours left and we already had coffee, what do you think we should do?”

George smiled gently at the sight of your figure, his heart weirdly aching at the thought of you missing his brother terribly. He missed Fred too, more than anything in the whole wide world, but he also misses you.

The figure before him isn’t you. You used to be filled with energy and full of brilliant ideas, having a heart of gold and wit of a clown. Never once a day passed at Hogwarts without you constantly singing ‘Good morning’ to the boys’ ears whenever they had breakfast together, which was all the time. If there was one thing George absolutely loved about you, it would be your silly optimism.

But now.

“Mind helping me clean the apartment? The laundry was stacking up like crazy,” George said, his heart gently warming at the sight of you standing up and giving him a ghost of a smile, yet a smile nevertheless, “Where did you store the mop?”

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@paigeyisme @britishspidey @hargreevesgrace @jasminweasley @neutralgoodval @kaidenceweasley @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @123happyllama @nicole-prz @phuvioqhile @ionlycamehereforfanfics @martalol @mccloudchloe @hufflepuffzutara @weasleysangel @missmulti @staygoldsquatchling02 @i-bitch-you-bitch @weewoo2209 @fredsbetch @nj01 @lilypad-55449 @sunflower-of-steel @renupf @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @sarcasticallywitty15 @acciosiriusblack @thefanfichub @thatone1fangirl

PART 5: COMING SOON!

TAGLIST:

[pendragonsandbuckleys]

Reclaiming that broken youth.

Summary: Michael had made it his mission to relive a small piece of the past with Alex. First he tried with the rings, two chunky black and silver things that he’d claimed had been left at the junkyard during his one of his shifts. Alex had simply joked that they weren’t his style anymore and left it at that.

The eyeliner had been a much harder sell and still Alex had refused.

And now, as he was ambling his way up the driveway, he was starting to think that maybe his third attempt would not be so lucky.

-

aka. Michael convinces Alex to let him dye his hair.

Word Count: 4,949

[Also on AO3] 

Was it embarrassing the number of excuses he’d found to come and see Alex? Yes.

Was he going to stop anytime soon? Not likely.

Nostalgia had been rearing its ugly head again leaving him craving a time long since passed and he’d been coming up with whatever reason he could to justify seeing Alex. Going to his house, or the Project Shepard bunker, or the Crashdown where he just happened to bump into him. 

The photo of the two of them had been moved from the cardboard box to the desk along with the few other pictures he treasured of Max and Isobel - he couldn’t make it too obvious after all. But seeing the two of them together like that often made him miss what they used to have. Things were so much simpler back then, until they weren’t.

The problem with nostalgia though was that the feelings weren’t real. They were an echo of what used to be that tended to leave an uncomfortable emptiness the longer you thought about it.

That time had passed and there was no getting it back. Unless?

Surely they didn’t need to be seventeen again to get that feeling back. That soft, carefree feeling that used to settle on their skin as they kissed in the desert.

That’s why he had made it his mission to relive a small piece of the past with Alex. First he tried with the rings, two chunky black and silver things that he’d claimed had been left at the junkyard during one of his shifts. Alex had simply joked that they weren’t his style anymore and left it at that.

The eyeliner had been a much harder sell and still Alex had refused.

And now, as he was ambling his way up the driveway, he was starting to think that maybe his third attempt would not be so lucky.

Three quick taps on the wood brought Alex to the door and he was so focused on the sight of him that Michael barely noticed the smile it brought to his own face. He was in full casual wear, t-shirt, jogging bottoms, matching bed hair sticking up in a perfect mess.

“Hey.” Alex welcomed him with a bright smile. If he was at all surprised to see Michael on his doorstep on an early Saturday morning with absolutely no warning, he hid it very well. His eyes darted over to see where the truck had been parked comfortably on the driveway, before flitting back to Michael.

“I thought we could have some fun.” Michael spoke with a smirk, forgoing any formal greeting, eyes already glistening with mischief. And oh how differently that sentence would have been taken when they were seventeen.

Alex was about to step aside without hesitation when he noticed the box held gently in Michael’s grip. He eyed it warily, already sensing the reasoning for the visit. “What is that?”

“Fun!”

“Um no, I believe that’s called hair dye.”

“Just hear me out.” Michael grinned as he confidently side-stepped his way through the doorway and into the house. “We haven’t hung out properly in a while and we both have the day off…”

Alex shook his head as he pushed the door closed behind him and followed Michael towards the living room. He never would have denied Michael entry, but there was something about him making himself at home that gave Alex a warm feeling in his chest. “See, you keep saying we but I don’t see a box of dye for your hair anywhere.”

“Yeah, well I never had an emo phase, did I?”

“The important word there being phase.” Alex crossed his arms against his chest as he peered down at Michael’s hands again. It was a white box with a bunch of writing on it, but the guy on the front was very clearly modelling the black dye inside. “You know I never actually used to dye my hair back then, right?”

Michael shrugged and waved his hand in the air as if to say whatever, we’re doing it anyway and handed the box over for Alex to get a better look. “You vetoed my other options so I’m stepping up my game.”

Alex watched him closely, noting how he squirmed slightly under his gaze. At first, when Michael had started dropping by a few weeks ago, always at odd hours, always unannounced, Alex had been worried. The ‘hanging out’ excuse could easily have been a guise, an easy escape from any problems he was avoiding and Alex didn’t know how long was best to let Michael hide from whatever was going on.

But seeing him now, wide eyes filled with an innocent sort of playfulness, it looked like Michael really did just want to spend time with him. Even if he did have the most random idea for a pass time. “Why are you so desperate for me to dress all emo again?”

“For…fun?”

Alex chewed his bottom lip to hide the small smile threatening to emerge. “I’m only off work for a week, you know.”

“That’s why it’s temporary.” Michael turned the box around in Alex’s hand and tapped at the words printed clearly on the back. “Three washes and it’s gone.”

“You’ve got an answer for everything, haven’t you?”

-

Michael wasted no time in getting them set up. He grabbed a spare plastic bowl from the kitchen cupboard, an old towel that Alex didn’t care about dirtying and set Alex’s shower stool in front of the large bathroom mirror. 

He should have been embarrassed by how excited he was getting, but he was far too busy being filled with said excitement to care. Against all odds, Alex had actually agreed to do this with very little persuasion required and there was no way he was letting him change his mind.

Alex didn’t interrupt as Michael rummaged his way around the house, finding what he needed and he certainly didn’t show his bemusement at how Michael seemed to know exactly where everything was. And once everything was ready, he took his place in the designated seat, strangely nervous at the thought of Michael dyeing his hair.

Though maybe it wasn’t nerves. He certainly had butterflies, though it could be from the thought of engaging in this teenage sleepover-esque activity. For the boy he liked to come over to his house and willingly run his fingers through his hair for the next hour? Seventeen year old Alex would have done anything for this.

“Right, tell me what to do.” Michael said as he pulled the instructions from the box and handed them to Alex before emptying the rest of the contents next to the sink. He’d probably end up doing it his own way, but he just wanted to give Alex an excuse to stop staring at him as he worked.

As Alex unravelled the instructions a small packet of gloves fell out onto his lap. They didn’t look the sturdiest but it was better than nothing. “There’s the gloves so make sure you wear them,” he said as he placed them next to the bowl.

He gave a quick skim read of the words to get a general idea of what do. There was a lot of writing and he doubted Michael would be patient for long enough to get through it all. “Oh okay, this sounds pretty easy, literally just brush it evenly through my hair.”

Michael nodded distractedly as he carefully fiddled with the lid of the tube. The room wasn’t exactly big and he’d already elbowed a wall with one arm and knocked the empty bowl to the floor with the other. Tripping over the towel had been an added bonus that Alex had enjoyed far too much. He had no idea where this clumsiness had suddenly come from, but now he was being extra careful with everything.

“Put it in gently. We don’t want it going everywhere.” Alex instructed him as he squeezed the dye into the bowl. The coal-black cream squelched as it left the tube and a small drop splattered onto the white tile wall which Michael hastily wiped with the back of his hand. It smeared across the wall at first until he managed to clean it all off.

With everything set up, he clamped Alex’s towel covered shoulders and beamed at him through the mirror’s reflection. “You ready?”

“Go for it.” Alex rolled his eyes at the enthusiasm radiating off Michael. Yep, he definitely felt like a teenager right now.

Michael started out slow. The dye was cool against his fingers as he scooped a blob into his palm. He knew Alex would be able to wash it out almost instantly if it ended up looking terrible, but still, he didn’t want to get it wrong.

He took a breath before reaching for Alex’s hair. Only now did it click just how intimate this activity was for two people who had barely done more than stand a few feet away from each other recently. He thought it would be a bit of fun, getting Alex to dress up in his old high school persona that they both used to love. But now, with the dye in his hand, he realised that meant running his fingers through Alex’s hair. An action that he used to love whenever they kissed. The smooth strands under his fingertips, pulling him closer when he could no longer control his urges.

But they were friends now. And friends dyed each other’s hair, right? Friends helped each other put on makeup or decided outfits if one was going on a date, so doing each other’s hair was no different from all of that.

The strands of hair slid across his palm easily, turning from dark brown to black with a single touch. It felt just as soft as it did ten years ago.

The room was silent as he worked save for Michael’s movements and the occasional hmm from Alex. Michael wasn’t sure if Alex realised that he was making the little noises but he was just glad he was finding it relaxing. The casual glances over Alex’s head and into the mirror showed that his eyes were closed, his lips curled into a small smile.

Michael was surprised by how much he was enjoying it himself. He was used to working with his hands all day, but this was different. Working on the cars was methodical, a heavy-handed muscle memory from years of experience, but this? This was gentle, personal.

It took about as long as would be expected to cover hair of Alex’s length and as Michael moved to the front so he could finish up the fringe, Alex opened his eyes to watch him work, “So really, what’s with all the emo stuff?”

Michael avoided the eye contact as he concentrated on turning the remaining brown into black. How could he explain that he was feeling nostalgic without it sounding sappy?

“It’s probably just some misguided attempt at reclaiming my youth.” He answered as he scooped more dye onto his fingers.

“Okay, but it seems more like we’re reclaiming my youth.”

“Yeah, well, this part of your youth was the best part of mine.” Michael replied without thinking, feeling the heat instantly rise up his cheeks at the honest answer.

The mortification was written so clear on his face that Alex forced himself to hold back a chuckle. They were still working on getting that openness back to their friendship, so for it to come out so easily every now and then was a nice step in the right direction.

“I actually always wanted to dye my hair back then.” Alex spoke up, steering into a new conversation to save Michael’s embarrassment. “It seemed like the next logical step for my fashion choice.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Getting the eyeliner passed dad was enough of a challenge and even then it was something I could take off pretty instantly if need be. I think the dye would have been too much of a risk.”

Michael felt a pang of sympathy for all Alex had to endure back then, he’d seen it firsthand several times all the way up until Jesse Manes’ death after all. But no. They weren’t going to dwell on that today. If they were reclaiming their youth then all unwanted memories were unwelcome and henceforth banned from all thoughts. 

He nudged Alex’s shoulder playfully as he moved back to the bowl. “And you didn’t have an expert hairdresser to do it for you.”

“That too.” Alex laughed, rolling his eyes as he heard the sound of yet another blob of dye dropping to the floor, “Though I didn’t expect my hairdresser to get it everywhere but my hair.”

Michael gritted his teeth with a frown as he looked down at the small black splatter, a glaringly obvious stain against the white. “Hey, that’s only the third time.”

He ran his hands through Alex’s hair for the last time, being careful to check that every strand was covered. The dye had already started doing its job beautifully and emo Alex was very much taking hold.

It was as he was stepping back to inspect his finished work did he notice just how much of a mess he’d actually made, sheepishly pointing out to Alex that there was some on the edge of the sink, a few blobs in the shower and it was on the wall in about four different places.

“How the hell did it get there, I didn’t even go near that wall.” Michael exclaimed, utterly confounded at the mess he’d managed to create. Had he been in his own head so much that his hands had taken on a life of their own? 

“It’s fine,” Alex laughed fondly as he nudged the bin closer with his foot. “Just put the gloves in there before you touch anything else.”

“…wait, there were gloves?”

Alex turned around this time to look at Michael properly. He hadn’t noticed the lack of gloves on the hands in his hair, but looking at them now he could see they were completely covered not by the plastic, but by a creamy black gunk. Michael had a mischievous look on his face, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he tried not to snigger and Alex could feel himself doing the same. “What is the first thing I said to you?”

“Put it in gently?”

They couldn’t hold back their laughter. Scrubbing his hands removed all but the faint grey tint now dyed into his skin, but Michael didn’t care. Maybe it was all the dye fumes, but it felt like he was on a weird kind of high. Here they were, two boys giggling away like they’d been caught making out in the supply closet at school and in that moment everything felt right with the world.

Leaning back against the sink Michael crossed his arms as he admired Alex’s hair from the front. Even slicked back against his head it was looking good but they still had twenty minutes to fill before it was ready. “So, what should we do while we wait?”

Alex slyly leant over to the bowl, still filled a quarter of the way with leftover dye and waggled his eyebrows impishly at the horrified look Michael was now giving him. “Come on Guerin, it washes out.”

It really was quite a small bathroom with nowhere to run so as Alex stood up to get closer, Michael backed away so much he practically fell into the shower. The laughter returned as he tried to hide as much of his hair as he could with his arms. “Nope. These curls are sacred and there’s no way you’re turning them black. The most you’d ever get on me is the eyeliner.”

Alex gasped gleefully, eyes wide with excitement as he watched it dawn on Michael what he’d just said. He opened the bathroom cabinet and there, at the back of the bottom shelf, was Michael’s latest gift to him. Still unused, he’d only kept it for sentimental reasons, a fond reminder of his past self, but now Michael had no excuse.

“Take a seat.” Alex batted his eyelids innocently as he gestured to the stool he had vacated and Michael had no choice but to comply. He always found it hard to deny Alex anything, but right now, he’d do anything to keep that joy in his eyes.

Alex hadn’t used eyeliner in over ten years. At age seventeen it had taken him weeks to perfect the art without smudging it or poking himself in the eye and when he first joined the military he often missed the soothing action of it. But now, a decade on, he still held the pencil with the hands of someone who would never forget how to use it.

Michael looked up at him expectantly from the seat, a slight tingling rushing through him as Alex held his chin to tilt it upwards. He’d never worn any kind of makeup before, never really had the urge to, but there was always a first time for everything.

There was something quite sexy about Alex knowing exactly what to do, telling him when to look up, when to blink, pressing the pencil down just enough to leave the colour on his skin, but not too soft that it tickled. His hands were very gentle as they held Michael’s face and he felt his mind wandering as he let Alex work.

“Guerin, stay still or it’s going in your eye.” Alex admonished lightly, tongue poking out as he concentrated. He was surprised by how steady his hand was being and he didn’t want to mess it up now.

He gave a few more strokes before stepping away, tapping the pencil against his chin as he admired his work with a grin. An eyeliner-wearing Michael was never a look he’d imagined before, but it sure was a look he was appreciating. It was a subtle change, but one that made Alex want to dress him in a leather jacket and start a rock band with him. “All done.”

Mourning the loss of Alex’s touch, Michael sighed as he got to his feet, knees popping as he stood up and leaned in close to the mirror.

He looked…different. Not a bad different, maybe even a good different. It made his eyes seem brighter and his lashes look darker and the longer he looked in the mirror the wider he could see Alex’s smile getting.

“Alright, I’ll give you this one. It doesn’t look too bad.”

“Right!” Alex was practically giddy as he stepped closer to look at Michael’s eyes through the mirror. Their hands brushed lightly as they both leaned against the sink. “I didn’t think it would look this good, but now I’m starting to wish you’d had this look in high school.”

Michael turned to face him then, bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes roamed over Alex’s face. Maybe this whole nostalgia thing wasn’t so bad when you had someone to share it with.

He grabbed the eyeliner from Alex’s hand before he could be stopped and held it above his head with an eager grin as if Alex couldn’t reach it easily. “Your turn.”

-

Michael had been banished to the sofa while Alex washed out the dye. He’d willingly volunteered to help but Alex wanted the finished look to be a surprise. Not that he could blame him. If it looked terrible at least it would give Alex the chance to kick Michael out of the house before he even saw it.

Not that that would actually happen, Michael had done an excellent job and the finished article would prove just that, thank you very much.

The muffled noise of the shower turning on and off filtered through the walls as he peered around the room. He’d seen the inside of Alex’s house enough times now to know the layout but not enough to know its contents. 

The colourful spines of the neat pile of books stood out against the brown of the table they were sitting on. Their titles were too small to read from across the room but it made Michael wonder what kind of books Alex read now. He’d never thought to ask in all the time he’d been back in Roswell. Did he still read fantasy books like the ones Michael used to see him get lost in for hours at a time? Or were they non-fiction, filled with facts about a world that Alex had always longed to explore.

There were a few plants dotted around the room which Michael was nerdy enough to know the names of. They weren’t the type that required much watering though Michael could almost picture a green-thumbed Alex taking care to provide them what they needed.

But taking up most of the space was a whole range of musical items. A turntable alongside a crowded box of records, because of course that’s how Alex liked to listen to his music. A pair of speakers on either of side of his keyboard, a thick black pair of headphones sitting atop the black and white keys. And guitars. So many guitars.

I mean come on, four of them in one room? Alex was practically begging him to pick one up.

Three of them were next to the keyboard, held neatly on their individual stands, but it was the guitar standing alone that caught his attention. It was leaning almost precariously against the wall, looking like it could slide to the floor at the smallest touch but he had a feeling it had been there for a while. It was the one Alex had tried to gift to him all those months ago, after all.

Before he could stop himself, he pushed off the sofa and edged towards the guitar. Its case had been unzipped just enough at the top to show the dark brown wood poking through and Michael didn’t hesitate to unzip it the rest of the way.

Plucking a few of the strings made Michael wonder if maybe Alex had played it recently. It seemed to be perfectly in tune. It had been a little while now since he’d held a guitar, let alone played one, but this one seemed to fit so naturally in his hands.

The faint whirring of the hair dryer could now be heard through the bedroom door and Michael couldn’t help himself. His fingers fell into place effortlessly and played a tune that he once played for Alex all those years ago. It wasn’t hard to remember, it was one of the only songs he actually knew by heart and the muscle memory of the notes hadn’t failed him yet.

As the strings vibrated under his fingertips, the rest of the world fell away, the soft melody filling the room. He’d missed this, the calm that would wash over him whenever he used to play and for a brief moment as his fingers slipped between the C and G chords he wondered why he ever gave the guitar back.

“Suits you.” Alex’s quiet voice interrupted the notes and Michael almost dropped the guitar in his surprise. He hadn’t heard the hairdryer stop, hadn’t heard the door creaking open but the way Alex was smiling at him told him he had nothing to feel embarrassed about.

The smile wasn’t what he was focused on though.  

The inky black hair had turned out so much better than he’d ever imagined. The dark strands contrasted his lightly tanned skin so starkly and Michael could tell that he had taken a few extra minutes to style it a little.

His eyeliner was mismatched and uneven - one eye having been done badly by Michael before Alex, fearing the idea of getting poked in the eye again, had confiscated the pencil and finished the second eye perfectly by himself.

He looked like his innocent seventeen year old self. 

But also not. His features were matured enough to set the illusion off-kilter just slightly.

He looked incredible.

Michael wasn’t sure when his legs had made the decision to stand up, but here he was, two feet away from Alex, staring at him with his mouth half open. Alex took the silence the wrong way though as he gave a nervous laugh, feeling his cheeks redden.

He anxiously rubbed the back of his neck and the movement knocked Michael out of his daze. He slowly dragged his eyes away from Alex’s hair and down to his lips, watching them form the words as he spoke. “It looks terrible, doesn’t it?”

Had Alex even looked in the mirror? Had he not seen what Michael was seeing right now? 

And it’s not even like the hair and makeup changed him that much. He’s looked beautiful the entire time Michael has known him, he just looked beautiful with his old style right this second rather than his new one. 

Maybe Michael just always thought Alex looked most comfortable in his seventeen-year-old style, it was a look he had precisely crafted for himself to best represent the person he was. The black jumpers with bold patterns, the makeup, the piercings. It was the look of a rebellious kid who didn’t want to fit in.

His current style was created through circumstance, through being forced to take on a duty that he never chose but has now made his own. And his style was his own now too, the muted colours much more reserved, but still his choice.

But now standing before him was a beautiful combination of both of those people and oh dear, he’s never really stopped thinking about Alex this way, has he? And more important, how long has he been staring at him without saying a single word?

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his throat had gone strangely dry.

“No.” He whispered in reply as he stepped closer, his feet making their own decisions again and he suddenly couldn’t stop himself. In that moment he couldn’t remember why he had been holding back for all of these months when the person he wanted most in the world was standing right in front of him.

He kissed him before he could stop himself, hands gently grabbing Alex’s face, feeling soft lips against his own. It felt like he was seventeen again, kissing for the first time in the darkened rooms of the UFO Emporium but as his hands crept up into Alex’s hair the sound of a distant car horn through the open kitchen window broke through his dream-filled haze and he realised what he had just done.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” Michael stuttered out as he pulled away with a gasp, instantly embarrassed at how impulsive he had been. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes stayed trained on Alex’s chest, not daring to lift them any higher. In one tiny moment of weakness he had broken their agreement and he wanted to kick himself for how stupid that had been.

It had been decided that they would just be friends. No drama, no fighting and definitely no sex. The relationship between them would be strictly supportive and platonic and as much as Michael had longed for them to be something, he had agreed for the sake of keeping any kind of connection with Alex. And turns out, he couldn’t even give him that.

If he had looked up he would have seen the surprise on Alex’s face. Surprise that Michael had kissed him - sure - but more the surprise that Michael had pulled away so abruptly. And far too soon for that matter.

Before Alex could talk himself out of it, he took Michael’s face in his hands and kissed him right back. His heart fluttered as Michael instantly pulled him closer, softer this time, as if they both knew in that moment that there was no rush.

Michael’s entire body tingled, heat filling his chest as Alex lips parted with a tiny breath. He was hardly aware of what his own hands were doing, so desperate to never let go, his knees almost giving out as the rest of the world fell away, leaving them in their intimate, almost forbidden, moment.

As his fingers ran through the soft strands of the freshly dyed hair, Michael was reminded of every other time they had performed this same action, how natural this felt, how safe, like coming home.

“I would have let you dye my hair weeks ago if I’d known that’s all it would take.” Alex sighed as they parted, still only inches from Michael’s face, not daring to move any further lest the spell be broken. He hadn’t seen the day going this way when Michael had turned up on his doorstep with his mischievous grin but he wasn’t about to complain.

Michael gave a small huff of laughter at the unexpected comment, his hands itching to pull Alex closer. He had been wanting to do that for a long time, but he’d been good. He’d stuck to their agreement and given Alex the space to move on, no matter how many times he’d wanted to rebuild that abandoned bridge between them. But it seems the long awaited move had now finally been made and he didn’t have to hold back anymore.  

Because here Alex was, black hair, dark eyeliner, standing in front of him with that nervous post-kiss smile that Michael had missed for far too long and now he never wanted to let this moment go.

It seems today had definitely been third time lucky.

Very lucky indeed.

Thank you for reading 💜✨

[say-the-name-sebongie]

Complicated

Synopsis: Mingyu is a demon prince and came to earth to watch another world war that was caused by the demon king to honor his inheritance to the throne in the underworld (as all his predecessors had done by tradition). It was going great until he met a female soldier at one of the military camps made him kinda not want to be a demon anymore.

Pairing: Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: angst, kinda dystopianAU!

Warnings: war, guns, mentions of death,

Word Count: 1.3k words

Crickets chirped on a bunch of trees to her left as she walked back to the barracks. Why she was always assigned for night patrol, _____ didn't know. Her hard-military boots didn't make the walk back to the barracks any easier but she knew she had to hurry if she wanted to make it to shelter before the bombing started again.

Gritting her teeth, she gave one last spurt towards the dark building where a single lightbulb was the only thing that was providing any light. All other lights were already turned off, signifying that everyone else had turned in for the night. But sitting under the light was Mingyu. The man was twirling his service pistol— which would have been tremendously dangerous if he were not a trained soldier— with his finger inside the trigger guard. A combat shotgun was propped against the wall behind him.

Mingyu was this really tall guy who wouldn't disclose anything about his past. Where he came from, his age, his last name, what he used to do for a living before getting dispatched as an emergency recruit, nothing. All he would say was that his dad was really rich and that going to the military and fighting in this war was the only thing that would ensure that he would get all of daddy's riches when the time came.

_____ didn't know why his father would make him join the army as a private, especially in the middle of an ongoing war. If Mingyu was really as rich as he said he was then he would have been able to snag himself a higher position instead of groveling with her in the lower ranks. And if his father wanted to have an heir, he wouldn’t sent said heir off to a war where he could die at any time. But here he was, sitting under the lightbulb of one of the barracks where the privates slept, probably assigned there by their Sergeant Major to guard in case of a surprise attack or to receive emergency orders.

Mingyu stood up as she came closer, offering to her the chair he was sitting on. _____ gratefully took the seat and sighed in relief when the pressure of her weight was removed from her sore feet. She took off her shoes and propped her swollen feet up on the wall beside the combat shotgun. "Now this is the life," she muttered, smiling warmly at Mingyu. "You're not getting this chair back anytime soon, Gyu."

The boy laughed. This girl really was something. Unlike all the other girls he had heard of, she was different. Not that he had heard of or met a lot of other girls. He sat down on the wooden floor and stared at her. Her hair was sticking out several places and her face was bare. The camouflage makeup that was required of them whenever they went for patrol by the borders looked as if it was hastily wiped away. Spots of it still hung on her skin. But nonetheless, he found her beautiful.

He hadn’t seen a lot of beautiful things before. Being the son and only heir to his father's throne in the Underworld, Mingyu was used to ugly and cold. His home was full of it. He had grown up in the obsidian castle his ancestors had built, learning about what his future of ruling the Underworld would be like. It was normal to see gargoyles flying as soon as he woke up or walking past rotting zombies and skeletons on the road. Those two words basically summarized that: ugly and cold. Never in his life (or what he called his life) did he think that there was anything else aside from that.

Yet here it was, sitting on a chair with her feet up on the wall, the epitome of beauty and warmth.

He tore his eyes away from _____ and gazed out at the forest that surrounded the base. A deep orange light was shining in the distance where a city was probably being burned down. His last conversation with his father replayed itself in his mind.

"A celebration?" Mingyu scratched his head in confusion. Such a word wasn't heard in the Underworld, at least not regularly. "What for?"

The Demon King laughed and patted his son on the back. "Why to celebrate your heirship, of course." He turned Mingyu around and gestured at the land around them, at the dead roaming around jagged rocks studded with jewels and rivers glowing dimly in different colors against the dark sky. “We will fill up the Upper world with lights and shouts in your honor."

Back then, hearing that filled Mingyu with anticipation. He had never had a celebration just for him, let alone a celebration arranged for him by his very own father. But apparently, the lights his father meant were fires of burning cities and shouts were equivalent to screams of pain and fear. The celebration of his inheritance had come to Earth in the form of war.

Mingyu would have been happy with all this if he hadn't requested to see the celebration himself and met _____ in the process. He had disguised himself as a human soldier and blended in with a group of other soldiers. Her strong cheerful voice was the first thing that greeted him when he boarded the truck. She was one of the talkative ones. Helping keep order among the first time soldiers that had been recruited from the provinces near town.

_____ showed him something he had never seen before. She cheered up the other soldiers that were depressed about going to war, telling them that they would be able to come back home to their families once it was all over. She was always the first person to place a flower on the graves of fallen soldiers.

He had fallen in love with her. Sure, a demon could fall in love. But a demon falling in love with a human? That was highly unheard of.

To his luck— or misfortune— _____ liked him as well. "We just have to wait for this war to be over," she told him one night when they were on patrol together. "Then we can get married and live happily ever after."

At one of their makeshift funerals for their comrades, Mingyu realized that one of the funerals that he attended in the future could be hers. They were in a war, any one of them could be dead by the time night came. The thought of her dying scared him.

He should’ve left when they first came to get him but he was so scared of what might happen to _____ if he weren’t there. So, he made up excuses when his father's minions had come to bring him back home. He couldn’t remember what excuses he had come up with but as long as it got him to stay by her side for longer, it didn’t matter to him.

Mingyu knew that there was no way to stop this war but he wanted nothing more than to be with her. He hadn’t known of the power of love. He wanted to stay with her and throw away the throne he had inherited along with all the powers and riches that came with it without a second thought.

But he knew his father wouldn't allow it. The Demon King could find him and bring him back to rule, that was the reason Mingyu was born and that was what the king expected him to do. He knew how far his father was willing to go. If he had to kill _____ in the process then, so be it.

"Earth to Mingyu, any signal there?"

_____'s voice brought him back from his thoughts. He looked up at her, the smile on her face brighter than the light that shone above them. The girl combed her hands through his locks, Mingyu's eyes closing at the pleasurable feeling. "What are you thinking about."

"Us."

She cocked her head to the side, confused. "I thought we had already gone through this. You said you loved me and wanted to stay with me."

"That's right." Mingyu agreed.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Everything," he said sadly, taking her hand and lacing his fingers with hers.

"I want to be with you. It’s as simple and as complicated as that."

[musingsbydeepo]

happier

Pairing: Jisung x fem!reader, Felix x fem!reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: heartbreak (?), it’s kinda sad guys, um i think that’s it

Word count: 785

A/N: Um here’s my first fic for this blog i guess? uH idrk how i came across this idea, i didn’t even want my first fic to be sad LMAO but well here it is, hope you like it :D

Now Playing: happier by Olivia Rodrigo

We broke up a month ago Your friends aren't mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more girl who brings out the better in you

Jisung walked past the shops he and you used to enter to have dates. He smiled bitterly at the thought.  You were in his head more often these days than you were when you two were still together. Maybe that was the reason you left.

And I thought my heart was attached For all the sunlight of our past But she's so sweet, she's so pretty Does she mean you forgot about me?

He was about to purchase warm buns from the vendor when his gaze drifted to Madame Im’s thrift store. He saw you.

You were with Felix Lee, the nice boy in your Physics class who always gave you brownies. Your eyes sparkled the way they used to when you were dating. He remembered when you would look at him like that.

As if you were looking at the person you loved the most.

Oh, I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

It had only been a month, but you were already with someone new. Did you forget about him that easily? How fortunate for you.

Jisung watched as you clung to Felix’s arm tightly, as if you never wanted to let go. Did you ever hold on to him like that? At some point in your relationship, maybe. But you decided to let go of him in the end. Did you realize that he wasn’t worth fighting for anymore? That your relationship wasn’t worth fighting for?

If so, when? When did you realize that he wasn’t worth your time, your attention, your love? Was it when he started to become distant, when he slowly drifted away, when he started taking you for granted? When he was so sure that when he called, you would come at a moment’s notice?

He had gotten so used to you, your warm smiles, your soft caresses that put him at peace. Why did he expect you to save him every time? He certainly didn’t do the same for you. When that brat Sohee bullied you, spat out hurtful words that you deserved? Where was he when that happened?

He was in the empty English classroom just a couple feet from the commotion with his friends, defeating the boss level on some pointless game. He remembered seeing your dull eyes, the way your quiet voice whispered after class.

“I wish you were there.”

You didn’t talk to him for over two weeks. But did he mind? No, he supposed not. In fact, he was relieved that he didn’t have to be ‘responsible’ for a change. He didn’t have to take you to your morning classes or sit with you at lunch. He felt free.

Looking back on it, Jisung was disgusted at himself.

Did that Jisung from three months ago aware that he didn’t make you happy anymore? Did that Jisung realize how much he had hurt you that day and the days that followed, up until the day you broke up?

No, he supposed not.

With a bitter smile, he observed you and Felix messing around in Madame Im’s as the old shopkeeper shook her head in amusement. There was no denying now. You looked so happy. Your smile was as wide as the day Jisung asked you to be his girlfriend. No – wider.

An ugly, dark feeling wrapped his heart as he clenched his fists. Sure, you were happy. Felix made you happy. But did Jisung make you happier?

Did he wish he made you happier?

He did, but there was nothing left now. Jisung knew it was selfish, that you deserved to be happier with Felix. That didn’t mean Jisung wanted you to be happier with Felix, not at all. But as he observed Felix pepper your face with kisses – something he never got to do – he came to the conclusion that he didn’t deserve you.

You pulled away from Felix and your gaze landed on the window. He hastily finished his transaction with the bun vendor and walked away.

Away from you, away from what could have been.

As he munched on his toasty bun, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found what he was looking for.

To: Felix from Y/N’s Phys

Take care of her, okay?

He made a mental reminder to change Felix’s contact ID later on.

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 22. Trembling

A/N: So I'm not much for writing young Snape romantically - I much prefer the older one - but I got a little idea for a story and I wanted to try it out. I hope I managed to do the idea in my head some sort of justice and that you all enjoy it <3

Setting: Hogwarts, the day before leaving for the holidays

Pairing: Snape x Reader (both in their seventh year at Hogwarts)

ABBR.: │ (y/n) - Your Name │ (y/l/n) - Your Last Name │

Word count: 3248

Warnings: Harsh Language, Angst, Fluff, Bullying

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

Prologue: You have been in love with Severus for nearly two years now, but he had seemed oblivious to you and each time you had tried to befriend him, or even talk to him, he had been nearly cruel in his words as he pushed you away in all manners possible. But you were resilient and would not quit bugging him in your efforts to catch his attention. But, even you had a limit to what you could take and you were balancing on it after such a long time of giving it your best effort to get him to allow you into his life; and hopefully heart.

He was soaked. You heard the laughter and the snickering as he stood absolutely still in pure shock while water drenched him, soaked his clothes and flattened his long black hair. Your heart skipped a beat as tears sprung to your eyes as you stood halfway up the stairs watching him below you. Those fucking Marauders! They're so damn cruel! As that thought ran through your head you heard the howling laughter of those exact people.

Your head whipped around, your eyes instantly locked on James, Sirius, Remus, Peter and Lily. They stood on the staircase just above Severus; Sirius and James each held a bucket each that had obviously been filled with the water that had been dumped over Severus. You were fuming, your fists clenched at your sides as you watched them laugh. Except for Lily, she just sneered at Severus with a tired look. How can she just fucking stand there? How cold can a person be? At least the other idiots claim their actions and their ugly sides... But she, you were fuming as your eyes shoot figurative bolts of lightning at the girl who was one of the reasons Severus had not accepted your requests at being friends - or even on speaking terms. You knew that. You knew how he looked at her, and damn it hurt.  

"Oy, Snivellus, feeling a bit cleaner?" James laughed out with a high five from Sirius who howled with laughter. Remus chuckled, Peter looked happy and Lily seemed to care more about her nails than the scene that was unfurling in front of her. You clenched your jaw as your eyes switched view and landed on Severus who was still standing absolutely still as water pooled around his feet. Your heart clenched at the sight of him, your stomach twisted and you started to tremble with fuming, glowing, boiling rage. It coursed through your every fibre as your hand unclenched and reached for your wand.

It all happened so fast. Your actions fuelled by the dooming rage that pulsed through you as you directed the tip of your wand towards the idiots one floor up and in the next instant they were soaking wet as a fountain of water spewed from your wand. Fuelled by your raging emotions. Silence fell as the sound of water took over. It only took a single moment to drench them all - and a few bystanders. But they had laughed too so why the heck not?

"(y/l/n)! NO-!" Severus screamed and it pulled you out of the pounding emotions that that locked you in your stance as water finally stopped spewing from your wand. You were panting, your hand and wand trembled as you shook from your own shocking action. You had never done anything like that before. Seven years at Hogwarts and I, I lose control now-?! You thought as your hand lowered while the Marauders were still coughing and trying to get up of the floor as the water had truly flown out of your wand like a wave and crashed into them with force.

You turned your head towards Severus who gawked at you. Except for the sloshing of wet clothes and some coughing, the silence was as thick as morning fog. He looked at you, shocked and perhaps taken aback from your actions. For a moment you were just frozen in place as the realisation hit you. You had stooped to their level. You had retaliated - rather splendidly as well might you add.

But the look Severus gave you wasn't a happy one, it wasn't thankful or grateful. He looked horrified and it broke your heart. Tears sprung to your eyes and in an instant, your legs began moving. You hurled yourself down the stairs as students started to whisper and point. You passed Severus in a rush, unable to look at anyone as you tried to keep the tears from falling freely. As you tried to keep your heart in one piece in your chest.

You barrelled your way through corridor after corridor until you got to the courtyard at the back. You flung yourself through the doors as the faint echo of your name being called reached you. But you ran. Ran and cried. Stumbled and sobbed. Somehow, you ended up at the Whomping Willow at the edge of the Forbidden Forrest. You stopped outside of its reach as you heaved for air. Your lungs burned as your cheeks turned wet from tears.

You tried to force air into your lungs, tried to confine the emotions that raged through you like the crashing of waves on a stormy sea seeking to devour all ships. To sink all things and snatch them from the light, clutch them in the deep dark of eternal night. Just, breath, breath, maybe he-, maybe he doesn't hate- no, that look... A sharp pain shot through you, it echoed through your soul as the look on Severus's face flashed before your inner eye.

You sobbed and snivelled as you tried to wipe away the salty tears. Your legs were shaking and your hands still trembled. Your chest felt too tight, yet it could have caved in on itself at the same time from the hollow feeling. How was that even possible? Could you break so badly you turned hollow?

A twig snapped, your head whipped around as Severus called out your name with a hoars voice. as if he had been screaming for a long time. Your eyes widened as he appeared at the top of the hill a little ways away from you. "Leave me alone!" you screamed at him with a broken voice as you were still crying. He started to run towards you on those long slender legs. "(y/n), you-" "Leave me alone!" you screamed again as you started to step backwards. As you tried to increase the distance he so hastily shortened.

"(Y/N), DON'T-" he screamed and you saw that horrible expression of horror again in his eyes and it hit you with such force you stumbled from the recent memory in the Entrance Hall. You were just about to fall when your breath was knocked out of you as something hard hit your back so harshly you landed face forward in the cold snow with a thud. You lost your bearing as your head had taken quite a hit against the ground. The tiny layer of snow did nothing to dampen the blow.

"(Y/N)! RUN!" Severus screamed as you tried to lift yourself up of the ground. What the- but you had no more time to think as a large tree branch slammed itself down right next to you. Missing you by merely the width of a wand. You tried to force air into your lungs after the previous harsh blow as your head spun and your back protested against any movement you tried to force your body to do. Severus shouted at you to move, run, get away - but you couldn't get up.

"MOVE!" he screamed and you rolled away just in time before another branch slammed down where you had laid a mere second earlier. You managed to get up in a crawling position and threw yourself forward with all your strength. You were nearly, nearly out of reach for the damn tree as it slammed its branches down again. The tip of one struck your foot and the force of the blow made you scream out in pain as Severus grabbed your hands and pulled you away from the tree with such force you landed on top of him.

You both laid panting on the wet, cold ground as the tree straightened and stopped flinging its branches around. You tried to catch your breath as Severus held onto you. You barely realized it at first but once your mind became aware of him beneath you, his arms around your waist, his face so close to your own... Your breath hitched, you tensed and you flung yourself off him so fast you had to scramble to find your own limbs in the flailing mess you were.

You managed to get up, somehow, as he rose elegantly despite his long limbs. Your heart hammered as he looked at you. Your mouth went dry as the memory of his horror-filled eyes from earlier flashed by as he still had a slight look of horror etched in those onyx galaxies that were his eyes. You couldn't bear to look at him when he wore that expression you knew came from anger at you, or perhaps even hatred at what you had done. It made no sense that he would be angry with you for defending him but you still saw it, felt it. It couldn't be anything else when his eyes wore such an expression.

You turned around as you hugged yourself. Your back ached, your body shook and you felt fresh tears as they leaked from your eyes. You sobbed as some form of reality hit you that you had fucked up and now, he would never allow you to be close to him. Perhaps now he wouldn't just dismiss you but effectively shut you out... You shivered as the thoughts of his hatred and rejection ran through you.

"Are you cold?" Severus asked and his voice frightened you so you jumped slightly as it came from such close proximity. You twisted your head at the same time only to find him mere inches from you. You froze. Never had he been so close before as he had been that day. Before it was unintentional but now, he had stood himself right by you.

"(y/n), are you cold?" he asked again as you couldn't make a sound. All you could think of, all you could feel, was your pounding heart and his beautiful eyes paired with the long black hair that screamed for you to reach out and run your fingers through it. But you didn't, of course, you didn't do that. But you wanted to, oh by Merlin how you wanted to touch those silky strands. but you merely looked at him as your body vibrated from the shivers as you were without any proper attire to be outside in such cold temperatures.  

In the next moment, it was like you realised he spoke to you, realised he was so close, realised he had followed you - called for you and basically saved you from the deadly tree. You took a step back from him as uncertainty crawled through you. How angry was he with you? Did he hate you now? Was that what his eyes were screaming at you? You hadn't a clue and it freaked you out immensely. You felt your face turn pale - from the thoughts, the worry, but also the physical pain you were in as the tree had landed two harsh blows on you.

"Why did you do that?" he asked and his words surprised you, he sounded angry, or perhaps exasperated - you couldn't quite tell as his voice was so damn deep it thundered out of his mouth no matter what he said. "I-, I-" But you found no words. You had never confessed your feelings to him, you had only ever dared hope to perhaps befriend him. Why would he, excellent as he was, be interested in you? You weren't anything special or fancy, nor were you excellent as he was. You were, quite frankly, just you.

He raised a brow slightly at you and a blush crept in as you folded your eyes towards the ground. His was just too deep, too wide, to hexing to look into any longer. You feared you would drown if you kept staring into them as they swirled with black stardust. "You shouldn't have done that," he murmured on a small sigh and you lowered your head as your shoulders shot up towards your ears. "I'm sorry, I, I just wanted to- I couldn't just stand by and watch. They're, they're horrendous..." Your voice was low yet you managed to squeeze out the words through the lump that had formed in your throat.

"They are, you shouldn't have butted in (y/n), you should have just let it-"  You whipped up your head with a glare towards him. Suddenly quite angry with him instead. "You shouldn't be treated like that! You shouldn't have to deal with shit like that!" you shouted as he stared at you, "It's not fair! They treat you worse than garbage! I can't- I can't stand it! I can't just look, I can't just stand by and let them torment the one I love-" Your hand covered your mouth instantly without even finishing your sentence.

You stared at him with wide eyes as he did the same at you. Your words felt heavy in the air as your body stiffened, prepared to run for the hills if need be. "You- you what?" Severus stuttered out and your face turned scarlet as he gawked at you. His eyes impossibly large and the usual pale skin a tad flushed. You couldn't help how your heart pounded, how your body trembled and shook - how your entire being screamed at you to run as if your life depended on it. But you were utterly frozen. Your boots stuck to the ground. Your shoulders stiff while your legs felt like jelly.

Well, that's one way to fucking do it, you thought as reality started to entwine with that fantasy world of yours. Just, perhaps not in the way you had wanted it to as Severus yet again looked horrified, or maybe disgusted, you couldn't quite be sure. It was difficult to tell what went on inside of him but it appeared to be negative, whatever it was.

You let your hand fall away from your mouth, it limply landed beside your body as if something just left you, some will or power perhaps. Something, hope or perhaps a dream. "I love you," you whispered as tears once again welled in your eyes, "I love you and I'm sorry to disgust you like that." You exhaled as the tears started to fall. It was over. Your fantasy world where you were by his side, loved by him, came crashing down as if it were an avalanche set on tumbling down a mountainside. You crumbled along with it. As good as buried beneath its weight, as good as dead as your hollow chest felt as if it had truly caved in on itself.

You turned from him, your body felt as if it were not your own. You felt naked in reality; stripped of that one piece of a dream you had held on to for dear life for such a long time. You started to walk away from him only to be held back by slim fingers wrapped around your wrist. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes landed right at his swirling galaxies of onyx and black stardust that looked intently yet harshly on you.

"I told you to stay away," he growled, you nodded, "I told you to ignore me," he continued and you nodded once more. He sighed, deeply. "I told you, over and over, not to butt in." You nodded once more as you wiped away tears from your cheeks with your free hand. The wind swiped over you and tossed about his black hair as you shivered from its frozen fangs that nibbled at you through the thin clothes you wore.

He tugged on your arm, you stumbled a step towards him. When you looked up he glared down at you. "I told you," he hissed, "to stay, away." In the next instant, his lips smashed against yours. Harshly. It took you a moment to realise what happened and then his lips were gone as you gawked at him. "I told you, to stay, away. I told you so many damn times (y/n). So, many, times," he hissed as his arms snaked around you. You looked at him, confused. Yet your body, it seemed to know what to do. As if it were second nature to be close to him. As if the stars had aligned and the world was righted when he was in your embrace and you in his.

His lips pressed against yours again and this time your fingers snared themselves in his hair as you kissed him back. It felt as if life were breathed into you. As if some of the endless universe that swirled inside of him filled the hollow in your chest and leaked out to fill your entire being. "I told you," he grumbled against your lips, "because I knew you couldn't stay out of it if you knew..." He left your lips at the last word as you were both panting. You just stared at him, all your thoughts were trying to make sense of what was happening. Have I been killed by that damn tree and gone to heaven?

His cold fingers stroked away some hairs from your forehead before his lips landed softly where his fingers had just touched you gently. "I knew you couldn't stay out of it, so I needed you to stay away from me. Then, you'd be safe," he whispered as his voice vibrated over you. A darkness curled around the sound, claws stroked your soul as gently as any feather could have.

"What, do you mean?" you breathed out as it was hard to get air down in your lungs when you were so close to him.  He looked down at you. The onyx eyes, the hooked nose, the thin lips and the defined jaw. The black curtains of hair that framed his thin face - it was all pure perfection for you. "I mean, you would be in the line of fire if you were with me. And that," he said with a kiss between your eyebrows, "is unacceptable. As, I love you."  

Your heart nearly stopped. Your knees nearly gave out beneath you. Your lungs barely remembered how to function. But your lips, they functioned properly as they were slammed on top of his as you pressed yourself into the caring young man who enveloped you in the warmest of embraces. Your fingers snaked between the strands of his hair as his hands held your hips gently yet firmly. I must have died and gone to heaven, you thought as the taste and smell of him overtook you. As you both trembled from cold and heat, from fear and passion - from joy.  

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

Tags: @lizlil @snapefiction  @morphineisouthoney​ @setsuna-meiou31​ @snapefiction​ @monstreviolet  @meteoritewolf69

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[Dec:2020]

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 33 - One Last Kiss

Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts

Warnings: PAIN. (I cried writing this, so brace yourselves. I’m not kidding)

Word count: 4.6K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

It all happened so fast.

April had been the time of your life - if you can say that during a war - and it could not even be compared to the previous eight months that you had spent at Shell Cottage. You had celebrated the twins’ birthday, then Lupin had come to announce the news about his newborn son. The whole month had been as though there was no war outside; you had lived in your own bubble, accompanied by George and the Weasleys and you could not had been happier.

It all happened so fast.

May had arrived, and with it the radio was shouting the news about Harry Potter who had broken into Gringotts with two of his accomplices, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Mrs Weasley had been so nervous she broke two plates during cooking; Mr Weasley had been carefully listening to the radio the whole day, waiting for any information that would reassure him that his son was all right.

Then the news came. New weather report: Lightning has struck.

It was almost as if you had been waiting for this for years now, and it was finally happening. All the Weasleys got ready, apparated to Aberforth’s place, met up with Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley and the rest of the Order. After you made your way through the tunnel and reached the Room, there was no turning back.

It all happened so fast.

And now you were marching down the stairs towards the Great Hall, and your heart was aching by the sight of the familiar corridors and hallways. You remembered those times, those lovely, peaceful times when you had been a student and you had had nothing to worry about but your exams. Those beautiful afternoons by the lake, those calm nights in the common room. And then here you were, wand in hand, ready to fight for your friends, for your loved ones, but most importantly for yourself. Because you knew that this was it.

Yes, it happened so fast.

But you had been waiting for a long time.

“Are you okay?” asked George hastily as you made your last turn down the staircase, following Kingsley.

“I’m ready,” you said and you knew he understood.

You reached the Entrance Hall and Kingsley turned to you. His low voice resonated through the room.

“I put all my faith in the best thing. You.”

Then he pushed open the huge wooden doors.

You followed him inside, taking in the scene, Harry shouting in the middle, Snape staring at him from across the hall. All around them the whole school was watching.

“How dare you stand where he stood? Tell them how it happened that night! Tell them how you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you, and killed him! Tell them!”

Snape drew his wand, but McGonagall immediately stepped in, pushing Harry aside. You felt a hand on your arm, pulling you further away from the duelling pair. Then McGonagall won; Snape gave up and flee through the window.

“Coward!” her voice was muffled by the loud cheers of students. “Coward!”

Then a sharp pain, worse than you had ever had struck through your head and you stumbled.

“Y/N!” Fred got ahold of you, helping you stay standing. “Are you…”

Someone screamed but it felt like it was coming from inside your head. You couldn’t bare it, you wanted it to stop, you couldn’t breathe… Then an ice-cold voice spoke, a voice that you had never heard before but it made you feel more afraid, more desperate than anything in this world.

“I know that many of you will want to fight… Some of you may even think that to fight is wise… But this is folly… Give me Harry Potter… Do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have one hour.”

Your hand was shaking as you brushed your hair out of your face. What were you doing? What were you doing?! Your eyes met with George’s and suddenly you were not ready… Suddenly you didn’t want this… You wanted to go back to safety, back to Muriel’s and stay there for the rest of your life.

“What are you waiting for?” Pansy Parkinson’s voice dragged you back to reality. She was pointing at Harry. “Someone grab him!”

Somehow anger took over your fear and your mouth dropped, outraged. You were not the only one; within seconds thirty or so people joined Harry, shielding him from Slytherins.

“Students out of bed!” Filch’s voice made you jump. “Students out of bed!”

“They are supposed to be out of bed you blithering idiot!” snarled McGonagall. “And Mr Filch, I would like you, please, to lead Miss Parkinson and the rest of Slytherin House from the hall. The dungeons would do.”

Cheers erupted as Filch started to lead the students. Kingsley hurried towards, giving out orders and requesting people to take positions.

“… need somebody to organise defence of the entrances of the passageways into the school.”

“Sounds like a job for us,” said Fred at once and you agreed. Kingsley approved and waved you away.

“Good. Hurry up, you heard him. We don’t have much time till midnight.”

You turned away, heading for the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall. Around you people were running up and down, pushing each other, calling for lost friends and siblings.

“I’ll take the tunnel that leads to Honeydukes,” called Fred, shouting over the huddling students.

“All right,” said George, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “Take a few people with you. I”ll take the one on the sixth floor, you know behind that ugly statue that looks like…”

“Snape, yeah, by the size of his nose,” grinned Fred. George chuckled, then his face darkened and he turned to you in realization.

“Stay with me.”

Your eyes fell on his missing ear, and you remembered how you felt that night, thinking the unthinkable, fearing the impossible… Yes, you wanted to follow him, you wanted to go where he was going, you wanted to make sure that he was all right, because… because you were scared, more scared than ever before, and you couldn’t bare even the thought of loosing him…

“No,” you said finally, going against your heart’s desire. “No, I’ll go up to the fifth. I always used that one when I wanted to get down to Hogsmeade.”

“No, Y/N,” George started. You cut him off, hoping that your voice was more stern than how you actually felt.

“We need to cover a lot of ground,” you said. “They might be coming from all over the place, we can’t risk it…”

“She’s right,” said Fred, answering George’s ask for help. He looked into his brother’s eyes, his voice confident. “Come on… She’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m gonna be okay,” you said, too. George seemed to be in anguish. He looked like he was fighting for air, looking at you and Fred in turns. Then he seemed to make a decision against his better judgement.

“Fuck! Come here,” he pulled you to him, kissing you with everything he had, not letting you go for at least a minute. When he did, he nodded. “Okay. Go then.”

“Okay,” you said, too. “Okay. George, I love —”

“No!” he said sharply. “I don’t wanna hear it!”

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. You knew he was scared to say goodbyes but you wanted to do it anyway… just in case.

“I love you,” you spoke loud and clearly. Then you let him go and turned to Fred. “And I love you, too.”

He opened his arms and hugged you, and you hugged him, too, until both of you felt that you couldn’t stretch out the moment any longer, because your time was up and all three of you needed to be somewhere else, someplace where the others could not follow.

“See you later, okay?” Fred said, giving you one last kiss on your cheek. “Now get out of here.”

You nodded, then looked behind you, where a bunch of people stood, waiting.

“Anyone who’s here to defend the entrances, choose groups!” you shouted. “I need two people.”

The Patil twins were the first ones to step forward. You indicated towards the stairs.

“All right. Let’s go!”

You left the others behind, running, with Parvati and Padma following you, your heart beating in your throat. You tried not to think about George, not to think about Fred, because right now you needed to focus, you needed to get ready to fight. You made your way through a couple of first year boys and looked at your watch. It was ten minutes until midnight.

The further you got from the Entrance Hall, the fewer people you met. Everyone was clearly spreading out in the castle, making sure that every corner was well defended. After you left the fourth floor, there was no one besides the three of you, and you could only hear muffled buzzing from the other parts of the building. You ran up on the last staircase leading to the fifth floor, and then you saw it, the old carpet under which lay the loose floorboard that led out of the castle. You stopped, wand in your hand.

“This is it,” you said, turning to the other two. Padma stepped to the window, her face nervous.

“I can see them,” she said. “Over the hill, I…”

“Let’s just cast some spells over the entrance,” you said quickly, deciding that you didn’t want to see the army outside. “Come, help me.”

You pulled aside the carpet, revealing the wooden planks amongst the stone tiles. You glanced at your watch every second, more anxious by the minute. You placed detective spells over the tunnel that would tell you immediately if someone was coming. Parvati and Padma got several tables from a nearby classroom and built a mediocre barricade from them. You stood behind it, your ears sharp, your hands shaking, your eyes fixed on the entrance in nervous anticipation.

Then there was a loud bang and lights like a thousand firework hit the shield over the castle. You didn’t need to look at your watch anymore. It was midnight.

It went on for several minutes, and with each blow you thought that that was it, the defence crumbled, you were going to get hit and killed… but the castle was holding on, and the whole school seemed to fall into silence, waiting.

“Maybe we’re holding on,” whispered Parvati. “Maybe —”

But then a blow, louder and stronger than any of the previous ones made the whole castle shake, and you stumbled, grabbing the leg of a table, and the floor was shaking, and the walls were trembling and you heard people screaming from all around the castle, and you saw the last pieces of the protective dome over Hogwarts falling onto the ground. Black stripes of smoke were heading in your direction. You raised your wand, people’s distant screams still echoing in your ear, and you feared that you were going to faint and suddenly your mind was empty and you couldn’t remember a single spell to use…

“Impedimenta!” screamed Padma and the first Death Eater fell backwards and out of the window. But there was more, three, seven, fifteen were coming…

A green light hit your barricade of tables and all three of you fell onto the floor, your hands over your head, someone screaming. You heard footsteps coming, and suddenly you were awake, adrenaline pumping through you and you jumped to your feet and stunned an approaching hooded man. Parvati appeared next to you, sending a Body-Bind Curse towards another man. She missed, but the Death Eater was forced to find cover from Padma’s curse. You heard yells and a painful moan, and you used the opportunity to peak from behind the remains of your shelter.

You saw Death Eaters running down the stairs on the other side of the hallway, but there was four that remained there to fight. One of them was dragging his stunned mate on the floor, so you stunned him as well.

“Let’s make the little rats come out of the hole!” you heard one of the man roar and then you were flying backwards, hitting the ground hard and you heard a crack but did not feel pain, for there was no time to feel pain. You stood up, seeing the approaching Death Eater and screamed ‘Stupefy!’ but he blocked it, his face stuck in an evil smile. You could not see either Parvati or Padma but from the corner of your eyes you saw lights in all different colors hitting each other and you heard shouts and cries from all over the place.

“Stupefy!” you screamed again, but missed. “Impedimenta!”

You hit a column and it crumbled, burying the man under itself. Dust and smoke reached your throat, choking you on the spot, and you fell onto your knees, desperately trying to breathe. You looked up, your stomach sick and you saw fire, fire you had no idea where it came from, eating up the hallway, burning the carpit and the paintings on the wall.

“Aguamenti!”

Water burst out of your wand and somehow you managed to stand up, fresh air releasing the knot in your lungs and you looked aside and saw that half of the hallway was blown open, its walls ruined, a huge opening providing a view to the grounds outside. And you saw in the distance people running, screaming, red, purple, orange, green lights flickering; you looked around and you didn’t see either Padma or Parvati but you saw a bunch of new faces and you realized that the fight had reached you. You glanced towards the secret passageway and it was torn open, several hooded figures were climbing out of it, and you ran, as fast as you had never run before.

“Impedimenta!” you shouted and you hit a crouching woman into the face. The man following her growled and sent a green light at you that missed your head by inches.

“Come on, you little prat, dance for me!” he screeched, casting a spell that you jumped away from. “You don’t like that, do you? Crucio!”

Air got stuck in your lungs and you felt pain that could not be compared to anything you had ever experienced… and you screamed in agony, and you wished it was over, you wished everything was over and you wriggled on the floor, desperate for death, hoping that it would come because you were sure even death was better than this pain.

“NO!” you heard a cry and the pain stopped but you couldn’t move. “Are you okay?”

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looking up you saw Cho, her hair messed up, her face black from the dust. You nodded, your legs shaking as you stood up, and your hand flew over your ribs in pain, remembering that some of your bones might had been broken. Around you the scene had changed within those few minutes you spent fighting; you could barely make difference between friends and enemies in the chaos.

“Come!” said Cho, pulling you away from the entrance of the passageway, then turning around and shouting, “Reducto!”

The floor beneath you shook and you saw the passageway falling in, blown up, sealing the entrance so that no living thing could come through it again. You stood, panting, holding onto that thin stick in your hand, and you were not thinking anymore, you were only acting, and you made a run for it, squeaking with every breath you took, but fighting, sending curses at every hooded figure you saw, loosing track of time, but holding on, because there was no other way to end this than to fight.

A high pitched whisper echoed in the castle, and you grabbed your head again, wincing at the sound that felt like it was coming from inside your skull.

“You have fought valiantly but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, now I speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me.”

The voice stopped and you looked around; you stood facing Death Eaters by the dozen. They stood staring, some of them bleeding, some of them grimacing wickedly. Then, almost as if they were one entity, they burst into black stripes of smoke again, fleeing the castle.

The silence was deafening. After the explosions and screams everything seemed sinister, and now, that the adrenaline was leaving your body could you really focus on your fears again. You wondered…

“Help! Someone… Help me!”

You turned your head and saw a Ravenclaw boy lifting a body from the ground. You stumbled to him, stepping over fallen pieces of stones and rocks, and looked at the body, scared to recognise anyone familiar.

“Help!” pleaded the boy again, tears cleaning the dust off his face. “Please.”

You grabbed the leg of the girl he was holding and together you lifted her up. You felt numb. You didn’t want to think about the fact that the person in your hands was not a person anymore.

“We take everyone in the Great Hall,” you heard someone speak. “This way, come on.”

It seemed like hours had passed by the time the Entrance Hall finally came into sight. On your way down more and more people joined you, some carrying bodies, some limping, some holding a wound that was still bleeding. You kept looking around, forcing yourself not to cry, not to panic just yet. There were still a lot of people coming.

You reached the Great Hall and layed the body of the girl next to the wall, beside many many more. Your throat closed by the sight of the many lying on the floor, not moving, still. You took sudden gulps of air. You were panicking now.

You walked on, desperately looking, but there were so many people that you couldn’t see a thing. But then you saw a family, a family with ginger hair huddled together and you started walking as fast as your broken ribs let you.

“George!” you screeched. “George!”

He raised his head in anguish, but as he saw you he left everyone behind and ran, literally crashing against your body, sobbing, and you soothed his hair and whispered:

“It’s okay… I’m —”

You fell silent, seeing the pair of legs on the floor. You stood there, your mind not able to process what you were seeing. You let go of George, getting closer, and now you recognised the sneakers on those feet.

No. No, no, no, no, no. No.

Ginny stepped aside and your eyes fell on Fred, his face still and pale. Your mouth fell open, wether to moan or to scream you didn’t know. You felt a hand on your shoulder, had no idea who it was. You were staring at the lifeless body, and you stumbled over and fell onto your knees next to him, your sight blurry. Someone screamed, or maybe it was you, then you reached for his hand and it was cold, and a cry of agony escaped your lips as you started sobbing, shaking your head in denial, unable to speak. Pain was shattering your insides, it was torturing your soul and you wanted it to end, and you didn’t want to look at him anymore but you were still unable to turn your head away.

George came into view on the other side of him, and you had never seen his face so ugly, so deformed, in so much pain. His eyes met yours and you saw your own pain in them, the pain that was eating both of you up like a desease… you held out your other hand to him, and he grasped it desperately, and now you were holding one warm and one ice-cold hand…

You wanted to believe that it was not true. You were barely able to see from your tears. His eyes were closed, his lips curled even in his sleep, almost as if they resembled the great jokester he was. You let go of his hand but only to touch his cheek, gently, lovingly, then you leaned closer, saying your goodbyes with one last trembling kiss.

His cold skin burned your lips and you were not in control of yourself anymore. Still grasping George’s hand, you lay your head onto Fred’s chest, and you realized with great torment that his heart was not beating. You stayed there, listening to the silence, closing your eyes and crying, for God knows how long.

Hours had passed as you lay there, drowning in grief. Around you people were sobbing with loud chuckles, but you felt so far away from them; you were up in the Gryffindor common room, laughing about who knows what with the twins, so much younger, so much more innocent, and you didn’t open your eyes because laughing was reality, and blood and death wasn’t, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be, because that would mean that Fred was gone.

Your eyes hurt from the salt, and you started blinking heavily. Your ribs ached with every breath, and you were sure that Madam Pomfrey could heal you within a minute; but if it meant leaving Fred behind for even a second, then you did not want to be cured. Through the windows you saw the night slowly fading away, and not long after that you heard the crowd around you buzzing.

“It’s him, he’s coming!”

“They’re back, they’re here!”

“Who is he holding?”

“Who is that?”

You raised your head, alarmed, but not quite understanding what was happening. People seemed to look out the windows, their faces in shock and fear.

“What’s happening?” asked Ginny, her voice crooked. You saw Ron and Hermione look at each other.

“It’s him, he’s here!”

With enormous effort you stood up, your nervousness stronger than your grief. Grabbing your wand you joined the crowd swarming outside the Great Hall, stopping between the ruins of the courtyard. Approaching, you saw him, for the first time in your life, You-Know-Who himself.

He was accompanied by his many Death Eaters, his snake, and Hagrid, who seemed to be…

“Who is that Hagrid’s carrying?” asked Ginny. “Neville, who is it?”

Then you heard the screeching sound.

“Harry Potter is dead!”

“No!” screamed Ginny. “NO!”

“Silence! Stupid girl!” he laughed, his servants joining in. “Harry Potter is dead!”

You felt every last drop of hope leaving your body. While You-Know-Who… Voldemort was speaking, you were zoning out, staring at the body in Hagrid’s hand. It didn’t matter anymore. You were a muggleborn. Your faith was sealed. Maybe death would stop this miserable pain…

Then Neville started limping forwards, an ugly old hat in his hand.

“It doesn’t matter Harry’s gone.”

“Stand down, Neville.”

“People die every day! Friends, family. Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he’s still with us, in here. So’s Fred… Remus… Tonks. All of them. They didn’t die in vain. But you will! Because you’re wrong! Harry’s heart did beat for us! For all of us! This is not over!”

He pulled a long sword out of the hat, his face angry and determined, but your eyes fell on Harry, who jerked himself from Hagrid’s arms, stood up, very much alive and shot a blaze of fire at the snake.

It was as though the whole school came alive, and suddenly you were running, shooting spells at every hooded figure who approached you and you were in the Great Hall again, fighting like never before, with a new kind of aspiration in your heart. You remembered something from the past, McGonagall claiming that there won’t be duelling in the Great Hall while she was a teacher here… Oh, how times had changed, you thought, as you were duelling very much so.

And then he came across you, the man you loathed and feared. He growled, his pointy teeth showing in his bloodstained mouth. Fenrir Greyback licked his lips, and you saw hunger in his eyes.

“Stupefy!” you shouted and he blocked it; then it was his turn and you ducked from the green light. “Impedimenta!”

He blocked the curse again, though stumbling under its force. You got on your feet, your ribs hurting immensely. He shot curses at you and you blocked them, one after the other, though you barely had time to fight back.

“This is it, precious,” he howled. “Oh, I remember you and your friends… what d’you think, they let me have the ginger one after we finish here?”

Fresh, hot rage ignited in you, and finally you reached a point from where there was no coming back.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Your curse hit the werewolf in the middle of his chest and he fell backwards, his face stuck in surprise, hitting the floor with a thud. You spared him one last disgusted look, then joined the others, just in time to hear Mrs Weasley yell:

“Not my daughter you bitch!”

George appeared next to you, pulling you away from his mother. Bellatrix laughed but not for long; she was blown into pieces, ceased to exist.

Voldemort was raging on the other side of the hall, seeing how his most loyal servant was finished. But then there was Harry and the fight stopped, for there was no one else but Voldemort left… and the sun was shining bright now, and you were watching the pair of them, talking about wands and lies, and you didn’t understand a thing, but it didn’t matter…

And then both of them cried out their curses… he fell onto the floor… and it was over.

Loud screaming and cheering broke out in the Great Hall and you were caught up in the hundreds embracing Harry, and you turned around, your eyes meeting George’s and he was dirty, puffy eyed, one-eared, and you jumped into his arms and kissed him, because it was over, you were free, and from now on you could love whoever you wanted, you could marry whoever you wished and you could continue your life where you had left off…

When the first wave of cheer ended, you pulled George aside, joining up with the Weasleys again. They welcomed you with hugs, laughter and cries, and eventually you settled down onto the benches, not far from where Fred lay. Your mood was switching from happiness to grief, and you were tired, so tired that you wished to sleep for days. You locked eyes with Ginny, her head resting on her mother’s shoulder, and you saw that Mrs Weasley was crying again.

“Do you know…” started Mr Weasley, looking as though he was not sure he wanted to ask the question. His voice was higher than usual. “Do you know who… who was it?”

“Rookwood,” said Ron, his lips trembling. Next to him Hermione was tearing up.

“But you got him, right Perce?” said Mr Weasley, his voice shaking. Percy nodded.

“I’ve never liked him,” he said. His voice cracked. “But now it was personal.”

“D’you mean…” you said hoarsly. “D’you mean Percy-nal?”

You heard George’s tired chuckle next to you and you turned to him. One second of his gaze was enough to see how much agony he was in… and his eyes were so like his brother’s, whose eyes, you knew, would never meet yours again.

And then the both of you started sobbing.

[chokemeanakin]

Welcome Home - Anakin x fem Reader (smut)

Summary: As requested by anon, “Anakin coming home a Jedi Knight, so his braid is gone but his hair is still short, and then they both go all the way all night long.” 

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

WC: 2.4k

Warning: um. sex. (and some voyeurism?)

Anakin had been gone for months. While you were busy yourself with the Senate, you often lay awake at night wandering where in the big wide galaxy your Jedi lover was.

When he left, he had just cut his Padawan braid. He had joked about his head feeling off-balance now, but you could see the pride gleaming in his eyes. He was a Knight now, fast-tracked into the real world of the Jedi because of the war. 

You worried about it. Transitioning from a Padawan to a General so fast… it must have been hard for Anakin, even though he never showed it over your occasional hologram calls. You remembered the first time you saw a holo-video of Anakin, a Jedi reporting back to the council on the affairs of the war. You just so happened to overhear his name and stopped in to listen. 

He had an army. And you had watched him go charging headfirst into a battalion of droids, blaster shots shooting in every direction, leading thousands of clones into enemy fire. He was young, too young to be a soldier. But, so far, he had yet to come out with a loss.

“The Hero with No Fear,” they had been calling him. You had even seen his face spring up on a few posters, seen him advertised as propaganda on the holonet. He was quickly becoming famous across multiple star galaxies, not just as the Chosen One, but as a war hero. You wondered if he knew, and laughed to yourself when you imagined him boasting about it.

But months was far too long to sleep in a bed all alone. You had only just deepened your relationship with Anakin, and you yearned for his touch, dreamed about feeling his skin against yours once more--

There were rumors the 501st was coming back to Coruscant. You dismissed many rumors these days, as they were just people squeezing every drop of excitement they could out of the war. However, it couldn’t stop you from hoping as you made the bed up for yourself tonight, smoothing out the pillows and lingering a hand on Anakin’s side.

You wanted him home.

No matter how hard you wished, or how long you cried into your pillow, there was nothing you could do but wait and pray that Anakin was even alive to return to you. So here you were again, sniffling softly as your tears stained the sheets, shivering from the absence of the man you loved most. 

You didn’t even hear the door open. Nor did you hear the call of your name the first time, or the second. You thought it was just your imagination, and you were going so out of your mind that you were even hallucinating his voice now. But no-- your bedroom door opened, and a tall silhouette stood in the frame, blocking the light. Tears dripped down your cheeks, the remnants of your sorrow, and they changed from disbelief to happiness.

“Y/n?” he spoke first. “What’s wrong?”

You ignored him, and instead launched yourself off the bed and into his chest. You slammed into him so hard the breath was knocked out of both of you, but you didn’t care. Your fingers grasped at the leather armor of his back, and you held on hard, fearing he wasn’t real.

“You’re here,” you cried. 

“I’m here.”

He pet you hair for a while, allowing your heartbeat to settle and your tears to slow before gently maneuvering you over to the bed. You clung to him the entire way, refusing to even give him an inch to breathe. 

When you felt like it was safe enough to let go without him disappearing, you pulled back and studied his face. There was that new scar he had told you about, the one from Ventress. It was newly healed, and slashed down his face in a reminder of how ugly war could get. But it was the same Anakin, the same blue eyes, the same sweet smile, the same broad shoulders. Except… one thing.

“Your hair is curly,” you remarked. Then laughed tearfully. “Your hair is curly.”

Anakin lifted an eyebrow and looked up at his bangs. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t know,” you toyed with the ringlets by the nape of his neck. Your gaze dropped to his lips, and that familiar yearning returned. You wanted so badly to feel them against yours, to coax that familiar spark back to life after having it lie dormant for so long.

“You can kiss me,” he said, and so you did. You closed that distance, pressing your lips firmly against his, tasting the salt of your tears on his pillowy softness. Even though you were not the one returning from a mission, it felt like coming home.

You enjoyed the longer hair he now had. It sifted through your fingers like silk, the curls tickling the back of your palms. Visions filled your mind, of his head between your legs, your fingers gripping his hair to keep him there; of him on top of you, sweaty bangs stuck to his forehead; of your back bowing off the bed in completion, fingers twisting into his curls as you came undone.

Anakin, of course, watched all of this play out in your mind. 

“You like it that much?” he laughed against you, fingers sneaking down your sides. 

You merely hummed against his lips, shutting him up with another hard kiss. It was hungry, frenzied. You needed him now as much as you needed to breathe.

“We can make that happen,” Anakin muttered again, lips sliding against yours wetly. He pulled at your nightdress, and you raised her arms so he could slip it off. The goosebumps left on your skin was chased away by Anakin’s wandering hands, one warm and one leather. You remembered a time when he had been too nervous to touch you with it, but now he was using it like he had been born with it. You bit his bottom lip approvingly, dragging it out between your teeth.

Anakin’s cheeks erupted in flame. He had never seen his soft, sweet lover to be so… feral. Every other time you’d made love, you had sat back and enjoyed the way he made you feel. Now, you seemed intent on dragging as much pleasure out of the both of you as you could, like wringing water out of a cloth, and he wasn’t used to seeing this filthy side of you.

But oh, was he about to indulge.

Pressing you back against the mattress, Anakin covered your breasts in his large hands, squeezing. His lips ventured downward, swollen and wet from your kissing. He wrapped them around your nubs, and you writhed underneath him. Every touch was golden, but you wanted more, you wanted everything. So you ripped your own panties off, and then got to work on Anakin’s belt. 

He helped you remove the heavy thing, the lightsaber bouncing against the floor as he dropped it aside. Next came the armor, and the shirt underneath, and then he was left in just his pants and boots.

He pushed himself off of you for a moment in order to work on the clasps of his boots. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he ordered, and you shivered at his commanding tone. It was new, and you imagined he used it while ordering his men around on the battlefield. The thought made slick pool between your thighs, and you reached a hand down like he had asked to spread it around.

His eyes darkened as he watched you, hastily ripping his boots off and then ridding himself of his pants. He palmed himself through his boxers as you dragged her fingers through your folds, circling your wetness around your clit. Wanting to put on a show for him, you closed your eyes and moaned softly, biting down on your lip. He released a low sound from his throat.

“Inside,” he nodded his head at you. His chest was moving up and down in rapid succession. It was clear he was enjoying this as much as you were.

You slowly trailed your fingers down, taking your time to feel yourself before you rubbed your fingertips over your entrance. Your hips bucked up on their own accord, catching the tips of your fingers and causing you to slide them in the rest of the way. 

You moaned louder this time, and reached for Anakin’s hand.

“I want you,” you whined, moving his hand to your heat. “You touch me.”

He held himself over you with his mechanical arm by your head, and circled his flesh thumb over your clit as you fingered yourself. You sucked in a breath of air, the feeling of his hand on you so much better than anything your touch could bring yourself. 

Before long, he was batting your hand out of the way and fully replacing it with his own. His fingers filled you up nicely, hitting just the right spots, making you twist and turn beneath him.

But you wanted more, wanted to see Anakin lose it just as much as you were. So you smoothed your hands down his torso-- much more defined, you were pleased to find, from the last time you had seen him-- and rubbed his stiff member through his boxers. He sighed, bowing his head so that his bangs were tickling your forehead. 

“I just need you inside me already,” you decided, feeling that suffocating feeling from before, like if he wasn’t in you right now, you would drown.

Anakin rocked his fingers deep inside you, probing that spot that caused your legs to shake and vision to white out. Your momentum faltered, but you managed to quiet your sounds by biting your lip and pulled Anakin’s briefs down. His member stood upright, stiff and glistening with precum in the starlight. You gathered it in your palm, pumping him up and down as he did the same to you.

“Anakin,” you prompted again, wiggling your hips impatiently. He never was good at following orders. He gave you a punishing twist of his fingers, dragging a loud gasp out of you before he replaced his hand with the tip of his dick.

“For a Senator, you sure are short on patience,” Anakin teased. He rolled his hips forward, entering you in one fluid motion. You scraped your nails against the skin of his back and shifted your hips upward, seating him as far inside of you as possible.

Once he was all the way in, you breathed a sigh of relief. The ache from being stretched after so long felt heavenly. You swore that even if neither of you moved another inch the rest of the night, this would be enough for you. Just the feeling of him inside of you gave you all of the relief that you needed-- he was here, he was safe, and he was inside you.

“Y/n, can I move now?”

He was also impatient.

“For a Jedi, you sure have little restraint,” you threw his earlier words back at him, but smiled as you said this. You loved the blissed out look on his face, the pleasure hazing over his eyes. This was still a bit new to the both of you, and you thought you’d never tire of seeing him indulge himself so deeply, especially since he never was allowed to in every other aspect of his life. 

With your permission, he began to rock in and out of you, setting a nice steady pace. Occasionally, you sent words of encouragement his way, smoothing the bangs out of his eyes and kissing his cheekbones as he surged forward. He decided that the fact that you still had the ability to speak meant that he wasn’t doing good enough.

“Turn around,” he pulled out of you suddenly.

“What?”

“Lay on your stomach.”

You and Anakin had only ever done it in one position before. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the thought of him taking you from behind, but you were more than happy to oblige. You settled onto your stomach, nestling your arms under a pillow and laying your head on them. You felt so lucky, so happy and warm and relaxed as Anakin nudged your thighs open a bit further, fitting your hips into the curves of his palms.

Then he slid into you, and immediately hit that spot, and you keened into the mattress. 

“Oh,” you gasped, fists gripping hard onto the pillow. “That’s-- oh.”

Anakin stayed on that spot, aiming for it every time. He plunged into you over and over, rubbing up against that spot with each rock of his hips. Soon, you couldn’t tell the difference between the stars in the night sky outside, and the stars in your vision.

You convulsed around him in record time, walls clenching and muscles tensing up. You moaned long and low into the pillow, fingers going numb from holding onto it so tight. His hands tightened around your waist, fucking you through it, and chasing after his own high.

“Ani, I want to see you,” you pleaded once you could speak again, muscles still quivering with aftershocks. It seemed like it was extremely difficult for him to pull himself out of you when he needed you the most, but he managed, and you pushed him back onto the mattress. Your thighs fit around his hips, and you positioned him back inside your sensitive entrance, sinking down onto his length. 

He exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering closed as you swirled your hips around, testing out yet another new position and loving how good of a view it gave you of Anakin. You smoothed your hands down his face, his neck, his chest, as you lifted herself up and then sat back down. His hands found your hips again, and he quickened the pace himself.

You leaned down again, and whispered more encouragement into his ear-- how much you loved him, how much you needed him, how good he made you feel. You tugged at the curls in his hair just as you had wished to do, sending sparks of ecstasy down Anakin’s spine. Soon, he was spilling inside of you, and you were kissing the vibrations his throat made as he voiced his pleasure.

Neither of you pulled away, and he stayed buried deep inside you even after he came down from his high. No, you were far from finished tonight. You hoped he had a day off from his duties tomorrow, as you were sure neither of you were going to get much sleep.

[chanluster]

ann summers | {c} ; mild {f}

oneshot | 2.56K words

“ your best friend was weirdly terrified of lingerie, and you found it irritating yet adorable.”

c o n t e n t s >> a very flustered seungmin, constant clownery, mild fluff, mentions of sex toys but no usage, sexual innuendo, a lot of swearing, y’all basically make seungmin hella uncomfortable lmaoaoo

a / n >> inspired loosely by real events when my friends and i got kicked out of a sex shop for fucking around :’) ann summers is a lingerie and sex shop, in case y’all didn’t know!

back to masterlist

YOU FOUND YOURSELF SIGHING OUT MORE THAN YOU PHYSICALLY THOUGHT POSSIBLE.

“Seungmin,” You explained for the last time, ”They’re not going to come alive and bite you.”

The boy stood in front of you shot you an expression which actually doubted your statement. He hugged himself tighter, white hoodie bunching up at the waist, either to warm himself from the bitter London cold or shield himself from another threat.

Monsters displayed in the windows of Ann Summers. 

These creatures that your best friend shied from hung delicately either on racks, or were boasted upon the slim mannequin bodices, intricate lacing and beadings accentuating the dark colours. Posters of models adorning the god-forbidden entity, posing seductively as they showed off the latest collection.

You rolled your eyes, and this time it hurt as they reached the insides of your mind.

“You actual pussy,” you jeered. “Every woman wears a bra you know. Or at least some point in her life.”

You raised your own chest a little higher, pointing towards the goods. “Even I’m wearing one right now.”

Seungmin’s face was a classic painting of disgust. “You didn’t have to tell me that,” he whined, almost hiding within the folds of his hoodie. “Look, I’ll wait here, you go and do your shopping.” 

“But that’ll be boring if I do it alone!” You looked up at the sky, grey clouds engulfing the sun for hours. “And it’ll rain any moment now, I can’t let you stay outside.”

“I’d rather stay outside than step foot in that…” he glanced at the lingerie shop for a millisecond before hurriedly settling his eyes upon you. “That place.”

“You say it like it’s some twisted underworld.” You waved a hand towards the shop. “To women it is a chance of feeling sexy.

“And I wanna feel sexy, Seungmin.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at you. “Who for? The men on your lockscreen you cry over?”

Chuckling, he dodged your hand, nearly whacking him. “Watch it, dickhead,” you warned. “And it doesn’t have to be for a man. I want to feel hot for myself.”

“But ___, you’re already pretty,” he pleaded rather than declared, the tone making you suspicious. “You don’t need that lacey shit.”

“Are you saying that just so I don’t go inside the store? Because I will anyway, whether I’m going to buy something or not.”

A few moments passed after the words left your mouth, and you watched his brows furrow irritably.

“Nevermind, you’re mad fucking ugly.”

“Hey!”

This time, your hand managed to hit home, earning a yelp from Seungmin, who rubbed his arm in pain. 

“Now stop bitching and come inside,” you ordered, ready to take him by his sweater paws, but he stayed rooted to the cobblestone street. 

“I’m not going in,” he muttered. 

Perhaps hitting his head would get him to comply. 

Before you could carry out your sentence, thunder reigned upon the ears of the shoppers and other citizens out, including you two who jumped from the rather loud sound. 

You felt a drop of water hit your head. Then, saw another fall upon Seungmin’s face. 

One drop. Two drops. Four drops. 

Until drops became showers, and you started towards the Ann Summers building, dragging the hesitant boy along and rushed under the cover of the entrance. 

You shot a glare as you slowed down, ignored by the boy watching the showers of rain grow angrier. “I told you this would happen.”

He turned, eyes now desperate. “Please don’t make me go in there, ___.”

“Look, this isn’t normal. You gotta learn to be comfortable with seeing bras and pants and sex toys—”

“Wait what? Sex toys?!” He backed away out of cover, and came running back when he felt the icy rain. “No way am I going in there now. You’re on your own.”

“Seungmin!” You exclaimed, and with his surprise, you took the golden opportunity to grab his sweater-cuffed hands, and with the other hand pushed the doors open as you pulled him inside with you.

You looked up at your surroundings, a whimper sounding from behind you.

It was an explosion of dark pink in the background, complimentary with black railings and racks as thousands of different pieces of lingerie hung, stacked and modelled before you, a full colour blast and wild designing. Lacing you had never seen before accentuating body suits, stockings promising brilliant bedroom results and everything naughty you could ever think of presented on a silver plate to the customer. 

The store knew you sought pleasure, and made sure to offer it in an infinite ways and possibilities. 

It made Kim Seungmin nearly scream.

“I’m going right now—!” he turned on his heel, but you successfully grabbed onto the hood, yanking him back to your side. 

“No time for your whining, buddy.” You stared at the sexual haven, excited to uncover what it offered. “Let’s buy some motherfucking bras!”

“Oh dear God,” he could only murmur.

Batting your hand off the hood, he crossed his arms as he miserably followed you around, not leaving his eyesight from the carpeted floor. You, on the other hand, relished in the polished lingerie store, assessing each new piece in each hot collection, feeling like a proper woman. Of course you had some nice underthings for yourself, but there are always times where you wished you possessed something fancier, something with a little black lace and pants which were tied up at the sides. It seemed awfully silly saying all those little wishes to your best friend, but it was what you truly felt.

You just wanted to feel...nice.

“Seungmin, you do know no one is going to judge you for looking around with me.” You studied a certain two piece, a little too big for your breasts. “I think I’d judge you more for constantly looking down. It’s like you’ve already done something vile.”

“Don’t say that,” he grumbled. “I just don’t want anyone thinking I’m a weirdo.”

“No one’s going to think that,” you assured him. “Just don’t sniff the bras or shit like that. That would definitely get you kicked out.”

“I wasn’t even thinking of that, sick bitch.” He slid a little closer to you, wary of the other shoppers walking, assessing by. “Whatever, I’ll just wait for you.”

You let your lips curve into a malicious smirk. “But Seungmin, I wanted your opinion on a few things.”

The boy’s devastation nearly made you cackle. “No fucking way are you going to show me what you want.”

You gave into your wishes, laughing shamelessly at the blush rising in his cheeks. “Nah, I’m not that sadistic. Actually, I already know what I need, but I’m gonna take a while, so…” your knowing smile remained. “You can search around for yourself if you like.”

Those little cheeks blushed harder. “Shut up.”

Whistling, you only shrugged, walking past the lingerie in a slow stroll. “Whatever you say, buddy! And remember.” You glanced back, eyes dancing. “There is nothing to be scared of in here.”

You continued your search for your specific sized bras, collecting a few and hanging them upon your arm as you browsed, Seungmin close behind, ready to bolt out of the shop at any moment. Every so often a scandalous underwear would be shown off upon the shelves, and you’d pick out a piece, waving it in front of the boy and watch him scurry away from it as if it were a poisonous creature. 

It made your insides sing at the thought of his reaction when he saw the contents further down the shop. You were sure he would pass out.

“Okay, Minnie,” You started, walking towards the far end of the room. “I’ve picked out a few things and am just going back there.”

“Hold up!” He sprang into a little jog, hastily avoiding the lingerie and stopping right next to you. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

“You were the one dying to stay away,” you reminded him, already catching sight of Seungmin’s final doom. “Now come here, I need to find myself one more thing.”

Taking his sweater paw, you lead him out of the lingerie section, a pink wall separating the contents behind the other side. A doorway was present, and you entered through it, the biggest, dirtiest grin adorning upon your lips.

You read out the sign, already feeling Seungmin go statue-still.

“Sex toys!” You declared.

And heard your best friend’s response. 

“JESUS ON A FUCKING MARATHON—”

You let out a gasp. Never before had you seen him this frightened, and you’ve been through a hundred theme parks with him. You’ve seen how this idiot had screamed his voice dead at rollercoasters. 

“Seungmin—” you started, but with a jolt you noticed he had wrenched his hood over his head, pulling at the strings so all you could see were his eyes, angry as the thunder crashing outside in the sky. 

“What are you doing here—!” he mumbled into the opening of his hoodie, but you shut him up with your hand, shushing him.

“Look, we’re technically not allowed to be in here, so shut up.” You turned around once more to the sex toys, proudly being shown upon the shelves. The dildos were the main attraction, catching your eye with the vibrant colours, different sizes and special editions being listed on their tags.

Your best friend looked frantically around, making sure there were no employees around to catch you both. “I hate you so much,” he guttered, which only made you smile. 

You dashed to the shelves, observing one brilliantly pink dildo, veins and all carved into the plastic. “Oh my God, Minnie, look!” 

The disgust on Seungmin’s face made you pick up the object, assessing the little details engraved upon it. “It says it’s eight inches.” Your eyes widened. “Eight inches!”

“You better put that back, then,” the boy drawled, still not loosening the strings of his hoodie. “That shit’ll kill you.”

“You’re just mad you don’t pack that much.” You obliged, putting the dildo back. “Didn’t know cocktail sausages were designed based on your dick.”

“My dick is not small,” he argued. When he saw your knowing smirk, though, he visibly shrunk.

“Oh yeah?” You walked on, cackling. “Keep talking shit, Minnie, but I can’t see any bulge.”

“Oh my God-” he immediately yanked his hoodie lower, as red as a tomato. “Stop!”

“Don’t worry, bud,” you sang out, going deeper into the aisles. You’ll find a lovely girl who will look past your 3-incher.”

Seungmin only had his eyes on you, blushing even more. “fuck you, ____.”

His thoughtful comment was ignored, skipping past various sizes of anal beads, magic wands and other innovative little creations, surprised to find so much range. You knew you would probably never use these objects, but the idea of people trying to spice up their sex lives with all this was insane in your head. 

It was too bad you and Seungmin were pain-stakingly virgin.

You were about to call exit when your eyes stopped on a certain invention, and your mouth dropped. 

“What is that?”

You quickly picked it up, assessing its indigo, snake-like bodice, veins engraved all over with two heads on either sides. Laughing, you raised it to get your best friend’s attention.

“Look at this!”

Seungmin came over, took one glance at what you held, and turned a straight 180 degrees.

“Wait, wait!” You grabbed onto his hood once more, pausing his escape. 

“I am not going to admire a double-ended dildo-”

“But look at how innovative this is!” You turn him around, gripping the sex toy like its a snake ready to strike.

Even the boy’s eyes were ready to dagger you. “____, I swear on Jesus and his disciples, I’m going to get your head checked.”

“How cute would it be if we used it together?” you teased, trying to hand him the tip, but he dodged your hand.

“I’m going! Ciao! Adios! Au revoir!” he crowed, finished with your tom-foolery, and leaving the sex toy’s section.

“No, Seungmin, wait!” You called after him, double-ended dildo still in hand, and trying to catch up to his rapid retreat. 

You were about to fall into step beside him when a woman stopped you both.

When the two of you saw the Ann Summers tag on her blouse, and a rather interrogative expression, you both exchanged glances, yours a little more sheepish than his.

“What were you kids doing in the back section?” she asked, hands on her hips.

You could feel the nerves radiating off Seungmin’s body, so you opened your mouth, saying the first words that touched your tongue.

“My friend and I were, uh, at the back...trying things out.”

Suddenly, a laugh escaped your best friend.

The employee looked at the lingerie on your one arm, and the double-ended dildo in your other hand. Then she raised a groomed brow at you.

Your cheeks flushed aggressively, and with further surprise heard Seungmin’s chuckling grow louder.

“Children are strictly prohibited in the sex-toys section,” she scolded, regarding the shopping in your arms. “You can still buy the bras, but the other thing…”

“I’ll put it back right now!” you declared, eyes wide as your best friend’s laughter boomed across the shop. You hurried back in the erotica section, dumping the dildo among its brethren and returning to your surrender spot.

The attendant then took your remaining items and scanned them in, ushering you to the till. You paid the woman what was due, and took the black shoppings, exiting the shop hastily with a near-hysterical Seungmin at your heels.

The London rain had softened to a light drizzle when you burst out of Ann Summers, getting irritated with the continuous howling, and at last you whirled around, ready to shut him up when you stopped.

Your best friend’s hood was pulled over, and he bent forward, soft locks bobbing as he laughed out his soul, eyes disappearing within his grin. The sound of the rain harmonised with his melodious voice, and you watched, mouth parted in awe. 

You had seen Seungmin laugh a million and two times. It was always after you faced the consequences of your frequent fuck-ups - just like this one. However, looking at him now, finally calming his roaring, toothy grin still on display, there was something quite fantastical in his mirth that made your heartbeat run fast -  faster than you when returning that damned double-ended dildo.

“I hate you!” your best friend declared to London, smiling at you.

You could only return that pure happiness. “I hate you too,” you replied, heart still beating rapidly.

He finally strolled up to you, eyeing the black shopping bag. “You deserve that scolding.”

“I know,” you agreed, turning towards the street, another notorious shop in sight. “Let’s do it again.”

Seungmin shot you an incredulous look. “You already know I’m never stepping foot in Ann Summers again.”

“I don’t mean Ann Summers, Minnie,” you said, staring at the other shop. The next destination of trouble.

The boy followed your line of sight, and his joy nearly vanished. His eyes darted to you, disbelief in his expression.

“No, you’re fucking not.”

But you only stuck your tongue out at him and ran towards the building, you now being the one laughing.

Seungmin only rolled his eyes, a small smile escaping his lips when he looked at you and followed your footsteps, right into the Victoria Secret building.