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rocksinmuffin · 2 years ago

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Preview for Twisted Wonderland Oneshot

Okay this is just like the first four pages and I still have a lot I need to write to actually finish it but I am impatient and craving validation so here’s a little taste

And, yes, the reader/mc does not know that their weird friend who prowls the campus at night looking for gargoyles is actually Malleus Draconia and they use the English version’s nickname of Hornton because I think the English one sounds stupider which makes it funnier.

“It’s good to be home!” you exclaim as you step inside the dusty entryway of Ramshackle Dorm, crossing the living room to plop face-first into the couch, and never have you meant the words more than you do right now.

You’d just spent the last four hours decorating the gym with the other house wardens and, while hanging streamers doesn’t sound like it should be too much work, it’s a different story when there are no ladders to be found on campus and you are the only one who can’t use magic to do the dirty work so you have to rely on stacking furniture on top of each other like a jenga tower and pray. Even more so when someone who can use magic decides their energy is better spent with their feet safely planted to the floor telling you the streamers look crooked. It turns out that Vil is even more of a perfectionist than Riddle and bossier to boot.

Really, it’s not fair that you’re being held to the same standards and expected to share the responsibilities of the rest of the house wardens—all powerful mages and the best their dorms have to offer—when you got your position because your only competition is a talking cat who eats rocks off the ground. You’d almost think people forgot you were working without magic if they weren’t constantly bringing up the fact to drag on you.

“Finally, you’re back!”

You lift up your head to turn to Grim, a little warmth stirring in your chest at the thought that the little monster missed you. Rock-eater he might be, it’s nice to be with the people who truly appreciate you.

“We’re out of tuna and I’m starving. Go pick some up for me. And make it snappy!”

You frown, the warmth in your chest snuffed out like a candle in the breeze. “Could you at least say the magic words?”

“…Abra cadabra?”

You were thinking please and thank you but, sure, why the hell not. You’re used to doing everyone’s busy work anyway, what’s one more menial task to add to the pile? You groan as you pull yourself up from the couch, stretching your arms up over your head and wincing as your back cracks. Grim, deciding you are not treating this matter with the urgency it deserves, pushes at your legs and ushers you out of the dorm. The second you cross the threshold, the door slams shut behind you with enough force to send a rush of cool air tickling along the back of your neck.

You take two steps off the porch before you hear Grim call your name. You turn back to see him hanging halfway out the front window. “Don’t come back unless you get the premium tuna!” he shouts before promptly slamming the window shut and locking the latch for further emphasis.

With a tired sigh and a wallet that will soon become much lighter, you embark towards Sam’s Mystery Shop.

~*~

When you return to the dorm, your arms are weighed down with bags filled to the brim with canned tuna and a single candy bar for yourself, handles of the plastic bags discoloring the flesh of your palms where they dig into your skin. Hands full, you bump the metal gate open with your hip, shuffling in as quick as you can manage. Unfortunately, the side of one your bags catches on the fence and you can do nothing but watch in resigned disappointment as the thin plastic tears, sending several cans spilling to the damp ground and one particularly heavy can on top of your big toe.

You hiss through your teeth, ignoring the sting as you bend down to pick up the fallen cans. As you reach for the fourth, your hand brushes against a set of gloved fingers that have wrapped themselves around the can seconds before you. You jolt backwards before your brain even registers who has appeared before you in a flurry of lights like green fireflies.

“Hornton!” you shout, a little out of breath and hand on your chest. “You startled me!”

“Child of man,” he greets you, slight twitch at the corner of his lip that you have come to recognize as a genuine smile. It drops when he notices the shakiness of your arms and the bags under your eyes. “You look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted,” you sigh. “Risking life and limb to tape pastel-colored tissue paper to the ceiling will do that to you. But it’ll be worth it when I’m making an ass of myself dancing the funky chicken in the middle of the gymnasium with spiked-punch-induced lowered inhibitions.”

And you mean it. Despite your complaints and sore muscles, you are genuinely excited for the upcoming dance. It’s the most normal thing that’s happened to you since you woke up in a coffin to a talking cat trying to steal your clothes.

Hornton raises a single thin eyebrow. “The college is holding a party?” He tries to look disinterested, eyes focused on the can of tuna he turns back and forth in his hand, but he sounds genuinely surprised. Which is odd considering the entire campus is littered with fliers advertising the event. That and everyone and their grandma hasn’t shut up about it for the past week.

It’s a little strange but you try to give Hornton the benefit of the doubt. You never see him on campus outside of his nightly gargoyle tours so it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assume he spends most of his time outside of classes holing up in his room. Kind of like Idia but way less sweaty.

“Yeah, this Saturday. It’s some kind of ballroom sort of event that happens every year. Or something,” you shrug as best as you can with your arms weighed down. After all, you’re just a freshman. Being an upperclassman, he should know more about it than you. “Apparently, it’s a pretty big deal.”

Hornton gets a look in his eyes that’s hard to decipher; a flash of something soft and quiet that feels a little melancholy, a little lonely. But then the look is gone so fast you wonder if maybe you’re just projecting. Not so much these days, but you remember a time when it felt like it was just you against the world. Either way, you know more than anyone what it feels like to feel all alone and out of your element.

“You should come and see the fruits of my labor. I promise you’ll never see a better-hung streamer.”

“Are you inviting me to join you?” he asks, slow and cautious and—dare you say—optimistic.

You had just meant in general, but Hornton has seemed to take your invitation to mean you would go together. You had already promised Ace and Deuce that you and Grim would go with them as a group and you think Hornton would probably understand if you told him that you had made a prior commitment. Still, there’s a hint of something like hope in his eyes that sparkles behind the amusement and you can’t quite bring yourself to dash it. Instead, you nod your assent.

“You always manage to surprise me, child of man. To think you are brave enough to invite someone like me.” Hornton brings his fingers to his chin, smirking down at you. His other hand gently places the can of tuna he’s been holding into your palm as if he is presenting you a gift, despite it being something you bought yourself with your own money. “It would please me to join you at the dance. And see these expertly-hung decorations.”

And with that, he disappears in a glow of green fireflies, as suddenly as he had arrived.

“So dramatic,” you sigh as you return to your task as tuna deliveryman, being careful of the damaged bag as you haul the cans back to the front door.

Tomorrow, you’ll break the news of your sudden change of plans to your friends. You feel a little guilty but you think you’re making the right decision. After all, you only ever see Hornton by himself so he might not have any other friends to go with. Grim won’t mind as soon as he sets his sights on all the tuna you brought him. And the others? Well, Ace and Deuce will understand.

~*~

“WHHHAAAAT?! What do you mean you got a date to the dance?!”

You flinch, sliding down in your seat as several tables turn their heads towards you. “Gee Ace, could you say that a little louder next time? Some people in the back of the cafeteria might not have heard you.”

Ace pays your sarcasm no mind, slumping down in his own seat and pressing his cheek to the tabletop. “Awwww maaaan! I can’t believe the magicless student managed to snag a date while I’m stuck going stag.”

“What? Are you surprised?” Grim asks with a mouthful of grilled chicken, bits of food clinging to the fur around his mouth and chin damp with grease. “I’d think you’d be used to being single by now.”

“Huh?!?!?! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Grim grins unkindly through a mouth of sharp teeth and pre-chewed chicken. “Exactly what you think it means, incel.”

Deuce scoots his lunch tray a couple inches to his right, hoping to protect his meal from the cartoon fight cloud forming as Ace and Grim flail their arms and slap at each other with limp wrists.

“It’s not even that kind of date,” you sigh, too desensitized by their nonsense to be very bothered by it. “Hornton and I are just friends.”

Deuce chokes on his sandwich. “Hornton?”

“Not his real name, don’t worry about it.” You turn from him back to Ace. “Listen, I didn’t do this to bail on you guys. It’s just, you and Deuce and Grim have each other and, well, if I’m being completely honest, I think I might be this guy’s only friend.”

Ace breaks from his fight to offer you a deadpan, “Gay,” before pulling Grim into a chokehold and going in for a noogie.

“Does this mean I’m stuck going with just these two?” Deuce asks, thumb jutting out to point at Ace and Grim as the former tries to pull the latter off his back, Grim’s claws embedding themselves into Ace’s school jacket making the task easier said than done.

“Sorry,” you smile in apology, “But it’s not like we won’t still meet up at the dance, right?”

Deuce sighs dejectedly, eyes closed and head hanging so low his chin nearly falls into his plate of mashed potatoes. You offer a nervous laugh and a pat on the shoulder.

Without warning, you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand straight.

Gooseflesh begins to rise as a shiver passes through you. It feels like you’re being watched but a quick survey of the room shows that everyone went back to their own business after Ace’s earlier outburst. All but a single pair of blood red eyes that look at you from the complete opposite end of the cafeteria.

Once he sees you’ve noticed him, Lilia Vanrouge—upperclassman and vice warden of Diasomnia dorm—waves coyly at you. You have only spoken to him on three different occasions since you have been at Night Raven College. While not on bad terms or anything, you would not consider the two of you on friendly terms with one another either. Certainly not to the point of making eyes from across the room. Still, when he makes no sign of looking away, you finally wave your hand in an awkward, half-assed manner.

Satisfied, he flashes you a fanged grin before abruptly turning his attention back to his fellow dormmates.

Weirdo.

#sinning #tw fic #twisted wonderland #fic blogging #otome hell #malleus draconia #ace trappola #deuce spade #grim #long post #yes it’s a school dance plot because I think it’s cute #reader insert

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anotherredwoodoriginal · 3 years ago

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I Need You (More Than I Want To)

The bitter sting of tequila burns your throat, but you swallow it down and slam your shot glass on the bar. Three shots in and your body is on fire, your cheeks are flushed and you feel like you can take on the world. You look at the man beside you and you feel fearless. Blue eyes meet yours, and when he smiles at you it’s like the whole world falls away.

Kozik has always had a hold on you, ever since you met him you knew: he was it for you, no one else would ever compare. You never said anything, never made a move, because he never did either. For so long you’ve been content with just his friendship, but you were feeling a little bolder tonight. Maybe it was the shots, or the good music and even better company, but you decided then that tonight you would finally make a move.

“We’re up next,” You tell him, still grinning. His smile doesn’t falter, but he cocks a brow in slight confusion. You cock your head towards the karaoke machine that��s been set up near the pool table.

It’s Bobby’s birthday and he was insistent on a club karaoke night. He’s in full Elvis get-up and he’s just finished his set, ready to join the festivities and get shit faced with his closest friends and family, and a few crow eaters. Tig’s up there now, a drink in one hand, almost deep-throating the mic as he belts Air Supply’s All Out of Love.

“Yeah…” Kozik starts, then he shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

Grabbing his forearm, you pout at him and give him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“Come on, Koz, please. It’ll be fun!!”

He looks at you for a beat too long, studies your face a little too closely, and for a second you think he’s about to say no again.

“Okay, fine,” he concedes, his smile widening when you beam back at him. God, his eyes are so blue. “But I’m only doing this once, and only for you!”

Your heart jumps a little when he says that, but you just nod and double-tap your shot glass on the bar.

“Bartender!” You call to the crow pouring the drinks, “One more round please!”

You finish your shots just in time for Tig to finish up an off-key rendition of Toxic by Britney Spears.

“That’s us!”

You see hesitation flash across Kozik’s face, but you don’t give him a chance to back out. You take both his hands in yours, ignoring the way your skin flushes at the contact, the way your heart hammers and heat pools in the pit of your stomach, and you drag him up the front.

Tig hands you his mic as the next song starts playing, something by Camila Cabello that you’d heard on the radio a couple times. You hand Kozik the spare mic and he looks at you and shakes his head.

“I don’t know this song!” He shouts over the music.

“You don’t need to! That’s why there’s words on the screen!” You shout back, and that’s all it takes to calm him. The lyrics on the screen turn orange and you start singing, “Don't speak, no, don't try. It's been a secret for the longest time.”

He’s struggling to keep up, but it also looks like he doesn’t care. And you don’t either. You don’t care that you’re out of time or that you’re mumbling some of the lyrics because you don’t really know them. All you care about is the man in front of you, still holding onto one of your hands, blue eyes twinkling and singing into a shitty plastic microphone like he’s serenading only you.

“I need you more than I want to,” You sing it like it’s only for him to hear. It is only for him to hear. It’s the truth, and you want him to know it.

“I need you more than I want to,” He sings back, pulling you into him. You crash against his chest and let the song play on. Lyrics flash across the screen, ‘no, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now’, but you can’t seem to speak. He’s so close, looking down at you, his lips just inches from yours. His eyes flicker down to your lips and you really think he’s going to kiss you. Then he steps back from you and you stumble at the sudden movement, but you find your feet just in time for him to spin you around.

“So many mornings I woke up confused,” He continues, “In my dreams, I do anything I want to you.”

Collecting yourself, you glance back at the screen and try to keep up, “My emotions are naked, they're taking me out of my mind.”

How can you focus on the song when he’s looking at you like that? Like he means what he’s singing? Like he wants to swallow you whole. Your entire body lights up and you know it’s not from the shots.

“Show me you're shameless.”

You didn’t even realise he was still singing.

“Write it on my neck, why don't ya?” You sing back, running your fingertips across the column of your throat along with the line. “And I won't erase it. I need you more than I want to.”

“I need you more than I want to.” You swear you see him gulp, like a man dying of thirst.

“Stop eye-fucking each other and get a room!” Someone calls from the crowd that you had forgotten all about. Looking over, you see Jax smirking up at you, a grin on his face like a challenge. I dare you, his eyes said.

You had completely forgotten that the two of you weren’t alone. All you could see was Kozik, like always. You’re almost afraid to see his reaction. The alcohol is starting to wear off and with it, all of the courage you had built up.

“Do you want to?”

The voice is deep, rough but smooth like crushed velour. It sends a chill down your spine. Looking up, you see Kozik standing right before you. He’s put the microphone back on the stand and his hands are hovering near your elbows, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch.

Your tongue flicks out to wet your suddenly dry lips. “Do I what?”

You’re pretty sure you know what he’s asking, but you want to hear him say it.

“Get a room.”

And then your lips are on his, and you aren’t really sure who initiated the kiss, but you also don’t care. You vaguely register some cheering and clapping, but all you care about is Kozik’s hands on your skin.

This time, he takes your hand. You hand the mic to Juice as Kozik leads you through the crowd with an urgency you’ve never seen before. Once you’re inside, he stops and pulls you into him again. He kisses you a little slower this time, like he wants it to last, but also like he knows he’s going to do it again.

His hands slide around your waist and he holds you tight against him. Reaching out to touch him, his skin is on fire. Your fingers trace the ink on the side of his neck, a name you wish was yours, before sliding your hands over his shoulders and down his biceps. For a moment his grip on you tightens and you mewl into his mouth at the feeling of having him around you.

He moves down to your ass and grabs you through the cotton of your dress before slipping a little further down to grip the back of your thighs. He lifts you and your legs wrap around him instinctively. He walks you down the hall and as he does, you attach your lips to the side of his neck. Maybe the name can’t be yours, but you can still leave your mark.

Kozik kicks open the door to one of the dorms, then kicks it closed again and throws you down onto the bed. You land with a soft thud and sit up on your elbows, watching as he removes his kutte and pulls the grey tee over his head. Kozik’s abs flex as he removes his clothing, his skin marred by scars and adorned with ink. You smile to yourself, enjoying the show. Never in a thousand years did you think this would ever be happening. You’ve wanted him for so long and now he’s here and, for at least tonight, he’s all yours.

He’s back on you in a second, clad in only a pair of briefs. You close your eyes, letting yourself relish in the feeling of his weight on top of you.

“What’s this?” He asks, fingers toying with the strap of your dress.

“My dress,” you say simply, cheeks heating up at his intense gaze.

His voice is low and even as he tells you, “Take it off.”

You nod, letting out a small whimper at the demand, and stand from the bed. As you start to undo the row of buttons at the front of your dress, you mentally curse yourself for wearing this. Your hands are shaking and you feel like a virgin all over again with the way Kozik is watching you.

It takes far too long, but the dress falls to the floor. You aren’t wearing a bra, and the cool air hits your chest.

Kozik stands from the bed, blue eyes dark with desire as he stalks toward you like a tiger stalking its prey.

“Have I ever told you,” He starts, brushing a lock of your hair back behind your ear, “How beautiful you are?”

You shake your head and squeeze your thighs together. You can feel the wetness soaking through your baby blue panties. You really wish you had worn something sexier. “No, you haven’t.”

“Well that’s my mistake, baby.” Kozik presses a kiss to the side of your neck, then sucks hard and grazes the skin with his teeth before pressing the flat of his tongue against your skin to soothe the red mark he’s sure to have left there. “You are fucking gorgeous.”

He grabs you by the hips again, his hands calloused and rough and you hope he leaves bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. Something to remember him by.

Kozik spins you back around and pushes you down onto the bed with a firm hand between your breasts. He hovers over you, eyes roaming down your exposed body and he bites his lip. Thick fingers trail down your stomach to the hemline of your unsexy panties. His fingers dip beneath the cotton.

Letting out a soft noise, you buck your hips into his hand, desperate for more. With an impish grin, he removes his hand and stands from the bed.

“You trust me?” He asks, and he doesn’t move until you reply.

“Fuck, Koz,” You groan out. You’re throbbing with need, dripping wet for him. Right now you would say anything just to get him to touch you, but you know you don’t need to lie about this question. “Yes, fuck, please just touch me!”

His smile widens and he drops to his knees, disappearing from sight between your legs. Then hands are grabbing you by the legs and pulling you toward him so your hips are almost flush with the edge of his mattress. He grabs the sides of your cotton panties and pulls them down your legs so mercilessly you’re surprised they don’t tear off your body completely.

He taps your thighs. “Leg’s up, baby.”

You do as you’re told and Kozik dips his head, licking a hot stripe up your core. You moan out loud, fisting the bed sheets as he sucks on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive nerves teasingly.

You feel him chuckle against you, dipping his tongue inside your wanting pussy. He continued to suck and lick at your wet heat, bringing you closer and closer to release.

“Fuck, Kozik!” You cry out, hands flying to his blonde locks and pressing his face further against you.

“Yeah,” He says, his breath warm between your legs. “Wanna fuck you.” He sucks at your clit once more. “Gonna make you cum like this first.”

“Oh my- Koz, I’m gonna- oh fuck!” You gasp, fingers pulling at his hair, your legs starting to shake. Something tears through your body like you’ve never felt before. Not like that at least.

He crawls back onto the bed, back on top of you, and steals your lips in a kiss. You kiss him back with all you have, with no regard for where his mouth has just been. He’s still got his briefs on, but you can feel his thick cock against your thigh. “Need you to fuck me now.”

Reaching between your bodies, you cup him through his briefs, noticing a small wet patch at the front. He groans into your mouth.

“Yeah,” He says, breathing hard. “Let me get-”

“I’m clean,” You cut him off. “Are you?”

“Yeah.”

You waste no time pushing his briefs down his hips. He doesn’t even get them fully off before he’s lining up at your entrance and pushing in. The stretch is a little more than you’re used to and it takes a second for you to adjust to his size. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you hold onto him and press your face into his neck.

“You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah, yes, I’m good. You’re fuckin’ big.”

It’s enough to make him buck up into you, a quick shallow thrust that already has your eyes rolling back.

“It’s okay,” You tell him, looking up into his blue eyes and pressing a quick kiss to his plump lips. “You can fuck me.”

He thrusts up into you again, more purposeful this time, and it has you seeing stars. He sets a relentless pace, driving into you so hard you can feel yourself shifting up the bed. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at his back and using that leverage to meet his thrusts.

As he props himself up with one arm, the other hand comes up to your chest to play with your hard nipples. He pinches them, rolls them between his fingertips before smoothing over them with his palms. The sensation is almost too much.

This is like a dream come true. You’re in bed with Kozik, the guy you’ve been head over heels for since you could remember. There hasn’t been a time where you’ve known him and not been in love with him. In this case, the two are mutually exclusive. He’s here, with you, fucking you like his life depends on it, touching you like you’re his own personal wet dream come to life.

“You’re perfect,” You hear him mutter into your hair. “You’re fucking perfect.”

It’s this realisation, the dawning that maybe he really did want you, specifically you, as much as you wanted him.

Your body shudders and your walls close around him as you chase your release for the second time tonight.

His thrusts lose their rhythm as he loses himself to the pleasure of you, and when your eyes meet again you nod.

With one last hard thrust and a cry of your name, Kozik finishes inside of you, riding out his high as long as he can.

He pulls out and rolls off of you way too soon, but he doesn’t get up immediately. Kozik lies on the bed and pulls you into him, your head on his chest, he strokes his hands through your hair. You feel his lips meet the crown of your head in a chaste kiss.

This is it. This is the moment. You want to tell him how you feel but you can’t find the right words amongst your racing thoughts. All you can think is Kozik and that damn Camila Cabello song.

“So we're there, now it's real. Now that you have me, do you want me still?” You sing softly, and a little out of tune. “My kisses are history, they go back a long time, and I'm tired of loving somebody that's not mine.”

His hands still in your hair. You’ve messed it all up. You shouldn’t have said anything.

Sucking in a deep breath, you chance a glance up at him. Kozik is smiling down at you, blue eyes shining like he might cry. Like all his dreams are coming true.

Slowly, he sings back, “I need you, more than I want to.”

Tags: @espieviolet99 (because i know you were excited)

#i wrote this all at once but then it was 2am and i had to sleep!#soa kozik #kozik soa #herman kozik #sons of anarchy kozik #kozik #kozik x reader #anotherredwoodoriginal

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khuzena · 2 years ago

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Tag Nine(only tagged 8 because I ONLY KNOW 8 PEOPLE) People You Want To Get To Know Better

Fav Color: light pink, black, white, and anything light color similar to pastel

Currently reading: Random fics and a bunch of Collin’s classics books like Alice in wonderland, Inferno, and Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Last song: Mariya Takeuchi - Plastic Love 竹内まりや (1985) [1080p]

Last series: anime series is Spy x Family, tv-series is Iron Chef

Last movie: Encanto

Sweet/spicy/savory: I love sweets and I FUCKING despise spicy foods :D

Relationship status: I have commitment issues so single

Favorite food: fast food, I’m a very picky eater :(

Song stuck in my head: murder in my mind

Last thing I googled: ‘not getting stardust on everskies’

Dream vacation: Marseille(France), Colorado, Sweden, and a bunch of European countries because why not?

Currently working on: if we’re talking about request fics, one yoru angst and another omen fluff, if it’s about right now then I’m currently reading Lewis Carroll’s ‘Alice in wonderland’ and Dante Alighieri’s ‘inferno’ while searching for aesthetic back to school items all at the same time

something you’d like to add(optional): HELLOOOOOOO and to those i tagged omg omg i love all your works omg omg omg omg if i had a rose everytime i read your fics and shit i would have a rose garden and omg omg im GAY

tagged by: @honestlyitsjustsam

tagging: @legitelizabethwwefan, @astolary, @code-name-wraith , @bbokkie, @anonymuslydumb, @offbranddrpepsi, @pleiades-daybreak, @theonlysol

join if you want I love your works aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

#thoughts #hello #you writers deserve more love #if i had a rose everytime i read your fics i would have a rose garden

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twilightdruig · 3 years ago

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help?

pairing : george weasley x fem!reader

summary : “hi i’m your neighbor and while i know we’ve never spoken but you’re a single parent of two and my sister recently died leaving me to raise her infant and i have no idea what i’m doing, help?” au

warnings : swearing , mentions of character deaths , fluff , au where george lives alone with his two children in a cottage near the burrow , au where fred and cedric live.

words : 2.6k

a/n : this is my first fic so it’s probably gonna be shit (as you can probably tell i’m not good with titles either) but yeah hope you enjoy :> and i might do a little part 2 on this soon

holly l/n was loved by multiple. a sweet hufflepuff student who was favored by all the teachers and students. her sister, y/n was a scary and intimidating gryffindor who hung out in the library.

ever since the battle of hogwarts death eaters have been imprisoned in azkaban. but, that didn’t mean all harm was gone.

now here y/n l/n was, standing in the heat of the summer, her nephew connor l/n mourning the death of a family member.

the service was beautiful. a few hogwarts students came including luna lovegood and neville longbottom and professor sprout and professor flitwick decided to pay their respects. headmistress mcgonagall sent her condolences through a letter as well.

conner wasn’t old enough to go to hogwarts yet. there was no one else for holly to leave connor with. her husband, ronan died during the war, all connor’s grandparents died and the only appointed godparents were holly’s best friend cedric diggory and her sister y/n.

cedric diggory was now teaching first year flying at hogwarts and is married to cho chang.

y/n was currently doing nothing with her life. she wanted to live alone in a cottage, reading, stitching, picking apples and getting drunk on fruity cocktails. but now? she had to take care of her sister’s spoiled son.

y/n hated children more than she hated the people in her own hogwarts house. more so, she didn’t know how to take care of them.

she had to enroll her nephew in hogwarts, teach him basic life skills and other stuff like that. there goes her life goal on being that cool stoner aunt that hates love and children.

—

“shit, connor!” y/n exclaimed as her 3 year old nephew accidentally ate a ton tongue toffee made by the joke shop in diagon alley owned by the weasleys.

“sorry aunty y/n”

she was never close to the weasleys. all of them, stereotypical gryffindors, loud and chaotic and always the main characters.

the only thing she knew about them is that one of the twins live next to her. y/n didn’t know how to shrink his tongue and thought it was quite the convenience that he lives next door. he was a single dad with two daughters, maybe he could help her control her nephew and technically her adopted son, now.

she sighed. “put on your coat, we’re visiting our neighbors, ok con?” the little boy nodded in response

—

went the small cottage came into view, there were two little girls picking flowers on the front yard and a tall red-headed man on the porch watching them.

“hey! weasley!” she yelled with a small smile as she approached the small gate.

“l/n? what are you doing here?” george asked

y/n gestured to her nephew who was holding his now 3 foot long tongue. “he accidentally ate one of your products and i’m not entirely sure how to fix it”

“right, right” he laughed “come on, connor right? i’ll reverse that”

y/n felt a tug at her oversized cardigan. she looked down to see two identical ginger twins.

“hi there!” one smiled.

“hello!” y/n tried to sound as nice as possible. looking back at her teenage years she remembered laughing at kids who fell of their brooms their brooms when she’d watch first year flying. she remembered laughing at seamus finnigan when something blew up in his face. or when she’d laugh at any kid accidentally getting hurt.

“these are for you! they’re pretty just like you” the other twin exclaimed.

“i’m charlotte and she’s billie” charlotte giggled.

“how do u know our daddy?” billie asked

“oh! um, we went to school together and i live just next door” y/n replied

“do you know our uncle freddie?”

“i know all your uncles and your aunt ginny, aunt hermione and uncle harry. they were all famous when we were in school”

“wow!” they both exclaimed

george and connor came back out. “look aunty y/n! my tongue’s normal again!”

“aunty?” george questioned. “holly. she died quite recently.”

“oh! i’m so sorry. i heard about her. yeah. i believe mum sent some flowers for the service”

“yeah we received them”

“i’ll see you around?” george inquired

“yeah, yeah. and i might need some parenting advice? you knew how i was back at hogwarts”

“i am flattered, dear l/n”

“oh hush. and they get along.” she pointed to the three children running around.

“they do. and yes, i would love to help you tame that little rascal” george laughed.

“thank you, george. really.”

“i’m just next door, yeah?”

“yeah” y/n smiled “come on, connor. we’re going home. but we’ll definitely be seeing these lovely ladies soon.”

“bye pretty lady!” y/n heard two young voices call after her

“daddy, who was she?”

“is she gonna be our new mommy?”

—

george and y/n had been hanging out for the past weeks. he had given her advice on taking care of connor and how to deal with children. they also spent time talking about family and their time back at hogwarts. she was told about the attack of death eaters at one of his brothers’ wedding and how his daughters were named after his brothers bill and charlie.

a knock at y/n’s door interrupted her reading.

“oi, l/n!” she heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door.

“weasley” she muttered.

connor recognized george’s voice and the twins’ giggles, he decided he would take matters into his own little hands. connor knew how stubborn his aunt was at the young age of seven.

“hi billie! hi charlotte! hi uncle george!” the little boy squealed.

“hey there, con!” george ruffled his hair while billie and charlotte ran over to y/n.

connor and the twins were two years apart. connor was going to hogwarts the next year. no doubt would he be trouble to professor mcgonagall but everyone knew they were always her favorites.

“aunty y/n! uncle george brought cookies!” connor yelled excitedly. y/n was never the type to bake or cook. she did try to but it always ended in almost burning the house down. she usually fed connor fruits or store bought food.

“you didn’t have to” y/n responded while taking the plastic box.

“oh yes i did” he teased “i heard you’ve been starving this poor little fellow”

“daddy didn’t bake those cookies” charlotte stated “grandma did” billie continued

“oh” she smirked at george then turned to the twins “tell your grandma i say thanks!”

“uncle george! i wanna show you something outside! the twins can come too!”

“connor, what are you gonna show them?” y/n grumbled.

“your paintings! they’re amazing” her nephew jumped.

“paintings, eh?” george smiled “okay, let’s go, champ. see those paintings of your aunt.” the two scurried outside, two redheaded girls following after.

y/n groaned and fell back into the couch, finishing her book.

—

it’s been a few days since george and the twins came with cooking to y/n and connor’s cottage. she wanted to throw connor a little surprise birthday party.

connor has loved the twins and george so much, he thinks of them as blood relatives. y/n decided to call up cedric and cho to look after connor while she’d do some errands.

the two arrived exactly on time as y/n was preparing to go out. she had on a simple cardigan and loose denim pants.

“ced! cho! hi, how are you guys?” y/n greeted as she saw her old friends apparate into the cottage.

“hi y/n!” cho greeted “hey nerd” cedric snickered.

she sent cedric a small glare before connor jumped at the two.

“uncle ceddy! aunty cho! you’re here” he shouted.

“yeah buddy! your aunt’s gonna run some errands and visit your uncle georgie?” cedric winked at y/n. she had been owling cedric about george and how he’s been helping her with connor.

“are you going out with uncle george?” connor asked, eyes twinkling.

“i don’t know, actually. i might check him out next door.”

“george weasley?” cho teased.

“yes, cho,” y/n rolled her eyes “but on that note, i have to go”

“bye, connor! behave okay?” she crouched down and squished his cheeks.

“bye, ced! cho!” her voice faded when she dashed out the door.

—

y/n passed george’s cottage to see if he actually might want to come with her and do errands.

she was standing outside the small gate, hesitating. ‘maybe he was busy’ ‘he wouldn’t want to do errands with me’ ‘maybe he would if i told him it was for connor’s birthday’ she thought. y/n didn’t know why she was overthinking her choices. the first time she was standing right outside the gate she bursted in and demanded george to fix whatever happened to her nephew. now, she was nervous. her palms were sweaty and clammy.

she pushed herself in and walked to the front porch. she knocked a few times and was met with a head of messy brown hair.

“hermione?!” she squealed

“y/n!” hermione jumped to hug her old friend.

there were overlapping voices in the background and when they pulled away she was met with multiple mops of ginger hair, a head of blonde hair and another with black hair behind hermione.

“l/n?” ginny weasley asked, quite shocked what she would be doing outside george’s door.

“oh! did i interrupt something? i am so sorry!” she said feeling a bit nervous.

“oh! you must be the dearest y/n george keeps talking about!” an old woman she thought was mrs. weasley approached her from behind her children.

“hi there!” y/n said feeling a little embarrassed she might’ve barged in on a family reunion.

“ah! l/n? i have heard of your family! muggle-borns right?” arthur weasley joined his wife.

“uh, yeah!” she pursed her lips “i am so so sorry i interrupted! i should go. tell george i’ll swing by next time”

“oh it’s absolutely alright, dear” molly reassured her.

“george! there’s a really pretty girl! get your arse out here!” fred yelled to george who was probably inside the house.

“is she here?” charlotte and billie ran to the door.

“hi girls! tell you dad i was here yeah? say i’ll come by next time” most of the weasleys came back in. she took it as her time to go on with her day.

“oi! y/n! wait up” the voice she recognized as george’s called after her.

“george, hey”

“where’r you off to?” george pointed to the small bag that was swung over her shoulder.

“errands. connor’s birthday is coming up so i thought i’d prepare something for him. first birthday without his mum, you know”

“his birthday’s coming up?” george looked as excited as a child on christmas morning.

“yeah. why?” she smiled

“you’re talking to one of the best party planners there is. you also did talk to another one of them… i think”

“fred?”

“oh yeah”

“i wanted to ask if you wanted to come but seeing as to your family is in your house… i’m gonna take a wild guess and say you aren’t available right now” she giggled.

“maybe if you went another day” he said sympathetically. george really wanted to go and prepare connor’s party with her. he treated him like his own and boy did he remind him of how fun it was to be a kid. he loved his aunt so much it was adorable.

“george. seriously, it’s okay. spend time with your family” she laughed.

“yeah, yeah. i’ll see you when you get back” he waved.

—

connor’s small birthday gathering was in full swing. y/n became acquainted with george’s siblings. bill, charlie, percy (whom she was actually friends with back in hogwarts), fred, ron and ginny. hermione was a very good friend of hers and so was harry. she recognized fleur from that day in the cottage as beauxbatons triwizard champion.

connor had quite a bunch of guests for his birthday. cedric, cho, luna, neville, fred, percy, ron, harry, hermione, bill and fleur and their little victorie. of course, billie and charlotte helped george and y/n fix up the party. mr. and mrs. weasley sent a small cake for connor when they heard about y/n not knowing asingle thing about cooking.

fred offered to take care of the twins and connor while george and y/n ran off somewhere. the two found themselves near a small creek. y/n explained how the cottage was where she’d go off exploring and the only person who knew was holly. she was overjoyed when her sister got the cottage she used as a hideaway.

george was surprised when there were lights and blankets and everything. the soft sounds of running water was calming.

the two were pretty intoxicated when they sat down; stumbled onto the picnic blanket. y/n was sober enough to not spill her deepest darkest secrets. george on the other hand…

“have i ever told you how pretty you are?” george mumbled next to her. y/n only snickered and blushed.

“um, can i hold your hand?” he continued, taking a look at the girl next to him.

“sure” she winked.

“you know” he started again “i actually fancied you a bit back in school”

“yeah?” she rolled over to her side “i wonder… what did you like about me?”

“i don’t even know. my heart just felt so full with you. still does, right now, holding your hand, under the stars by a stream.” he had this glint in his eye when he looks at her.

“hey,” she brushed some hair out of his face “these past few months have been great. and you’re a huge help with connor. you know i’ll always be there for you, right?”

“yeah darling,” he yawned “yeah”

“wait, george!” she sat up “no. don’t fall asleep!”

“fuck” she groaned before falling back down on the blanket.

“i think i love you” she whispered.

—

morning rolled around and they were still lying somewhere in the forest behind the cottage. some childish chatter and laughs were heard from where they were still sleeping soundly.

until, a red ant bit y/n and george’s intertwined hands. “ah shit!” y/n woke up from the bite. her yell also woke up the sleeping man next to her “what?! what happened?” he jumped.

“oh. did i wake you up?” she asked.

“no. it’s honestly no worries” he said “but i do have a killer headache”

“an ant bit me” she muttered, wanting to scratch it.

“hey, no don’t scratch! i’ve had a lot if experience with insect bites” he explained “want me to kiss it better?” he teased.

“oh, ha-ha” she rolled her eyes but blushed.

“we should probably head back” he checked his watch while standing up.

—

“ah! there the lovebirds are!” fred exclaimed.

everyone was cleaning up from last night. there were children running around while chasing balloons and each other.

“yeah,” george started “we, um, fell asleep”

“sure ya did” this time ron teased the two.

“i’m gonna clean up here,” y/n offered “you guys should go home. you know, get some rest”

cedric gasped “y/n l/n! are you kicking us out?” he said in mock offense.

“technically, yeah. i doubt connor got any sleep”

“maybe we should,” fleur said with her accent “victorie was very excited for the party she is very worn out”

george snuck behind y/n “i think i love you too” he muttered under his breath. he wasn’t sure if she heard it. she did.

“i’ll see you later, y/n!” he yelled “come on, princesses, we’re going home. we’ll see connor and y/n later”

connor and the twins hugged while y/n said thank you’s to all the guests.

maybe it wasn’t such a bad decision to ask for help.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #harry potter #hogwarts #george weasley imagine #george weasley x fem #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you

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immobulusmalfoy · 4 years ago

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IRISH YOU WOULD KISS ME // George Weasley x Female!Reader

A/N: I sent this as a request to someone ages ago, but decided to take it back as a smutty request for myself as practice. Enjoy! It’s definitely 18+ (1.3k words)

Prompt: Reader and George have been dating for years and you’re attending the Quidditch World Cup together, but you’ve bought a little surprise for him. SMUT.

Warnings: Smut, heavy make out, vaginal penetration, lingerie. No mentions of death eater attack after the end of the match.

“Ginny, come on!” Hermione huffed as the three girls walked around the various stalls at the Quidditch World Cup. She said something else, but you didn’t hear her as another green stall caught your eye.

George had told you all about the betting plans he and Fred had for the match, and while everyone seemed to think Bulgaria would be winning with their champion Krum, you and the twins thought differently.

“Hey, ‘Mione, you two keep going. I’ll catch up.” You grinned as you looked at the contents of an Ireland-themed stall. T-shirts, charmed necklaces, blinking shamrocks, and the best of all—bright green panties emblazoned with a flirty phrase.

“Are you going to get the rest?” Hermione laughed once she realized what you were looking at and pointed at a matching bra with shamrocks over the nipples. She hadn’t left like you expected her to.

“Maybe.” You giggled, exchanging a few knuts for the panties. The seller put them in a green plastic bag and handed them over.

“George will get a huge kick out of those.” Hermione shoves your shoulder a bit as you rejoined Ginny by a booth that reminded you a bit of Honeyduke’s.

“Let’s hope his hunch about the match is right then.” You smirked.

Eventually, you made it back to the tent where the boys were waiting.

“Find anything interesting, darling?” George asked as he attempted to peek into your bag.

“Hands off, Weasley. It’s a surprise for later,” you winked, “but only if you’re good.”

George narrowed his eyes at you, but took his hands away from the bag. “It’s not that easy to surprise me.”

“You’ll like this surprise. Now go get changed. Your dad said we’d be leaving soon and I need to get ready too. It’s going to get chilly.” You smiled as you darted off to the room you, Ginny, and Hermione were sharing.

“Better not be stealing my jumper! I’m more than warm enough for the both of us!” George shouted after you.

You quickly slipped on the panties and the jumper you’d stolen from George earlier in the summer before rejoining the group outside.

“Told you not to steal it.” George pouted. “I wanted to keep you warm.”

“Hush you, you know I’ll be right by your side all night. Now you just focus on making sure your bet is right. I wanna be looking at a champion once this match is won.” You smiled up at him and he leaned down for a quick kiss.

“Love you.” He murmured.

“Get a bloody room, you two.” Fred groaned as he purposely shoved his twin.

“Maybe we will.” You quipped, eyes scanning the horizon. George laughed, pulling you closer into his side.

“Yeah Freddie, you wanna sleep with ickle-Ronnikins tonight?” He teased.

“No thank you.” Fred scoffed, “He snores. Besides, wouldn’t want to enable you two.”

“Suit yourself,” George shrugged, “better keep your back to us and your ears plugged.”

“George!” You gasped, slapping his chest lightly.

“‘m only teasing, darling.”

“Woah.” Fred whistled. “This place is bigger than I thought.”

The stadium itself was massive. Once you reached your spot at the top of the stands, you felt like a tiny ant and you closed your eyes tightly, hands grasping onto George as tight as you could.

“It’s alright, love, I’ve got you.” He whispered as he held onto your waist. “If you get dizzy, just turn your head towards my chest, alright?”

You nodded against his shoulder as he hugged you closer.

Soon enough, the match was won and Fred and George’s theory turned out to be correct. You were all screaming and you almost forgot your fear of heights for awhile because you were so excited. George has smeared tons of his face paint onto your cheeks when he kissed you in victory, and you laughed when Fred’s paint started melting down his neck.

When you reached the tent, you pulled George to the side and pushed him against the wall.

“I’m liking this side of you.” George laughed breathlessly before leaning down to kiss you.

“Got a surprise for you.” You murmured once you broke away from his assault of kisses, hand trailing down his chest. “But you’ll have to wait ‘til we’re alone.”

“Done deal, darling.” He left one last kiss on your lips before darting into the tent. You followed a few seconds later and made your way to the room the twins had been given for the weekend.

George was alone cleaning the rest of his face paint off while the others were in the main room of the tent shouting about the match and too distracted to notice you and George has slipped away.

George pulled you into his room and closed the flaps before muttering a few silencing spells and a cleaning spell for your face.

“So about this surprise,” George smirked, sitting down on his bunk once he’d kicked off his trainers. He pulled you to stand between his legs and you laughed quietly as you gently pulled at the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“You have to find it, Georgie.” You grinned as you held up your arms for him to take off his stolen sweater. Your smile was contagious and he quickly stood with a grin to pull the sweater off your arms.

He pulled the sweater off first, then your undershirt and bra. He then took off your boots and popped the button on your jeans. Once he’d removed those, he caught your laugh in a kiss and turned your back towards him. His laugh was immediate as his hands splayed on your hips.

“Irish you would kiss me, huh? This your big surprise?” George’s eyes were sparkling as he turned you around and smoothed your hair down. You nodded.

“Do you like it?” You asked, pressing kisses to his jaw.

“I love it,” he breathed before pulling you in for a searing kiss and slipped the panties off. He quickly picked you up and situated you on his lap as you worked to pull his jersey up over his head. The jersey was the easy part compared to his pants.

“Darling, stand up for a second, will you?” George huffed, then promptly tripped over his pants as he tried to quickly yank both layers off. You couldn’t help it, laughing at the sight of your boyfriend on the ground next to you.

He growled, yanking on your ankles and knocking you down on top of him. “That’s much better.”

Soon it was all kisses and a flurry of hands as he situated you over his cock and helped you sink down onto him. You both groaned at the feeling, having not been together for weeks.

“I love you,” George whispered in between kisses. “You’re an angel, my Irish angel.”

“I love you too,” you gasped, him hitting just the right spot inside you. He reached a hand down to rub at your clit and soon you were gasping at how close you were. He nodded and sped up the pace, both of you chasing your highs. And then he was groaning and you were swallowing both your moans as you reached your peaks together.

George smoothed our your hair again as he pulled you off of him and grabbed a clean towel to clean you up with.

“Have I ever told you how bloody amazing you are?” He smiled at you as he grabbed a clean tshirt, your bra, and a pair of his basketball shorts for you to put on. You took them gratefully and got dressed alongside him.

“Only a few times a day, but a girl could get used to such comments from her wonderful boyfriend.” You kissed his cheek again before pulling him out his door to join the others.

“What took you two so long?” Fred yelled as soon as you’d made an appearance.

“Georgie needed help with his face paint.” You winked, and Fred groaned.

“You two better have cleaned up your mess.” Fred warned you both quietly.

“Don’t you worry, Freddie, I made sure to toss all the evidence in the top bunk.” George smiled innocently.

“But that’s mine!” Fred blanched.

“You did say to get a room,” you shrugged.

#george weasley x reader #george weasley smut #george weasley #quidditch world cup #immobulusmalfoy

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dekus-afro-pic · 4 years ago

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Bright Blue Butterfly

Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

Warnings ⚠️:: This Fic includes blood, fighting, crying, death(kinda), descriptions of depression and eating disorders, profanity. ALSO BNHA SPOILERS

Summary :: You were apart of U.A’s Fabulous 4, which was originally the Big Three. You had gotten close to Mirio and Tamaki when the three of you were in primary school. You had even interned under Fatgum. When the villains and heroes were battling, you had gotten separated from your team. No words from your Suneater or Fatgum left you in a depressive state.

Genre- Angst to Fluff

You and various other heroes were fighting for hours. Hours that felt like days, without knowing who had died or who were still fighting for their life. You were split up from Fatgum and Tamaki during Gigantomachia’s “fun run” and found yourself assisting Deku, Bakugo, and Todoroki in their battle with Shigaraki.

That was until Dabi decided to reveal that he was also a Todoroki. Shoto stood in shock while the villain twirled and traumatized him more. Your heart broke at the sight of tears streaming down Shoto’s eyes for you have grown close to the youngest Todoroki and viewed him as a little brother. You tried using your quirk to pull the first year out of the way but blue flames burnt your tentacle-like wings.

You were giving it your all. Trying to stay alive for him. Your sun eater. Your sweet precious Tama. You, Tamaki, and Mirio were childhood friends. After Mirio lost his quirk the two of you promised to never let your heart stop beating while fighting and you were determined to keep that promise.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bakugo plummeting to the ground. You dodged another wave of blue flames as your legs pushed to catch the falling boy. But Tenya was there right on time.

“TENYA GET HIM OUT OF HERE” You yelled at the boy.

“HEY GUYS. HEARD YOU COULD USE SOME HELP” You heard Nejire’s voice call out.

Before you could warn her about Dabi’s flames, fabric strings wrapped around the gigantic monster.

“Sorry I’m running fashionably late” Best Jeanist announced.

Deku and Shigaraki were still out cold as the fight went on. Nejire fought against Dabi’s flames while you and Best Jeanist tried to capture Gigantomachia.

“This is one big bitch” you sigh tiredly.

“That’s a nono word Y/n-Chan,” Mirio said, erupting from the ground.

“LEMILLION” you cry “YOUR BACK IN ACTION”

With the extra help, you guys apprehended Mr. Compress and other villains. Nejire’s and your body were burnt in various places, Deku’s limbs were hanging by a thread, Shoto had new-formed scars. Mentally and physically.

You were hospitalized for 2 weeks. Half of your left-wing was gone but to your advantage the doctors said it’ll grow back. Mirio came to visit every other day. You had been roommates with Nejire before she was discharged and put on bed rest. Even Shoto came to visit you every day, although his visits consisted of him crying into your chest as you comforted him. But no sign of Tamaki or Fatgum.

You’d watch the news every day to see any new updates to the fatalities list. But there their names were, bright as day, on the still missing list.

Once you were able to leave, you ran to the last place you saw them. The forest was still wrapped in yellow police tape. Scenes from the horrendous fight flashed through your head. Still, in your hospital gown, you duck under the yellow plastic and search for any clue or any pieces of them you could find.

You climbed through trees, looked through ash piles, under rocks, EVERYWHERE to find ANYTHING. You threw a heavy rock at a nearby tree, screaming in frustration. You watched as Tamaki’s Signature hooded cape float from the tree and into your hands. Tears forming in your eyes as you clutch at the fabric, you scream

“DAMNIT TAMA YOU PROMISED” You sobbed into the cape “YOU PROMISED. YOU PROMISED. YOU PROMISED”

You probably shouldn’t have been screaming so loud, since villains could be creeping around the area. But you couldn’t give not one flying fuck. Your heart, your sun eater, your sunshine was gone. And you weren’t even there to say goodbye. To save him.

You punched at the tree, leaving your newly healed knuckles bloody and broken. Your chest felt heavy as you slumped down to the ground, clutching at the fabric.

You slid the cape over your head and inhaled the scent of your forever lover. It still smelled just like him.

With your remaining strength, you stand up and begin walking back to the U.A student dormitories.

Before you could reach the big wooden doors to the 3rd year dormitory, a bright blue buttery landed on the tip of your nose.

“Hello Beautiful” You hoarsely whispered. “Butterflies were always his favorite. Especially blue ones like you”

The door opened, revealing it to be Mirio. You watched as the butterfly flew away at the sudden sound and teared up once again. You turn to face Mirio, who already had tears running down his face at the sight of you in your best friend's cape.

“Mirio-Kun” you choke, falling into his arms. The blonde catches you and helps you into the building.

That was the last day anyone had seen you. You hadn’t come down to eat, to watch tv, to socialize in almost a week. Whenever Mirio brought you food in the morning, it’ll still be at your door at lunch. The only things you were capable of were crying yourself to sleep and waking up a 3 in the morning to shower.

You hadn’t even bothered to look at the news anymore. You laid in your bed wrapped in Tama’s cape surrounded by his clothes that he’d sometimes leave in your room. You were far from healing. In order for you to heal, you’d need your SunEater back.

You had woken up at 3 in the morning crying like you have been for the past couple of days. In an attempt to distract yourself, you wrap yourself in one of Tamaki’s many scarves and made your way to the kitchen. Everything in the dormitory looked normal. But you knew it could never be normal without Tamaki even being in his or your room. Your voice never came back to you due to your constant crying. So you fill-up the kettle with water and put it on the stove eye. Once the kettle was screaming, you pour the water into your cup, place your tea bag in, and watch the tea seep in.

“Y/n!” Mirio and Nejire came running towards you, engulfing you in a big hug. You placed the hot mug down before they spilled it everywhere and returned the gesture. You gave them both a confused look as they took you by the hand and rushed out of the dormitory.

You wanted to ask where they were taking you at 4 in the morning but every time you tried to talk your throat burned in return. You wanted to cry. When you looked past your friends' heads you saw they were taking g you to the hospital. Were they taking you to get mental help? Were they about to leave you here? You tried to pull out of their hold but they kept a firm grip on your wrists.

“3 visitors for Amajiki,” Mirio told the nurse behind the counter. Your movements stopped. What did he just say?

Everything started to move in slow motion. Everything was soundless. You didn’t even hear what room number the nurse had told him. All you could think about was finding Tama’s cape in the woods that day. The two let go of your wrist to open the door to his room. Your legs wouldn’t listen to your brain and move. You stood there frozen while the door remained open.

“Come on Y/n. He’s waking up” Nejire said softly, taking your hand in hers and gently pulling you through the threshold.

Mirio was the first to pull the anxious boy into a hug. He was rambling about how much he had missed his best friend. You clutched at the scarf that was wrapped around your neck as Nejire walked over to his bed.

“Y-y/n?” Tamaki’s teary eyes widened as you caressed his cheek.

“H-Hi T-Tama” You croaked. Your voice was worse than you imagined but that was the least of your worries. You placed your forehead against him, letting tears stream down both of your faces. Tamaki pulled you in closer, sobbing into your shoulder as you did the same.

“T-They told m-me t-t-that you d-didn’t make it” He choked out. You held his face in both of your hands, kissing his nose you look into his eyes.

“Shh, I’m here now Tama. We’re together now” you smile.

You hadn’t realized that your friends had left the room until you crawled into his bed, letting him wrap his arms around you.

“Y-your wing!” He exclaimed, reaching for the bandages around your back “And you’re w-wearing my s-scarf”

“Oh...yeah. One of the villains burnt some of my wing off. It’ll grow back. Just gotta give it time” you explain running your fingers along his hand. You kissed the scars covering his forearms and his hands, leaving the boy red in the face.

“I want to go home” He groaned, burrowing his face into your shoulder. “W-When I was l-laying on the ground. A b-blue butterfly landed on m-my nose. I told it to find you to let you know that I was going to be ok.”

“That’s one trained butterfly then” you joke. “One landed on my nose last week when I...found your cape”

You switched sides to be face to face with your lover and kissed at the tears that trailed down his face. “Don’t cry Tama. I’ve done enough of that for the both of us”

“I-I love you s-so much” He whispered. Looking into your eyes with his teary ones.

You lean foreword to press a kiss upon his lips. Tamaki pulled your chest against his and let his hands wonder to your hips while your hands never left his face.

“I love you too Tama”

#mha #mha fanfiction #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha x y/n #my hero academia #kirishima x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #tamaki headcanons #tamaki amakiji #amajiki x y/n #mha tamaki #tamaki amajiki #mha angst #mha fluff #tamaki angst #tamaki fluff

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years ago

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Quidditch and T

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him; transmasculine reader.

Summary: Harry surprises Ron with tickets to the Quidditch World Cup after the war, after Hermione and after finding out Ron has a crush on the first professional trans masculine the Chudley Canons or the World Cup has ever seen.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol, tiny amount of transphobia?? super long, focuses on Ron more than it should, super long and probably really bad.

Notes: Trans masculine reader again! We love to see it- No one asked for this but I liked the idea. Also, Ron has long hair because I love him and Harry is a good friend. The bestest of friends.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Even with the second wizarding war years behind them, everyone struggled to regain control over themselves. Loved ones were lost far too soon, strained relationships came crashing down and businesses all but shattered like glass, but that was a year or two after. Families were beginning to recover and move forward, but some struggled. It was only natural, that was why the Ministry decided to bring at least a tiny bit of normality back to everyone's life with the Quidditch World Cup. They thought it would bring some light in the barely lit times everyone lived in.

While life for some was morphing back to a semi stable state, times were transitioning to a new era. Of course, no one batted an eye or fought against her when the Hermione Jean Granger demanded rights for wizards, witches and sorcerers who were, for lack of a better word, different. Not after everything she’d done for the world with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and especially not after S.P.E.W. The world really was shifting for the better.

She created two acts for equality. If house elves can have it, why can’t magical humans who just- feel different. Hermione called it S.P.L.A.T.E.R, also known as Sorcerers Lover Protection Against The Everyday Routine, and it was meant to protect wizards and witches who desire relationships with the same sex against discrimination. The talented witch went on to create a similar movement against portraying gender and identity; The Sorcerer’s Typical Identity or Gender May Alter Shield, better known as S.T.I.G.M.A.S. Both were very welcomed by the public, which happened a good year before the game would be returning, and that led to you gaining your dream job.

You were able to join the Chudley Cannons, your dream team despite their reputation. You were naturally talented on a broom and weren’t afraid to pull some risky stunts to get the golden snitch, plus it fueled your ego to hear the crowd gasp, go silent then cheer loud enough to be heard from Mars. The team and their fans didn’t care that you were the only trans masculine player, in fact, they loved you! The team was very proud to have you be their seeker and it was even better when the Cannons got into the World Cup. You basically carried the team, and they fucking knew it.

Your face made the front page almost weekly, quoting comments from your games and showing off your merchandise like it was no big deal. While you caught the attention of many wizards, witches and magical humans in between, there was one who was absolutely fascinated, maybe borderline obsessed, with you. You somehow stuck in his head, causing him to repaint his room in his shared flat bright orange just like his childhood bedroom. The ex-auror even went as far as getting your newly printed poster. He would glance at it when he was writing letters to his mother, but then would spend a good few solid minutes staring at it, daydreaming about meeting you and lose track of time. Life got a little harder with the moving poster in his room. Of course you had no idea the famous Ron Weasley was a die-hard fan of yours.

The youngest Weasley son ended up being the first out of three up everyday just to read the newest info about (Y/n) ‘Point Breaker’ (L/n) and the rest of the team. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew enough about you to be considered a borderline stalker and couldn’t help but spew facts about you to his twin brothers. Those very twins would tease him about his newly found crush but were secrealty very happy that he was getting over his heart break.

Ron and Hermione, more Hermione, had decided splitting and remaining friends was better for them, leading to the poor bloke locked in the spare room of his older brother's flat for a solid week. They told everyone it was mutual, but it was clear to Fred, George and Harry that it was most definitely not a decision that they were both fond of. Harry could still remember the frantic howler he got from Fred and George saying their little brother all but stopped functioning as a human.

He only started eating and showering once he heard the team was up and running again. He figured that was why Harry showed up to the flat one afternoon with tickets to the sold out game. When Ron asked his best mate how he got them, he just smiled and said something about knowing people and favors being exchanged. The ticket was more like a bandage encased in clear plastic and stuck to a lanyard, which is what Ron was fiddling with the day of the game when his best friend suddenly appeared in the middle of the flat.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron screeched out as he steadied himself in his chair. His hand gripped at the shirt on his chest and chose to ignore the head rushing to his cheeks. “Could’ve sent me a warning!” He let out a slow sigh, trying to steady his rapid heart beat.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Harry laughed out. The professor had his hands in his jacket pocket, a sly grin across his face. “Come on then! Game’s gonna be starting soon!” The raven haired male all but yaned his freckle covered friend out of the chair.

“Ok! Ok, sheesh. Let me grab a jacket.” The red-head knew this was going to be a game that leaked late into the night. Both teams were itching to get the trophy and forget about their troubles- It was gonna be absolutely beautiful.

Grabbing his coat and reaching into the pocket, Ron pulled out an elastic band and put his hair up into a messy bun quickly before tucking the jacket into his arm. He walked over to Harry, who was gazing at the photo-covered walls of the flat.

“If you want, I can take ca-” Harry was cut off by Ron grabbed his hand.

“No, it’s fine. I like it like this.” Ron shook his head back and forth causing the messy ball to swap back and forth. “Come on. You were the one rushing us.” Harry let out a simple chuckle before apperating them to the field.

“Tadah!” Harry did a fancy little wave, gesturing to the crowded field and began to make his way down the hell, passing by the old boot. Ron looked down at it as they passed before looking back at his best friend.

“Damn, it has been far too long.” Ron sighed out. A smile broke out across his face when he saw little kids running around with paint covered faces and happy couples sharing tea outside of their tents. “Do we have a tent?”

“Nope, won’t be needing one this time around.” Harry shoved his hands in his pants pocket.

“No ten- Blimey, Harry, this is a game! This is going to go on for hours-”

“Ron-”

“Won’t need it my arse. Hours, Harry. Where are we going to sit? The damp ground?” Ron was flaring his hands about.

“We get to spend our time in the Minister’s Box, Ron, relax.” Harry shook his head in mock disapproval before adjusting his glasses and moving forward.

“Minister’s Box-” Ron’s voice stuttered out.

“Yeah! Isn’t that cool? We’re gonna be in the middle of the action!” Harry waved to a child who had recognized him with a smile.

“Ministry box-” Ron was’t used to such luguries, even after working with his brothers at their shop. Harry figured he’d never get used to being spoiled like this. It made him choke back a soft snicker.

“Yes, Ronald, the Minister’s Box, now hurry up! I told them we’d get there before the game started so we can chat.” Harry grabbed the lagging boy’s wrist and proceeded to maneuver through the crowd with him.

“How did ya score this, Harry?” Ron all but yelled over the crowd. Once Harry dragged them through the crowd and to the front doors of the stadium, he spoke up.

“Remember when we went on that assignment to stop LeStrange again? Just before her Dementors Kiss about a month before we quit?” He handed the ticketier his lanyard to check over. Ron did the same before they both entered.

“Yeah? What about it?” Ron’s blue eyes glanced across the crowded inside. Gods, it really had been a while since he’d been here. It felt normal, like he almost hadn’t lost Fred to an explosion, like Harry’s life wasn’t on the line everyday, like every day wasn’t terrifying. Ron turned his attention back to his friend when he spoke up again.

“Well just before that, I went on a loner mission. This one involved taking care of some dark witch who was claiming she could bring back the dead and threatened to bring back Voldemort and the Death Eaters, so they sent me down to check it out.” Harry led him to an elevator, where the gate opened allowing the pair to step in. There was an exhausted looking male standing in uniform, most likely a worker from the Ministry himself. “Ministers Box, kind sir. Thank you.” The gate closed with a shuttering rattle and soon they were moving upward. Green eyes turned back to blue to finish the story. “Anyway, turns out she was actually trying to resurrect the noseless twat, but instead of over time or promotion, I asked for this and the best seats in the house. Figured this would be a good gift for you.”

“Gift? Harry, bud, mate, my fuckin best friend.” Ron placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to do this for me. You’ve already done your fair share of helping me. Blimey, I’m not worth this.”

The gate opened again, allowing the two ex-aurors to step out but not before tossing a few sickles to the poor man who looked bored out of his mind. Ron casted him a short wave before he was sent back down.

“You deserve more than a crummy game and a nice seat, Ronnie. You literally helped me destroy Voldemort.”

“I didn’t do that much and besides it’s not a crummy game!” Ron took his hand away from Harry's shoulder. They walked down the short hallway to the door leading to their seats, but paused just before opening it. “That’s fuckin wild, isn’t it?” Ron grumbled out. “Was she smooched by a Dementor in the end?”

“Yup. All her research was swiped and burned. Anyone and everyone she knew was obliviated. Now enough talk about old work, let’s relax.” Harry spoke before opening the door and allowed Ron to walk in first.

The room was bigger than Gred and Forge’s flat, Ron was sure of it. It had silvery blue walls and a huge open window in the front, showing off the screaming fans and showed the entire field which held the perfect view. He couldn’t help his eyes from darting across the fancy black leather seats and the buckets of ice holding expensive bottles of wine, flasks of firewhiskey and glass pitchers giggle water and suddenly Ron wanted to cry and simultaneously brag to Malfoy. Sure, he hadn’t seen the blonde in a year or so but it’d be nice. The red-head didn’t realise he was drifting toward the giant window until someone spoke up, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Ah! Mr. Potter! Mr. Weadley, I’m so glad you could make it!” A wizard dressed in a suit came scurrying over, his chapeign glass almost overflowing with foam.

“It’s Weasley, actually.” Harry didn't hesitate to speak up. “But of course! I was thrilled when Ron decided to come with me! I couldn’t have caught that witch without him. Anyway, where will we be seated?” Harry was using his Auror Voice™ while Ron stood there, trying to recall how on earth he helped his best friend with a case he wasn’t even on.

“I did wh-?” Ron was interrupted.

“Ah. My apologies. Of course, of course.” The man in the suit adjusted his tie before gesturing to the window in the front with his glass.. “Front row, just as you requested.” He took a sip from his glass before walking off to the seat he came from, talking to the witch next to him.

Harry thanked the man before grabbing Ron’s wrist and bringing him over to their seats. He sat Ron at the seat right in the middle of the big opening. Harry could actually see his friends blue eyes gloss over with tears, causing Harry to chuckle into his hand. It was so worth fighting that witch and staying in St. Mungos for a week with a concussion, broken hand and a stupid spell that nearly killed him.

“Bloody fucking hell, Harry. What did you do to get these seats?” Ron’s voice did little to hide his excitement. Harry released a chuckle over his friend's excitement, but the sound got louder when Ron literally threw his jacket haphazardly onto the seat only for it to fall to the tiled floor.

“I already told you. Don’t worry about it.” Harry took his seat as he grabbed a bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the coffee table at their feet. He examined the label before nodding his head and popping open the cork.

“Wish I had a camera. Ginny would’ve loved this.” Ron walked past the table to the window, resting his hands on the railing and leaning over, looking across the field.

“Ron, she’s a professional coach-” Harry rolled his eyes, testing the wine with a small sip. He set the dark, tall bottle down on the table with a clank.

“Fred and George then.” Ron turned back to his friend and walked over, plopping himself down in his seat with confidence. Harry snorted, almost dropped his drink all over himself. This was therapeutic; he got to spend time with his best friend without the ever looming death threat of Nose-less Snakey Man breathing down his neck.

“Yes, I’m sure their jealous tears could flood the shop.” Harry’s voice was filled with sarcasm and it had Ron laughing too. Harry checked his watch while the giggling red-head grabbed an empty glass at the table in front of them and poured himself a shot of firewhiskey. “It’s about 5:53. Game should be starting at 6 something.” He turned to Ron, casting him a smile while he brought his glass to his lips. “Wanna talk about your newest boyfriend or should I ask him for the details myself?”

Ron almost spat out his drink, his hand coming up quickly to catch the dribbles falling off his lips. Blood rushed to his cheeks, ears and before he knew it, he was bright red. He wiped his hands on his jeans, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth.

“I’m sorry, my what? Harry, I’d be lucky if he gave me the time of day let alone be my boyfriend!” Ron ran his hands through his hair, his eyes cast downward into his drink. “I mean, have you seen me lately?” He gestured to himself. “I’m a bloody mess. He could do better anyway.”

“You’re not a mess, Ron, anything but. In fact, you’re probably more put together than I am. Ginny would beg to differ, but I’m sure it’s true.” Harry shook his head in disapproval before taking another sip from his glass. “Besides, you’re a good guy. You did get Mione to fall for you and you are kinda well known, aren't you? I say you got a better chance than most.” Once the niorette male finished, he turned to look at his friend who nodded his head in silent agreement before deciding to change the topic.

“How is Gin, by the way?”

Harry answered with a long explanation that she was good, but one of her chaser’s kept giving her trouble and didn’t believe Ginny was good for the team. The Harpies would be starting their first game soon and Ron made a note to buy a ticket. The questions came around to his brothers, of course, so Ron

“Hey! Good for them!” Harry refilled his drink once it was finished and put the glass back in the ice bucket. “And good for you.” Harry checked his watch again when it beeped out, indicating the change in hour. “Game time!”

The room went silent as the minister walked over to the window, doing his usual speech, but no one was really listening. Ron's legs were bouncing with excitement while his eyes looked across the white, green and orange fans waving flags. Ron should’ve known it would've been the Kenmare Kestrels duking it out against the Chudleys Cannons.

The crowds were going absolutely ballistic over the Kestrels and the screaming only seemed to get louder once the Cannon’s made their appearance. He watched the players zoom past the window, felt the air rush past him and before he could control himself, Ron was back at the railing, practically leaning over. His eyes bounced around the orange and black colored players for the new seeker.

“Harry!” Ron gestured pathetically behind him. “Harry! Come here! Look-” Ron pointed across the field to the seeker who was taking circles in the middle, taking in the crowd. He couldn’t help but stare at your confident smirk as you pulled the goggles over your eyes, casting the crowd a wink. The red-head basically melted.

“Godric, your smitten, aren’t you?” Harry was leaning against the railing next to his friend, his glass still in hand. A smirk came across his lips when his friend turned red again.

“Shut it.”

“You a Cannon fan, Mr.Wealsey?”

The two ex-aurors turned to see the man who approached them earlier coming to Ron’s free side. The man held a cocky grin and a new drink in his hand, most likely giggle water. The red-head turned back to the game once the whistle sounded.

“Yeah. Have been for years.” Ron didn’t take his eyes off the field.

“Huh, even with their sour reputation? I’m more of a Bats fan, myself. Wouldn’t count this game in favor of the Chudley’s though, new seeker and all.” The man scoffed before sipping his drink. “Good seekers are hard to find. Hogwarts was lucky to have you though, Mr. Potter. Should’ve played Quidditch professionally, if you ask me.”

The two males shared a look with each other and came to the conclusion it’d be better to not fight the man on his clearly biased opinion and clear ass kissing. The pair gazed on, ignoring the crowd forming behind them the longer the game went on. Ron almost shoved his friend over when the announcer yelled you spotted the snitch. Ron blinked and you were standing on your broom, balancing perfectly, leaned over, golden snitch just a few inches from your fingertips.

“He’s a risky bloke, isn’t he?” Harry spoke up, hands going to his chaotic locks. “Gdoric, he’s gonna fall!” He squealed out when your foot shifted just a little too far on the broom.

“He’s bonkers.” Sir Pompous sneered out over his fancy drink, causing Ron to audible groan.

“Sod off, will you?” Ron was so fucking sick of this man. “Stop bein’ pissy he has more balls than you and he was born without them.” He shot the suited wizard a glare before turning back to the game. He let out a cheer when you finally grasped the snitch, plopping yourself down on the broom. The freckled male turned to Sir Pompous and smirked. “So.. Wouldn’t put this game in their favor, huh?”

The wizard turned on his heel, grumbling what the two friends assumed to be insults as he walked shamefully to his seat. Harry and Ron clinked glasses, giggling like school girls as they took a victory shot. They sat back in their seats, discussing games and just over all basking in the win.

“Godric, I could get used to living like this.” Ron sat back, spreading his legs and just feeling confident. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I can’t afford to do this all the time, Ron.”

“I can dream, can’t I?” Ron didn’t blink twice when the door to the ministers box opened or when two voices spoke up. He was busy relaxing.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Coach Dorkins! The Chudley’s have always been my favorite-” The same kiss ass from earlier, spewing the same pompous bullshit as earlier. Ron was gonna fake a gag, but he hesitated. Coach Dorkins? Coach of the- of his favorite team?

“Ah, well, thank you, but I’m just here to drop off Point Breaker.” As your coach went on with his arm now wrapped around you. Ron whipped around, his jaw was dropping to the floor. “Got a favor to fill in for an old friend. Ah, there he is! Potter!”

“Nice to see you again.” Harry stood up and shook hands with the coach. Ron’s blue eyes bounced between his old friend, his favorite coach and his favorite player. What the fuck was going on? Ron shrunk into his seat when you glanced over. He was acutely aware of his messy outfit and hair and- did he brush his teeth? “Ah! I should introduce you to my good friend, Ronald Weasley-” Harry waved over to his friend, a smile on his face. Ron stood up as well, but almost fell into his chair when he saw you shaking hands with his old friend and suddenly everyone was turning to him.

“Uh-hi-” When did his voice get all high pitched and creaky again. He cleared his throat, wiping his hands on his jeans before shaking hands with the coach. “Sorry, big fan.”

Dorkins shook his head, saying how he understood between deep chuckles. The male then turned to you, who was standing by his side. He introduced you to the red-head while you held a similar, nervous smile on your face. You held your hand out as you spoke up finally.

“I know all about you, Mr. Weasley. Well, no not- Wait, not everything like.. Like everything everything, like um- I.. well- Ok, let me start again.” You cleared your throat, shaking the ex-aurors hand. “Hi, I’m (Y/n). I’m a fan, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron was just kinda shaking your hand, confusion filled in his brain. He was just running over your rambling and was so confused.

“You’re a fan of me?”

“The famous auror? Of course!” You were grinning now and he found himself just staring at you. The two of you missed how Potter and Dorkins were chuckling about star struck fans and wondered somewhere else in the room.

“You played great today-” Ron almost blurted out, his voice turning prepubescent again.

“Thank you! You don’t think it was too much? Too flashy?”

“No, no, I’d say it has the perfect amount of flash.” Ron shot you a lopsided smile. The smile allowed you to relax some, the star struck tension between the two of you almost dispersing completely as you joked back and forth. You soon found yourself sitting in Harry's abandoned seat, chatting away like you had been friends since your school years.

“So then- then- hold on, stop laughing-Haha! No, shh! We stole my dad's car just to save him! My brothers didn’t even try to talk me out of it! The only thing my older brother said was “yeah, get the car. We’re gonna find out if it’s considered kidnapping if we’re children"! Mum really chewed us out when we got back that mornin’!” Ron finished his 7th story that night while you were enjoying a nice glass of cold water. You couldn’t get over his terrible impressions of his brothers. More than a few times his stories led to you almost choking on your drink or just letting out a loud laugh.

You told him some stories about your life at home too and only got encouraged by his snickering behind his own drink. You were so open with him, telling him stories of quidditch practice and the strange gifts you got from fans, his favorite being a bra with your face hand painted on it.

More time passed by as you chatted, finally coming around to just playing 20 questions just day to day stuff. Now, it was your turn to ask a question and honestly, the game shouldn’t even be called 20 questions, it was more like 500 questions.

“Ok. Ok. Is it true that you had a thing for Krum?” You grinned when his cheeks turned red. “I heard from a chaser that you were here when we got on the field and our keeper was willing to bet his life on this rumor that you had a fling with Krum.”

“N-no, no fling! Just uh- more of a sexual awakening, if you will.” Ron snorted out, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes turned away from yours for the first time that night, casting his gaze out across the empty field.

“Ooh! What is the great Ron Weasley’s sexual preference?” You leaned forward, your grin turning to a teasing smirk. You put a hand on his shoulder when he started stuttering over his words. “Come on! You can tell me! I don’t spill secrets.”

“Would hot quidditch players be an acceptable answer?” Ron was playing with a spare ponytail holder on his wrist now, his face turning redder.

“I’d say so.” You smiled, setting down your water glass.

“What about you?”

“What?”

“I told you mine. It’s only fair, Point Breaker. Spill it.” It was Ron’s turn to get cocky as you blushed.

“May or may not be hot ex-aruros, but who’s keeping track.” You were not going to admit you’d been fanboying over the red-head since his face came across the Daily Profit. While he knew a lot about your game stats and quotes, you knew about the dark wizards he fought against, how he helped Granger and Potter and decided fighting was too much.

“Oh really?”

“I said maybe. Don’t get cocky. Besides, I could mean Harry-”

“I have a feeling you don’t mean him.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“How about a date?” Ron leaned back in his chair, gauging your reaction. He mentally sighed when you didn’t appear grossed out or scared.

“Hmm, let me think. “ You pretended to count stuff on your fingers before smiling at the red-head. “Leaky Cauldron?”

“Sure! Tuesday?”

“I’m free after 6.”

“Done.”

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley x trans reader #ron weasley #harry is a good friend #male reader #trans male reader #hp x male reader #hp imagine #hp x trans reader #x male reader #x trans reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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shroomcult · 4 years ago

Link

Hey folks!

Here’s my Day 1 post for Soma Week 2021. Tooth-rotting fluff towards the end - please enjoy. ^-^

@soulxmakaweek

Maka awoke with an audible groan, first registering the lack of her weapon’s familiar soul wavelength in the room before anything else. Whether she was disappointed or grateful of his absence was difficult to determine in her hazy mindstate.

Soul had been fussing over her for the past day, and while his concern for her comfort was endearing - his mother hen routine got old fast.

His over-attentive behavior was at least understandable. He had little to do cooped up in their hotel room, and ended up alternating between watching cooking shows at a considerately low volume, pacing around what little square footage they had, and laying in his bed beside hers tapping out the rhythm to whatever was blaring from his headphones. He was sure to pester her about how she was feeling at least every 20 minutes and his restlessness had been grinding on her last nerve before she fell into a fitful sleep.

If she had to hear “you okay?” or “need anything?” one more time, she was liable to snap and throw the closest object to her directly at his dumb, fluffy head. Not that he actually deserved it.

If she were being honest with herself, she was mostly frustrated with the situation itself - not Soul.

Well, maybe she was a little frustrated with Soul.

He may have been outwardly kind towards her in her predicament, but she could feel something else beneath the surface of that. She was well-versed in the subtle language of Soul’s facial expressions after all.

He was dying to tease her, and while she commended him for keeping his mouth blessedly shut about the humor in her suffering - she knew it amused him at least a little bit.

Because despite the fact that they had been sent to the bustling beach-side city of Recife, Brazil to take down a particularly cunning and repulsive kishin - she was not stuck in bed over any kind of work-related injury inflicted during their battle with the corrupted beast.

There was no glory or dignity that could be gained from the current state of her weakness. She had not received her injuries from a tense and thrilling battle, but instead from being negligent in her application of sunscreen before falling asleep splayed out on a beach towel under the unforgiving afternoon sun.

Soul had even recommended that she apply sunscreen a second time for her “hella pasty” skin and she responded to his comment in kind by throwing the sunscreen bottle at him with impressive accuracy and force.

Now she was bedridden with what was likely sun poisoning and had a complexion comparable to a hot dog.

Perhaps she should have taken Soul’s advice after all.

She also may have reached her last straw with Soul’s smothering behavior earlier and said something along the lines of “please get the hell out of here and give me at least an hour of peace,” before taking her rather unsatisfying nap.

That certainly explained his absence.

She let out a heavy sigh before deciding she would deal with the pain of moving so that she could re-apply aloe vera for the twentieth time that day. Only this was the first time she would be doing it without Soul’s assistance.

It was difficult to reach most areas of her back without him. She was certainly flexible enough to do it on her own, but the pain that came with stretching her arms was something she would prefer to avoid experiencing if possible.

She started on lathering her arms and chest area first, grounding herself in the way it stung yet soothed at the same time.

She only got through a small portion of her back before the combination of fatigue, nausea, and pain convinced her to give it a rest.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just figure out where Soul was. She didn’t need him or anything. She was just checking in - making sure he didn’t get himself into any trouble while she was asleep.

She made an awkward hobble across the room to retrieve her phone, careful to avoid bending her scorched appendages on the way there.

It only took a ring and a half for Soul to pick up her call, and she cursed herself for the way her entire body relaxed a little at the sound of his voice.

“Hey. Everything alright?”

He had that pleasant gravelly quality to his voice that usually indicated he either just woke up or he had a few drinks.

“I’m fine, Soul. I just woke up, actually. What have you been up to?” she’d tried to sound casual, but the hitch in her voice when she tried to lower herself back on to the bed betrayed her. The soft cotton sheets felt like they may as well have been a brillo pad against her sensitive flesh.

“Just givin’ you space like you asked. Found a neat little place to drink just down the road from us. To be honest with you, I think it might be a swinger bar or somethin’ - everyone here is middle aged and horny as hell.”

Maka felt a twinge of irritation at that last comment. Was he really off flirting with a bunch of Brazillian cougars while she was stuck in bed?

“S’not like I’m interested, but they keep buyin’ me drinks anyway. I don’t speak very good Portuguese and they seem to think that’s pretty sexy of me,” he added with a throaty chuckle that raised goosebumps across her skin.

“Why don’t you just stay there all night then! I could care less what you do!!”

She felt a bit childish for her outburst, but blamed it on Soul’s innate ability to push every last button she has in very few words.

“If you don’t care, then why’d ya call me in the first place?” She could just tell that his lip was curling into a smirk by his voice alone. Oh, he is so lucky he’s not in book-throwing distance.

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere,” she murmured with only a little bit of edge left in her.

“Oh yeah? That all?”

“.... Also, I guess you can come back to the hotel room.”

“Sorry? Can you speak up a little?”

“I said you can come back to the hotel room! Don’t make me say it again or you can sleep on the streets!”

He responded with an amused snort, “Oh, that’s very gracious of you. What a loving and benevolent meister I have.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t fall in a ditch on your way here.”

“Love ya too, Maka. Be there in a few.”

With that the phone call cut off, and she was left staring at the ceiling and feeling an overwhelming warmth in her face.

She decided to blame that on the sunburn rather than her weapon’s comment.

It only took about 20 minutes before she heard the click of the hotel door as it swung open, her partner poking his head in first and flashing her a shark-toothed smile before he kicked the door open the rest of the way. He was carrying an entire pack of drinks under his arm and a plastic CVS bag in the other.

“Stopped by CVS round the corner. Dunno if you’ll like ‘em, but I got these weird electrolyte drinks. S’posed to help hydrate you better or something,” he said as he plopped down at the end of the bed, emptying the contents of the plastic bag.

“Also got you some ibuprofen, more aloe, and a couple snack things. I know you said you weren’t hungry, but you should really try and eat at least a little bit.”

Maka only nodded, slightly overwhelmed by how caring he was being despite her recently sour attitude.

He tilted his head to the side for a moment, regarding her with gentle eyes before he got up and sat closer to her on the bed, being especially careful not to let his legs touch hers.

He slowly placed the back of his hand against her forehead muttering something about a fever, but she was too focused on his close proximity to her to even register what he was saying. He smelled of beer and limes and sunscreen.

His skin was a perfect bronze color, and he was showing off a lot more of it than he usually did. He was clad only in swim trunks, slider sandals, and a loose-hanging tank top that the top of his scar peeked out of.

He had been out in the sun just as long as she had, napping right beside her even, and yet his skin only tanned; never burned. The lucky bastard.

He used the same hand he’d checked her forehead with to brush back a few stray hairs from her face. “Sleep okay?” he asked in a hushed tone, as if he were worried his voice would bother her.

“I slept okay, I guess. Not much else I can do right now anyways.”

He nodded and gave a sympathetic click of his tongue, running his hand through her hair a few times before reaching for the aloe on the nightstand.

“Need me to get your back?”

She ignored his question, opting to rub the short-cropped silver whiskers covering his jaw with her palm.

“You need to shave.”

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated huff, squeezing the tube of aloe into his palms and rubbing them together.

“I’ll just take that as a yes and pretend you think I’m roguishly handsome.”

That earned him a laugh from her that clipped short when he placed his hands softly on her back. It only hurt for the first brief moment of contact, but she soon hummed her approval as the stinging sensation in her back felt dulled and soothed wherever his hands caressed her.

He was talented with his hands - knew just the right amount of pressure to give and take at each moment. She really had needed this. Trying to reach that spot between her shoulder blades on her own had been a nightmare.

Minutes passed with only the sounds of their breath and Soul’s practiced hands over her skin. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. Everything was just easy with him.

“Hey, Soul?”

He acknowledged her with a noncommittal grunt.

“Thank you. I know I haven’t exactly been pleasant lately, but I really do appreciate all of your help.”

She wanted to say more, it felt as though she hadn’t really expressed to him how much he means to her, but Soul wasn’t one for flowery words and declarations of love. She knew that was enough of a thanks for him.

“You don’t gotta thank me for all that, Maka. We’re partners, this is what we do for each other.”

“Right,” she whispered, a faint smile gracing her lips.

“All done,” he announced, “you gonna hang tight and read for a bit?”

“No - I’d like to, but I just feel too tired and nauseous to focus on anything like that right now. Maybe I’ll just try to take another nap.”

Without a word, he sauntered over to the book she had brought - a period-piece romance novel that he would make fun of at the first given opportunity. After it was in his grasp, he collapsed on his back right next to her. He really did kind of reek of beer, but she didn’t have the heart to push him away.

Once he found her bookmarked spot, he started from the top of the page with a hardy clear of his throat, reading the lead male love interest’s lines in the most posh and ridiculous accent she could have imagined.

She immediately burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles and snorts, which only encouraged him to continue, smiling from ear to ear as he did.

She nearly ran out of breath when he began reading the female heroine’s dialogue in a shrill voice that sounded more like an old British nanny than a pretty young woman.

He continued this entertainment for an admirable hour and a half before he had to admit that his vocal cords were defeated from the strain of ‘fancy British lady voice.’

By the time he had put the book aside, she had a hand curled around his bicep and her face was buried in his neck.

He’d said he was watching TV, but he fell asleep within 10 minutes of setting her book down much like an old man.

Her skin felt dry and tight, a feeling she was easily able to ignore while Soul was reading for her. She was aware that she’d need to get up soon to re-apply aloe, or she’d regret it later. Yet, it was so difficult to move away from him.

He was breathing deeply, and he smelled less like a bar and more like a beach the closer she was to him. He always looked so peaceful when he slept too. He looked young, like he didn’t carry the exhaustion that he usually does.

Despite the calm, collected demeanor he always tried to hold around others - he carried a lot of weight on his shoulders from pretending to be the person that other people need him to be. From taking the load off other people’s backs, he only strained himself and she felt this tiredness from it all that seeped into the very cracks of his soul.

She wished he didn’t have to try so hard all the time. She wished he could let himself be taken care of for once.

“I know you told me before that I don’t need to thank you. That the things you do for me are what I should expect from a partner, but you really are more than that to me, Soul,” she’d only whispered this into the crook of his neck, but she lifted her head up just to check that he was still unconscious.

He appeared serene, his breathing steady and not a crinkle in his face to indicate her words had disturbed him from his slumber.

“You can always depend on me too. I’d love to take care of you the way you take care of me. You deserve that - you know that, right?”

Not even a twitch.

She sighed, not expecting him to respond in the first place, but a little disappointed she hadn’t had the courage to tell him this while he was awake. She assumed it safe that he was in a deep sleep and began threading her fingers through his thick tufts of hair sticking up from his forehead.

“I know that when you say you love me, you’re talking about as a partner, as a friend. Well, I love you too. I love you a lot, Soul. I’m always afraid to say it back ... because it would carry a different weight when I say it. It’s like I’m afraid you’d just know.”

His breath hitched for a moment and her heart nearly jumped into her throat.

He only readjusted slightly, pressing his cheek against the top of her head and making a small sound akin to a whimper before his breathing evened out again.

She let out the shaky breath she had been holding and turned her head ever so slightly to press a soft kiss to his throat, where she could feel the warmth of his pulse.

“I hope we stay partners for a really long time.”

#SoMaWeek2021 #SoulxMakaweek #soul evans #maka albarn #soul eater

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spooderboyandtincan · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Halloween!

A/N: Here are the actual episodes of Buzzfeed Unsolved mentioned in this fic! The Terrifying Axeman of New Orleans and The Horrors of Pennhurst Asylum. As a warning, both of these videos describe both very grisly and gory things, so please watch them with caution!

(Also, the author in no way claims to own or use these videos for commercial property. Just wanted to include them!)

~~~~~

Peter was having a great day, even when an apple tried to give him a concussion.

Normally, he would have caught the traitorous fruit, but there were several families around who might have noticed his outstanding reflexes, so with some split second thinking he let the apple bounce off his head.

“Ow!” Peter massaged the top of his head. Tony and May turned to him, both slightly concerned. “I think this tree is trying to kill me.”

“Oh, spare us!” Tony said to the tree, reaching out to ruffle Peter’s curls. “Not my darling son! Take me instead!”

Peter rolled his eyes at the dorky genius, actually finding himself feeling a little bad for the poor apple tree. “Don’t worry,” he muttered, patting the rough bark. “It wasn’t your fault.”

There was something very adorable about watching Peter trying to comfort a tree, both Tony and May observed. Their kid’s heart was so pure and kind it was blinding.

Peter snatched an apple off a low-hanging branch and, before Tony or May could stop him, bit into it. “Wow,” he mumbled through a mouthful of fruit, “this’s really good! Can we pick some?”

“That’s what we’re here for!” May sang. “Did you check for worms before you bit into that, Petey?”

“Worms?!”

Tony shook his head in fond exasperation. Peter spat his mouthful of apple on the ground in disgust, chucking the half eaten red orb to the side. “Ew ew ew ew ew!”

“Buddy, I’m pretty sure there weren’t worms in there,” Tony suggested.

Peter shrugged. “But are you sure? Now we have to pick more apples just in case they’re all wormy.” He stuck out his tongue in a mature display of unhappiness.

“Thought you liked picking apples,” he questioned, suddenly worried that Peter had only been pretending to enjoy himself.

“No, no I do! It’s really fun! But now I can’t eat any,” he pouted. “I’m so huuuungry.”

He frowned in concern. “Why don’t we get some food and come back, kiddo? We can grab an extra coat from the car while we do.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m already wearing, like three of yours,” Peter laughed. He gestured to the layers of puffy jackets he was bundled up in, along with his favorite Spider-Man hat and thin black gloves.

“Actually, I think you need a scarf,” Tony observed. “We can’t have any spider-baby popsicles on our hands, now can we?”

Peter rolled his eyes. Tony began fussing over him like a mother hen, wrapping his own scarf around his neck and zipping up his third coat. He took the boy’s small hands in his and winced, rubbing them to bring some warmth.

“You’re gonna lose fingers if we don’t get you some better gloves, bud.”

“I’m fiiiine.”

Peter heaved the bag of crisp, red apples into his arms with ease. Tony and May grabbed their own separate ones and heaved them over their shoulders with a lot less ease. They headed toward the muddy dirt road, lugging their apples and stopping for a moment to admire some chickens.

“Ooooh!” Peter exclaimed suddenly, spotting a glimpse of orange behind the tall pine trees. “Mr. Stark, May! There’re pumpkins!” He jogged off.

“Don’t you wanna get food before this, Pete?” Tony called, following the boy.

“I’ll eat the pumpkins!”

“Look out for worms!” May teased. Tony found himself thinking of the classic nursery rhyme, Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater.

May found the perfect pumpkin almost at once. It was on the opposite side of the small field under a beautiful towering oak tree with red and golden leaves still on its branches. The pumpkin was a beautiful shade of dark orange and wonderfully round. She held it against the chest like it was a baby.

Tony didn’t have any particular pumpkin in mind that he wanted so he decided to let Peter choose for him.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna get the wrong one,” Peter worried.

“It won’t be the wrong one, kiddo,” Tony promised.

“Get that lumpy one, it looks like his head!” May advised from across the pumpkin patch. Peter sniggered.

“I’m offended. My head is perfectly oval-shaped,” Tony objected.

“Smooth as a shark,” Peter muttered to himself, completely missing the perplexed look from his father-figure.

He picked up the lumpy pumpkin and then began to scavenge for a second one, humming. “This is Halloween, this is Halloween, pumpkins scream in the dead of night… ooh.” Peter knelt down and began to inspect this potential nominee.

It was huge. Wide and tall with a round face and a flat back. The stem was long and twisting. The color was beautiful.

It. Was. Perfect.

“I found it!” he yelled. May and Tony turned to long at him and Peter displayed his pumpkin proudly.

“Congrats,” said May, her grin wide. Tony applauded.

“Can we get it?”

“Of course, Roo.” He smiled, kneeling down to take the lumpy pumpkin while Peter stood up with his own. “Do you wanna get another?”

“Are you sure? I mean, I kinda do…”

“Yes, Petey, I’m sure.” Tony bent to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Actually, I’d be delighted if you got another one. Really.” He loved seeing Peter so happy over a simple fruit. (Vegetable? Gourd?) Tony would gladly buy thousands of pumpkins if Peter could always be this happy.

Soon Peter had selected two more pumpkins, a wide, squat one, and round, light orange one. They made their way back to the parking lot and the barn, where lots of fresh produce stands were set up.

There was a beautiful, towering willow tree that Peter admired, watching its long limbs sway in the wind peacefully. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of rain and hay and something just distinctly fall. He trotted back to where his family stood in a line to buy their pumpkins and leaned into Tony, letting him wrap strong arms around him and hug him close.

They bought their pumpkins and sat down at a picnic bench under the willow tree and basked in the sunlight. Tony left to the car and came back with a picnic basket akin to the ones in cartoons.

Peter’s eyes lit up when he noticed the mac and cheese in a plastic container and immediately he dug in. After inhaling his pasta, he dug through the basket. His eyes sparkled like stars.

“Rhodey made us brownies!” Colonel Rhodes’s brownies were the best. They were gooey and somehow always warm, with extra chocolate-chips and an oreo in the middle. Rhodey had drowned them in jack-o’-lantern shaped sprinkles. He had even included a bottle of whipped cream, though most of it had probably been used on the current brownie Peter had just bit into.

“Oh, yummy,” May said, helping herself to a large one. Tony took his own and sprayed almost as much whipped cream on it as Peter had.

Before he took a bite, he laughed. “Pete, how did you get whipped-cream on your forehead?” He balled up his sleeve and wiped it off. Peter squirmed away.

He played a quick rhythm on his pumpkin before glancing toward the various stands by the barn. “We should get apple cider,” he said, having a sudden realization. “I guess they probably wouldn’t go very good with brownies but maybe with pumpkin pie or something…?”

“Good idea, bud. How about some candy apples while we’re at it?”

“Yesss.”

Peter was bouncing in his seat while he waited for May and Tony to finish their sandwiches. He helped himself to a few more delicious brownies, trying to savor every bite. (And failing because they were so good.”

When they finished their food, they took a quick moment to put their pumpkins in the trunk of the car, then Peter led the way to the barn. At the back of the big room there was a large assortment of fresh produce, which May made a beeline to. On the right wall were four tall refrigerators, chock full of apple cider.

“Why are they in milk cartons?” Peter wondered, opening the door and pulling the juice out. “Here!”

“Just one? You need to hydrate, young man,” he teased, pulling out three more jugs.

“I won’t just drink apple cider, Mr. Stark.”

“Actually, I think your blood is gonna be 75% apples, kiddo.”

“Carrots or asparagus, Pete?” May called.

“Carrots?”

“Good choice, honey.”

Tony noticed wonderfully red candy apples displayed on one of those cupcake stands he always saw at fancy parties. He pointed them out to Peter, who grinned and asked if they could have some.

“That’s what we're here for, Petey-Pie.”

The young man at the stand wrapped the tree apples individually with cellophane and placed them in a bag.

“That’s smart,” Peter said as they joined May at the checkout line. “Apples probably wouldn’t taste good with a paper bag.”

The cashier recognized Tony when they bought their food. Her hand flew to her open mouth and she shook her head in amazement. “You’re… you’re….”

He offered a smile. Peter inched behind him and grabbed his hand. Tony squeezed his hand comfortingly and moved in front of him so no one could see his face.

The cashier began to check out their items robotically, staring at Tony for an uncomfortably long time before she blinked and asked, “Do you want a bag, sir?”

Once they stuffed the groceries into the trunk of Tony’s car, Peter admired the farm one last time. The big willow tree swayed gracefully in the brisk wind as if it were saying farewell.

Peter crawled into the back seat and slammed the door, curling up and shivering. Tony glanced in the back mirror and quickly moved to turn up the heat.

He rested his chin on the edge of the window. The position was far from comfortable but at least he could watch the trees fly past as they drove.

“You okay back there, Petey?” Tony asked, sounding concerned.

“‘M good. Just thinking,” he mumbled. It was hard to talk with his jaw pressed against a hard surface.

“You sure, bud?” Tony still sounded worried. Peter sighed.

“Stop worrying,” he groaned. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, Petey, I trust you.” If he hadn’t been driving the car he would have held up his hands in mock surrender. “But you know that you can come to me for anything, right? Even if it’s just a stubbed toe, okay?”

“I know, Mr. Stark, really.”

A snore filled the car, and they both laughed when they looked to May and realized she was already asleep.

“So kiddie, whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asked.

“How I’m gonna carve my pumpkin!”

~~~~~

Peter dramatically threw the three pumpkins he was carrying down onto the kitchen island, pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead. He snickered when May rolled her eyes.

Peter took off his layers of coats and threw them on the couch, hanging his scarf up and then ripping off his hat. His hair frizzed everywhere and Tony laughed, his eyes soft and adoring. He flattened it down with his hand and pulled Peter into a crushing hug, bending to kiss his still slightly puffy curls.

They sat down at the kitchen island and chose their respective pumpkins. Peter looked around. “Where’re the knives?” he asked.

“Oh, I know.” May stood up and rummaged through the upper cabinets, bringing out an orange carton. “Here!”

Tony watched nervously as Peter grabbed a carving knife from the box and stabbed the top of his pumpkin without any regard for his personal safety.

“Careful, bubba,” he warned. He was about to take the knife from Peter’s small hands and bend it into pieces for being so dangerous and trying to hurt his kid. “No lost limbs today, okay?”

Peter laughed and continued to cut the top of his pumpkin. He yanked the stem out and sliced off the stringy guts. He took an orange plastic scooper and started scraping the seeds and guts out of the inside. Tony took his own pumpkin and did the same, keeping a watchful eye on his reckless kid all the same.

“What are you carving Pete?” May asked.

“Secret,” Peter grinned, turning the pumpkin so they couldn’t see it. “You can see later!”

“Well, fine. What about you, Tony?”

Tony hadn’t given much thought about it yet. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he had an idea that might work. “Secret,” he said.

May sighed in amused exasperation. “Suit yourself, lumpy. I’m going with the classic.” She took a purple sharpie and started drawing.

“Why aren’t there Halloween Carols?” Peter wondered aloud. “I don’t know like, any spooky songs and it’s sad.”

“There’s that one, um…” Tony trailed off. He did know the actual name of the song, but the look on Peter’s face would be priceless. “Spooky Scary Pumpkins? Ghosts? Is that it?”

Peter slowly raised his head, his eyes wide. “What?”

“You know, that one you’re always singing,” May said, joining in. “‘Spooky scary pumpkins’ sounds right.”

Peter groaned and buried his head in his arms. “No. This isn't happeniiiiiing.”

“I believe the correct title is ‘Spooky Scary Skeletons, Boss,” said FRIDAY’s disembodied voice.

“Thank you!” Peter threw up his hands in relief. “Spooky scary pumpkins. Ugh. Thanks for the nightmares.”

Tony ruffled his hair. “FRI, play it for us uncultured zombies, will ya?”

The first few notes of the song played and Peter started headbanging exaggeratedly, doing a dance in his seat. “Such a bop,” he said to himself, then went back to carving his pumpkin.

A bop? Tony decided not to ask. He sketched out his idea on the pumpkin with a light pencil and rummaged through their carving tools.

“Mr. Stark, you didn’t get the guts out!” Peter protested.

“Don’t worry, bud, you’ll see. Trust me.”

Tony finally found what he was looking for. “A-ha!”

“Is that..?” Peter leaned over. “Is that a dremel drill? Isn’t that for like, trimming dog nails?”

“One of its many uses!” Tony switched it on. “Carving time.”

“Ooh. That’s cool, I wanna try!”

He handed the drill over to him. Peter turned his pumpkin around to the back and started carving. “Oh, so it only gets like the fleshy parts! The flesh? So then it kinda glows through.”

“That’s right,” he said. “It looks pretty cool when you put a candle in it.” Tony took the drill and got back to work. Their song was still playing in the background, and at some parts Peter would do a dance and sing along.

After about fifteen minutes of ridiculous chatter and multiple songs played, May jumped up. “Finished!”

“Already?!” Peter exclaimed. “Lemme see!”

“Just a sec.” May ran off and grabbed a candle from one of the drawers in the living room, then hurried back. She put it in the pumpkin and lit it carefully. “Ta-da!”

“Oooh!”

May had carved a traditional pumpkin with a big, spiky jaw, a triangle nose, and big triangle eyes. She had taken seeds and put them in the corners of the eyes to act as pupils.

“Oh, he’s cross eyed!” Peter laughed. “That’s really cool.”

Tony grinned. “Clever. I like it.”

“Thanks, Tony. I think I’ll borrow that drill from you when you’re done. I want to make a flower on the back.”

“Sure.” Tony continued working on theinrticate design, squinting and trying to make it as precise as possible. He caught Peter trying to sneak a peak and shooed him off cheerfully.

When Tony looked up to check on Peter, he nearly cooed. His kid had the most adorable look of concentration on his face. His tongue poked out between his lips and his brow was furrowed. Peter worked carefully, selecting the tools he knew would work best and using them delicately.

When Peter looked up again, the sky was considerably darker. He looked at the clock. “How is it already five?!” No way had he been working for one and a half hours straight.

Tony blinked and snapped out of his stupor. “Huh. Time flies, I guess. I’m about done, how about you, kiddo?”

“Almost… I kinda messed up a few details but I think it looks okay!” He scraped the pumpkin more and looked up. “There! Where are the candles?”

“Here you go.” May smiled and handed him a red candle that smelled like cinnamon. He took the lighter and dipped his hand in the pumpkin while Tony watched anxiously.

“Don’t burn yourself, baby.” He bit his lip in worry. “Be careful.”

“I am!”

May dimmed the lights and pulled the curtains shut. The candle glowed brightly in the dark room and Peter turned the pumpkin to face them.

May gasped. “Oh. Oh my goodness! Peter, that’s gorgeous!”

The boy blushed in the candlelight. “Thanks.” He looked to Tony, who had been strangely silent this whole time.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Petey….” Tony felt his arc reactor and in his mind, compared it to Peter’s intricate, detailed carving that he had spent so much time on. “Petey… you made my reactor?”

“Uh-huh! I kinda messed up some parts, but I think it looks pretty good. What do you think?”

“I… I… oh my god, baby, I love it. I love it so much.” He pulled his kid into a hug, squeezing him tight. Tony kissed his head and blinked away the tears in his eyes. Peter, surprised at first, hugged him back. “Thank you, Petey.”

“No problem,” he said, voice muffled in Tony’s sweatshirt. “Does it look good?”

“It looks beautiful, baby.”

“I had no idea you could make something like this,” May murmured, tracing the arc reactor with her fingers. “Wow, honey. This is spectacular!”

“Thanks.” Peter’s face heated from the praise and he pushed his head further into Tony’s chest. “What did you make?”

“I was wondering when you’d ask.” Reluctantly, he let go of Peter (but not without another forehead kiss) and grabbed the lighter, He lit the candle, turned it around, and-

It was Peter’s turn to gasp. “Is that me?!” He admired the glowing spider emblem with wide eyes. It matched the one on his suit exactly. “Oh my god!”

Tony beamed. “Do you see the resemblance?”

“I’m pretty sure you just stole my suit and like, made it into a pumpkin. It’s so cool! I love it, thank you!”

“It was my pleasure,” he said graciously, giving a little bow. “Where do you think we should put them?”

“Um, I dunno. Where’s a good spot?”

Tony looked around. Eventually they decided to put them on the mantle above the fireplace. Peter worried they might rot, but the man assured him they wouldn’t and turned off the fireplace just to ease his kid’s fear.

Peter took a look at the room. A few days ago he and Tony had draped bright orange and purple lights around the room and Peter had added some webs that would definitely leave stains. There was a black spiderweb table runner on the coffee table, and in the kitchen there stood a plastic cauldron filled with dry ice. Ghosts made of tissue and paper mache balls hung from strings by the fireplace and above the couch and tv. Peter took a black and orange oreo from a pumpkin shaped plate cheerfully.

“When’s dinner?” he asked, realizing how hungry he was getting.

“Are you hungry, bud? We can order a pizza, how does that sound?” Tony replied, smoothing down his curls and then ruffling them so they puffed back up again.

“Great!” Peter patted his curls back down and flopped on the couch, taking out his phone.

Only fifteen minutes later the pizza arrived. Peter jumped up happily and opened the box.

“It’s pumpkin shaped!” he exclaimed. “That’s so cool!” The pepperoni slices had been arranged in jack o’ lantern face and Peter laughed. He took four big slices for himself and sat down at the table while May joined him. Tony poured three glasses of apple cider and gave the biggest one to his kid, then sat down next to him.

Peter wolfed down his pizza in the blink of an eye and downed the cider just as quickly. May and Tony started on their second slices while he started on his fifth.

He was about to ask May if she knew that some spiders had blue blood when her phone rang. She smiled apologetically at them and stood up to take the call.

“Sandra? Oh, hi.” She wandered into the living room. “Uh-huh? Oh, that’s too bad, I’m so sorry.” A pause. “I could. Yeah, no problem. It’s okay. I hope everyone feels better.” May put her phone down.

“I’m sorry, guys. I have to fill in for a friend for a few hours.” She sighed. “Her twins are sick and she really needs this. I have to go but I’ll be back soon, okay?” May grabbed her coat and gloves. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Aunt May,” Peter said, offering a smile. “What time will you be back?”

“Around two.” She titled his head back to kiss his forehead. “Get some sleep, both of you. No scary movies. Larb you!” She headed toward the elevator.

“Larb you too!” he called back as the doors closed behind her. Peter sighed.

The room was oddly silent without May’s laughter, but soon Peter started chatting and laughing and they relaxed into their normal banter.

When they finished their pumpkin pizza, they sat down on the couch. Peter snuggled into Tony’s side and yawned, grabbing his Starkpad. He scrolled to a video and poked Tony’s shoulder.

“What’s this, kiddo?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Buzzfeed Unsolved,” he mumbled. “That’s Ryan and that’s Shane.”

“Huh. That’s cool. They solve mysteries?”

“Sometimes. They don’t really solve them, I mean, it’s called Buzzfeed Unsolved, but they do talk about suspects or theories or whatever. Sometimes they do supernatural ones and they’re really funny. And spooky,” Peter rambled. Tony chuckled and turned his attention to the video.

The Haunted Halls of Waverly Hills, read the title. As the creepy introduction played, Tony frowned. The two men he assumed were Ryan and Shane were walking around a long, spooky hallway with cameras that made everything look like it was tinged green.

“You sure this isn’t too scary, Pete?” he asked, not wanting his kid to have nightmares.

“It’s not,” Peter grumbled. “I’m fine. This one is cool!”

“If you’re sure, Roo.” Tony still sounded skeptical. He was prepared to turn off that tablet the second Peter showed any sign of fright, but he never did.

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we explore Waverly Hills Sanatorium as part of our ongoing investigation, ‘are ghosts real?’” said Ryan.

The camera panned to Shane as he shook his head. They went on to explain the history of the sanatorium. Peter giggled at their many jokes, especially when Shane made snarky remarks. Tony deduced that Shane was the sceptic while Ryan strongly believed in paranormal happenings. He was inclined to side with Shane, but Peter looked just as nervous as Ryan was when he walked down an empty hallway all alone.

“Pete, are you sure this isn’t too scary?” he repeated after a particularly gruesome description of the horrors that took place in that old building.

“Yes, Mr. Stark.” Despite his annoyed tone, Peter was smiling.

“Okay, okay.” Tony turned to press a tender kiss to his temple. “I just don’t want you to have nightmares.”

“I won’t. It’s okay.” Peter flopped against him and pressed the next video. “Promise.” He yawned.

The videos, Tony admitted, were pretty cool. He liked how they listed theories and possibilities instead of just leaving the mysteries unended. The two men were funny and entertaining, and he found himself enjoying the videos.

By now they had watched at least nine or ten episodes. It was easy to get lost in all the videos, which were only twenty minutes long each, but when you watched a few more, time had passed faster than you expected. When Tony checked the time he was surprised to find it was already nine-thirty.

“You tired, bubba?” he asked gently as Peter yawned. “You’ve had a pretty big day.”

Peter shrugged. “A little.”

“Do you wanna go to bed now, sweetheart?”

“Sure.” He stretched and yawned again. “Tomorrow’s Halloween, right?”

“That’s right,” he hummed. He helped Peter stand up and they made their way down the hallway. “Good night, baby,” he murmured, pulling him into a hug.

Peter felt a warm kiss pressed to his curls. “G’night.” He hugged Mr. Stark and stumbled into his bedroom, rubbing his eyes.

Tony watched with love shining bright in his eyes. He headed to his own bed and climbed under the covers, curling up and turning on the bedside lamp. He grabbed his glasses and perched them on the edge of his nose, planning to get a little reading done before he went to bed.

He couldn’t help but worry about his kid, who had just binge-watched ten episodes about terrible deaths and tortures. “FRI, tell me if he can’t fall asleep, or if he does and wakes up. Just tell me if he’s scared.”

“Certainly, boss,” the AI said smoothly. Tony nodded and began reading, though he barely took in a word, much more focused on the boy in the room next to him.

~~~~~

Peter thought he had been tired. He had nearly unhinged his jaw from yawning so much. But now, he lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

He shifted around, trying to get comfortable. Heavy blankets tangled around his legs as he thrashed. Peter sighed and mashed his pillow over his face.

After what felt like an hour (but in reality was only fifteen minutes) Peter rolled over and sat up, yawning and scratching the back of his neck.

He grabbed his Starkpad and earbuds. Peter only used one, because two was too overwhelming. He went to youtube and clicked on the first unsolved episode he found, just wanting to sleep.

The intro played loudly in his ear and Peter relaxed.

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we’ll cover the Axeman Killer of New Orleans,” said Ryan Bergara. “One of the strangest serial killer cases I’ve ever read.”

“And you’ve read a lot,” Shane replied.

Ryan explained the timeline, which began in 1918 in, of course, New Orleans and ended around eighteen months later. He detailed the mysterious and morbid attempted killings, saying, “In chilling fashion, he only seemed to strike people while they slept in their beds.”

Just to make sure, Peter peeked out the curtain. He shivered and hid further under his blankets. He snickered quietly when Shane made a joke right off the bat.

When the video ended, he turned it off and lay back down. He scrubbed his eyes, feeling refreshed but sleepy at the same time.

Except now, he was having a lot harder of a time falling asleep.

Peter stared at his bedroom door nervously, expecting someone to burst in brandishing an axe.

It never came.

He watched apprehensively, knowing this was stupid, and rolled over so he faced the wall.

Now his back felt even more exposed. Peter shivered and faced the door in a panic, swearing he heard something.

Nothing.

He sighed shakily and curled up under the blankets, his heart racing and his eyes wide. The shadows seemed to dance and his eyes flitted from corner to corner as he expected some creature with razor sharp teeth to come leaping out of them.

A chair, which he had thrown some dirty clothes on the other day, now looked like some skeletal creature with a huge head that could swallow him in one bite.

Peter, in a sudden burst of adrenaline, threw off his covers and sprinted the few feet down the hall to Tony’s room, the door slamming open. Peter leapt onto Tony’s bed, shaking, and wrapped his arms around the man.

Tony went rigid with surprise. “Peter?” He straightened up, squeezing his kid tight protectively and looking murderously around the room for the source of Peter’s fear. “What is it, baby? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Peter shook his head and crawled shakily into his lap, pressing his face into his chest. “Petey? What happened?” His voice was soft and gentle but somehow worried and protective at the same time. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Peter sniffed and blinked a few tears out of his eyes. His cheeks heated in embarrassment. He wilted in Tony’s arms both out of shame and overwhelming relief that he was safe now.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed. “You’re okay, I got you, you’re okay. I’m here, shh.” He kissed his delicate brown curls. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Peter sighed in relief and squashed his nose against Tony’s reactor. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled.

“Why are you sorry, bubba? You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Tony murmured.

Peter nodded. “I- I just got scared.” His voice cracked and he tried not to cry.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, ‘kay?” He brushed his fingers through his curls. “Pete?”

A soft snore filled the peaceful quiet of the room. Peter’s breathing was slow and even, his face lax. Tony’s face softened. He carefully maneuvered Peter’s limp body under the war covers and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his nose into his curls. “I won’t ever let anything hurt you, kay?” He sighed in contentment, holding his kid tightly. “I love you so much baby.”

Tony’s eyes fluttered shut. “G’night, sweetheart.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923

If you want to be added/removed let me know!

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

#FINALLY finished this #Happy Halloween!!!#peter parker #tony stark #may parker #aunt may is the best #pumpkin picking #pumpkin patch #pumpkin carving #tw knives #knives tw #irondad and spiderson #aunt may and tony are best friends #protective tony stark #worried tony stark #scared peter parker #buzzfeed unsolved #halloween tw #st*rkers dni

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remmushound · 4 years ago

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Not a request, but a random bonding idea I came up with for my one-shots, so enjoy!! @assanmaharielsreblogs

Michelangelo was making dinner like he always did. While the brothers frequently indulged themselves in pizza and other fast food, that was usually a lunch thing for them. Breakfast and dinner always fell to Michelangelo, just how he liked it. On the odd occasional Michelangelo was hurt or sick or exhausted from a long night out on a mission— too exhausted to get up early or too tired to make dinner— Splinter or Leonardo always substituted (though Leonardo’s substitution was almost always takeout he tried to pass as his own cooking, even when Donatello’s cash count said otherwise. Leonardo always left a generous tip.) Splinter’s cooking wasn’t bad, but it was always some obscure, vaguely familiar dish from his heritage, such as unagi or tempura, that they almost never had all the right ingredients for. Splinter’s supplementation for the missing supplies never really turned out right, though he insisted it tasted just like the real thing. Still, if finances allowed, Donatello always made sure to splurge on supplies at the end of the month so that their father could make the dishes properly and bring some joy to his life. Something to hold onto from his human days.

One time, he remembered, Leonardo had a complaint about the dish Splinter had presented (hiyashi chūka, if Michelangelo was remembering right) and Splinter just about blew a gasket.

“You will eat what I served you..” the old, angry rat had said to his then twelve year old son, “...or you will eat nothing at all!”

Michelangelo carried a similar mentality into his cooking, though he’d always switch to Doctor Feelings before dinner to get everyone’s recommendations, and if they still complained even after the alterations were made, then Doctor Delicate would come out to play.

“Not all of us have your iron stomach, dad.” Twelve year old Leonardo had argued back to his father, to which Donatello had added:

“Only one of us did, actually.”

Then all eyes had turned to thirteen year old Raphael, who was onto his third bowl and was absolutely demolishing it with a savage, starving ferocity.

“RAPH STILL HUNGRY!” The teen had spat before throwing one of their good bowls at the wall, which earned him a time out (and also more soup to keep him content).

But that was then, and this was now. Michelangelo was cooking a new recipe— a four cheese ravioli with marinara sauce and pepperonis. He remembered the New Brothers asking about something called Pizza Gyoza and he wanted to try it out for himself. It didn’t take him long to realize he was being watched. Still with a smile on his face, he turned to meet the spy.

“Hey!”

Mikey gave a yelp and tried to shrink back out of view around the corner. Michelangelo frowned and tilted his head as he left the ingredients to go investigate.

“Hey.” He repeated again, holding a patient hand out to his counterpart, “didja wanna help?”

Mikey seemed surprised by the offer. “I’m not a good cook.”

Michelangelo shrugged. “And I don’t know how to play the tuba— doesn’t stop me from practicing every Sunday night! Just ask Donnie.”

Mikey laughed, and it made Michelangelo smile to see the other him not so scared anymore. Through the laughter, Mikey sputtered out words that Michelangelo couldn’t quite make out, but it seemed to bring the speaker joy so he didn’t mind.

“So?” Michelangelo prompted after the giggle fest had run its course.

Mikey gave a few last giggles before he was still and sad once more. “Are you sure...? You don’t think I’ll ruin it?”

Michangelo took the older turtle around the shell and began to guide him to the counter.

“There’s no wrong way to mess up a recipe you’re making up! Besides, even if it’s bad, raph’ll eat it like it’s five star lobster! I don’t even think he can taste anymore.”

“Really?” Mikey gave a look that showed he didn’t quite believe, “my Raph’s really particular about what he’ll eat....”

Michelangelo snapped. “Ah, a picky eater! I got one of those! That’s why I gotta make Donnie’s portion separate on most nights. Splinter tried to use the ‘can’t leave the table until you eat it’ technique and Donnie say there for almost two days refusing to touch it before splinter gave in.”

Mikey whistled. “I don’t think I could go two hours without food...” he clutched at his stomach, “let alone two days...”

Michelangelo gave a patient smile and patted Mikey’s shell to urge him closer to the counter. Mikey looked out over the perfectly laid out supplies, and then back nervously at the other.

“W... what are you making?”

“What do you think?” Michelangelo motioned to the ingredients. “Take a guess!”

Mikey narrowed his eyes as he took a second look. Several jars of Marinara, four different cheeses laid out... pepperonis and meat-cutting scissors... flour, salt, eggs, olive oil...

“Are... you making pizza gyoza?” Mikey could feel his stump of a tail beginning to wag excitedly at the thought of the soft, cheesy goodness of the treats his friend murikami often made for them.

Michelangelo tisked his tongue and bopped his other on the nose. “Close~ I’m making my own version! The best chef can improvise with what he has in his kitchen! The gyoza you described would be put in a dumpling, but this one will be improvised to fit in a ravioli! I could have done the traditional gyoza, but I like putting my own spin on things! It’s gonna be a four cheese ravioli with pepperonis mixed in and topped with marinara sauce! I call it Mikey’s Masterpiece!”

Mikey could feel his mouth running at the thought and swiped his tongue across his lips. “Sounds tasty...”

Michelangelo nodded, almost about to open his mouth to offer more praise before he saw that the poor mutant was still looking nervous and unsure.

“Here,” Michelangelo slid over several cups of flour and a measured amount of salt. “Mound them on the the counter and Make a well.”

Mikey poured the ingredients in the table and stared at them for a few seconds before Michelangelo recognized his mistake.

“Oh! Mm. We’re gonna make... a lake! See, the flour and salt will be our sand and the wet ingredients...?”

“Will... be our water?” Mikey offered tentatively.

“Exactly! So make the sand, but leave space in the middle so we can put in our water!”

“Oh!” Mikey giggled as he began to make a surprisingly well-crafted well, “this is fun!”

Michelangelo let the turtle have his fun before bringing over his egg mixture and offering it.

“Your ‘Water’ my liege~”

Mikey took the bowl and, after an encouraging nod from his other, carefully poured the mixture into the center.

Michelangelo cleared his throat. “OH NO! The tides coming in!”

Mikey gasped.

“And it’s taking a bunch of sand back with it!” He knew lakes didn’t really have a tide, but it worked for the euphemism. He took his hand and swiped some of the flour into the liquidy center. “Do you know how tides work, Mike?”

Mikey shook his head, his eyes in awe as he imagined the water cutting across the Sandy shores and taking them away into the cold depths.

“Well, tides come in a little at a time, so they can only take a little sand at a time.” Michelangelo explained, “and then!” He began to mix the liquid around with his hand, “the waves all get crazy in the middle and have a party! Now the tides gonna take even more sand! You try!”

Mikey knocked some of the sand into the mixture and, when he wasn’t scolded for doing something wrong, he began to carefully mix it. Michelangelo guided him through the rest of the steps until the ingredients were all mixed into a soft, doughy ball.

“What now?” Mikey giggled— his face and hands were now coated in flour to add to his genuine enjoyment of the activity.

“Now: feel how it’s all gooey-ooey?”

“Ya!” Mikey poked the dough.

“That’s like mud!”

“Mud?”

“After it rained all day and the earth got soft! But it’s January! What happens when night comes?”

Mikey scratched his head. “It gets all cold...”

“Aaaand...?”

“And the mud freezes!”

“Exactly!” Michelangelo folded the dough safely in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge. “So now it’s night!”

“So we go to sleep?”

“No silly! We’re ninja! We stalk the nights!”

“We own the night!”

“Exactly! So let’s own the night and keep busy while the dough freezes!” Michelangelo hummed as he looked over the cheeses. He took a handful and showed it to Mikey. “See these?”

“Cheese?” Mikey took a piece and ate it happily.

“No! It’s not cheese its... mystic crystals! Do you have those in your world?”

“No.” Mikey gaped, “Well, there was this one time that April got an evil Crystal from an alien planet. Does that count?”

“No. These are mystic crystals! They take on the properties of whatever they’re added to!”

“It just looks like cheddar to me...”

“That’s exactly what it wants you to think.” Michelangelo winked. “Now, we’re gonna make a magic potion with our mystic crystals!”

“What does the potion do?”

“It’s a... warmth potion! For when you’re cold! So we gotta add a lot of heat for it to form proper!”

Michangelo put a skillet on the stove and added olive oil, half a fan of marinara, and garlic. He offered a cup of heavy cream to Mikey, who promptly took a sip before pouring the rest of it into the concoction— it was going to get boiled anyway, so it shouldn’t matter. After a few minutes of standing over the heat, Michelangelo offered his friend the cheese.

“Now is the time to add the crystals— slowly!” He quickly added as Mikey went to pour the whole thing, “we don’t want the crystals to be on top of each other! They need to melt for the potion to work!”

Mikey nodded and obeyed, and while he did, Michelangelo started to warm up the rest of the marinara on a separate pan and preheat the oven. He checked in quickly on the brewing potion and removed it from the heat once it was ready, taking a wooden spoon to scoop up a small bit and taste before offering the rest to Mikey. The box turtle practically melted as the heat overtook his body in a pleasant mix of sauce and cheese.

“Mmmmm...” he moaned softly, “that’s really good!”

Michelangelo grinned, and began to sprinkle some pepperonis in and begin to mix it around. “Oh good other of mine~! I think it’s daaaaawn!”

Mikey gasped and hurried over to the fridge and pull out the flattened dough, giving it a poke. “It wooooorked...”

“Now! Roll it on the table, quick!” He tossed Mikey a rolling pin, “before the dough worms come out!”

Mikey’s jaw fell open. “The whaaaaat?”

“THE DOUGH WORMS! They live in cold dough and steal all the flavor! Now hurry and smoosh them before they can escape with the taste!”

“OH NO!” Mikey slammed the dough on the table and began to roll it out.

“No thicker than a nickel— the worms are really small and can survive otherwise!”

“I WONT LET ANY OF THEM ESCAPE!”

Mikey did an excellent job of flattening out the dough into a large, thin sheet. After reassuring him he had gotten all the ‘dough worms’, Michelangelo carefully cut the sheet in half and began to lay his cheese mixture.

“See these?” He held up the spoonful of the mystic potion, “when mystic potion is added to dough and boiled, it’s affects increase tenfold!”

“Ooooo!”

“So put them in piles like so...” Michelangelo began to lay out spoonfuls an inch apart, “so we can make a bunch and share it!”

“Good idea! We all need to stay warm and toasty!” Mikey grabbed another spoon and began to help.

With the playful assistance of Mikey, they had finished making the ravioli within two hours and Michelangelo let Mikey serve to to the hungry brothers.

“Mmm...” Leonardo moaned almost sensually at the explosive taste in his mouth. “This is really good.”

Leo had been hesitant at first when he found out it had been Michelangelo preparing the dinner, but a quick sight test showed nothing awry. A smell test yielded only a warm fragrance, and lastly a taste test...

Leo’s eyes shot open and he was sure they had fallen from his sockets in his surprise. One small nibble had turned into swallowing the chopstick-ful whole and almost purring in delight as the warm, perfect mix of sauce and cheese and dough rolled down his throat. Once their brother had taken the dive, Raph and Donnie exchanged shocked glances and began to scarf down their shares as if they hadn’t eaten in days.

Mikey didn’t open his mouth, except to eat his extra tasty dinner of course. Just seeing his brothers happily scarfing down something that he’d made was more than enough.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #donatello #donnie #leo #leonardo #Mikey #Michelangelo #raph #raphael #one shots

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nah-she-didnt · 4 years ago

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Here’s my response to a prompt from the lovely @keepingupwithpotters. I’m sorry this took forever, but I hope you like it! It kind of turned into a part 2 of my other story, A Home Cooked Meal. Enjoy!

((Also my inbox is now empty so send me more prompts here))

“There are some things we never bring up; that was one of them.”

The tiny apartment was filled with the smell of takeaway curry, laughter, and smoke. These days they spent most of their nights on guard, spying on Death Eater meetings or protecting Order safe houses. However, tonight they had a rare night off from order business, and they intended to make the most of it.

“No way,” Sirius barked across the circle at James, “I was the one who came up with the idea to dump itching powder in their quidditch robes. You took the tunnel into Hogsmeade to get the bottle, but I was the mastermind.”

“No ‘ou ‘in’t,” James grunted through a mouthful of curry, “I ‘ad the idea after we found the laundry ‘oom.”

“Charming,” Lily smirked next to James, “I’m sure we’d all appreciate your story more if you swallowed first.”

James opened his mouth wide and leaned towards Lily so she could see the contents within. “Like that?”

“Disgusting boy!” Lily yelped, but she laughed as she tried to push her boyfriend away.

“Ah, young love,” Peter rolled his eyes, “you two are sickening, truly.”

“Don’t be jealous, Wormy,” James winked.

Peter snorted. “Jealous? I think I’ve got enough on my plate for the time being without adding a girlfriend to the mix, thanks.”

Sirius snorted. “Yes, I’ve often said the same thing myself. I’m much too independent to be tied down by any girlfriend.”

“I knew there had to be a reason for your perpetual bachelorhood,” Remus grinned.

“Quite right!” Sirius took another swig from his glass of wine. “But you, love,” he pulled Remus in for a kiss on the cheek, “can tie me down whenever you like.” The others made retching sounds at this public display of affection.

“God, you’re revolting,” sighed Lily. “It almost makes me miss the days you dated Dorcas in fifth year, Sirius. You were never this gushy about her.”

The group roared with laughter as Sirius’ ears turned pink. He always became embarrassed when the others brought up his youthful attempts to appear straight.

Remus jumped to his boyfriend’s defense. “There are some things we never bring up, Lily,” he tried to look annoyed but the corners of his mouth gave him away, “that was one of them.”

Lily ruffled his hair affectionately. “Well, it worked out in the end, didn’t it? Turns out Dorcas is far better with girls than you two ever were.”

“Too true.”

The group chatted for a bit, swapping stories about each others’ ill-conceived childhood romances. They howled with laughter when James told the story about McGonagall catching Peter in a broom cupboard with Hestia Jones, or when James took Alice MacDuff to Madam Puddifoot’s in fifth year only to have her dump a cup of tea over his head. An hour later they lay about the room, their bellies full of food and wine, content. Well, at least most of their bellies were filled with wine.

Peter got to his feet. “I need a top off. Lily, do you want a glass? You haven’t had any so far.”

Lily glanced at James. “I think I’m alright, thanks, Pete.”

“You sure?” He shook the bottle enticingly in her direction, “Who knows when we’ll get another night off, you should take advantage.”

Lily tried her best not to look guilty. James caught her hand in his. “Come on,” he said coaxingly, “let’s do it, now.”

Her eyes widened at him. “Now? Are you sure?”

“Are you sure about what?” Sirius straightened in his seat like a dog who had caught his prey’s scent.

Remus, however, was looking at Lily curiously. “No way,” he breathed, gazing at her so intensely she felt as if he could see right through her, “you’re not…”

She looked at James who nodded encouragingly. Lily turned back to the circle of anxious boys. “You lot are going to have to learn how to change nappies. James and I are going to have a baby.”

For a moment there was dead silence. Then, Peter whooped, a wide smile broke across Remus’ face, and Sirius burst into tears.

“A b-b-baby?” He stammered as he tried to staunch the flow of tears down his face, “A real baby? Are you sure?”

Lily nodded and reached into her back pocket for the sonogram. She had insisted on visiting a muggle doctor as well as a healer. She always laughed when she remembered how excitable James had been when he’d seen the ultrasound machine.

She held up the small photograph to the rest of the circle, beaming. “We’re sure!”

The boys all scrambled over each other to get a closer look. Sirius was quickest of the three and yanked the photograph from Lily’s hand. He squinted down at it, Peter and Remus clambering behind him trying to get a look over his shoulder. After a few seconds of speculation, Sirius glanced up.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” He sniffed and pointed at a dark shadow in the corner, “what’s that part there?”

James snatched the photograph back. “That would be her uterus, and yes it is supposed to look like that, thank you very much.”

Sirius laughed and wiped his eyes. “Blimey, is it just going to be like this from now on? Is your baby going to make me the world’s biggest crybaby?”

Peter raised his newly-filled glass. “To Prongs, Lily, and baby!” They all clinked their glasses together and fell into a contented silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Every now and then Sirius would sniff loudly and dry his face on his sleeve.

“You’re going to be as big as a house,” Sirius snickered at Lily.

She threw her plastic fork at him. “Rude. I’ll be beautiful and glowing, a goddess of fertility. At least I will be when my head isn’t constantly in the toilet.”

Remus eyed Lily skeptically. “What are you going to do about The Order?”

The smile slid from Lily’s face. “We haven’t told anyone yet, so mum’s the word,” she looked at them all sharply, “we want to wait as long as possible before we have to clue them in.”

“But what if you get hurt?” Peter said in a panicked voice, “What if something happens?”

Lily stared down at her hands. “It was always a possibility,” she muttered, “I’ve always known the risks. I suppose the stakes are just higher now, aren’t they?” She glanced at James. His face was serious, but he slid an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. They knew what could happen to Lily, to both of them, in the field. But they couldn’t give up the fight that easily.

Sirius began to laugh. “I can’t wait to see the look on Mary and Dorcas’ faces when you tell them.”

James shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Lily did a double-take, then forced a laugh. “Ha, yes, they’ll be speechless.”

Remus narrowed his eyes at her. “You already told them, didn’t you?”

Sirius sat up so suddenly that Remus’ arm fell off his shoulders. “Prongs! You told the girls before you told us?”

James raised his hands in front of him defensively. “Lily told them! I figured it was her body, her right to tell whoever she wanted.”

Sirius gaped at Lily. “After all we’ve been through. God, Mary is going to be insufferable.”

Lily scoffed. “I’m sorry, Padfoot. You’re right, it was selfish of me to tell my friends of nine years that I was pregnant with my first child.”

Sirius sniffed again. “Well, as long as you’re sorry.”

They continued like this for several hours more, laughing and debating baby names. Finally, when they were all too drunk and sleepy to apparate home, Lily insisted that the boys stay the night. James conjured squashy pillows and blankets and they all settled in together. They lay side by side whispering to each other deep into the morning hours when they finally fell asleep.

#nina writes #jily #cw: pregnancy #sirius black #remus lupin #peter petigrew #lily evans #james potter #a home cooked meal follow up

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angelaiswriting · 4 years ago

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The Contest (3 of 7) | some R6S guys x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Glaz x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: Dominic Brunsmeier can’t keep his goddamn mouth shut when it comes to eating pussy, and that’s how Y/N finds herself being drafted to be the judge of this pussy-eating contest. It’s Timur’s turn. (Straight out of a dream @kind-wolf had)

✏️ A/N: this man is so sweet :’) I hope I did him justice lmk

✏️ Warnings: 18+ only (oral f/r, fingering)

✏️ Word-count: 2,585

✏️ The links to the other parts are in the masterlist linked in my bio.

<< part two: elias << | PART THREE: TIMUR | >> part four: alexsandr >>

When she woke up the next morning, Y/N barely had the time to think back about the afternoon before, that she got pulled into a meeting with Harry right after breakfast. He had wanted to know how she was doing after one year in the organization, if she felt she needed or wanted more space for improvement; in general: update her file with new pieces of information and chat a bit before he sent her off to do some weapon testing of her own.

Weapon testing had taken up more time than she had anticipated, with some of the mechanisms malfunctioning and causing her more cussing than she was used to. She had had to spend the second half of the morning in the weapon-testing facility, fixing things here and there and modifying the blueprints before Alexsandr’s voice boomed through the speakers unexpectedly and sent the screwdriver she had in one hand flying behind her.

Y/N, LUNCH IS READY. WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE TRAINING TOGETHER TODAY. DON’T BE LATE OR YOU’LL PAY THE CONSEQUENCES!

Alex was fun. He had been the first person she had bonded with when she had joined Rainbow and he had taken her under his wing, and she knew that that you’ll pay the consequences of his didn’t involve anything negative. Slaving off after him for a day or two, sure, but she had been through it already and it wasn’t that bad a thing — and she knew he was too smart to make a false step now that his pride as a pussy eater could be at stake.

Still, she laughed at his antics and hurried to finish her task. Inputting the data on her tablet didn’t take much but just as she was about to switch it off, Timur popped up in her mind and she cussed under her breath. He had texted her the night before, as it had become custom for the contest, and she had told him she had her afternoon free, but things had changed when Alex had had to reschedule their training and she had been so caught up in everything she had had to do that morning that she… forgot.

It made her feel bad, even if so for just a split moment, because Timur was a really sweet man that deserved better than that. But when she met him as she was hurrying towards the mess hall to have a quick lunch, he met her halfway there, he himself on his way to his duties, and told her Sanya had already notified him for her.

But then, more testing came up after lunch and that kept her busy until almost halfway through the afternoon, when Alexsandr had barged into the room and had physically dragged her to the gym for their training session.

Now, what felt like twenty years later, she found herself sore all over in Glaz’s dorm room as he painted something with his watercolors.

It was a very peaceful night and although part of her was dying to know who the next contestant would be, she was glad none of the guys had sent her a text scheduling an appointment between her legs. She was as ready for Timur as she could be, after the truly endless day she had had, but that was it: after the man was done, all she wanted to do was sleep for twelve hours straight and say to hell with any duties she had the following day.

“What are you painting?” she asked at some point, when he stood up to go take some clean water for his brushes. From her position on his bed, although she was sitting up against his pillow and the wall with her legs crossed in front of her, she couldn’t see what was on the sketchbook laying out open on his desk.

“A bird,” he hummed with a smile when he came back. “I enjoy painting them,” he continued, voice soft and soothing as she listened with a smile of her own on her face. “Their plumage helps me relax and destress.” Then, when she didn’t answer, he turned back toward her, one arm wrapped around the back of his chair, and asked her whether she wanted him to hurry up, or to just stop and switch to what she was there for.

But she really enjoyed watching him paint; she found peace in the silence of the room as she stared at how delicately he seemed to swipe the brush over the paper, and so he continued. By the time he was done, she had wrapped herself in the towel she had stolen from him when she had marched into his room declaring she needed a shower. right. fucking. now and the stress of the day seemed entire lifetimes from her, relaxed as she was on his bed.

He smiled when he saw her there like that, eyelids heavy as she seemed on the verge of dozing off. And exactly like that she felt, her limbs loose and heavy at the same time, with a soft smile slowly stretching on her lips when she noticed him staring.

“Do you want to postpone it?” he asked, standing up to put his tools away before grabbing the plastic cups with now colored water in his hands. “No problem for me. We can do it whenever you feel like it.”

She considered it for a moment, her tongue too heavy and almost asleep to be able to form sounds just yet. But then she shook her head no, told him she was more than happy to proceed, and he disappeared into the bathroom for a couple of minutes before coming back into the room.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, then, and turned back to look at her. “How do you want to do it?”

He seemed so considerate, she thought. So sweet, in a way, and for a second, she wondered whether he was okay with all that or if he had just joined the challenge because Dominic Brunsmeier knew how to be a pain in the ass, when it came to sex most of all. But then, fuck it, she thought: Timur Glazkov was just as adult a man as she was a woman and if he had preferred not to join, then he would have done just that.

“This is up to you,” she replied, sitting back up and pulling her knees into her chest. She rested her chin on them and looked at him with a smirk on her face. “It’s your time to play. Woo me! You really have free range, just follow the rules.”

He walked the fingers of one hand on the dark blue bedding covering his mattress and a sly smile stretched on his lips. “So I can do anything I want?” he wondered out loud, fingers wrapping around her left ankle to give it a light tug.

The gesture made her chuckle lowly. “Almost anything, yeah.”

“Then I want to kiss you,” he deadpanned, even though for just a split second, before giving her ankle another tug, almost as if to prompt her to come closer.

She complied with his silent demand and pulled up just enough to move to him on her knees and when she was close enough, he picked her up and pulled her onto his lap.

“I like the sound of your laughter.”

He was smiling down at her, both with his lips and with his eyes, and her fingers came up to trace the line of his stubbled jaw as she smiled back. The blue of his eyes seemed to tend towards gray tones in the lights of his bedroom and she found herself unable to look away as she wondered how the fuck someone like him could still be single.

Then, before she even had the time to answer back with a pun or something, his hands moved over her buttcheeks through her towel, pulled her flush against his chest and bent his head down to kiss her.

The kiss was soft and sweet, and she could taste the minty aftertaste of his toothpaste on his tongue as it glided over hers. His light stubble tickled the skin of her face, but she could barely focus on that feeling when he was kissing her sanity away little by little, one hand cupping the back of her head and the fingers of the other splayed on her low back, almost as if to prevent her from moving away.

He was a good kisser. She had always thought Dominic knew his way around lips and tongues, but Timur’s gentle ways had her squirming in his lap much quicker than she would ever be willing to admit. The blood seemed to thrum and boil underneath her skin and when she pulled her head back to breathe, her mind now dizzy both from the kiss itself and the lack of oxygen, his lips moved along the line of her jaw and then started suckling on the skin of her neck. And the more he proceeded, painfully slowly, the more her neck tilted to the side, granting him access.

Then, his lips latched onto that sweet spot on her neck and as he suckled a gentle hickey into it, she wasn’t able to stop that whiny moan from crawling up her throat, nor was she able to help the bucking of her hips as that heavy sensation of something building up spread through her body.

He was half-hard against her as her bare pussy dragged along the front of his pants, and the knowledge that he was probably enjoying this just as much as she was made her head spin.

“Can I take the towel off of you?” He had to repeat his question a few times before her mind registered it, and each time his lips and his murmuring moved closer to her ear and his right hand moved lower down her thigh.

“Rip it off, do whatever you want,” and she pulled him back for a kiss, his lips soft and pliant against hers as she kissed him less gently this time, her hands on either side of his face. There was no need to hide the hunger burning through her veins, nor was there a point in doing so, not when he had to end up with her legs wrapped around his head anyway.

She didn’t even have time to acknowledge the somewhat cold air of the room making her skin tingle when the towel came off, that he had moved a hand over one of her breasts to give it an almost experimental squeeze before he rolled the nipple between two fingers. Blood rushed to her cheeks when her last conscious brain cells realized she was a moaning mess before he had even put his hands between her legs.

He leaned her back a bit, then, and those last strands of consciousness faded further away the more his lips trailed down her neck and then her chest before settling on a nipple. Both of his hands had moved to her back to keep her up, and while her hands were in his hair, her pelvis had ended up closer to him than before, now pressed up against the crotch of his pants and the erection they were so bad at concealing.

“Mouth. Pussy.” Much like her thoughts, her words came out disconnected when she reluctantly remembered those same stupid rules she had come up with. Because who was she to stop a man from driving her delirious with just his mouth on her tits and his hard cock just a pair of jeans away from being pressed against her pussy?

She was barely aware of him chuckling deep in his throat, but her senses did zero in on that hand of his moving across her abdomen until his thumb was circling her clit.

“Now, please,” was all she managed to let out before he turned to lay her down on the mattress and he kneeled on the floor with her legs hiked over his shoulders.

He still teased her, though, kissed the inside of one thigh before moving to the other, avoiding her throbbing core. He growled something, then, something she didn’t quite catch through the haze that had taken over her mind, and he traced her entrance with two fingers before slightly pulling the skin of her prepuce up and giving her clit a lick.

She whined, a sound so deep in her throat — and probably in her soul as well — that she barely recognized it. Both of her hands blindly reached out for his head and when her fingers combed through his hair, she pulled closer to her and it was then that he started eating her out.

His tongue flicked her clit and although for just a minute, two of his fingers fucked her in a come-here motion before he slipped both hands under he buttcheeks, pulled her forward and started his relentless work towards her orgasm.

He was loud — well, louder than she had expected him to be, at least, and her mind was swimming in his moaning and grunting when he pushed one finger back inside her. And then two.

Her skin was burning and when he moved one hand to grab her tit, she barely realized how painfully her fingers must have been tugging at his hair.

“Y/N.” His voice sounded faint and distant and the more he called her name to make her focus on him, the more aware of the tensing in her thighs she became. “Look at me.”

She did her best to do as she was told, and although her head felt as heavy as a rock when she raised it to trail her gaze down her body, she still ended up locking eyes with him. They crinkled when he smiled, the blue of his irises darker than it had been earlier, and then she was gone. Her head fell back, hit the bedsheets, and her butt arched into the mattress almost in the attempt of pulling back from his mouth, only a drawled-out moan falling from her lips.

He kept going, albeit more gently and with less intensity, until she came down from her high and her eyes put the ceiling of his room back into focus. Her fingers were still gripping strands of his hair, but he didn’t seem to complain.

When he moved away and she looked down at him, she caught him just in time to see him suck his fingers clean before her eyes rolled into her skull at the sight.

“Not bad for someone with his mom’s milk still on his upper lip, eh?” he joked, referring back to what Dom had said the night the contest was born.

She laughed breathlessly at that while with a hand she motioned for him to move up her body. “Yeah, not bad at all,” she chuckled, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him down for another kiss.

He tasted of her — something she should have expected, really, but it still made her moan deep in her chest and buck her hips against his.

“I gotta go now, though,” she warned, his forehead pressed against hers. “Before I end up fucking you and breaking my own rules.”

“That good?” he smirked, pelvis nestling between her legs and pressing up against her.

A chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself too much, though, Glazkov.”

Feedback is always welcome if you want to drop old me a line 💛

Original pic used: https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-clouds-and-blue-sky-4870972/

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bilgisticallykosher · 4 years ago

Text

4: Hot Dog'd to Death.

The boys chase their dreams of joining Joey Chestnut in the MLE hall of fame.

TA Masterpost | Masterpost | AO3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

I reveal the Amy of Thomas Annus!!! And stick around for the end notes for an exciting announcement!

Word count: 5094

Warnings: General warnings found on masterpost. Food, messy eating, mentions of nausea/vomiting, overuse of the word wiener, and (bad) math.

THOMAS ANNUS, THOMAS ANNUS

Janus and Remus stood in a familiar looking kitchen; the one where they ate during the second video, not the one where they cooked. Janus was getting a bowl from the cabinet, while Remus held a bunch of plastic packages in his hands. He jiggled them as he stood, tapping his foot as he waited for Janus to finish.

"Stop that," Janus turned towards the sink, bowl in hand. He began filling water into the bowl. "You're going to drop them, and we need as many as possible if we're going to do this right." He turned the water off, leaving the bowl in the sink.

Remus stopped jiggling the packages, setting them onto the counter by the sink. A close up from the camera revealed eight packages of hot dogs. "Now, are you going to cooperate and open them, or is this too much for you to handle?" Remus gasped.

"How dare you imply that I can't handle my wieners?!" Janus nodded.

"Then here." He plopped a pair of children's safety scissors by him, then turned towards the camera. "Today we're going to attempt to match, if not beat," he thrust his finger up into the air, enthusiastically, then lowered it to continue, "the Major League Eating, or MLE, record for hot dogs."

"Because anything can be a sport if you get a judge involved!" Remus grinned.

"Not anything," Janus corrected, "I'm pretty sure your 'Most Dangerous Game' idea was several types of illegal."

"Naaaaaaw," Remus waved the concept away like there was a fly in his face. "I don't think there's anything wrong with shark-water-skiing-while-scorpion-juggling, I just think the world wasn't ready for my genius." Remus got a faraway look on his face. Janus sighed, and pulled out his phone.

In the background, Remus stared for a moment, shook himself like a wet dog, then blinked as he looked down at the counter. He picked up the scissors and a package of hot dogs. He attempted to start opening them, but to no avail. "The number of hot dogs eaten, buns and all, in ten minutes," Janus recited. Remus put the scissors down, choosing instead to bite the corner of a package instead. "The record is 75 hot dogs," Remus stuck his finger through the plastic. "Set by Joey Chestnut, professional eater." Remus looked delighted in the background, and stuck three fingers from his other hand in three more packages. "He set this record in 2020, at Nathan's annual hot dog eating contest."

Remus lifted his hand and slowly crept towards Janus. "The question is; can we break that record?" Remus struck, making a slapping motion across Janus's cheek, hot dogs jiggling in their packages. "What the actual hell do you think you're doing now?" Janus turned immediately towards him, accusing.

"Thought your sharp cheekbones might help open the packages," Remus replied easily, unabashed.

"Just open them into the bowl," Janus hissed out. Remus went back to do so, swinging his hips as he went. He split open the package from the hole he made, pouring them into the bowl.

"Hey, look!" Remus gestured to one of the empty packages still on his finger. "They're packs of eight, just like the buns," he pointed out. "Not like how it used to be where they'd be seven, but the buns would be eight. Nice touch!"

"Of course," Janus waved his hands dismissively. "I'm not buying into the conspiracy of uneven packages where you keep having to buy one to keep up with the other; an endless cycle of trying to break even." He scoffed. "Plus, less math involved."

"Good call."

The scene ended, then opened up on the two of them staring at the microwave. The bowl was already in it. They were arguing.

"Listen," Remus insisted, "There are eight packages in there, so if it takes five minutes for one, it should take forty minutes to do them all together!"

"Five minutes?" Janus's jaw nearly dropped, "it takes half a minute a hot dog!"

"Okay, fine, so then thirty seconds multiplied by eight dogs is two hundred and forty." He tilted his head to the side, "So, wait, it'd be two minutes, forty seconds, right?"

"Oh, well," Janus scoffed, "why not just put it on for two hundred and forty minutes?"

"Hey, I may be a stupid, dumb idiot, but I'm not stupid!" He sniffed haughtily. "Two hundred and forty seconds, times eight packs, that's one thousand nine hundred and twenty seconds. Divide that by the number of seconds in a minute, equals thirty one minutes and sixty seconds!" Remus concluded smugly. There was a pause as Janus stared at him, glare becoming more intense with each passing second, Remus was unmoving, although he seemed to realize that there was something going on, and he raised both eyebrows. Janus seemed to be winding up, fingers curling in, clawed, body inflating with his inhale.

"WH-"

The video cut again. Janus and Remus were standing there, calmly smiling at the camera until the microwave beeped. Remus turned away to check on it, gave the bowl a small jiggle, and then closed the door.

"It's not ready yet." He turned to Janus. "So, four minutes, right?" Janus turned around, leaning his head on the fridge, massaging his forehead.

"It's going to be a long year, isn't it?" Janus groaned as Remus put the microwave on again. "A long, long year."

"Well, the 'dogs are cooking." Remus gestured to the microwave, which was running. "Yeah. That's right. 'Dog. Apostrophe-dog. It's short for hot dog." He winked. Janus turned back around to compose himself.

"We should, perhaps, consider some manner of stain-guard," Janus mused. "Some of us are, ah," he glanced at Remus, who had put a leftover package in his mouth, sucking on it. "Mess-prone."

"Ooh!" Remus held out his hand in front of him, opened his mouth and let the package fall out onto it. "I've got a bunch of spare clothing that would be perfect for this!" He shifted back and forth on his feet.

"Alright," he sighed, rolling his eyes, "let's see what trash rags you've got in store for us." Remus yelped in glee, running off.

The microwave went off a few seconds later, and Janus opened the door with a click, letting the steam out. He waved a hand through the air, giving a little cough. "There. Perfectly cooked, just as we had it planned from the beginning." Janus took a hot dog from the bowl, holding it lightly by one end, then looked directly at the camera. "Joan. You want a hot dog?" The camera viewpoint moved back and forth, like it was shaking its head. Janus grabbed a package of buns, dangling it so that it got in-frame. "Are you sure? We can afford one without messing up our record." The camera moved up and down, nodding.

"Well," Janus shrugged, "if you insist." He tossed the tube of meat back into the bowl with a quiet plop! Remus gave a long scream from off-screen, indicating his imminent return. He came in running, arms hanging at his side, something bunched up in his hands.

"I've got our eating ponchos!" He proudly lifted his arms up, opening his hands, revealing what he was carrying.

"These are garbage bags."

"Color-coded garbage bags," Remus corrected. "See? I've got one in black, for me," he held up what looked like a large black drum liner in one hand, "and one in white for you!" He held up his other hand, displaying a white kitchen trash bag. "We're stylin'!" He gripped both bags tightly as he bounced in excitement.

"Alright," Janus sighed, "I guess."

"Also, yours only came in a large," he unfurled both bags, revealing Remus's to be much larger.

"It's okay, you'll grow into it."

"I'm a growing boy!" Janus snorted.

"You're a messy boy." Remus's face lit up, and he opened his mouth, eyebrows already waggling. "No, I already regret that. Moving on." Remus deflated, pouting.

"That episode was boring," he whined, leaning his head on Janus's shoulder. "I kept throwing my ideas out there and all the real good ones weren't even mentioned."

"Hey," Janus looked down at him, "listen," his voice and expression were soft as they locked eyes. "Don't touch me." Remus leaped up, holding the bags high above his head.

"Let's go fill our mouths with weineeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-"

The video cut, then opened again on Janus sitting down, and Remus standing behind a large table filled with plates of plain hot dogs, and another with hot dogs, loaded and ready to go, already inside the buns. There was also a full Brita filter, with two cups. The sides, themselves, are now wearing the garbage bags, holes around their heads and arms, like very poorly constructed ponchos. "-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeers!" Remus finally concluded, plopping down in his seat.

He looked at Janus, grabbing a hot dog, "So, ready to eat?"

The video paused on the scene, Remus in the middle of gesturing with the food, Janus looking harried. Text filled the screen while cheesy elevator music played in the background. Video editor here. I'd just like the record to state that Remus did not shout 'wieners' twice. That text disappeared, more came on. He kept the scream going for the entire 20 minutes it took them to get set up and ready. The last bit of text replaced it. Thank you. That stayed on the screen, and then at the bottom right, a quick help me flashed in and out before the scene resumed.

"I suppose," Janus sighed, grabbing the hot dog, placing it out of reach, "But we do need to discuss strategy. If we're going to beat Chestnut at his own game, we need to think like him; but smarter."

"Ha! Chestnut, more like chestesticle." Remus grabbed two more hot dogs triumphantly.

"Oh, yes, well done," Janus overexaggeratedly rolled his eyes. "That's given us all the ammo we need to tackle this challenge." He raised an eyebrow while glaring.

"No, no, but these are the strats!" He pushed the hot dogs at him, buns squashing into his chest. "They always dunk them in water to make them squishy and gross and easier to slide down our gullets without chewing. Like pelicans!"

"Well, if we're going to beat Chestnut, we've got to think like him, I suppose." He grabbed a hot dog from Remus's hand. "What are our thoughts on condiments?"

"Well," Remus readied his hot dog as well, "I don't think they use them in the MLE, but I'd be down for some honey mussie."

"Some what?" Janus raised an eyebrow and smirked, amusement in his expression. "Honey muscle?"

"Well, I was talking about the condiment," he leered Janus's direction, "but now I'm thinking I want to pour honey over your arms and lick it off."

"Oh, stop," he coyly put a hand on his chest, "save some of that ravenousness to put towards our goal."

"Yeah, let's kick Joey Chestnut's ass through his wiener!" He looked down at his hot dog, then pouted. "I still want some mussie, though." He got up from the table, "You want smushed, sweetened tomato squeeze bottle?"

"Yes, alright, bring some ketchup, too." He watched Remus exit. A small stopwatch popped up in the corner of the screen, edited in, while the video fast forwarded. Janus, sped up, laid his hot dog down, then put his head on a hand. The stop watch showed the passage of thirty seconds, Janus started drumming his fingers, then a minute, and then as the video went back into normal speed, the sound of clanking came from the kitchen. Janus blinked, "Wait, what mustard are you bringing?" He waited for an answer. "Remus, what mustard are you bringing? What are you doing in there?!"

"Whaaaat?!" Remus shouted, unnecessarily loudly, "Sorry! Kssssh! Can't hear you! Kssssh! I'm going through a tunnel! Kssssssssssssshhhh!

"Remus!" Janus glared in the direction of the kitchen, then sighed, turning towards the camera. "It's not like I can stop him." He brightened a bit. "And it's only mustard, how bad could it be?" The corner of his mouth twitched. "I regretted that before I said it."

Remus swaggered back in then, ketchup bottle in his left hand, a jar full of what had to be mustard in his right. It was gloppy, yellow, and had flecks of something floating in it. He plunked the mustard onto the table, leaving his hand on it as he sauntered back around the table into his chair. He put the ketchup by his feet. The stopwatch blinked 3:46 before dropping down off the screen.

"I'm not giving you ketchup access until you try the mustard." Remus declared before picking up his hot dog.

"Joy," Janus responded dryly. "I'll try to contain my excitement for its consumption." He picked up his hot dog and mumbled, "Let's hope I don't die of consumption."

"That's always a concern," Remus nodded solemnly.

"You guys ready?" Joan asked from behind the camera. The two gave simultaneous nods, Remus's more excited than Janus's. "Alright, counting down, get ready in three, two, one… go!" Their finger pushed a button off-screen somewhere, a timer appearing on the screen, counting down from 10:00 as the button was pressed.

Remus held out his hot dog, waiting, looking at Janus, pleading. Janus caught his gaze, rolled his eyes, and held his own hot dog out.

"Cheers." Janus held his hot dog out slightly to Remus.

"Cheers!" He bumped his hot dog against Janus's in a toast, smooshing the bun a little. "Clink! A toast, even when the bun isn't!" And then he brought his arm back towards himself, smoothly biting half the hot dog clean off. Janus took a more delicate bite of his own.

"Well, they're cooked," he mused. He chewed while he reached for the yellowish substance in the jar, "might as well get this over with." He swallowed, opening it up. He looked inside, and grimaced. "Oh no," sarcasm leaked from every word. "I've forgotten a knife, how will I ever manage to apply it now?"

"Oh," Remus swallowed, "don't worry about it," he waved the idea off, taking another bite. "Jussh dunnkit!" He shoved what remained of his hot dog into the jar, bits of bun sticking in the concoction. He drew it out with a flourish.

"Hm." He tapped the glass. "Oddly enough, I don't think that changed the consistency at all." He tilted it. "Or how appetizing it looks."

"Thanks!"

"You grossly overestimate how appetizing this looks." Janus dipped his own hot dog in it, "emphasis on gross."

"Thanks," Remus leaned towards Janus, shoving the rest of his hot dog into his mouth, shimmying his shoulders, and grabbing a second hot dog. A large green 1 hovered over his head, keeping score. Janus rolled his eyes, and finally leaned in to take a small bite.

And immediately spit it out.

He grabbed his glass of water, downing half of it in one go. "Uh uh uh," Remus waggled his finger at him, grabbing another hot dog. "Can't get into the MLE with negative dogs," he cackled. The counter above Janus sprang to life, -1 hovered in gold. Bits of hot dog crumbled out of Remus's mouth.

"Shove it," Janus took his own advice, shoving the rest of the hot dog into his mouth. The counter flipped to 1 as he chewed angry and determined. "Wha' di'joo make this ou' of?"

"Oh, it's simple, really. I couldn't find anything but dijon." He took another large bite as Janus reached for his second. He swallowed the bite whole. "So I took that, added honey, because honey mussie. But then, it wasn't the right color, so I added yellow food coloring." He bit another section of hot dog off, swallowing it immediately. "But then! There's spicy brown mustard, right, so I added some red pepper flakes!" He stuffed the rest of the hot dog in, and swallowed, his arms above him, triumphant. "Ta-dah!" Remus's number went up to 2.

Janus had been silently eating his second hot dog. His brow creased at him. He swallowed.

"Shut up and give me the fucking ketchup."

"Hey, uh, does the MLE have a chewing requirement?" Joan asked, amusement in their tone as Remus grabbed his third. "I mean, that was impressive, but I'm pretty sure that people are expecting that sort of display out of Janus, because of the whole snake thing, y'know?"

"Don't be racist." Janus shot at them. They just laughed. Janus went back to eating, holding out his hand for the ketchup.

"Oh, all right, spoil sport." He grabbed it from underneath his chair, and placed it in his hand in one smooth motion. "Hey, can you imagine the kitchen before a hot dog eating contest?" Janus made a face as he finished off his second, a 2 lighting up over his head. Remus dunked his in the mustard mixture again, seemingly happy with his life choices. "What do you think it's like?" Janus grabbed another hot dog, and put ketchup on it.

"Giant microwave," Janus flatly stated, taking a bite. Remus howled with laughter, even as Janus continued to not react. When Remus calmed down enough, he took another bite, and swirled his glass of water.

"Should we do the dunk-y thing?" He asked, already stabbing his hot dog into the water.

"I suppose," Janus took a bite. "Might as well do it like the professionals." He dunked his hot dog into the water as he chewed, watching as Remus chewed through his soaked bun with no resistance. His eyebrows constricted as he readied himself, taking a bite.

"T'a p'ofeshhha's a' disga‐in'!" Soggy hot dog bun oozed out of the corners of his mouth. An edited translation blipped on screen, The professionals are disgusting!

"Oh, definitely." Remus finished off his piece, 3. "Just look at my glass!" He grabbed another hot dog and shoved his water glass into the camera, which zoomed in, showing a swirling mess of yellow congealed mustard bits floating around mushy bun bits. "It's like the second most delicious lava lamp there is." He retracted the glass back to himself.

"What's the first most delicious?" Janus halfheartedly asked.

"Actual lava lamp." Remus brought a bunless hot dog near his mouth. "Third most delicious is a lava lamp made with actual lava." He chomped through the hot dog. Janus was making his way through his own, and pointed his finger at him accusingly.

"Bun on or it doesn't count." He dunked his hot dog again. "Naked dogs are illegal in the MLE." He looked down into his glass. "There's ketchup in the water." He wrinkled his nose.

"Don't get your scales all rumpled." He slapped a bun down onto his plate, pouring half of the water on it. "My wiener might be streaking out in the open, but I'm on the up and up!" He poked at the bun, which leaked water, nodded to himself, then grabbed a straw. He slowly sucked up the wet bun through the straw, which worked surprisingly well.

"Thank goodness, I thought you were going to snort it." Janus put the last bit in his mouth. 3 over his head.

"Hey, it's just gotta be in me, right?" He slurped up the rest of the mush on the plate, gulping it down. 4 for Remus. "Nobody said anything about not being allowed to drink it!" Janus loaded his next hot dog.

"I think I'll stick with my methods." Janus applied a bit of ketchup to the hot dog before dunking it. He took a bite.

"You think this counts?" The camera focused on Remus, now with two hot dogs up his nose. "I could probably fit more."

"I'm pretty sure they need to be in your mouth." Janus finished chewing, executing another dunk bite. "Wonderful effort, though."

"Okay!" Remus opened his mouth and started to methodically place hot dogs, without buns, in his mouth. The first seven fit without problem. Then he stared to have to finagle them to fit. Janus watched idly as he continued with eating his hot dog.

"I'm going to put you and Joey Chestnut in your places." He looked down at the hot dog, dunked, and took a bite. "Urgh." He flicked the remainder of it over his shoulder. "Done." 3 ½ now floated over him. He grabbed another one.

"Aggaura ag ak gahagarra!" Remus shouted through the hot dogs in his mouth. The translation subtitle came up, simply reading ????????

"Oh, like you're doing much better," Janus retorted. "What's your count up to?" Remus held up a finger, indicating to wait, and then abruptly bit clean through his mouthful. The action was blurred in a censor. He spit out the rest of what was in his mouth and hot dog halves flew all over the table.

"I've got twenty four, not including the ones that were up my nose!" Janus tapped his own nose.

"Speaking of, you've got a little something there." He gestured to the hot dog still lodged in his nostril. "Also, you're counting halves as one. That's definitely against MLE rules."

"The MLE can eat my wiener," Remus declared firmly, yanking the hot dog out of his nose and biting it.

"You have to actually eat them." Remus smacked the rest of the nose hot dog against Janus's shoulder. He ripped it out of his hand. "This is a competition, you idiot!"

"Oh really?" Remus sneered as he started to roll some of the hot dog halves into his hair like curlers, occasionally popping one in his mouth. "Because we started out with eight packages of eight dogs," he argued through his chewing. "That's only sixty four, total. If ole Boobball's record is seventy three, we've already failed!" He stuffed a bunch of buns in his mouth to make up for the bunless ones. 5 for Remus.

"No, shut up. I will beat him!" Janus picked up his hot dog. "I hurt. Even picking this up hurts." He looked the camera dead on. "Joan," he started, serious, "If we die from overdosing on hot dogs, you have to finish this yourself. You've got to finish filming, and you have to edit this all by yourself." Joan's laughter trickled out from behind the camera.

"Okay."

"And Thomas Annus." Remus piped in. He grabbed another hot dog bun. He ate it like corn on the cob from one side to the other.

"Right, you've got to carry out Thomas Annus the rest of the year." Janus put his arms on the table letting his head fall into them. "You need to film, edit, and upload all the videos on the channel."

"Alright," they agreed. "All hot dog videos, right?"

"Three hundred sixty plus videos of nothing but hot dogs is ridiculous." Remus argued. "Throw some sausages into the mix, yeah?" He stuck a hot dog in front his mouth, and chomped it bit by bit, imitating Pac-Man. He even made the mouth flapping noises. Remus's number went up to 6 1/2.

"Have that bastard Joey Chestnut help you." Janus grumbled. "This is all his fault anyway."

"Yeah! OKAY, GOOGLE!" Remus screamed, readying another hot dog. "CALL JOEY CHESTNUT!"

'Calling Joy of Chestnuts ' the device responded.

"No," Janus stepped in. "Okay, Google. Call Joey Chestnut."

'Calling Joe Chessrug.'

"Hey, Google." Janus said through gritted teeth, "Call Jo-ey," he breathed in, "Chest," he breathed out, "nut!"

'Calling Jerry from Chesapeake.'

"NO!!!!" Remus was in hysterics. Janus turned on him immediately. "Did you do something?! Is this your fault?!" Remus cut off his laughter, leering at him.

"My fault? So quick to blame me, are you?" He stuffed the last piece in his mouth, and grabbed another hot dog, offended, "as if I can't be trusted, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," Janus glared.

"Okay." Remus shrugged, any offense disappearing off his face completely. He stared at Janus, as he slowly, slowly started lowering the hand with the hot dog, until his other hand slowly grabbed the waist of his pants. He pulled it away from his body.

"No, no," Janus grabbed his wrist, effectively halting him. "The dogs must be ingested via your mouth," he tutted. "Even if they end up inside you, they have to be consumed the normal eating way."

"Aw, poopy."

"That either." Remus pouted, and held out the hot dog towards Janus, shaking it gently. "Come on. You can do it. A few more bites?"

"No, go away. I hate food." Remus just grinned and shook the hot dog more. "Fine, then you have to suffer, too." He grabbed his own hot dog, and held it up to Remus, who gasped.

"How romantic! Shoving our wieners in each other's faces?" He sighed dreamily. "Come on, then, let's do this right." Janus stared blankly at him, still looking a bit nauseous, but held his arm out a little bit, letting Remus wrap his hot dog holding arm around Janus's elbow. He let his mouth hang open, allowing room for Remus to place the hot dog in, and he took a bite. While he chewed, he looked into Remus's, well, gaping hole, and abruptly shoved the rest of his own hot dog messily in. Remus chewed with gusto, getting bits everywhere.

"You're right. That was very romantic," he finished the last of it with a final bite, and wiped his fingers off on Remus's bag-covered shoulder. Remus finally swallowed his mouthload.

"D'aww," he batted his eyelids, "you know how I like my wieners rough and sloppy!" He picked up another hot dog. "Spaghetti, too!" He lightly sucked at the tip, before slurping the hot dog out of its bun, into his mouth.

Then it came partially back out as he choked a little. He cleared his throat, then sucked it right back in. "Whaddya say? Wanna Lady and the Tramp this thing?" Remus tapped the plate of hot dogs, even as Janus began to look ill. "Emphasis on the tramp," he leered, waggling his eyebrows furiously.

The timer hit zero just then, beeping its announcement of failure. Janus looked up as Remus put a hot dog under his nose like a second moustache.

"Oh, no." Janus unenthusiastically put his hands on his cheeks. Remus mimicked him, tensing his upper lip so that he could keep the hot dog stationary. "And we were so close, too. Ugh," he put a hand on his head, "I've got the hot dog sweats." Remus stroked his meaty moustache.

"What's the final count, Joan-dges?" He stuck out his arms in the camera's direction. There was silence.

"Oh, was that supposed to be me?" Joan asked, amused yet confused.

"Joan plus judges," Remus clarified. "So yeah! C'mon," he beckoned them with both hands. "What're the scores?"

"I have no idea," the camera moved ever so slightly as they shrugged. "I haven't been paying any attention. I think the editors worry about that." As they finished speaking a big yellow 4 1/2 hovered over Janus, and a big green 8 over Remus. Janus hesitated.

"Well, look at those scores!" He gestured at his chest level. Remus looked down at his chest, too. The numbers hurriedly blinked out from over their heads to float where Janus was pointing.

"Woah," Remus overexaggerated his surprise, "look at how many we ate!" He gave a small, yet innuendo-filled grin. "And violated."

"It looks like it's enough to beat the MLE record! Just like that! No problems at all!"

"Woo-hoo! Go us!" Remus stood. "Victory chest bump!" He started pulling Janus up by his arm.

"No, please," he swatted his hands off, "I'm going to throw up all over you if any part of my front touches anything."

"Hmm, a little dirty, but I'd be down for trying anything once." Remus happily offered. He paused, "hey, who are the editors, anyway?"

"I don't know," he stared at the camera. "Who are the editors? Who uploads these things? Who manages this channel?" He continued to stare off facing forward. Remus joined in, staring into the camera for a minute.

"Oh well," the moment broke, "guess it's not important!" Remus shrugged. "What's today's lesson?"

"I don't feel nice."

"No, I mean our channel death lesson." He wiggled his fingers in emphasis. Janus groaned.

"Ugh, fine." He adjusted himself so that he was sitting upright. "Death comes for us all," he intoned gravely, "especially if you eat a shit ton of hot dogs. Then it comes even quicker. But not as quickly as we'll be coming for you, Chestnut." Janus pointed. "Beware. Subscribe while you still can." Remus looked down at the platters.

"Hey, what are we supposed to do with all these extras?" Janus shrugged, and Remus grabbed two. "Hot dog fight!" He reared back his arms, Janus protesting just as he threw them at him. The video ended as the first hot dog hit.

The clock resumed its countdown.

Endcard:

Janus was outside at the swamp. He was carrying a tray filled with what appeared to be all the leftover hot dogs and buns. Silently, with a neutral expression, he threw the contents onto the surface of the swamp.

A few tentacles shot out of the depths, gathering the food in one fell swoop, pulling it down out of sight. Janus calmly reached into the folds of his cape and took out the concoction that was Remus's jar of mustard, and tossed it in the same spot where that, too, was dragged under by a tentacle. Janus waited, and barely a moment later, the tentacle rose back up, and the now-empty jar was lightly placed on the shore.

Janus turned his head back to the camera. "Suck it, Joey Chestnut."

----------

First chapter since UA ended! So many feelings.

Anyway, I had some trouble writing this chapter, and while there were definitely external contributing factors, I think I need some more motivation. So! I've decided to create a discord server, come and join! I didn't figure out how to use role bots for nothing.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #ta chapter #my stories #joan the camera operator

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