#Yet he *still* drank from the bottle that Oliver had handed him

[youngeditor1999]

The fact that Felix believed Oliver over Farleigh about Venetia...

Like, Felix.

Felix. 😩😭😔

He trusted Oliver that much; to the point where he believed a man he had only known for less than a year over a cousin that he had known his whole. Life. A cousin who was more like a brother to him when it came down to it!!

His blind trust in Oliver is ultimately what lead to his downfall.

[nefkyo]

Writing In The Sand

a c!TNTduo/quackbur fic (and my first official fanfic ever) where c!Wilbur meets c!Quackity before the ending of their S1 lore, but things don't go according to plan. At all.

I don't know how tagging works, but this fic contains:

Spoilers for c!Quackity's an c!Wilbur lore finale, mentions of alcohol, hungover antics, miscommunication?, I don't have it in me to write smut rn but there is pre-marital kissing, fluff but also angst, I'm still not sure if I want a sad or happy ending so don't count on it, a single mention of c!Tommy's lore and overall a lot of flashbacks

Chapter 1 (1/?)

Wilbur stirs awake, head bobbed to the side, horrible weights crushing the sides of his temples. He shifts onto a bed that is too luscious to recognize as his own. The velvet blankets underneath him are too light to be the ones you'd use in a warm house in the middle of the snow.

He didn't go home. He stayed. Fuck.

He sits up on his elbows and pinches his eyebrows, and realizes his glasses are missing. He snaps his head around, feeling the bedsheets in the relative darkness. The only light seems to be coming from curtains that were left a single clumsy ray of light filter in the room. Which was huge. As was the bed. And the window. Fuuuuck.

His fingers wrapped around something new. They were definitely not his glasses. It was something light and nimble, soft but not as much as the stuffing of a pillow, and it seemed to move on its own. Whatever it was attached to also shifted and made an almost human noise that resembled a grumble of discomfort, and Wilbur realized he was holding Quackity's tail. And his other hand was resting clumsily on a wing.

Quackity. Quackity was sleeping next to him.

FFFUUUUUUUCK.

He basically leapt off the bed. His heart and his brain were running two, maybe three marathons at once. What his he doing there? What is he doing here? And what now, should he wake him up? No, he couldn't. Not yet, at least. For some reason, he felt he needed to see him first. Was it out of spite? Out of pride? ...Affection?

Flashes of images from the night before were already seeping in. Sand being strangely cold in his fist. A pile of empty glasses, ice melting slowly inside. Elaborate drinks and straight vodka. Quackity's eyes glinting up at him before both tastes blend in his mouth.

As he staggered towards the drawn curtains, he bumped into his own shoes. He also realized the lower half of his body was still clothed, socks included. He checked his pockets and sure enough, his glasses were tucked in there, miraculously intact. He opened the temple tips and placed them on his head.

He peeked out behind the curtain. He wasn't afraid of heights, his father basically uprooted the fear out of him, but holy shit they were high up. He could see all of Las Nevadas from there. The sky over the sandy hills and still dormant city was grey. It must've been midday already.

From the window, he spots the lavish bar he found Quackity in some ridiculous time at night. He hadn't drank anything yet, just kept picking at a plate of olives with a toothpick. Which he threatened him with as he sat down two seats away from him.

He turned around, hand slowly pulling back the curtain just enough. And he looked out in awe.

Quackity was barely more dressed than him, resting on his side. His right arm was drooped over his head, on which he was shocked not to find the infamous beanie. He spotted it on the floor, right below his flabby left hand. And his wings, oh my god, his wings were splayed out, hanging with some sort of grace over his body. It almost seemed his left wing was shielding him from the light like a veil of protection.

He now remembers the dancing. They were enough drinks and chatter in that Quackity had stopped holding everything like it could double as a weapon, and had decided to take him to the lounges a few steps from the bar, holding a bottle of gin and two glasses in the same hand. The whole place was empty except for the two of them, and they sat on these velvet couches next to a jukebox. "You want to pick something? Go ahead." Quackity asked him, sat on the couch in front of him. "Hm, I dunno." he replied, realizing he'd been staring at it. "It feels kind of weird to look at music discs that hold no meaning for the first time in a while, doesn't it?" he chuckled, and strangely enough, Quackity did as well. He stood up and picked a disc himself. He doesn't remember what the song was, maybe he was more focused on watching Quackity miraculously untense. It was gradual enough you couldn't tell he was very into it at first, but at some point he just let loose. It reminded him of Niki's birthday party, except there was no party to entertain. It was just the two of them. He remembers Quackity pulling him in to dance as well, and the song shifting to something softer that brought his hands to his waist, and Quackity's on his shoulders. It was intimate. It was pretty.

Wilbur snapped out of it, realizing he might've woken up if he kept shining light on him. A thought he hoped his hungover mind would've repressed for just one more minute. "Today is the day." he whispered to himself. He sighed and let go of the curtain.

Guided by what he had memorized of his surroundings he came across his sweater, discarded carelessly on a chair, then his shirt at the foot of the bed. Both reeked of alcohol, but so did he, and it's not like he knew his way around wherever he was enough to find a washing machine. He did, however, find the bathroom.

He squinted his eyes at the flash of the light above, and barely cared to notice how immaculate the whole place was. He held onto the marble bowl of the sink with both hands and looked in the mirror: saying he looked more dead than he already was would've been an understatement. He washed himself up as best as he could and drank so, so much tap water.

As he was about to close the door, he noticed a 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging on the doorknob. He looked up and noticed a golden plate with the number 801. He was in the hotel! And it was as expensive as it looked from the outside, judging by the tidiness and faint smell of cologne permeating the hall. Wilbur prayed he had any money left in his coat, wherever he'd lost it, and also to find a spare key downstairs when the door ungracefully slipped out of his grip and locked him out. (Quackity definitely had the original somewhere on his person, but the chances of waking him up were too high.)

He took the elevator down to the ground floor ("holy shit, it goes up to 17?!") and reached an immense reception. Initially, he was surprised to see people already awake, until he noticed they were all employees. All smiling, dressed in pristine uniforms, carrying serviette trays, luggage and cleaning products. Not an actual customer in sight. It only came to him as he was reaching the front desk that he was also the only human in sight. Behind the desk was something green and slick, shaped like a man with a wide smile, who immediately met his eyes and greeted him with a half-screamed "Good afternoon, Wilbur Soot from L'Manberg!", almost giving him a heart attack.

Now he remembers why he was never the one to order anything at the bar. Because the bartender - who looked exactly like the receptionist, by the way - was a tall slimey abomination who only responded to Quackity's requests. When he asked about it, Quackity said something about "an experiment" and being short on staff. And people in Las Nevadas in general. He does remember Quackity drunkenly telling one "And start listening to the customers too, goddamn it! He's been here this whole time and I had to order and do everything for both!"

"Y-Yes, uhm, good afternoon." Wilbur answered, clearing his throat as he glanced up at the huge metal clock. Sure enough, it was 12:39 PM. "Lunch will be served in approximately 21 minutes, Mr. Soot." the receptionist said without even looking at the clock. "N-no... That's not what I was looking for..." "Well, what can we do for you, Mr. Soot?" he responded without missing a beat. Wilbur placed his hands on the mahogany counter, which he could almost see his own reflection in, and tentatively asked "See, I seem to have lost my coat somewhere... It's a brown--" "Ah! Not to worry Mr. Soot, it's right here!" the receptionist exclaimed again. And without ever breaking eye contact, he reached in a compartment underneath the counter and pulled out his jacket, neatly folded inside a plastic wrapping and, even more surprisingly, clean. "You dropped it as you and Quackity from Las Nevadas were making your way up the stairs!"

"We took the stairs?" he asked mindlessly as he discretely checked his coat's pockets (no, not a sign of cash).

"Sure did! As you came in last night, you said you needed to steady your legs because you couldn't feel them, so Mr Quackity from Las Nevadas helped you walk until you reached the 3rd floor, where you shouted 'I am NOT walking up 7 more bloody flights of stairs, Big Q!' and finally took the elevator!"

Wilbur didn't know if he was cringing at the receptionist's horrible impression of a British accent or his retelling of his drunk antics. "...Right, uhm... So, I also came down to ask--" "Would you like some water and aspirins? Still on Mr. Quackity's tab, not to worry!" the man whispered with a ridiculously forced wink, probably an attempt to be friendly. So he's paying for everything and NOTHING, since he owns the place. Wilbur nodded, and as the receptionist finally broke eye contact with him to reach into the mini fridge behind him, he asked "Do you also have, uhm... A spare room key?" and watched in horror as the receptionist completely turned his head to face him like an owl. "Of course! Room 801, was it? I have it right here!"

After the nearly traumatic experience at the reception, Wilbur rushed back to the room and opened the door carefully. More light was seeping into the room by the minute. Quackity was now sleeping on his back, almost completely splayed on the bed. Again, Wilbur had to tell himself to focus. He poured himself a glass of water with an aspirin from the expensive bottle, then placed another with the same fizzling medicine on Quackity's nightstand. He scavenged for the man's missing clothing pieces and folded them as best as he could, sometimes looking back at him. He didn't have much time, but he still decided to leave a note. He consistently cursed himself under his breath as he struggled to write coherent sentences on the back of a hotel visiting card. He settled on the message and put it against the glass.

Alright, time to go.

He glanced down at Quackity. His relaxed face, with his lips slightly ajar. And his hair, a complete mess. He remembers running his hands through it. Very silky.

Start moving. You have to go.

And a vision came to him, of how they helped unbutton each other's shirts and traced lines over the scars and stitches. And how how beautiful it was that someone who had just as much history on his body knew exactly how to touch them, caress them, kiss them. And--

He wouldn't want you to stay anyway.

Someone knocked at the door. Wilbur rushed to open it, and sure enough, it was another one of those slimy things, this time in a ridiculous maid outfit. "Good afternoon, Wilbur Soot from L'Manberg! I am here to clean the room!" the maid announced way too loudly, and Wilbur shushed it. "Mr Quackity is still sleeping. Let him wake up on his own." he whispered, and the maid simply answered "Okay Mr Soot." with a surprisingly soft voice. Wilbur closed the door behind them slowly. Knowing he had no reason to open it again left a bitter taste in his mouth. The maid asked "Where are you going by yourself, Mr Soot?", to which he simply responded "Home" before disappearing down the stairs.

[imaginedreamwrite]

You, Always You: Part 11

The room was empty save for the two of you, and yet there was more food on one of the black tables set up in the room than you were sure you’d eaten in the past week, with a keg of beer in the corner and ice-chilled bottles of Heineken in a Rangers ice bucket.

There was an overall impressive setup and atmosphere to the private viewing box, with deeply seated reclining leather seats formed like the chairs in the stands, only far more comfortable. To the far left was a leather sectional with a footrest made of the same material sitting in front.

The lights were dimmed to aid the whole feel of the room, and though the television was fairly silent, you knew there would’ve been quite a lot of noise in here when it wasn’t just you and Steve. You could even picture the half-naked women brought in here to entertain the essential businessmen as they drank and enjoyed the game on the ice below.

“So this is how the rich and famous watch a game.” You smirked and glanced between Steve and the ice bucket of beer he was walking toward.

“You know,” Steve grabbed an amber glass bottle and held one out to you, his jersey not yet donned, as he walked around you to sit on the sectional, “Bucky and I share the box.”

“Oh,” you nodded your head, “I am not sitting anywhere then.”

Steve smirked and leaned back, spreading his legs to get comfortable, then he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long swig of the ale inside the glass. When he lowered the bottle once more, he had clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth while he looked you up and down.

“When was the last time you had these couches sanitized?” You took another playful dig at Bucky as you stole a plate of loaded nachos from the table and tucked them into your chest as you crossed the distance between you and Steve.

“Hmm…” Steve hummed, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he played along, as he participated in the jest, “you worried about something?”

“Bucky,” you stepped between his legs and slowly sank onto his lap, an action that was pleasing to Steve, “is kind of a man-whore.”

“Not even here to defend himself,” Steve mumbled in your ear and set his beer down on the cupholder to the right of him before his arm had wrapped around your waist, settling you against his chest.

“Come on,” you snorted and leaned against him, “remember when we caught him in the band room-“

“Oh, God.” Steve made a sound that was trapped in his throat, the sound caught between a snort and a laugh, and when his fingers flexed as they rest against your stomach, you had felt your heart skip a beat. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“I mean,” you laughed and drew yourself further into him, “the boy showed no interest in band until he found out that cheerleader-“

“-was in band, and then he attempted to play the tuba.” Steve had snorted again, hiding his laugh in the crook of your neck. “He was a man-whore.”

“I told you.” You hummed and shifted on his lap, picking at a cheese-covered tortilla chip, frowning at the olives. “This is for you.”

Without hesitation, he had leaned forward and bitten down on the food you were offering him, taking it from you while retaining eye contact with you. As he chewed and ate what he had given you, you felt him stirring beneath you and the tension between you two growing naturally. It was the connection you had always had, the relationship that was still alive during the last ten years, the bond that had made it seem like ten minutes instead of the extended time you were separated.

“Thank you,” Steve drew his hand down to the edge of your sweater and brushed his fingers against the band of your jeans, the tips of his fingers trailing over your goose-bumped flesh.

“You can have them all if they have olives.” Your voice was quiet, and the world seemed to fade momentarily, even as the Tv had gained sound as the game started.

It was you, and it was Steve, and you were on a date. The world became a monotonous blur, nothing stood out in the space around you, and all you could focus on was Steve. All you could do was look at him, was gaze into his blue-green eyes, and wonder how you could have ever gotten so lucky to have known him.

“You’re not watching the game.” Steve’s voice was equally as quiet, and he was as similarly distracted by you as you were him.

“Neither are you.” You leaned forward until your lips were almost touching, and then you parted your lips and quickly flicked him on the nose with your tongue.

You yanked yourself out of his grip before he could retaliate, returning to the table to forgo the olive-laced nachos for something else. As you looked through your eyelashes, you glanced toward Steve and tried not to physically quiver at the look he was shooting you, the look that made you weak at the knees.

It was as intense as it was telling, and it was wholly enough to make you collapse.

“You wanna make a friendly bet?” You spoke, grabbing a variety of the food on the table, save for anything that looked as if it would have mushrooms or olives and walked back toward him.

“A friendly bet?” Steve draped his arms across the back of the couch and studied you, his lips twitching when he saw you shift your weight from one foot to the other and took notice of you rubbing your thighs together. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You inhaled sharply but ignored his question and nodded your head, offering him the plate of food you’d grabbed while your beer was still sitting on the table behind you. Steve had taken the dish from you and then yanked you back onto his lap, your back nestled against his chest while his hand rested against your hip.

He kept you there, settling you against him, and when you had truly relaxed, he had grabbed one of your favourite deep-fried food and held it out for you, just as you had done for him. You parted your lips and bit down gently, mindful of the placement of his fingers, and as the flavours burst on your tongue, you let slip a little moan before you laughed under your breath, bashful suddenly over your reaction to such ordinary pub food.

“It has been so long since I’ve been to a game and eaten food like this.” You looked back at Steve, watching his attention drop from your eyes to your lips, and you had just as shamelessly followed the movement of his tongue as he wet his bottom lip. “I should thank you.”

“Thank you exchanged for a kiss.” He muttered and slid his hand from your hip to the small of your back.

“Is that the going rate?” You leaned in, regardless of the tease, and brushed your lips against his in the first of many thank you kisses that came as the two of you were supposed to be watching the game.

The actual game, however, didn’t lie in the back and forth jousting of the puck between players; it was a toss-up between who could gain control of the other. It was a game of tender touches, and the strokes of hands against flesh as the two of you sensuously battled for control while pressed against each other on the sectional, the game nothing more than background noise.

“I have never eaten so much food before.” You exhaled sharply as you rested your hand against your stomach and linked your arm in with Steve’s, your hip bumping into his as the two of you walked away from the arena toward your hotel half a block away.

You had both opted to walk instead of catching a cab since driving was clearly off the table since you and Steve, after the first period, had gotten serious about watching the game and had both been drinking.

“I can’t believe you spilled your beer on yourself.” Steve looked down at you, his eyes crinkled at the corner as you lifted the edge of your sweater and frowned, the slight stain on the letters of the ‘Rangers’ making your pout grow.

“I can’t believe I drank that much. I mean, I haven’t had that much in so long.” You sighed and squeezed his arm as you walked, casually admiring the city lights as they had glistened against the darkened sky.

There was something innately beautiful about the skyline and the city lights at night, and even though the traffic was always heavy no matter what time of day it was, you had to admire the way it fit so easily with the overall charm of the great city. You had felt at home here; you had felt as if everything you had ever wanted was here. And really, it was. Steve was here, Noelle was here, the last memories of your mom were here.

“Did you have fun?” Steve glanced at you, his gaze and his voice soft.

His question was riddled with genuine curiosity and concern, the first date you had been on since you confessed your feelings for each other ten years ago, and he wanted it to be good. You knew that even if this were the first date, you wouldn’t have pictured it as your first date.

If you were an outsider looking in, you imagined that this would’ve been the fifth date, maybe even more. You would’ve seen the way you and Steve were hanging off of each other, the way you leaned into the other and the ease of conversation passing back and forth. If you were an outsider looking in, you would have seen the look on Steve’s face when you passed under a streetlamp, and the glow illuminated your face, the adoration that had been so bold and intense.

“Yes.” You answered quickly yet honestly. “I had more fun tonight than I have in a long time. I forgot what it was like to go out and enjoy myself, to allow myself to relax and…be in the moment.”

“I’m glad you had fun,” Steve stopped you before you had a chance to escape his grasp before either of you could enter the hotel.

He had closed the distance and brought you chest to chest, the tips of your noses touching as he leaned in, and that first static shock between his lips and yours had been felt throughout every atom.

You had tilted your head and clutched onto the front of his jersey before you shifted your weight and stood on your tippy-toes. There was more force behind the kiss, more intensity as you openly groaned against him as he wrapped his arms around your waist and almost hauled you entirely off of your feet.

The only sound that broke the kiss was the shrill honk of a horn as a car passed and the loud whooping of a man half-hanging out the passengers’ side with a Rangers jersey on, celebrating the win. You giggled under your breath and leaned your forehead on his shoulder, feeling both the ease of the moment and the desire to crawl into bed and sleep off the night’s consumption of alcohol.

“You know I’ll have nothing to wear out of here.” you drew back and picked at your beer-stained sweater. “I mean, I can’t walk out naked.”

“No, you can’t.” Steve agreed and grasped your hand in his, gently pulling you behind him as he stepped into the hotel and walked both of you to the front desk.

While he was checking you both in, you turned and studied the lobby from the new glass revolving doors to the fine dining restaurant near the back of the hall, set apart by the same kind of glass doors at the hotel entrance. A set of chandeliers was hanging nearby, the silver-stained metal contrasting against the warm glow of the lights and the sconces attached to the walls nearby.

“Sweetheart,” Steve drew your attention back to himself, holding up two keycards and a signed piece of paper, “ready to go up?”

“Whenever you are.” You grinned though it was short-lived as the receptionist shot you a dirty look that pierced right through you.

As her glare lingered, you had kept your head down until you and Steve stepped into the elevator and the doors had closed. Only then had you raised your head and pursed your lips, your mind racing as you tried to piece together the odd interaction you had just had with a woman you didn’t even know.

“Are you okay?” Steve questioned your odd look, and while you were more than happy to indulge his answer with something contrived, you couldn’t entirely open your mouth to say anything.

Instead, you had tiredly nodded your head and leaned against him, your left temple resting against his right arm and your fingers fiddling with the hem of your sweater. The ride was primarily taken in silence, though you could hear Steve humming some obnoxious song you had both liked in high school. While you attempted to ignore the tune, it had only been a minute later that you had muttered lyrics along with him, the two of you singing quietly until the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

“I’m a little tired.” You chimed, feeling as if you could purr when Steve kissed the top of your head. “I’m on the schedule of a one-year-old, and I should be in bed.”

“Noelle,” Steve spoke her name with appropriate fondness, pausing a moment outside of your room door to smile your way. “She’s cute. She looks like you.”

“She is cute.” You leaned against the door and folded your arms in front of you. “She’s growing every day, and she’s babbling more. Forming a few words.”

“She’s beautiful.” He complimented you and Noelle in the same breath as he made another claim that she was most definitely your daughter. “Takes after her mom.”

“You’re sweet.” Your heart skipped another beat, shivering as his hand slipped beneath your hoodie again, his hands pushing your stained sweater up your body, exposing your stomach and middle back.

“You should get out of this,” Steve mumbled as he kissed your neck softly, drawing his fingers further up your back as he continued to help you remove your sweater, no protests falling from you as you sighed. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you exhaled slowly, raising your arms so Steve could slip it over your head.

“Thank you.” You whispered your appreciation, though you weren’t just talking about him helping you out of your sweater, but rather for everything he had done for you.

“I would do anything for you, Y/N,” Steve whispered in your ear as he had dropped your sweater to the ground and then ran his hands up and down your arms. “I want you to know that.”

You leaned against him, your back to his chest. Steve had drawn you closer and wound his arms around your abdomen. You melted into his embrace as he kissed a trail up and down your neck, leaving no inch of your skin unkissed or loved.

“Steve,” you hummed and turned in his arms, your chests pressed against each other and your lips mere inches apart, “I really can’t thank you enough. For all, you did for me.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” His gaze burned through you, and he let you go as you pulled yourself away, and his hands fell to his sides.

“I’m going to shower. I smell like beer.” You winced and had started to shuffle toward the shower.

“I hope there are no towels.” Steve grinned as he sat on the edge of the bed and looked you over with that same, familiar heat in his eyes that only grew more potent when you fired back over your shoulder.

“Neither do I.” You winked and stepped inside the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Steve drew slow kisses down the side of your neck as he teased apart the robe, the tie falling to the surface of the bed as the robe started to slip. He looked at you through his lashes as your lips parted in soft, airy sighs. The response to his tongue tasting your flesh, the wet expanse of his tongue drawing against the curve of your breast as you pulled your hands down the nape of his neck, was electrifying.

“I promise,” he hummed against your pebbled flesh, the tip of his nose nudging your nipple, “I will take it as far and as fast as you want.”

“Or as slow,” you repeated him, your body growing increasingly warm as he settled himself against you, as Steve translated the manner of his love through open mouth kisses and tender trailings of his fingertips around your bare hips and under the hem of the robe.

“Anything you want,” his voice was husky as he worked his mouth back up from the valley of your breasts to the column of your neck, “I want to make you feel good.”

“You do,” you tilted your head and glanced at him, your hands stilling at the lapels of his matching white robe, “you make me feel so good, Steve.”

He saw it, a glimmer of insecurity in your eyes that the slight hesitation had only mirrored as you paused your hand’s movement to withdraw his robe. You had a sexual history with your ex that hadn’t been pleasant, and without even needing to tell Steve the dirty details, he knew you were hesitant to go to a certain point. He knew you were reluctant to let yourself be consumed, to allow yourself to be touched and pleasurably tasted.

“Do you remember,” he had drawn his hand further up your robe and settled it on your stomach as he leaned in and brushed his lips against your earlobe, “when one of the first times you met me?”

“You had charcoal on your cheeks,” you glanced at him, laying so close to him your legs were nearly entwined, “you’d been working on some portrait, and it wasn’t working out.”

“Mmhmm.” Steve reached out for you again, drawing the backs of knuckles down the side of your cheek as he gently pushed you to lay down. “It was a picture of you, but I couldn’t get your likeness.”

“You never told me that.” Your breath hitched in your throat, and you had altogether forgotten what it was like to be around someone who looked at you like you were worth more than air itself.

“I never told you; I never showed you.” Steve had continued his fingers down a trail between the valley of your breasts, under the tie of the robe, and to your abdomen. “I want you, Y/N. I have always wanted you.”

“Steve-“ your protest turned to a whimper when he had leaned in and drawn his lips across a sensitive part of your neck, drawing out soft gasps of pleasure.

“I know you’re not ready; I know your ex has hurt you.” He muttered, taking his time as he touched you.

“Make me feel good.” You grabbed his hand and slid it further toward your thighs and the wetness gathering there. “Please, Steve…I want you to make me feel good.”

“Sweetheart, are you sure?” Steve was asking; he was doubling down on getting a straight and concise answer from you after everything you had been through.

“Please.” You crooned, and your legs fell open, his hand hovering above your dampening core, hesitating a moment before you felt the first stroke of his fingers against your soaked and puffy pussy lips.

The smooth and featherlight touch was enough already to have you gasping his name, as the sudden urge to grind yourself against his fingers had overwhelmed you.

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” Steve teased with his vice growing hoarse every moment longer that you had lost yourself in the simple act. “You’ve gone so long without being touched how you should.”

“Yes,” you arched your back as he gently pushed two fingers into your cunt, stretching your tight walls around his fingers, “oh fuck….”

“I’ve just started, and you’re already losing your mind. Poor girl,” Steve drew his lips against yours, his tongue brushing against yours as he worked your over with his fingers, “you need me to take care of you?”

“Steve,” you whimpered, “it feels so good.”

“I know, honey,” Steve angled his fingers inside your cunt while his thumb stroked your clit, and the sensation was truly driving you toward a quick orgasm, an end, “I know what you need. You need to wait; you’re so tight, and it’s been too long-“

“-too long without you.” You bucked your hips as your hands fell to your chest, your fingers grasping at your breasts in needy desperation.

“I know,” Steve mumbled his praise in your ear as he hooked his fingers and tapped your clit rhythmically. “I’m going to make you feel good. Just like I promised.”

His name fell from your lips like a mantra as he continued to use his fingers and his thumb to bring your pleasure and his mouth to praise you as if you’d never heard any before him. His fingers and thumb were electrifying as he touched you, as he whispered huskily in your ear, and as you had met your quick end, there was no shortage of the softly spoken ‘good girl’ in your ear that sent another shockwave through you.

“That,” you exhaled slowly as you came down from your high, flooded with pleasure, “that was incredible.”

“You,” Steve drew his fingers from your pussy, and you glanced at your cum and your juices coating his fingertips, “taste incredible.”

You shivered pleasantly as you watched him not only taste your pleasure but completely clean his fingers with a hearty moan. You were fixated on sight, unable to look away from him as he revelled in your taste, as he watched you predatorily. You loved it, you loved the way he looked at you as if he wanted to devour you completely, and you almost wish he had.

“Steve,” you sighed his name, and your eyes fluttered closed when he kissed your forehead and tucked you into his chest, “this has been the best date I have ever had.”

“Just wait until our next date.”

[notmanagingmymischief]

𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝙸: 𝙰𝚕𝚖𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚅𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛. 𝘰𝘳 𝙷𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎.

yep, every monday you get a random headcanon for a character of my choice. welcome.

~

When Victor was killed, Alma obviously blamed herself

She figured that if she had been there

She could have helped him.

But now she's on her knees in the dirt

Holding his head in her lap and barely able to see through her tears

Just staring down at what used to be his eyes

Beautiful blues, completely gone

Along with his life force

She's begging and pleading, weeping loudly

Not caring that she's completely falling apart in front of her wards

It takes Enoch and Abe pulling her by the arms

Still screaming and now thrashing violently

To get her away from Victor so that Emma and Olive can pick him up and take him home

Everyone was crying, but none were as affected as Alma and Bronwyn

The two spent the most time together after the accident

Healing together as best they could

Alma acted as even more of a mother to her than before

And Bronwyn was her reminder that Victor wasn't totally gone

Because his sister was still alive

She could still protect her.

No one was allowed to leave the house for weeks after that

Even as the begged to be let out to play

Alma wouldn't budge

She remained the strict and unyielding headmistress

At least, during the day that is

But as soon as night fell

When everyone was long asleep

Alma sat in her office all alone

A crystal decanter filled with whiskey sitting on her desk

And a matching crystal glass in her hand

Tears falling silently as she drinks herself dizzy

She's good at holding her alcohol

So the next morning she

somehow

Never has a hangover

No matter how much she drank the night prior

She used the alcohol to forget about him

Forget the accident

Forget her children

For get the world.

Even if it was just for a few hours

Often, however, she'd find herself in his room

Her face pressed into his chest

Hands fisted in his shirt and tears soaking the fabric

If she's especially delusional, she'll sometimes hallucinate

And it's enough to keep her alive when she sees him sitting up

Holding her hand

Smiling

Telling her that he's happy now, and that he loves her

Only for her to realize it's an illusion.

After all, he's still dead when she's done with the bottle.

This went on for months until one night Enoch came downstairs late

And walked right into one of her wallowing sessions

And from that night forward he sat with her

So she could talk

Instead of get drunk

She hated it at first, obviously

Opening up to her children was absolutely terrifying for the ymbryne

But eventually it started to work

She let Enoch in

And eventually Emma, of course

Until the alcohol was locked securely away, with the only key remaining in Enoch's possession

She still cries herself to sleep sometimes

Even though years and years have passed

But in the morning she's good as new

Yet, the older ones see through her façade

See when she's barely strong enough to hold herself up

And they help her push the memories back

[extremelyblackandwhite]

dress

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: cheating, smut, age gap, angst, blackmailing 

a/n: the reader is at least 10 years younger than lee. if that upsets you, please don’t read this work. additionally, i based reader’s 60′s style mostly out of  that oufit margot robbie wore for once upon a time in hollywood and megan from mad men, you can see my inspiration outfits here [x] [x] hope you enjoy it xx

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try and if I get burned, at least we were electrified. I'm spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we're both drunk. Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about all of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you ...

The rain fell harshly and unkindly on the pavement for the fifth day in a row, the sun having forsaken the forgotten hellish town that was Knockemstiff, Ohio. Few could say the name and ever fewer dared to enter the town. Even God’s afraid of it, his mother would tell him after nursing what felt like another one of her endless bottles of liquor. It was a haunted town, not a lot left and those who did never crossed paths with it again. Murder and crime were all time highs but not even the government dared to come in and try to to anything which meant any police force in the town were like gods, deciding who lived and who didn’t. One of those god-like men was Lee Bodecker, however he preferred you called him Sheriff Lee Bodecker.  He was a chubby man in his early thirties, tall but the beer belly made him hunch making him look shorter than he was. He had once been the envy of the town, one of the most handsome men of the town but years of living in Knockemstiff wear down everyone. His own poison had been alcohol which had ended up with him in therapy with his wife and with a therapist who had told him to curb the craving of alcohol with sweets instead. It had little to nothing as he still drank like his life depended on it and tonight was no different from other nights. He took off his hat as he entered the local bar in town, the only bar in town, and everyone looked his way, silence installing the ever noisy bar. He liked it, Lee liked it. He knew he was not the handsome one, in fact his look made him quite funny so he made himself scary. Lee made sure that everyone who looked his way, heard his voice or saw his shadow was afraid of him. It definitely worked as once he sat on the bar stool, there was already a glass with 5 fingers of his favourite drink. 

Everything was silence except for the mumbling of men discussing their days until suddenly the mumbling was no longer about the hell that was living in Knockemstiff. He turned around in his chair and understood why the men were suddenly so interested. There she was, dressed in a high neck black shirt which stood over a white skirt. Matching go go boots left her legs bare, something women in Knockemstiff did not do, still stuck in decades of last. She wasn’t from around and everyone knew it merely by the way she dressed but Sheriff Bodecker knew different. Men watched like dogs as she made her way to the bar, to his side. 

     - Y/N. - he greeted her. - What are you doing here? Trying to disrupt the town?

     - My grandmother died.

     - I heard. My condolences.

     - She left me all of what was hers including the house so I’m here to sell it. 

     - The one in Brewer Heights? - she nodded. - Tis a nice house, but I don’t think anyone here would have enough to buy it.

     - I’ll decide that. - she held the glass the bartender in between her hands, her eyes roaming over to his hands were his wedding ring had started to become tight around his finger. - Still with Jane?

     - Why wouldn’t I be? - he cocked an eyebrow at her. - What are you doing here, Y/N?

    - I told you, I’m here to sell ...

    - No. - he interrupted. - Why are you here, at the bar? What do you want?

    - Nothing ...  I see you’re not in the mood to help me anyways. - she got up from the stool she had sat on, straightening her skirt as her feet hit the floor. - Good evening, Sheriff Bodecker. 

He was sat, watching her leave but also giving an aura to the men who too watched the modern girl exit the building not to get any ideas. Lee knew these men, they were like dogs and once a suitable amount of time passed, he took to returning to his cruiser and follow her. How could he trust this town with her, an outsider? Y/N had been brought up in Knockemstiff, the daughter of store owners who had both been killed in an assault gone wrong. After that, she was ushered to live with her grandmother, the last of socialites in Knockemstiff. Rumours said her grandmother had moved from New York to wed with a penniless man already expecting once she wore her wedding gown. Rumours or not, she still held much more money than anyone in the town together and she wasted not a cent in her granddaughter’s education, moving to a more upscale house in Brewer Heights once she got her under her care. She was always the one with everything and Lee remembered seeing her while still an officer driving around a brand new glossy red car, hair loose through the wind. In all honesty, he thought her never too leave town but as she reached her tender 21st year of life, she left leaving everything behind. 

He parked outside her grandmother’s home, stopping just a bit away from it looking at the house that was so eerily sketched in his mind. He leaned against his seat watching Brewer Heights, the place he so wanted to have lived in his youth. Of course he now owned a place there too but it was faint, fickle. If he were to not be sheriff anymore all would shatter. He would do everything he could to keep his position. He deserved it, he deserved it more than any damned soul on this planet. A knock on the glass removed him from his mind state as he looked the way of his window to see her. 

     - Can I come in? - she asked, eyes lingering on the passenger seat. He stretched over to the side, opening the door for her but not exiting the car. She entered, closing the door as she sat on the seat. - I’ve always hated when you were mad at me. 

     - I’m not mad.

     - You have no reason to be. I know what you’re mad about and it’s your own fault, you know that.

     - Is it my fault you left? - his hands tightened against the wheel of his cruiser, anger coursing through his veins. Lee never liked to hear the truth.

    - She knew, Lee and she was right ... If anyone knew, if the town knew I would’ve been ruined and I didn’t deserve that. You must understand I didn’t deserve that. 

    - I didn’t deserve you leaving without saying a fucking thing now did I, darl’?

    - You were married. - she almost spat the words in his face. - You are married, Lee. Now you can be mad at me all you want, you can hate me for all I give a damn but I was not gonna destroy myself for your happiness, and I will certainly not allow you to destroy yourself for lust. 

    - Y/N ...

    - I don’t need your help anymore and I would enjoy it if you parked your cruiser away from my house. I wouldn’t want any rumours about your infidelities to resurface. - she exited the car and climbed the small incline of grass up to her home. Lee still remembered seeing her in a little white dresses her grandmother would buy for her, climbing that incline while holding the fabric so it wouldn’t fly up. She seemed to have gotten the hang of it.

Lee had met Y/N when she volunteered at the station back when he was still a patrol officer. She did the duties of every single secretary plus cleaning which was what she had volunteered for. It’ll be good for my university application, she told him when Lee asked what she was doing there. She started at 17 and remained there until she was 18 and ready to leave and become something other than a Knockemstiff resident. However, her mother having sudden heart attack ruined her plans and she decided to stay to take care of her. Lee didn’t see her for two whole years until she was 20 years old and he spotted her at the supermarket getting an earful from Mr. Collins about dropping a bottle of olive oil while trying to reach something from the higher shelf. Lee didn’t like it, he didn’t like Mr. Collins berating her for a simple mistake so he stepped in. He remembered her thanking him before reintroducing herself to him. 

He wasn’t one to be swayed by women, he’d married his Jane when he was fresh out of high school and while his relationship was more than stale, he had his mind on work and alcohol. Sure he could’ve divorced, found someone else but he wasn’t the teenager he used to be anymore, he was hardly someone who women would be attracted to besides a single man for a Sheriff? That surely wasn’t gonna happen. Yet, he couldn’t help but be entranced by her, fresh into adulthood with a mind full of ideas about what she wanted to do. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to start a relationship with her, to start an affair yet he couldn’t say he regret it. He didn’t regret the nights where she’d meet him in the woods, covered by a black trench coat. He could still feel his, his hands against her back, feeling the fabric of her undergarments as the windows fogged. 

Y/N was upset. Her friends had told her she better not expect the man who she had left without any notice to help her but she was upset. What choice did she have? After her grandmother heard about it, it would’ve taken no time for everyone in town to hear about it and she would’ve been a disgrace and Lee would’ve certain not become Sheriff. Nevertheless she was upset. Instead, she asked an old friend from school, Billy. It was no surprise he was here, nobody left, nobody ever left. She had left but yet here she was once again, 4 years later wondering about an affair which shouldn’t have happened. Her grandmother had berated her for ages “you don’t sleep with a married man” and of course she knew she shouldn’t yet she had. She didn’t know better. 

She had boxes and boxes packed with whatever it was left of the house, photo books, clothing, bedding, all of it packed. Once she got to New York she could sort through it but right now all she wanted to was leave. Her friends even offered to come over and do it for her but the damned lawyer said it had to be her. In the morning she waited for Billy in the steps of her home, dressed in one of her old 50′s fashioned white dress, a far cry from the mini skirts she used at home and off he came in the exact same car he had when they were both teens. 

   - Y/N, look at you. - he walked off the car. - You look gorgeous, darl’. 

   - Thank you, Billy. - she scratched the back of her head. - Uhm it’s only 5 big boxes. I’ll pay for the gas if you help me take them to post office. 

   - You’re not keeping the house?

   - And live in Knockemstiff? - she rolled her eyes, climbing up the stairs to grab the boxes from the front of the door. The boy helped her pack the car before the two hopped onto the car. - So, how’s the town been?

   - Nothing changes. Mr. Collins died, no one was upset about it and that Bodecker guy became Sheriff. - he light up a cigarette as he turned on the engine. - It’s still as boring as its been and people mostly gossip around the same old gossip.

   - What’s new in gossip?

   - Eleanor still says you and Bodecker were fucking. - he chuckled. - As if ... I mean, look at you, you were prom queen and he’s a fat bastard. 

    - You should watch your mouth, Billy. He’s the sheriff. 

    - Because he bought it. - he shrugged. - Dad says he’s pretty much doing everyone’s dirty work. I mean his sister and her husband disappeared and were found dead. 

    -  I don’t really care for that type of gossip. - she leaned against the seat, watching the trees pass by. It wasn’t that she and Billy were good friends but she needed help and she’d rather die than go beg Lee to help her out. She had tried and it’d failed. Besides what was the worse that could happen?

The worse that could happen became very clear as instead of driving into town he took a left into the woods. She rose her head from the seat as all the ways one could reach town rushed through her mind. This definitely wasn’t one of them, it was hard to even get to the town through the woods. She knew that because, well ... it was where she would meet Lee to ensure no one from town found them. The car came to a stop and Billy got off the car. Maybe he just needed to pee or to get some air. She waited til he was on his back to open the car door and start running but he rushed after her, grabbing her arm and throwing her to the ground before standing over her, hands holding her wrists above her head.

   - Billy, what are you doing? - stay calm, that was what they always taught her, stay calm. 

   - Come on, Y/N. They always wanted us to be together in high school, remember? 

   - I don’t know what you’re talking about. Billy, calm down. 

   - You fucking calm down. I know you want me too, Y/N. You called me, you need my help, darl’. I can make you feel so damn good ... - his mouth lowered down and she started to trash around, trying to get rid of him. 

   - Stop, please stop. - she looked up at the sky, the morning sun barely up as she recalled why you don’t come back to Knockemstiff. You don’t get back because you get stuck. As she convinced herself there was nothing the do, a short was heard through the air. 

  - What the heck are you doing William? - she recognised the voice. She had never been more grateful for that voice. Billy jumped over to his feet.

   - Sheriff ... me and Y/N were just having a bit of fun ... You know, you understand, right?

   - Y/N ... - he looked her way. - What were you doing?

   - It was against my will, Sheriff. - she climbed onto her feet, leaning against a tree at a healthy distance from him.

  - Get the fuck out of here. - the young boy in his mid 20′s rushed out like a child afraid of the dark, forgetting his car and everything he had left behind. Y/N watched him running, tripping onto his legs as Lee fired a warning shot in the air. If this was NY, there would be someone here already but this was Knockemstiff and gun shots were as usual as rain during winter.

He smirked, happy to have once again imposed the authority he so much treasured. Lee never liked Billy, he never liked when he’d drive Y/N home from school even when she was volunteering at the police station. That boy was no good news and always looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Lee still remembered the old Sheriff telling her that boy was no good and looking at her now, dressed in one of her white dresses stained in dirty and green grass stains, he guessed he was right. 

  - Billy, Y/N? Don’t you have other friends?

  - Billy’s the only one with a car. - Y/N mumbled as she grabbed his keys from the floor to take her stuff off his car before he could return. - Thank you but I had it under control.

  - ‘Course you did. - he put his hands on his waist. - Come on, I’ll drive you to wherever you want to go.

  - I don’t want any favours from you, Sheriff Bodecker. - she held her boxes against her chest. Well, if she started now maybe she could be at the post office with all the boxes at nighttime. - That’ll be all.

  - Y/N, come on. I’m a public server so let me help you.

  - I don’t want your help. - she almost barked at him, taking another box from Billy’s car. Maybe she could drive the car, yet again she knew the captain particularly liked Billy and could fine her if 

  - Fine, can you tell me what you’re doing at least?

  - I’m shipping these boxes to New York. I don’t have time to completely go through them so ...

  - Put them in the cruiser. I’ll take them to the post office and take you home. 

  - I don’t want any favours.

  - It’s not for you, it’s for your grandmother. Now get into the car, please. - he opened the door to her.

Y/N huffed. The last thing she needed was a favour from Lee Bodecker yet in all honesty she had no other choice. She packed her boxes into the truck of his cruiser and sat on the passenger seat, arms crossed as he sat in the driver’s seat. Her mind played tricks on her, reminding her of what they used to do in that driver’s seat of his back when she was younger and full of ideas for the future. She shouldn’t have done it and she knew it, Jane Bodecker wasn’t the best woman but she didn’t deserve having her husband sneaking around with a 20 year old despite her herself having had her fair share of affairs. Not that Lee knew and she wasn’t gonna be the one to tell him about the time she was working late in the station and saw his wife getting busy with a new patrol. She didn’t have that right, after all he was doing the same to her. She shouldn’t have done it, nevertheless. Her grandmother died ashamed of her and now she had to deal with it. 

   - Billy said Sandy died. Is it true? 

   - Yeah, last year.

   - Oh ... I’m sorry, I didn’t know. 

   - She had it coming. That weird husband of hers ended up driving her off the edge. That Arvin kid shot them yet I can’t say they hadn’t it coming ... She was still my baby sister. 

   - I’m sorry, Lee. I’m so sorry ...  - she looked down at her skirt. 

   - Almost got me too ... stupid kid. - he shrugged. - Good thing I was fat enough to stop the bullet, I guess.

   - Well, I’m sorry about Sandy. - she said as she saw her house become clearer through the window. He stopped in front of her home, unlocking the doors so she could walk out. 

Y/N walked out before she could do something stupid. Whatever she did, whatever he had, whenever they were together she always ended up doing something stupid. She sat in the empty house of her childhood, only now containing furniture. She could remember it so well from her years as a child running up and down the stairs, not knowing what awaited her outside the world. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to owe anything to Lee. She knew who he had to answer softly too, she knew those men Billy spoke about. They always ran for Sheriff ever since she was a kid. 

She looked at the clock on the wall, 3PM. She knew exactly where those men would be at that time and so she changed and took her way downtown. Everyone turned their head as she walked into the badly light, old bar in tones of musky green which greatly contrasted with her baby blue short dress. The town had gotten stuck in the 40′s and 50′s, women barely showing their legs or any skin and there she was, a woman born and raised in Knockemstiff dressed like a movie star. The table of three men clearly noticed, the under-sheriff, the division chief and the captain. She stood in front of the round table, taking her sunglasses and setting them on top of her head, a nice, covergirl smile on her pink painted lips. You can get the girl out of Knockemstiff but you can’t get Knockemstiff out of the girl.

    - Hello boys. You mind if I seat with you? - she put her hand on one of the chairs. 

    - Hey, you’re Elizabeth’s granddaughter aren’t you? - Frank, the under-sheriff asked, pulling the chair for her. - I thought you were in New York.

    - I was but I just came here because of my grandma’s inheritance, but I have something to discuss. 

Another night, another day of useless parading around for Lee. He’d pass by the post office and shipped Y/N’s boxes and that had been the highlight of his day. As per usual, he made his way to the bar only to found the environment was slightly different. He knew this town like the back of his hand, anything off always rang alarm bells. As the bartender placed his usual poison in front of him, he decided to get to the bottom of the situation. 

   - Why’s everything so quiet?

   - I don’t know, Sheriff. - the man replied while cleaning glasses. - Elizabeth’s girl was here and I don’t know what she did but Frank, Jonah and Fitzwilliam left as if she were the devil.

Fucking hell. He drowned the last of his drink before grabbing his hat and entering his cruise. Damned Y/N, she used to be such a nice girl before leaving to New York. God, the only complaint he ever got about her was when the mayor complained about her wanting to run a march. He drove to her home like a mad man. What was she doing messing around with those three? He’d seen them do worse things for much less. Lee climbed the grass patch up to her door, knocking on it as if his life depended on it. 

   - Y/N, open up. Right now. - he thumped the door again. - I’ll break in if you don’t answer it!

   - Jesus. - the door opened up to Y/N dressed in what he was almost entirely sure was the shortest dress he had ever seen a woman wear. She stood against the door, hand on the wood while the other on her waist as he entered her home. 

   - Took you long enough. - he stepped into the home which he had never dared to step in.

   - I was upstairs. - she closed the door, locking it behind her for good safety. No one can be trusted in this godforsaken town. - What do you want?

Lee walked further into the house ignoring her question as he shut all the windows of the ground floor, anything that could allow anyone to look inside the house. Last thing he needed was for anyone to see inside the home and start any rumours. Stupid bastards. Y/N followed him around asking the same damn question anytime he shut any window and pulled any drapes down. 

   - Stop touching my stuff. - she put herself in front of him. - What do you want, Lee?

   - What do I want? - he sat against the couch, sighing. - What the fuck did you do, Y/N? Why were you at the bar?

   - I didn’t do anything. - she batted her eyes innocently. 

   - Y/N, I have another election coming up soon. I’ll ask again, what did you do at the bar?

   - It’s none of your business. 

   - Y/N, I’ve seen those men kill for less so you tell me now what you did. 

   - Stop ordering me around. - she rolled her eyes at him. - I don’t like owing anyone so now we’re even.

   - We’re even? - he pitched the skin of his nose. - What the fuck, Y/N? 

   - You wanna know what I said? Would that make you feel better? Would that make you feel like you rule this damn town, Lee? - she looked down on him, almost teasing him. Had it been a few years ago she would’ve been under him already. - I helped you out.

   - Y/N ...

   - It’s not just you who was sleeping around with a younger girl. They were sleeping around with friends of mine. The only difference is I have evidence of it ... - she grabbed her purse from the hanger, taking a beige envelope from it and throwing it his way. Lee looked up to her and then to the envelope opening it to see various pictures of girls he knew in compromising positions with his opponents, letters, everything. - They don’t have anything on you because unlike my friends, I don’t keep souvenirs from my affairs. 

  - You blackmailed them? Are you stupid, Y/N? They are going to kill you.

  - Please. - she rolled her eyes at him. - My grandmother owned half this town, if I die everything goes to charity and this town falls apart. Besides, it’s not like I’m planning to stick around for longer. 

  - So what now? You had fun playing femme fatale? You’re bored, is that it?

  - I just won you an election without any competition, Lee. You could be nicer about it. 

  - I don’t need your help. 

  - I don’t need your help either. I was just repaying a favour. - she leaned against the wall. - You can go now. 

   - Did you need to wear that? - he pointed at the dress. - Couldn’t have struck blackmail dressed appropriately?

   - Do you not like my dress? - she looked down, hands grabbing the baby blue fabric as she expanded the flowey skirt. - You know, I bought it for you. I was planning on using it for birthday a few years ago but you know ... had to leave earlier.

   - You bought that dress for me? - he rose from the couch, walking up to her until he had her caged against the wall.

   - I bought it so you could take it off, actually. - Lee must’ve been hallucinating because he swore she was pouting.

She looked up at him with that look she used to give him after a long day at work when he needed something to unwind. Both of them had promised each other not to do anything else when she left, Y/N had told herself no more coming bak and Lee had decided to spend his life content what whatever shred of marriage he had. Yet, she was there in what looked more like lingerie than a dress and he was in uniform, both of them were never good at making good decisions, and this was Knockemstiff. Lee took the first move, leaning down to kiss her like his body dependent on it which in some way he did. She held onto his shoulder, flushing her body against his as his hands started trying to pull the dress away from her body. Baby blue fabric flowed to the ground as he picked her up, throwing her against the couch he had just been sat on. He stopped kissing her to look at her, to look at the body he still dreamed at night or whenever he shut his eyes. She could’ve been gone for 4 years but she sure never left his wildest fantasies. 

  - Lee, wait. - her hands stopped him from returning to kiss her. - Let me treat you, please.

  - Oh sugar, you don’t need to ask. - she got up, walking slowly past him, her matching baby blue undergarments much more racy than what she used to wear back in Knockemstiff. She pushed him against the couch, smirking as she went down on her knees. - What are you doing down there, sugar? It’s more than you can handle. 

  - Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’m a big girl. - her hands unbuckled the belt off his trousers, throwing it to the floor followed by his trousers. She peppered kisses over his thighs down to his knees and then to the edge of his underwear. Slowly, she peeled them away, making eye contact with him. The silent girl he had known before was definitely long gone and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Before he could make up his mind, she took him entirely inside inside her mouth. - Fuck, you look fucking flawless with my big cock in your mouth, sugar.

She smiled at his praise, moving her head up and down still at a painfully slow pace, his balls in her hands. Lee pushed his head back, groaning at her motions and thinking it could no get better until she started to move her head faster, his tip reaching the back of her throat, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Instead she moaned against him, the vibrations making him feel like he was on cloud 9. Fuck being sheriff, nothing made him quite higher than having the one who got away with his cock down her throat. He started twitching against her mouth, his hand grabbed a handful of her hair, pushing her against his pelvis and starting to control her moves. She kept moaning against him, bringing him over the edge until he just couldn’t hold himself anymore. His grip loosened on her head as his muscles gave up on him.

Y/N got up from her kneeling position, thumb pushing whatever cum had spilled over into her mouth. That image alone made him harden up again like some horny teenage boy. She smiled at him, hands on his shoulders as she sat on his lap. 

   - What do you want me to do, Sheriff? - she batted her eyes at him, leaning down to kiss his ear lobe lowering down to his neck. 

  - You wanna ride my cock, sugar? - he hooked his hand on her nape, pushing her so she was looking at him. - You wanna make up to me for leaving me all alone?

  - Yes, Sheriff. - she lined up and slowly sunk down on him, both of them moaning. 

   - Come on, sugar. Show me what you can do. - she started riding him as if the devil had possessed her. He pushed her lips against his, a sloppy messy kiss which definitely was more lust than anything else as she moved up and down against him.  - Yeah, you like that don’t you, sugar? Tell me you like it, sugar. 

  - It feels so good, Lee. - she leaned against him, her hips still moving as he pulled her bra down, pinching her nipple. - Fuck.

  - You’re never gonna leave me again. - he started thrusting up, moving her from under him so she was laid across the couch. - Promis ... fuck ... promise me, sugar. Promise, you’re not gonna leave.

  - Lee ... - she moaned against the couch’s pillow as he speed up his pace, hands holding her hips and moving them against and away from him. 

  - You’re not gonna leave. - he groaned, feeling the way her walls milked him with such need. - You’re not gonna leave me, sugar. You’re not, right? You’re gonna stay.

   - Lee ... - she cried out before her mouth opened up in a perfect O, her orgasm washing over her. He didn’t take too long to cum, groaning like a wild animal as strings of white painted her walls. He slipped out of her, holding her before turning so she was standing on top of him. - Lee, I can’t stay. You know that, right? 

   - Why not? Things were good when you were around. 

   - I left for a reason, Lee. - she got up from him, grabbing her dress and quickly slipping it on. - And that reason still stands. 

   - Y/N, please listen ...

   - When I was 20 and we started this, I truly believed you were going to divorce your wife. You were going to divorce her and you were gonna marry me and ... and my grandma would’ve been upset but she would’ve learned to deal with it and then she would’ve taken me to the altar. I waited a year to see if I would ever become something other than a mistress and then the elections came around and I understood you were not gonna divorce Jane. You were going to be Sheriff and you’re still going to be Sheriff and maybe sometime Mayor. I’m not gonna be your mistress anymore, Lee.

  - Y/N ...

  - Please, leave. - she wiped whatever tears were threatening to fall off. Lee furrowed his brow, putting on his trousers before trying to approach her but she stopped him, arm raised firmly keeping distance. - Please, leave.

  - Y/N, c’mon. Let’s talk.

  - LEAVE! - she rose her tone at him. Lee wasn’t going to argue with her, it wasn’t his place to argue with her at her own house and so he left. Y/N stayed in the middle of her leaving room, arms crossed until she broke down crying.

She could almost hear her grandmother’s words “there’s no use crying about it” when she told her Lee was running for Sheriff. Funny how even after being dead, the old nag still was as right as she was four years ago. She wiped her tears with her hand and climbed the stairs up to her bedroom, sitting on the bare bed. It was going to be alright, tomorrow she’d be able to sign the rights over to the letting agency and could return to New York. Things were fine there, or at least she wasn’t sleeping with a married man there.

The sun didn’t raise up that morning, rain instead replaced it and so Y/N remained laid in bed watching the rain drop rush down the fogged up windows until a loud thumping on her door forced her to get up. She wrapped herself in her robe and went down the stairs to open the door. 

  - Good morning, miss. - she opened the door to her letting agent. - How are you?

  - I’m alright, Don. I’m sorry, I thought the open house was later. I’ll just get my stuff and leave.

  - No, it’s all right miss. I am just here to tell you that we’ve sold the house was above the price you were asking for.

  - Pardon me?

  - At least two times the asking price. It was such a good price, he had to take it. Paid upfront.

  - What really? Who?

  - He should be coming to see the place in an hour. - he said. - We’ll bring you the check later on. 

  - All right. Thank you Don.

That was good news at least she got to leave Knockemstiff before anything else happened. She didn’t know what had overcome her to decide to have sex with Lee. Pull yourself together Y/N, you’ve had four years to learn how to deal with it. It was fine, it was going to be fine. She packed whatever was left of her stuff into her small patched up luggage and put it by the door. She just needed to wait for Don to bring her check back and she could go on back to New York, where her mistakes only included putting coloured clothes with whites and then having pink clothes for the rest of her life. A knock on the door made that decision come much faster. Okay, Y/N. Get the check and go.

  - Lee? - she opened the door to see the least person she wanted to see. - Go away, I’m expecting someone.

  - I know. - he walked in as if the house was his. - You’re expecting me.

  - This is not funny, Lee. Don should be bringing my check anytime and the owner will be here in an hour.

  - Yeah, I’m sorry I’m early.

  - Pardon? - she rose her eyebrows at his statement. - What do you mean?

  - It’s my house now. I was thinking of upgrading, ya know? This house is the best one in Brewer Heights after all.

  - Are you fucking kidding me, Lee?! - she stood in front of him before he could walk further into her home. - You’re bringing your wife into my childhood home? YOU’RE BRINGING YOUR WIFE TO YOUR MISTRESS’S HOME?!

  - How many bedrooms is this house? They said they thought it was over five in the contract. 

  - You have a perfectly good house. Why do you want mine?

  - Mine is too small. Only one bedroom, I’d have no place to build a nursery.

  - A nursery? You and your wife are having a baby? In my childhood home ... how swell. 

  - You know I’m thinking about running for mayor. I mean, it’d look good if I had a family.

  - Good luck convincing Jane. - she gave him a cynical smile. 

  - I don’t have to convince Jane. I’d have to convince you. 

  - Me? Fuck off, Lee. I’m not having a baby for you and your wife. Fuck off. 

  - We’re a good team, Y/N. Besides, Jane is no longer in the picture.

  - Lee ... - she sighed. - Please.

  - You see, my wife isn’t as good as me at keeping her infidelities casual. The other candidates have caught wind of it ... I need someone who’s almost as good at blackmail as me.

  - I’m better at blackmail than you. - she crossed her arms at him.

  - So what do you say, sugar? Want to be the sheriff’s wife?

  - Do you promise I’ll get to be the mayor’s wife someday? 

  - With you on my team, I think you’re gonna be the mayor’s wife sooner than you think.

taglist: @buckysteveloki-me​ 

[dinpascal]

No Good Deed — Din Djarin

No Good Deed — Chapter One

➥ There’s an unconscious Mandalorian outside your door, along with some tiny, green thing clutching at his cloak. There has to be some sort of manual that tells you what to do in this situation... Right? 

There were many things to hate about Nevarro. The miles and miles of just-barely crusted over magma, the Rebels that tended to brush through every now and again, acting all high and mighty and as if they were too good to set foot on such a planet. However, without a single doubt, the thing you hated the most was the damn Guild.

You had never been the type of person to judge another for their method of survival. You had done many... unsatisfactory things in your lifetime, just to see another day. A few of those still kept you awake at night, debating whether you were deserving of what you had, no matter how miniscule. The Guild, however, was an entirely different thing.

Perhaps it was the mere fact that at least seventy percent of the people you served were hunters from the Guild. And if not already in the Guild, aiming for opportunity to be. They were a cocksure group, always carrying themselves with an aura of arrogance and as if they were allowing you the privilege of surviving. As if your little, insignificant life was balanced between their fingers, because they were all so skilled in the art of bounty hunting.

A lot of mudscuffers, in your opinion.

You wiped your palms down your apron, which did little about the stickiness that was present from hours of drink-making. The hairs were no-doubt spilling from your braid, hardly remembering to breathe in-between each order and the chaos that surrounded you. Creatures of all kind called out to you in many  different languages, some you understood and others you required your “partner” to translate. The droid was good for nothing apart from that, perhaps apart from being perpetually in your way. It reached the point where you no longer felt guilty for bumping it out of your way. 

Today, evidently, was Greef Karga’s awaited return from some mission, leading to the assembly of many (impatiently) awaiting their next bounty. In other words, the bar was way past its capacity limit. Many patrons were shoulder-to-shoulder, filling the building with endless, buzzing chatter that made the ache that much more present at your brow.

“C’mon, I’ve been trying for months. Why don’t you let me take you out? Just one night?” You eyed your suitor as you collected empty glasses and bottles, eyeing him with a thoroughly practiced smile that gave him the impression you enjoyed his company. It was something you were forced to learn early in this occupation, if you were even remotely interested in tips. Customers, males especially, enjoyed feeling wanted. As if they had any semblance of a chance with the “pretty thing” that served them drinks behind the counter.

“Cardon, you know I don’t date bounty hunters.” You replied, taking a moment to take another order and busying yourself with making it. Luckily, very few (if any) frequenters drank anything complicated, often preferring spotchka and even simple shots of hooch.

The dark-skinned hunter smiled, moving to brush his hair back with a gloved hand. “And why not? Don’t think you could handle one?” If you had to decide, Cardon wasn’t the worst of the bunch you could choose from. He had ebony hair that touched the top his shoulders, the top half often twisted into a bun. He was tall enough, but quite lanky compared to many of the other hunters that frequented the cantina. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing. If you had to guess, the majority of the hunters you served only had one head. Instead of commenting further, you motioned towards his glass. “Want another, Cardon?” He waved a hand in silent agreement, seemingly coming to terms that he was, yet again, striking out with you. 

“I think I’m your relief for the night.” You turned, positively beaming at the sight of olive skin and black eyes. “Alejad... My savior.” He grinned wickedly and threw a rag over his shoulder, lightly tsking at the mess you’d made of the bar. 

“So very messy. Have I not taught you a thing?” 

With a roll of your eyes and slight scoff, you began fingering the knot of your apron. “We’ll see how lucky you end up tonight. Karga isn’t even supposed to be showing up until second sundown.” You brushed your hand over his shaved head as you passed behind him, an act of affection you’d picked up in the time you’d worked together. Alejad had been the one to train you, considering no one else apart from the two of you seemed to want to work in this hunk of junk somehow considered a “proper establishment”. 

Stepping out of the back entrance with your day’s tips firmly shoved in your pocket, the silence of the alley was almost dizzying compared to what you’d dealt with for the last seven hours. Despite the distant sounds of the hustle and bustle of the market, it was much more preferable. Almost anything was preferable to being cat-called and yelled at all day. 

With a sigh and a brush of the back of your hand across your forehead, you finally made your way home. It wasn’t a far walk, just a few twists and turns that made it a comfortable enough walk to and from work. Your home was nothing exciting, nothing more than what you absolutely needed — the absolute bare essentials. It had once served as some kind of building for the Imps that were once stationed on Nevarro and eventually separated into two, unconnected homes once the Imps were chased (or killed) out. A little family had moved into the home above yours, made up of a young Twi’lek couple and a little, rose-colored girl you doubted had seen more than five cycles. You often found her crouched outside your home, digging through the dirt to find new additions to her rock collection. On the rarest of days, when you’d either be leaving or just returning from the bar, she’d already be outside as the first sun was rising and would offer you a toothless smile that made your heart warm. 

However, given the first sun was only just beginning to set, there was no young girl parading about the property. Hopefully, she was busy eating a plentiful dinner with her parents and had a nice, warm bed to look forward to tonight. 

The door creaked as you stepped inside, double-checking that you’d locked it behind you before making your way (all three steps of it) to the kitchen. With a quick look in the conservator, it seemed for the fourth night in a row now, you were having broth for dinner. With a sigh, you discarded your dirty apron aside and flipped the oven on to reheat your soup. It seemed you were in dire need for a trip to the market. 

There were a dozen and a half things you needed to do around the house, including a deep clean of your floors, as well as stripping your bed and washing the linens that you’d ignored for much too long. Taking the trash out was sufficient enough for the night, right? Right.

The evening air was cool against your skin, the first emergence of the first sunfall of the night beginning to appear. In a matter of hours, the cool air would soon become too cold to bear without some kind of protection. It was an interesting contradiction. While the ground beneath your feet was warm, almost hot to the touch because of the molten lava beneath it, the air was often cool and bleak the moment the suns began to sleep for the night. 

A soft noise behind you drew you from your thoughts, nothing more than a gentle, sad coo. You immediately turned, worrying a young babe had dodged their parents and was now exploring with no supervision. While Nevarro was now exponentially safer now that the Imps were gone, it still was no place for a child to be roaming at first sunfall. 

The last thing, actually very last thing you had expected was the sight before you. A Mandalorian slumped against your home with a little, green creature clutching at the frayed ends of his cloak. It regarded you for no longer than a moment, big eyes quickly returning to the hunter and cooing softly once more, as if urging him to get up. It tugged at the cloak again, its free hand bumping against his shoulder as if the tiny jostle would wake him.

You stood there a moment, almost afraid to take another step towards the pair. Though you’d never met a Mandalorian yourself, their reputation was enough to make your legs shake a bit under your weight. None too long ago, one had caused the entire town to burst into gunfire and killed dozens of other hunters. Undoubtedly, he (was it a he?) knew more than a dozen ways to kill you. And the creature? While it looked harmless enough now, how could you know if it would begin spewing venom at you the moment you took two steps towards it? If you’d learned anything growing up, it was to not trust a species you didn’t know. And you’d learned that lesson the hard way. 

As if aware of your thoughts, its eyes turned towards you once more and made another sad sound. It pulled at something deep inside you, something dormant and untraveled. Whatever it was, it urged you to move your damn feet and make the poor thing stop giving you those big, sorrowful eyes. 

“Okay...” Hesitantly, as if standing eye-to-eye with a Nexu, you braved a step forward. When it didn’t abruptly move or hiss, you took another. “Hey... little guy,” you murmured, eyes flickering from gleaming silver to the little one’s, “What happened?” 

It whined pitifully, turning towards the Mandalorian with a three-fingered hand as if motioning towards him and saying, ‘help him, will ya?’. 

If it were any other situation, you may have found the little creature amusing. It didn’t seem to be able to speak, but its body language and big, bug eyes were expressive enough. 

Once you were close enough to touch the Mandalorian, you slowly kneeled and made sure it stayed in your peripheral. You doubted it would suddenly sprout wings at this point, but you could never be too sure. Maybe it enjoyed playing with its food. 

“I’m gonna... Take him inside, okay?” Much to your surprise, it nodded and backed away a couple paces to give you space. Okay, so the green thing was intelligent. Good to know. 

With a steadying breath, you maneuvered your way around the Mandalorian so you could (attempt to) lift him. You imagined his armor couldn’t be light by any means, meaning you were going to have to carry a man already twice your weight, along with that much more in armor. “Knew I should have bought those weights...”

Sliding your arms under his armpits and securing your hold through intertwining your hands over his chest, you figured this was the best chance you had. There was no way you were getting him up over your shoulder and you figured dragging him by his feet wasn’t the best method, in case of a possible head injury. 

The breath immediately whooshed out of your lungs as you straightened, using gravity to your advantage and using the force to drag him backwards, instead of back down like it wanted. The little rag-covered bean waddled after you, apparently not willing to allow the Mandalorian out of his sight. 

The helmet lulled forward as you mostly-dragged him into your home, most certainly and unquestionably out cold. 

In the middle of your kitchen, you paused. Where the hell were you going to put him? The kitchen certainly wasn’t spacious enough for him. It was hardly enough room for you to comfortably move about. 

That left your bedroom.

“Just a little farther, alright?” You huffed, suddenly very keenly aware of the heaviness in your shoulders and triceps. The creature stumbling after the Mandalorian’s feet cooed in response, seemingly more content now than before. 

It took you much longer than you would’ve liked, but eventually, you somehow managed to get the damn guy on your bed. His feet hung over the bed and no doubt was coating your sheets in dirt and blood and who knew what else. At least they already needed washed.

After taking a moment (minutes, really) to catch your breath and watching the bean climb its way up your bed and back to the Mandalorian’s side, you once more found yourself at a loss. What the hell do you do now? 

Checking him for injuries was probably the best next course of action. You didn’t want the guy to die right here, on your bed, right?  

With your hands on your hips and a sweat breaking out over your brow, you looked in the what you now mentally referred to as the bean’s direction. “These guys have something against taking off their helmet, right?” Your response was a sound you couldn’t quite differentiate between amusement and agreement. Nevertheless, you nodded. “That’s what I thought.” 

After another few minutes of heavy consideration, you decided starting from the bottom-up was probably your best bet. If you were lucky, he was just incredibly sleep-deprived and absolutely nothing else was wrong with him. 

The little bean at his shoulder watched as you methodically undressed the Mandalorian, beginning with the armor as his shoulders and then moving to his chest plate. You made a small stack of it just beside your bed, being careful to not add any dinks or scratches that weren’t already on them. 

With shaky fingers, you began lifting his shirt to inspect any possible torso wounds. You were met with caramel skin etched in paler, puffier skin in various places where he’d been wounded and scarred over. A trail of dark, nearly black hair drew your gaze below his belly button and disappearing into his trousers.

You swallowed. This was not the time.

“Stomach looks good.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself. You pushed the fabric up further until it was under his chin, fingers delicately brushing across an angry, red line just below his left clavicle. It didn’t look serious and most likely just a result from his armor pressing into his skin, but it gave you an excuse to feel his skin beneath your fingertips. His chest was faintly dotted with hair, nipples pebbling at the sudden exposure to the air. “Chest looks good too.”

That left on more thing to check, the one thing you were hoping you wouldn’t have to do. 

You sank back onto your haunches for a moment, teeth anxiously worrying at the inside of your cheek as you considered your options. You didn’t have to do anything — you’d already given him and his... pet? Child? Friend? Somewhere to rest and checked him for any serious, deadly injuries. On the other hand, however, what if he did have a head injury? Without aid, a head injury could easily and quickly result in death. And you certainly didn’t want a dead Mandalorian on your hands. 

“Second option it is.” You murmured, brushing your palms down your trousers and taking a soothing breath. “But,” you began, pointing a finger in the air as you looked towards the bean. “I am not being that person.” You disappeared out of the room for a moment, quickly returning with a clean rag and making a show so the bean could see it. “See?” 

The bean, seemingly content, made an inquisitive sound. With one hand, you curled your fingers under the helmet’s edge and searched for the locking mechanism. Once you felt the tiny button, you nudged it and released a breath as it unlocked. “Okay, okay... Just gotta do this quick...”

With one, shaky hand, you gently tugged the helmet free from his head, immediately snapping your eyes shut the second you no longer felt the weight of his head. Discarding the heavy thing aside, you took the rag and, as efficiently as possible with your eyes firmly shut, placed it over his face. Though it wouldn’t make breathing especially easier, it at least would preserve some of his modesty. 

Once finished, you took a deep breath and regarded your work. You turned towards the bean with a triumphant smile. “Not bad, yeah?”

The bean regarded the rag with something akin to distaste but you couldn’t be sure. It was difficult to distinguish every emotion with its tiny face. The majority of your basis was just on its eyes.

You maneuvered your way around the pile of metal on your floor, as well as your own things to the head of the bed, eyes settling on the head of brown, presumably thick hair that stuck out from under the rag.

When was the last time someone so much as had seen a strand of his hair? Had anyone ever? Yet there you were, looking at not only it, but nearly everything else aside from his face. 

You eyed the creature currently tracing a three-fingered claw up the Mandalorian’s arm. It seemed... Conflicted. As if the whole world rested on its little shoulders, now that the Mandalorian was no longer protecting it. Its tiny features were pinched in worry, shoulders slumped forward and ears drooping at the corners. 

You wanted to console the little thing, except you still weren’t completely sure it wouldn’t nip at you if you got too close. 

Turning your attention back to the man (because at the current moment, he seemed to pose less danger), you cautiously slid your fingers around the back of his head. There was nothing but thick, course hair, even as you rounded the back of his head. At the very least, there were no external injuries. 

Until you looked down. 

And found that his foot was twisted at an angle that it most definitely wasn’t supposed to. 

“Well, kriff.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself. You regarded the said appendage for awhile, unsure quite what to do now. It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do, but moreso the fact that you weren’t sure you wanted to go snapping a bounty hunter’s leg back into place. It was usually something a person informed another of before doing. 

With a sigh, you turned your attention back to the little bean. Though you had little to no clue if it was capable of understanding you (though it had somewhat shown it could), it made you the teensiest amount less nervous to talk to it. “Maybe it’s better to do it while he’s out. What do you think?” The bean babbled something incoherently. You nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.”

✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ 

Surprisingly, the Mandalorian hardly flinched when you snapped his ankle back into place. Most surprisingly, he hadn’t woken up either. Hours later and he was still completely dead to the world. Numerous times you had to check to make sure he was still breathing. 

After about hour five, the bean decided to venture from his side. It appeared at your feet just as you were elbow-deep in washing, first inquisitively watching you scrub at your clothes, as if you were doing something it had never quite seen.

“Hey, little... Guy,” you finished lamely, pausing to eye the green creature as its head tilted to the side and those big eyes blinked. It made a soft sound, as if expecting you to easily understand. When you didn’t immediately react, it’s features pinched and it threw its arms up as if it were exclaiming something as it spewed into further coos and babbles.

You stared blankly.

What would a small, green creature want? A new, preferably clean rag for clothes? For you to throw something so you could chase it? Something to sink its little teeth into?

You faulted for a moment in your thinking. “Are you hungry?” It nodded immediately, fingers touching its belly and watching you with a look that clearly said ‘that’s what I was saying!’. “Okay, well, what do you eat?” It blinked as you stood from your washing, little feet tapping against the tiled floor as it followed you. “All I really have is broth, so it’s either broth or nothing.” It didn’t make any sound of disagreement or disappointment, so you took it as enough agreement and poured the still-warm broth (which you’d forgotten about until the stove beeped indignantly at you, still preoccupied with snapping a literal bone back into place) into a bowl. When it took the bowl you offered it, it blinked at it for a moment. Then it blinked up at you. 

“What? It’s all I got, little guy so I—,” It cut you off as it set the bowl down, before lifting its arms up that very plainly was uppity arms that babies were known for doing. It left you to stand there for a moment, mouth falling open and eyebrows shooting upwards. “You’re a kid?”

It babbled impatiently, big eyes looking at its meal before back up at you again. “Okay, um...” Slowly, still not completely sure you trusted it, you picked it up and then its bowl of broth. “You need... Help?” It cooed in what you assumed was agreement.

That was how you found yourself sitting at your table, some kind of child creature sitting in your lap as you spoon-fed it broth and occasionally pausing to let it babble something or burp. 

It was quite the character, you were learning. 

And quite the conversationalist. If only you could understand a word it was saying. 

Then you felt the atmosphere change... Shift. Where calm once sat, something you could only describe as charged replaced it. The child seemed to notice as well. Its head turned toward your bedroom, softly squealing and clapping its hands together. The Mandalorian was awake. There was a moment of silence as the dread pooled in your belly and a chill ran down your spine. 

This was the moment you hadn’t really considered. Many people, especially a Mandalorian, wouldn’t like waking up in a strange place with their armor stripped and their damned helmet off. 

Dank farrick, you just had to go and get yourself involved.

The seconds stretched as complete silence filled your home. Not even the child made another sound, though it was evident its feelings were a stark contrast from your own. Of course, it hadn’t dragged a Mandalorian into its home and practically stripped him bare. 

There was a flash of silver at the doorway of your bedroom. 

No good deed goes unpunished indeed. 

[mytwilightimagines13]

The Lost One (Part One) (Alec Volturi)

Taglist: @aro-is-gay-af @vamp-army @raindancer2004 @like-rain-or-confetti @volturidoll13 @kpopgirlbtssvt @avyannadawn @alexavolturisblog @alecvolturiswifeforever

Word count: 1101

The final battle of the war between the Volturi and the Romanian coven had approached. It would be the final battle of this century during war. It was time this war was finally coming to an end and the winner would shortly be known. Every member of the Volturi was there, excluding the wives and a small bundle of blankets which held a beautiful baby girl.   Athenodora, a beautiful vampire with blond hair and kind features and Caius’ wife, held the little girl close to her as she was feeding her some milk. The electric blue colour of the baby’s eyes looked up at the female vampire, knowing this woman was her mother and that she was safe in her cold arms yet warm embrace. Sulpicia, aro's wife and a vampire who was as fair as Athenadora but with black hair and an olive complexion, stood behind her sister and looking at her little niece with pride.   The two wives where worried for their husbands and their coven. Athenodora dreaded the idea of living with her mate or her newborn daughter to live without her father.   "I hope they return to us soon, Sia.” Athenadora said as her daughter drank the last bit of the milk from the little bottle. Sulpicia rubbed Athenodora's back and watched the small baby with a smile. "Everything will be fine Dora. Caius will be fine."   "I am not sure Sulpicia. The Romanians are strong and out for revenge." Athenodora replied, hugging the baby close to her chest and patting her small back as gentle as she could. The little baby girl let out a small burp and Athendora layed her back down in her arms.   Suddenly Corin busted into the door, her usually calm face now in complete panic.   "We have to leave! Some Romanians are making their way up here!" Athenodora pressed her baby girl closely to her chest, a soft growl leaving her lips. The need to protect her daughter growing instantly. Sulpicia's form quickly turned defensive and her eyes scanned the room. Corin quickly grabbed their emergency bag that contained things as some golden coins and stuff for the baby, and opened the door to their room, but it was in vain. Corin was thrown out of the window by a Romanian vampire whose hair was white as snow. Two others soon followed and they were ready for a fight. Sulpicia glared at the three vampires in front of her.   "Go take her to safety Dora. I will take care of these leeches." Sulpicia said, her crimson eyes glaring at the three men in front of her.   "But-" Athenadora protested.  "Just go!" And with that Sulpicia started to attack the vampires, tearing their bodies apart. Athenodora fled down the stairs, holding her baby girl close to her. She was almost by the entrance door, from where she would run to England, where she could stay with some old friends. They would both be safe there.   “Almost there, babygirl. I will protect you. No harm will come to you.” she quickly stopped in a corner, trying to listen for any disturbances or footsteps. She bit her lip and made a decision. She removed her Volturi crest from her neck and gently placed it around her baby's neck and tucking the crest away in the blankets.   “Just to be sure. This way you will always know where you belong. That you have a home in case we get separated. I love you, my sweet Melody.” Athenadora kissed her daughters head before holding her close to her chest again. The coast seemed clear and she made a run for the door, but another Romanian vampire grabbed her before she could dash out the door.   "Not so fast my dear Athenodora.” his voice laced with anger and a need for revenge. A second vampire ripped her baby out of her arms.   "NO! Give her back!" Athenodora pleaded and tried to free herself from the vampire his grip, her heart breaking as she heard her daughter cry out in fear.   "I don't think so." The second vampire said.   “She smells so good. I might have her as a little snack.” the vampire said holding the baby close to his nose. Athenadora was furious and was trying to fight her way out of the vampire's grip.   “Don't hurt my baby!” she screamed. The second vampire laughed cruely and was about to bite the baby when a

third vampire suddenly busted through the entrance doors.   "We lost! We have to go now!" He shouted. The second vampire nodded and handed the crying child to the third vampire.  “Take care of that.” he simply said as he made his way towards the female vampire. The vampire holding Athenodora quickly ripped her arms and legs off, so she couldn't follow them and let her go as the three vampires sped away, taking her baby with them and Athenodora pleading and screaming them to give her babygirl back, but to no avail.  Hours later the Volturi returned and immediately smelled the other vampires their scent. Aro and Caius sped inside. Caius saw his wife who was still screaming in pain and rushed to her, helping her put her body parts back on her.   "They took her Caius." Athenodora whimpered at the thought and the pain in her chest. Caius gently stroked his mate's cheek.   "Whom did they take, darling?" He asked, fear pooling in his chest as he dreaded to hear the answer. As only one person was important enough for her wife to behave like this.  "They took our Melody." Athenodora replied, looking at her arms heartbroken. Caius rage, the very same rage that had helped him fight the battle suddenly returned almost ten times stronger. They took his daughter. His sweet baby girl.   "They will pay my love. Even if I have to kill everything on this earth and let it burn, we will get her back. No matter what."  And so, the search for Caius and Athendora's daughter began. Caius, whom once showed mercy, had now gone completely cold. He made sure the Volturi worked according to never give second chances. Athenodora would never leave her tower again, holding Melody's favourite teddy bear close to her anytime. They both missed their daughter dearly. Yet, centuries went by and still there never had been a sign from their daughter. Slowly, the couple started to give up as did all the other vampires. Melody Volturi was slowly becoming a myth, a legend.    But deep in Caius and Athenodora's cold hearts, there would always be hope for their daughter to return home.

[citydreamgrls]

how much have you had to drink?

george weasley x fem!reader

words: 2,387

a/n: maybe I did use too many differing pov’s but it is what it is,, enjoy!! :)

warnings: none ( i think )

I had been the first, and only person to prank the twins back at Hogwarts. Everyone else in the school was too afraid of their tricks that it was easier to stay out of a never-ending war with them. But I'd always been up for a good challenge, even if it was a 5 year long one.

As usual the twins joined me at breakfast, ignoring Angelina who had been telling me about the upcoming halloween party, and sat either side of me.

“Morning boys,”

“y/n,” they acknowledged in unison, both reaching for toast.

“Sleep well?” I asked George.

“Oh yes, perfectly.” He said sarcastically, taking a large bite of food.

“Almost as if someone slipped us a sleeping potion.” Fred joined in on the other side of me.

“Well I had to test my homework on someone,” I admitted, unashamed of my great potion-making skills. “Anything else strange happen last night?” I asked innocently.

“Nope.” they said.

“You sure? Because I managed to get some very lovely pictures of you too sporting some very sweet hairstyles.” I waved the photos of their sleeping forms in their faces, the little red pigtails flashing before their eyes.

Oliver Wood, having caught onto the end of our conversation leant across the table to see what I had.

“So that’s why you too looked like that this morning, I was beginning to worry I’d started sleepwalking.. Or styling.” He laughed, earning a glare from the boys beside me.

“You know we will get you back y/n,” Fred warned, but his threat was empty.

“Oh come on, you boys always go easy on me.” I laughed, taking a sip of my juice and immediately spitting it back out. “Gross!”

“Oh do we?” George asked, barely looking up from his book to hex my plate into slugs.

-  

As much as the twins and I battled, they were still my best friends and I had spent pretty much my entire time at Hogwarts at their side. Unless Angelina pulled me away to gossip about whatever ‘exciting’ thing was coming up next.

This time it was the halloween party.

“I just don’t get why I have to dress up Lina, I'm already a witch. Can’t I go as myself?” I huffed, resting my legs on her lap as we sat in front of the fire.

“The Weasley’s won’t let anyone in who isn’t dressed up, it’s the rules.”

“Oh that’s easy, they’ll let me come regardless.” I laughed.

It was as if they appeared at the sound of their name, popping their heads over the back of the sofa. Both Angelina and I jumped out of our skin, immediately reaching up to hit them in retaliation.

“Hey, you guys will still let me come to the party saturday if I don’t dress up right?” I asked with an expectant smile.

“No costume,” Fred started

“No entry,” George finished. And then walked off to the dorms.

“Oi, but it’s me-”

“No exceptions,” They called back.

I fell back into the sofa, ignoring Angelina’s smug face as she started discussing costumes once again. Tossing up whether to go as a cat, or some sort of muggle character. Not that she really knew any, but she just wanted to impress one of the boys in the year above.

“Will you help me y/n?” she pleaded, to which I finally gave in. Knowing I didn’t have anything better to do.

-

Saturday morning rolled around and I still hadn’t sorted my own costume, but at least Angelina was happy with her Daphne costume that I’d helped organise.

Fred and George had slipped away early from dinner last night, claiming that they had to ‘finish up party plans’. But I felt uneasy, having swapped their ties for two slytherin ones and then locking them in the dorms until 2 minutes before classes started that morning.

Yes it made me late for Mcgonigall’s lesson too, but seeing them rush in wearing the wrong uniform and having to explain that it had just been mixed up somehow to their head of house was well worth it.

Still, they could be planning payback.

-

The party was starting in an hour, and everyone was in their dorms getting ready. Including about three more girls than were usually in mine and Angelina’s dorm, racing around with masks and lip liner and other parts of costumes.

I walked in to see a hat with bunny ears laying on my bed.

“It’s all I could find,” Angelina told me, as she passed by to grab her purple jacket. “Dunno if it’ll be enough though.”

“I’ll sort something out, thanks Lina!” I shouted after her as she raced to use the bathroom before anyone else slipped in.

My only thought at the time was clown makeup, but I didn’t have any white face paint, and never really enjoyed its feel as it was. So I took a red lipstick and some dark eyeshadow to draw diamonds round my eyes. With the bunny hat on I looked far from scary, but paired with the clown makeup and a dark lip, I at least looked creepy.

Angelina leant me some fishnet tights to wear with my black skirt and I threw on a zip hoodie I had stolen from one of them twins years ago. I couldn’t remember which one if I was being honest.

-

Oliver and I had been sharing a bottle of vodka I'd brought with me from home, knowing it got everyone drunk quicker than wizard booze. Without realising it, an hour had passed, and I was yet to see either of the twins.

“You seen Fred or George tonight?” I asked the boy beside me, who was enjoying his stress-free evening.

“Yeah, Fred is dressed as a fighter pilot and I think I saw George in some kind of lab coat… or maybe it was a doctor?” He laughed to himself.

I headed up to their dorm room to see if they were there, and sure enough I just avoided a head on collision as they walked out.

“Whoa, nearly lost me there!” I screamed, stumbling back with a laugh. “What are you guys doing up here,”

“Nothing,” George spoke quickly.

“How much did you drink, y/n” Fred asked, helping me down the stone steps until we made it safely to the common room.

“Not loads, hey that’s not right.” I frowned at the boy holding me steady.  “Oliver said you were dressed as a Pilot Fred, not George.”

“I am George!” The boy, with the aviator sunglasses on, teased. “You’re as bad as mum honestly.”

“Yeah, at least our costumes are legit!” the other teased, flopping the bunny ear that had fallen over one eye away.

“Do you like it?” I spun round, the skirt bouncing around I did.

“It’s an interesting combination,”

“Well you haven’t kicked me out… yet.”

-

Unbeknownst to y/n’s knowledge, the twins continued to confuse her. Constantly running off to swap costumes, and mess with their friend further. Although it kind of backfired, as the more she drank, the less she trusted herself to tell them apart and gave up altogether. In the end they went back to their original costumes, Fred as the Pilot and George the bloody doctor. They both decided to tell y/n the next morning, when she could at least have a chance of understanding.

-

Everyone else was in bed, except for the twins and I who sat up singing by the fire and sharing the last bottle of gin that I could find in my stash.

“I’m gonna have to stock up my stash at christmas,” I laughed as the last swig was taken and we fell into each other's shoulders. I slumped between them, laughing at the memory of Ron and Hermione’s perfect dance routine to livin’ la vida loca earlier that night.

I felt a lump in my jacket pocket and remembered that’s where I’d left my cigarettes since being at home. I stood up, startling the boys and declared what I was leaving to do.

“I’m off for a smoke, see you in a bit.” They shook awake.

“Wait y/n, you can’t smoke here rememb- oh god she’s gone.”

“Well go on then George, stop her!” Fred grumbled to his brother, having already drifted back off to sleep.

-

George ran down the staircase, being careful not to make too much noise as his doctor’s coat flew behind him. He had only been a few seconds behind y/n, how could she have disappeared already? Still, he headed for the black lake, knowing that was her favourite spot to go when she wanted to be alone. He had watched her there many times, far away enough that she had never spotted him though.

“Y/n!” He whisper-shouted, running down the bank towards her. She was already sat down, the lighter in one hand and a cigarette balanced between her lips.

“What are you doing Fred?” she asked, mistaking him for the other twin.

“Oh about th-”

“At least it’s you and not George,”

The boy felt hurt by her words, always having looked after her without her knowing. Most of the time the lack of retaliation from the twins in their prank war was because George would sabotage it. He always felt guilty playing tricks on y/n.

“Why’s that?” He asked, playing along with what she believed to find out the truth.

The girl lit her cigarette regardless of his warning, and puffed out a breath of smoke offering it to the boy beside her who reluctantly agreed. Knowing that if his mother could see him now, she would have a heart attack.

“I always embarrass myself in front of George,” y/n admitted. “Whether it’s being drunk, or making stupid jokes. I just look like an idiot when I’m around him.”

“I don’t think you do,”

“I can’t help it though, it’s different with you. You’re like a brother to me Fred.”

“Actually y/n-” George started, wanting to come clean, but she kept going.

“But George, he’s just more than that you know. He always cares for me and makes sure I’m safe, hell he thinks I don’t notice when he watches me sulk down here.” She laughed lightly to herself, leaning to rest on the boy beside her. “I was so sure I knew him better than anyone else, but obviously not.” Her shoulders dropped in despair.

“Why’s that?”

“He probably just sees me as a friend right? I mean, I couldn’t even tell you two apart tonight, I thought you were him.” She scoffed.

George swallowed, knowing that him admitting to their prank would most likely cause some backlash from the girl. But he bit the bullet.

“I am George.”

Her body froze.

“Don’t joke.” She said flatly.

“I’m not, honestly. It was just supposed to confuse you earlier but I am George.”

Y/n stood up, dropping her cigarette into the water and headed up the hill towards the courtyard. George ran after her again.

“Please y/n wait!” He called out, grabbing her hand to stop her. She spun around, tears running down her face. “Oh god i’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you thought I was him, I just came to check on you.”

“I’m such an idiot god.” she huffed, trying to drag herself away but he wouldn’t let go. “I can’t even tell it’s you when you’re right here,”

“Yes you could y/n, that’s the whole point.”

“Still I just told you how I feel about you, with no intention of actually telling you, yet here we are with you being kind and nice and perfect and I’m just embarrassing myself once again.”

George followed her into the hallway and up the stairs, not wanting to call out until they were clear of the earshot of others. He managed to stop her just before the common room, pulling her aside into a secluded corner.

“Y/n, darling..” she had never heard him call anyone that seriously until now, and she couldn’t help but feel special because of that. “I have never seen you as an idiot, and you have never embarrassed yourself in front of me. In fact, I’ve always thought you were the perfect one.”

“Then why are you only telling me this now?” The girl asked him.

“I always thought you liked Oliver,”

“Wood?” she laughed and he hadn’t heard a sound better “God, he’s way too intense. Even tonight he wanted to talk game strategies with me, it was so boring.”

“Well that’s a relief.”

“So… you’ve always liked me?” She teased him slightly, playing with the seam of his costume. George just rolled his eyes and held her face, making her look up at him. Of course she had stood next to him before, but it was only in this moment that she felt the sheer height gap between them.

He leant down and kissed her lips, still clutching her face as her hands dropped from his coat in shock. He was soft and sincere, holding her as if he’d longed to do so for quite some time. Y/n smiled against George’s lips, making the boy blush to himself and thank Merlin that she couldn’t see him do it.

They broke away after what felt like nowhere near long enough, y/n rested her head into his chest and sighed happily.

“We should get to bed, it’s late.” George whispered and she nodded. “You tired?” y/n nodded again. “Okay darling let’s go.” He took her waist and lifted her off the ground, letting her wrap her legs around him and nestle into his neck.

He passed Fred who was slipping into unconsciousness on the common room sofa.

“Night Fred,” they called to him, and he just groaned back.

“Don’t worry, we can tell him in the morning.”

“George,” the girl in his arms groaned.

“Yesss..”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Of course darling,” George said softly and took the girl up to his dorm so she could sleep comfortably in his arms, her little head tucked between him and the bed. He laughed at the bunny hat discarded on the chair, remembering how sweet she’d looked in it.

Even as a creepy clown George had wanted to kiss her.

[sry-chrlie]

A, B, C, D… ⮕ itty bitty charlie

a scene from childhood:

D is for Dead Man’s Wish ft alec flynn, elle reynolds, jamie dyer, & oliver hayde

It was the last Summer of their childhood. 

At least, the last Summer they themselves would think of it that way. They’d still be kids in the eyes of the universe for years yet, but middle school was fast approaching. Junior High would turn the tides of their lives, great waves that crashed and fell apart and eventually came back to shore again. So this Summer was important. 

Charlie, Alec, and Oliver spent a lot of that Summer in the treehouse in the North’s big backyard. They had stocked it by then with all the necessities; pictures and crude drawings on the walls, comic books and games to play, a lantern, and sleeping bags for nights spent laughing in the dark. 

That afternoon in July, the three were buzzing with energy as usual, with nowhere to put it. Alec toyed with an ancient radio they had found in the junkyard, attempting to get it to play anything but static. Charlie was bicycle kicking idly into the air to see if he could break a world record. Oliver was flipping through a motorcycle magazine, picking out the coolest ones he was definitely going to buy when he got older.

It was Oliver that succumbed to the tedium first. He tossed the magazine aside, groaning loudly in frustration.

“I’m bored,” he announced. 

“Hello Bored, I’m Dad,” Alec responded quickly, not looking away from the radio dials that he was tweaking.

Charlie: “So funny, dude.”

Oliver hopped up, wandering over to Charlie to grab his feet midair. 

“Hey, I only needed to go for like 57 more hours ‘til I broke the record. Now I’ve gotta start all over again,” he whined.

“Time’s up,” Oliver said. “I’m hungry. Do you think your mom made lunch?”

“She’s got a church lady thing today with Mrs. Bailey,” Charlie said. “They’re organizing some dumb town fair thing.” Oliver looked incredibly disappointed by this, so Charlie sat up. “We could raid the kitchen though. No one’s home.”

Oliver grinned. “I love a good raid. Alec, you coming?”

“Nah.” Alec shook his head, still deep in concentration. “Bring me back somethin’ good.” 

So Charlie and Oliver climbed down, back to Earth below. They shoved each other, laughing as they raced into the back door of the North residence. Normally Oliver and Alec didn’t step foot into Charlie’s house. Not only was it intimidating in its size, but there was always a chance Marshall North would appear from the depths and banish them to the shadow dimension. Charlie’s dad wasn’t exactly a fan of his friends.

Charlie felt strangely shy as Oliver looked around, knowing how different their circumstances were, even at 11 years old. Just by being inside that massive kitchen, it felt like Charlie was somehow bragging.

“What are you hungry for?” he asked, distracting Oliver from his study. 

“Whatever you’ve got is fine,” Oliver answered. Because he was used to kitchens that were barely stocked with anything. He fed himself on what was available - stale Cheez-Its, slices of Kraft singles, bologna sandwiches, packs of Ramen if he was lucky. 

Charlie made an indecisive noise with his mouth, opening up all the cabinets like a poltergeist to reveal a goldmine of food. A pantry that was overstocked, if anything. Filled with colorful bags and boxes. Oliver gazed at it all like he’d been invited to the Wonka factory.

They ravaged the kitchen and pantry, collecting random snacks until their arms were overflowing. They weren’t sure what Alec was in the mood for, after all. They had to think of him, too.

“Hey, look,” Charlie said. He reached into the fridge, appearing a moment later with a distinct brown bottle in his hand. “My dad’s beer. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Oliver smiled wickedly. “He won’t notice it’s gone?”

“Pfft.” Charlie laughed. “He’s got enough.” 

They had never drank beer before, so this moment was very scandalous. They were giggling like imps all the way back outside, excited to show Alec their loot. Only to find their treehouse castle under siege.

Jamie Dyer was standing beneath the oak tree, staring nervously up at the scene. Elle Reynolds was climbing the ladder, while Alec hung out of the open door, trying to whack her with a foam sword. 

“Back! Be gone, foul wench!”

“Alec Flynn, if you hit me with that stupid sword, I swear I’ll turn you into a frog!”

“Turn him into a cat!” Jamie encouraged.

“What’s going on?” Oliver asked, ever the lancer, ready to jump into battle with his friends at a moment’s notice.

“I told Elle that no girls are allowed up here, but obviously she’s deaf. Or dumb. Or both,” Alec yelled. 

“You’re rude. It’s a wonder anyone lets you talk at all,” Elle insisted, trying to reach with one hand to grab the sword.

Oliver and Charlie approached Jamie, who looked at them anxiously. Even after all those years, Jamie seemed constantly unsure about the concept of having friends. Like at any moment, one member of that infamous Gravewood trio would choose to betray him - teasing him or pummeling him for being weaker, smaller, and nerdier than his twin brother. Then the others would follow along, because that’s what they did. 

“Gentlemen, I think we’ve got a real war brewing here,” he said, glancing at the snacks the two boys held. 

“No way.” Charlie shook his head. Ever the peacemaker, he walked to the bottom of the treehouse ladder. “Stop the violence. We’ve got snacks and we know how to use ‘em.”

Both Elle and Alec stopped trying to kill each other. They looked down at Charlie, who beamed up at them, shaking a tray of Oreos like they were puppies who would come over at the sound of treats.

It worked like a charm. All five of them were hanging out on the grass in 3 minutes flat. They didn’t even bother to sit down for their picnic; everybody started opening boxes and grabbing snacks straight from Charlie and Oliver’s arms.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Alec asked, shoving an entire cookie into his mouth. 

Elle and Jamie shared a look.

“We’re in the pursuit of knowledge,” he answered. “We’ve read a story about Gravewood and we intend to investigate to see if it’s true.” 

“The story of Charlie’s treehouse?” Oliver asked. “‘Cause we’ll never tell you that one. You’re gonna have to chain us up and try torture.” He mimed gouging out an eyeball, making a wet noise with his mouth. 

“We’re eating,” Elle admonished. The boys simply laughed. She shook it off. “Anyway, no. That’s not the story.” A flash of excitement and conspiracy appeared across her features. Elle leaned in, like someone might be listening who shouldn’t. “Have you ever heard of the dead man’s wish?”

Gravewood was a town of legends and myths. It was fitting, for a place named after a cemetery. Jamie and Elle put on a theatrical performance of the one they’d newly read, creeping around in a circle around the boys, reciting the thrilling tale. Charlie, Oliver, and Alec watched with rapt attention, drawn easily into this circle of imagination. 

The crux of it was this: there was a man who had died in Silent Phantom Cave. If you found where he was buried and paid your respects, he would grant you any one wish. Anything you desired. 

“Anything?” Alec asked.

“Anything,” Jamie assured.

“Why’d you come here then? I don’t think there are any old dudes buried under my house,” Charlie said, shooting his home’s foundation an uneasy look. Hoping that he hadn’t been sleeping above skeletons all these years.

“Well funny you should ask that, Charlie.” Elle’s expression had turned into something sweet and coy, though still somehow conspiratorial. She clasped her hands behind her back, edging closer to Charlie. He straightened up, clearing his throat and trying not to stare at the pretty blonde curl of her hair, which he’d only started noticing that year. “We need you three to help us find the grave. Jamie and I are the brains, but we need some brawn to back us up. Just in case.” 

“In case of ghosts?” Charlie gulped. 

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Oliver insisted. “How do we know this isn’t some plan to get us away from the treehouse so someone else can steal all our stuff?”

Alec shrugged. “I dunno, it sounds really fun to me. I’d love to get down on that wish deal.” 

“Ghosts?” Charlie reiterated. Elle batted her eyelashes at him prettily. “Ugh, fine, whatever! Stop looking at me like that, it’s gross!”

And so that was the afternoon’s adventure. Jamie and Elle had come ready with supplies, but the boys packed their own bags, too. Snacks, flashlights, walkie talkies. The single bottle of beer was slipped into Charlie’s pack. In case of emergency. Then they grabbed their bikes and they were off.

Traversing Gravewood on bicycle was the easy part. They pedaled through the suburban area, turning briefly down Main St. Jamie honked the horn on his bike when they saw Marie on the sidewalk with a bag of groceries; she waved with a smile, like the friendly innkeeper wishing luck to the adventuring party. On and on they rode, past the trailer park where they had a brief tussle with the dog always chained up right outside. Oliver liked to play chicken by seeing how close he could get without getting his face ripped off. But then they were gone again, speeding up a big hill and around a bend, across the RV park, until finally they were at the old train tracks bordering the forest.

This is where they had to abandon their bikes, laying them in the grass and taking the rest of the trip by foot. Together, they followed the tracks for a while. 

Jamie was in the lead, carrying a map in his hands. He was the resident scholar; the wizard in search of ancient magics, who had studied for this his entire life. 

Oliver was second, flitting in and out of the trees, running ahead and then trailing behind. Always the rogue protector, keeping watching from the shadows for baddies that might pop out.

 Charlie, the group’s knight or chivalrous paladin, carried Elle on his back. 

Elle was like the runaway princess, fleeing the castle for a taste of adventure. As the party’s cleric, she carried a bag of snacks and supplies, ready to heal any hunger. Or booboos. 

Alec followed behind. The adventuring bard was strumming a tune on an old ukulele he’d brought - the one supply Alec had packed, rather than anything useful or practical. 

They ventured for what felt like a whole hour. Into the forest and out of it, up and down the mountainside, through the quarry, until they found themselves at Silent Phantom Cave. They approached with much reverence and far more caution than they’d shown their town ‘til that point. Everyone had heard the tales of this cave - and there were many. Of ghouls, of missing miners, of echoes that came back with voices not your own. 

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Jamie told the group. “The grave could be anywhere near here.”

“How will we know when we find it?” Alec asked.

Jamie hesitated, like he hadn’t prepared for that. How were they supposed to find an unmarked gravesite? Everyone glanced at each other for an awkward moment before Charlie finally spoke up:

“I think we’ll just know,” he said resolutely. “That’s sort of how magic works.”

They all agreed on this point, spreading out into the surrounding woods. Jamie used his map to look, writing little notes and points of interest onto the paper. Oliver searched in the dark places, where the trees had blocked out the sun. He was the only one who dared get close to the cave, climbing over rocks and peeking into secret crevices. Charlie had climbed a tree in the hopes that being high up would give him a good vantage point to see far into the distance. Elle was wandering around with a finger tapping against her chin, deep in thought as if trying to get into the mind of this story. She had that look on her face: if I were a magical dead man, where would I be buried? Alec was running about, scaring birds and squirrels as he shouted: “Hello! Are there any dead guys out here? I just want to ask you a question!”

When dusk began to fall, they all slowly came back together. Disappointment was evident on all their faces, though Jamie Dyer looked the most dejected.

Charlie: “We can always try again some other day.”

Jamie: “Why don’t we keep looking? We brought flashlights. We could stay out here as long as it takes.”

Elle: “I don’t know, Jamie... My parents would get really worried if I got home so late.”

Oliver: “Plus I’m hungry. Looking for dead people really works up your appetite.” 

Alec: “Hey, we can fix that!”

Alec dug into the pack on Elle’s back. He pulled out the snacks and they all sat in a circle for an impromptu picnic before the long trip home. Oliver held the beer bottle aloft. “Anyone wanna try a little of this?” he asked devilishly. Elle gasped, but Charlie and Alec looked excited. Alec reached out to take the bottle, inspecting the label like he knew anything about beer and could tell whether it was good by the brand name. 

“How do we open it?” he asked, revealing the real lack of knowledge he had.

“Uhh... did we pack a bottle opener?” Charlie asked Oliver. 

Oliver: “I thought you would do that.” 

Charlie: “Me? Why me?”

Oliver: “Uh, ‘cause it’s your dad’s beer.”

Elle: “You STOLE your dad’s beer? Are you all lunatics?”

Charlie, Oliver, and Alec all laughed as if to say: Yes. Yes we are.

Elle blushed. She looked antsy, but she also said: “I guess... if we’re sharing it, maybe it’s fine. Have you tried twisting it off?”

Jamie sighed. “It doesn’t work like that,” he said. He took the beer from Alec, expertly using the sharp end of a stone to pop the cap off. He handed it back, shoulders hunched under the weight of the astonished looks around him. It was as though he was torn between pride that he’d impressed them and some internal agony that he’d known how to do that at all. 

Alec: “Jamie Dyer... is a god!”

Oliver and Charlie whooped cheers for Jamie; Elle clapped appropriately. Jamie blushed crimson. “Ugh, everybody knows how to do that," he insisted, despite having been the only one in the group who did. “There’s no way I’m drinking any though. It’s poison. You’re all going to poison yourselves and when you pass out in the woods, I won’t be able to take you all back. I’m saving Elle and letting everyone else get eaten by bears.”

Charlie: “I could fight a bear.” 

Alec: “He could. I’ve seen it.”

Oliver: “And anyways, even if we did get eaten, what an awesome way to die.” 

On this point, the three billy goats gruff apparently agreed, passing the beer around the circle. They all - save for Jamie - took turns taking sips. Their very first beer. 

“Blech! It’s so disgusting,” Elle cried.

Alec: “Yeah, it’s bad.”

Oliver: “Like dirt flavored soda.”

Charlie: “I dunno, I could get used to it.”

They kept passing it around anyway, until the group had finished the bottle. The warmth went to their stomachs immediately. They joked and giggled and leaned into each other like old friends at the local tavern, rather than a party of preteens who’d collectively consumed a single Budweiser. Even sober Jamie, who had been so discouraged before, was lit up by a toothy smile, playing along with the games and revelry. 

It took a while for them to settle down, as dusk grew darker. When they did, nobody made the first move to leave.

 “If we do find the grave someday,” Jamie said, “what would you all wish for?”

There was a pause as they all considered this.

“Maybe... I would wish to be a princess. I’d live in a fancy castle in a faraway land where there are unicorns and princes and magical balls...” Elle wistfully painted her picture. 

Charlie giggled immaturely. “Magical balls. I would wish for magical balls too.” Elle groaned and shoved him.

“I’d wish for a million dollars,” Oliver said. “No... a million, billion dollars. ‘Cause with all that money, I could buy everybody else’s wishes. I’d be like the town genie.”

“That’s a good one,” Alec said with a nod. “I’d wish for a dog. Or - wait, no - a guitar. Or a boat. A really cool boat. But.. no.. maybe like a horse. Or two horses.” The indecisive Alec would have gone on forever if someone hadn’t stopped him. Luckily, Jamie was there to offer his own wish.

“I’d wish for this,” he said. His tone was shy, uncertain. It had been hard to hear him over Alec’s rambling, so they all quieted, asking him to speak up. “I’d wish for more nights like this,” he said, rubbing his hands and looking into the woods rather than at his friends. “A whole day just like this one that wouldn’t ever end. All five of us, together this way. Forever.”

There was another pause. One in which they all seemed to telepathically agree that Jamie’s wish had been the best one of all.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Elle agreed softly. 

Charlie: “Yeah... me too.”

Oliver: “Best day ever.”

Alec: “Nothing beats it. Except maybe this day, but also there’s a dog.”

They laughed and began to gather their things. With the steady dropping of the sun, they had to use what precious daylight they had left to at least get out of the woods. When they got back to their bikes and began to pedal home, there came a point in Gravewood where they had to split up. To go home - wherever in town that was for each of them. 

They had plans to get back together for another adventure. To find the secret grave; to get their one wish. Plans, however, are hard to keep when you’re 11, on the cusp of life and responsibility. They didn’t know, on that warm Summer night, that it would be the last time. They didn’t know, as most childhood friends don’t, that this parting was significant. 

There was no fanfare. No trumpets to announce a great goodbye. Such was growing up.

There was no magic in a wish left ungranted.

[tricksters-captain]

Weasley Twins/Cedric Diggory Imagines - Accidental Meeting - Part 9

AN: Thank you for all being patient with me! I hope you all had a Merry Christmas or a Happy Holiday!

Overall Summary: (Y/n), is a young witch who always kept her head down due to her complicated past; one day she bumps quite literally into one of the most popular boys in Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory, and that’s when (Y/n)’s plan of keeping her head down seems to go up into the air. Things only seem to worsen when two redheaded twins start to take notice too...

This Chapter: (Y/n) spends time with Cedric just before the Christmas break before getting a Christmas surprise...

(MASTERLIST HERE)

Pairing(s): Cedric Diggory x Reader, (Eventual) George Weasley x Reader, (Platonic) Fred Weasley x Reader, (Platonic) Oliver Wood x Reader

Word Count: 4,134

Warnings: None, lots of fluff

“Slow down, Lauren!” A couple of first years shouting at each other ran threw you and Oliver as you walked down the corridor. 

“Got to love the Christmas excitement.” Oliver chuckled at their behaviour and you just rolled your eyes. 

The whole castle seemed to be filled with excitement. Christmas was right around the corner and so was the upcoming Quidditch match between Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor. 

“Meanwhile I can’t wait for this castle to empty out.” You admitted as you shifted your scarf tighter around your neck. 

“You know, when everyone leaves for the holidays so does lover boy.” Oliver smirked, referencing to Cedric. 

“I really hope Ravenclaw wins tomorrow.” You changed the subject to purposefully annoy the boy. 

“That’s slander, you know. You could be kicked out of the house just for thinking that.” Oliver retorted. 

“Oh calm down, Wood.” You linked arms with the boy to draw some of his warmth. “The game may be cancelled due to the heavy snowfall anyway.”  

“That would be even worse.” Oliver frowned, turning his head to look past you at the falling snow. 

You spotted Cedric up ahead and he smiled brightly at you to which you returned. 

You were meeting up this evening to spend some time together before the Christmas break, not that Oliver knew that.  

“Remind me to hide the mistletoe.” Oliver teased you as he caught the direction of your smile. 

“You are worse than Fred and George and that’s saying something.” You pulled your arm away from the boy and he quickly relinked your arms laughing at your irritation. 

“They’re still not over your last snow fight, you know?” Oliver reminded you of the snow fight at Hogsmeade and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Sore losers.” You chuckled, shaking your head at the memory of them drenched in snow.

Then just on cue, the twins came up behind you both.

“You excited for Christmas, (Y/n)?” Fred asked as he joined you and Oliver. 

“I can’t wait. I won’t have to see your ugly faces.” You retorted to the twins with a wink. 

“You’ll miss us.” George shook his head at you. 

“Yeah! Just wait and see how boring it is around here without us.” Fred added. 

“Did you mean how peaceful it’s going to be?” You teased the boys as you came to the Gryffindor common room entrance. 

Inside the common room was crowded. 

The snow and cold weather had driven everyone inside and with the holidays right round the corner, all the students were eager to spend time with each other before they have to leave for a couple of weeks. 

“Where you off to, (y/n)?” George asked as you went for the girls dorm stairs.

“You really don’t want to spend the last few days of term with your favourite people?” Fred took hold of your arm to stop you.

“Haven’t you guys got practise for the quidditch match tomorrow?” You cocked your eyebrows at the boys. 

“Can’t practise until the snow slows.” Oliver grumbled. 

“It’s heaving out here.” You gestured around to the surrounding students.

“You’re not scared of a little social interaction, are ya, Seyler?”  Fred teased you, pulling you towards some free chairs in the corner of the common room. 

“(Y/n), not Seyler.” George nudged his brother, correcting him since you were in a large group of people.

“Thank you, George.” You pulled your arm away from Fred and linked arms with George instead. 

“So, has your uncle sent your presents over yet?” Oliver changed the subject as you all sat. 

“He sent a couple of owls over the past couple days with parcels. I’ve tucked them under my bed for now.” You explained. 

“Wood won’t tell us what he’s got you.” Fred whined as he looked in between you and Oliver. 

“Thinks we’ll tell you.” George laughed. 

“You probably would.” You defended Oliver as you looked up at the red headed twin, his brown eyes staring straight back down at you. 

George rolled his eyes and looked up over at his twin who wore a similar expression. 

“Look, guys, it’s so loud in here. I want to get changed before supper too.” You rose from your chair and peered over at the stairs.

“Got a date or something that you’re not telling us about?” Fred wiggled his eyebrows and you shoved his shoulder lightly with your elbow. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You then excused yourself to go get changed.

You spent longer than you would have liked trying to pick something to wear. You ended up going to supper with Oliver and the twins as per usual and you walked back to the common room with them as you and Cedric weren’t due to meet until 8pm. 

“Where are you running off to?” Oliver asked as you packed up your parchment and books. You had been studying with him in the common room as you waited for the time to pass. 

“The library.” You lied quickly before you rushed to dump your stuff and leave. 

You checked your hair one last time in the mirror before escaping the dorms and the common room. 

“Hi.” Cedric smiled widely as the door closed behind you. 

“Hi.” You smiled back. 

“Come on... I have a surprise.” Cedric offered his hand and you took it, furrowing your eyebrows at him with curiosity. 

“Where are you taking me, Mr Diggory?” You laughed quietly as he lead you forward down the stairs. 

You felt yourself drop Cedric’s hand when you spotted a couple of young Gryffindor students coming up the stairs. 

Cedric looked down at where he had lost your hand but didn’t say anything. 

You walked slower behind Cedric as you carefully watched the students disappear. 

“Shit.” You cursed as the stairs below your feet started to grind to move. 

“Jump!” Cedric was already on the other set of stairs. 

“What?” You scoffed in disbelief at the boy. 

“Come on!” He encouraged you as the stairs started to move. 

You were already in the air before you realised what you were doing.

Cedric’s hands caught your forearms as you felt yourself collide with the boy. 

“I can’t believe you actually jumped.” Cedric chuckled in amusement as he held you against him to keep you sturdy.

“I trust you too much.” You groaned as you pulled away from him, your cheeks burning from the previous closeness. 

“Good. Because I’m gonna need you to trust me tonight.” Cedric took your hand and lead you away before you could argue. 

Cedric lead you outside the castle to which you were very confused by this time as it was dark and you knew you would both be in trouble if caught, prefect or not. 

“I need you to drink this.” Cedric pulled out a small bottle from his pocket. 

“Cedric, the last person I know who drank an unknown substance by the male species ended up blacking out and not remembering what happened.” You stared at him flatly. 

“You said you trust me?” He rose his eyebrows at you before taking a swig himself then handing it over. 

“What is it?” You asked, raising it to your lips slowly. 

“It’ll let you see in the dark.” Cedric told you. 

“Why do I need to see in the dark?” You asked. 

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Cedric responded as he took the empty bottle away from you. 

It felt weird as your eyes started to adjust and the night suddenly became much lighter. 

That’s when you spotted the ice skates. 

“You’re kidding right?” You looked at the frozen lake and then up at Cedric.

“Trust me.” He put on his own skates then watched as you slowly laced up your own with a worried expression glued to your features. 

Cedric stepped onto the ice and started to glide with ease but you fell over the moment you stepped on. 

“Steady there.” Cedric skated over and helped you up. 

You were wobbly for the first few minutes but Cedric’s grip on you soon eased up and you could skate beside him without slipping. 

“Are you warm enough?” Cedric asked as he watched your breath from your lips. 

“I’m just lucky I decided to bring outdoor stuff with me.” You smiled through the night as you wiggled your gloved fingers at him. 

“It’ll be strange. Not seeing you for a few weeks.” Cedric admitted as he picked up his pace. 

“I bet you won’t even think of (Y/n) Seyler the moment you walk into your house.” You rolled your eyes but Cedric’s smile dropped. 

“I was going to write you.” Cedric confessed as he came to a stop. 

“It’s only a few weeks, Cedric.” You started. “You don’t need to write me. Just. enjoy the time with your family–––”

You shifted your weight wrong and your skate slipped under you, sending you crashing into Cedric’s arms. Again. 

“Sorry!” You squealed as you gripped tight onto his coat. 

You both stayed there, your hot breath tickling his cheeks and his yours. 

You looked at his eyes. They were so bright in the moonlight. 

That’s when Cedric started to lean towards you. 

You pulled away immediately and skated to the side of the lake, trudging through the snow in your skates. 

“Hey! (Y/n)! Wait!” Cedric raced after you as you fled. 

You sat down on a nearby log and immediately went to put your boots back on.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry.” Cedric caught up with you and tried to apologise. 

“I’ve never done this before.” You cut him off with your response. 

“What?” Cedric was confused to what you were talking about.  

“This!” You gestured between the two of you. “I’ve never done the boyfriend thing, I’ve never done this with someone, spend all this time together.... Except Oli, of course, but that’s different. I don't know what we are doing, Cedric but I don’t know how to do it!” 

“Woah... Hey, hey, hey!” Cedric sat down beside you and searched your face as the words spilled out. 

“I still don’t truly understand what this is. What’s going on - I - I...” 

Cedric’s lips met yours to stop the word vomit. 

All the anxiety and nervosa suddenly left your body as you tasted the mint from Cedric’s kiss. 

His lips were soft, warm and it felt... right. 

Suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat. 

“Lumos.” It wasn’t hard to guess which professor had interrupted your first kiss as soon as they spoke. 

You pulled away from Cedric and looked down in embarrassment.

“Miss Seyler. Mr Diggory.” Snape’s stare bored down at you both. 

“Professor, it’s my fault.” Cedric stood as he started but Snape rose his hand to silence him. 

“If it wasn’t so close to the Christmas holidays both of you would be in detention for all the rules you’ve broken this evening but instead 20 points will be taken from both Gryffindor house and Hufflepuff.” Snape explained as he looked between you both. “Now back to your common rooms. Now.” 

You didn’t tell anybody about what had happened when you returned to the common room. 

You laid awake longer than usual thinking about the kiss. 

Your first kiss. 

You shook your head and tried to stop smiling as you covered your eyes with your hands. 

What just happened?

The next day the snow had stopped falling and the quidditch match was allowed to go ahead. 

You wrapped up warm and followed the rest of your house to the stands to support the team. 

George and Fred flew over to you on their brooms as the teams awaited the match’s start. 

“You look happy.” George commented on your smile.

“That makes a change.” Fred teased you and you just stuck your middle finger up at the boy. 

“Cheer us on, (Y/n).” George told you. 

“If we’re lucky we may get a winning kiss, Georgie.” Fred smirked.

You felt the colour drain from your face. 

They knew. 

You suddenly realised they knew about the kiss. 

Snape had caught you and Cedric, of course people knew...

How many more people knew that you and Cedric Diggory had been caught by the lake...at night...

You felt your happiness slowly fade as you tried not to look around you to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.

The match went by agonisingly slow but Gryffindor fortunately won. 

You immediately rushed back to the common room before the twins or Oliver could catch up with you. 

“Hey (Y/n)!” Cedric caught you just before. 

“Cedric, I kinda have to go.” You tried to leave but he caught your hand. 

“I just wanted to apologise for last night.” Cedric told you. “Not for.. You know but for getting caught.” 

“It’s okay, Ced but I really have to go.” You looked past him to see the teams colours through the crowd which meant they were close.

Cedric nodded and started to walk away. 

You internally groaned at his sad face and tugged on his coat to pull him back round to you. 

“I’ll see you later.” You kissed him very briefly before continuing your way to the common room. Hiding in your dorm. 

“Fred sent me to tell you that you can’t hide forever as you need to say goodbye to them and explain how you lost the house 20 points last night.” Angelina entered your room with a smirk on her face. 

“I’m sure everyone already knows, Ang.” You cringed at the thought of everyone talking about it. 

“All I’ve heard is that Cedric Diggory also lost 20 points last night.” She replied  with a wink. 

“Sure.” You scoffed, folding your book over and sitting up on your bed.

You watched her gather her chest and a small bag from her bed. 

“All I’m gonna say is you’re lucky this happened just before we broke up for Christmas. Hopefully this news won’t still be making the rounds when we come back in January.” Angelina tried to make you feel better but it didn’t work. 

“Have a good break, Angelina. Merry Christmas.” You wished her farewell and she wished you a Merry Christmas back. 

You finally gathered the courage to slip your shoes on and descend the stairs. 

“Finally.” Both Fred and George said in unison. 

“You’re lucky I even came down at all.” You told the two as you approached them. 

“Then you wouldn’t have gotten this.” Fred pulled out a small brown paper package from behind his back. 

“What’s this?” You looked between the two boys. 

“Just something small.” Fred admitted. 

“Ginny writes home to Mum and well, she’s mentioned you once or twice.” George started to explain as he took the package and handed it to you. 

“He means he asked mum to make you one––” Fred was cut off by a punch to the side by George.

“She then wrote to us and asked if you wanted to stay for Christmas to which we knew you’d be here with Wood.” George cleared his throat, his face bright red as he spoke. 

“That’s very kind but completely unnecessary. Tell her I thank her anyway.” You pressed a smile onto your face as you thought about the red headed older woman who could’ve raised these two. 

Then again, you looked around the common room at Ron and Ginny saying goodbye to their friends. And even Percy... 

You started to open the present to see it was a knitted sweater. You opened the jumper up to see your first initial knitted onto the sweater just like the sweaters you’ve seen the boys occasionally wear. 

“You don’t have to wear it.” George laughed as he watched you study it. 

“But if you ever meet our mother you do. Scary that woman is.” Fred laughed along side his twin and you just smiled. 

“I love it. Thank you.” You embraced the boys and they hugged you back.

“No sarcastic comment?” George looked confused. “Are you feeling okay, (Y/n)?” 

“It’s the honeymoon feelings. Got her all giddy after locking lips with pretty boy Diggory.” Fred immediately moved back as you went to swat him for his comment. 

“Merry Christmas, (Y/n)!” The twins fled before you could throw any books at them for their teasing behaviour. 

“You’ll be glad to get rid of them.” Oliver came up beside you as he watched the whole Weasley family leave and slung his arm over your shoulder. 

“I have a terrible feeling I’m now stuck with them for the rest of my time in this Godforsaken school.” You leant your head on his shoulder and folded over your arms with a sigh. 

“Let’s see if you can survive that long without cracking their skulls together.” Oliver smirked and you groaned playfully.

“Merlin help me now.” You looked up at the ceiling which only made Oliver laugh once again. 

“Speaking of goodbyes though... Isn’t there someone you should be seeing before they leave?” Oliver asked. 

You had almost forgot. 

You excused yourself and rushed to the basement near the Hufflepuff entrance. 

“I thought you’d show up eventually.” Cedric was leaning against his trunk when you showed up. 

“I was seeing the twins off. I’m sorry.” You confessed. 

Cedric said it was alright before pulling you into a hug. 

The soft blue wool of his sweater was soaked in his scent and you breathed it in sweetly. 

“Have a good Christmas, Ced.” You whispered as you held onto him. 

“I’ll write you.” Cedric told you. “Even if you don’t write back.” 

You pulled away from the boy a little so you could look up at his face. 

“Guess we’ll see.” You shrugged, knowing full well that you were definitely going to write back. 

Cedric peered up and down the corridor before planting a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me this year.” Cedric admitted. 

“What? Above becoming Quidditch captain and a prefect?” You rose your eyebrows at him with a smirk. 

“Yes.” Cedric chuckled with a little shake of his head. 

You reached up behind the boys neck with your hand and brought his lips to yours. Kissing him softly. 

“Merry Christmas, Cedric.” You flicked your wand behind your back and a vine of mistletoe grew above you both. 

Cedric kissed you once more before you pulled away and left. A warm glow on your cheeks. 

A few more days went passed and the quiet bliss of the castle kept you in a calming spirit. 

You and Oliver spent most of your time playing wizard chess or reading in the common room or even out on the quidditch pitch. 

You didn't fly much but you helped Oliver with his batting skills. 

On Christmas Eve, you both sat in front of the fire with hot chocolates and a mince pie each. 

“I can’t believe this is my last Christmas at Hogwarts with you.” You sighed quietly as you nuzzled into Olivers side. 

“You know I don’t die after I leave Hogwarts.” Oliver said as he took a bite of his pie. 

“I know that but you’ll be working. You’ll be busy. You won’t have time for some school girl whenever she has an issue she can’t solve herself.” You pouted. 

“(Y/n).” Oliver adjusted to look you in the eye. “You are one of the strongest and bravest people I know. I will always be here for you when you need me but I know you will survive here without me and you will finish Hogwarts just like me and you will enjoy it.” 

“Oli...”

“I’m not disappearing of the side of the earth. I will still be here, I just won’t be here.” Oliver assured you as he gestured around the common room.

You just pulled him in for a hug. 

“I know. It just scares me.” You confessed against his shoulder. 

“I know.” Oliver stroked your hair before pulling away to drink his hot chocolate. 

The night went by quickly and soon you were tiptoeing up the dormitory stairs in your fluffy socks to get some sleep before Christmas morning. 

You had already placed all your presents underneath the tree the common room  in a bag with your name on and you had put Oliver’s there too. 

Your dorm was empty which meant you didn’t have to worry about anyone one else as you tucked into your bed and turned out the lights. 

Even through the dark you could see the snowfall outside the window. The moon reflecting on the tiny snowflakes. 

You don’t know when you fell asleep but you did know you wished you hadn’t. 

Images flashed through your head of Christmas years ago. The alarms. The snow. You being dragged through a dark alley by your parents. Your cloak dragging behind you. You tripping. A slap. Screams. An inn. Blood. Darkness.

You woke up panting and soaked in sweat. 

You didn’t know how you remembered these memories. 

You were only 4/5 when it happened. 

It was when your parents had escaped the ministry during a hearing about their crimes as Death Eaters a couple years after the Dark Lord had fallen. 

They had broken into your uncles house and stolen you in the night. They didn’t bother with your uncle that night because they were without their wands but they managed to snatch you quite easily despite Demetrius’ efforts to keep you hidden. 

You touched your cheek as if you had felt the slap all over again. 

Outside the birds were chirping happily and a plump robin sat on the window sill without a care in the world. 

You slipped out of bed and managed to squeeze in a shower before Oliver woke up. 

“Merry Christmas, (Y/n).” Oliver wore his pyjamas and dressing gown as he engulfed you in a tight hug. 

“Merry Christmas, Oli.” You returned the hug before lurching towards Oliver’s gift and thrusting it in his hand.

“I hope you like it.” You smiled as you fiddled with your hands nervously. 

Oliver handed you your own present and then sat down to open his small gift. 

You watched him open it carefully and this his eyes grow wide in surprise. 

It was Oliver’s favourite Quidditch players autograph on a quaffle.

“How did you get this?!” Oliver asked as he jumped up to hug you. 

“Demetrius has his ways.” You laughed as you winced from how tight his hug was. 

“Open yours now.” Oliver sat back down, the quaffle sturdy on his lap with his hand on it. 

You teared the wrapping paper back to reveal a small photo frame with an old moving photo inside of it. 

“Oliver Wood!” You gushed as you realised it was a photo of you and Oli during your first year. 

“Me Mam found it tucked away on an old photo album during the summer. I remember she took it during the Christmas holidays when you first ever visited mine.” Oliver explained as you watched the awkward yet undeniably cute photo move.

“Thank you, Oli. I love it.” You hugged him once more before turning to open the presents from your uncle. 

There was only four small separately wrapped presents but you were extremely curious to find out what he sent you. 

The first present was a photo album. 

The second was some new socks which you and Oliver laughed at since it was so typical of your uncle. 

The third was a dream catcher. He always seemed to know. 

The final gift you unwrapped was a enchanted camera for moving photographs. 

“Oli! Look! We can take a new one!” You felt your chest warm as you realised just how thoughtful a present this was from Demetrius. 

You made a mental note to write a letter as soon as possible. 

Oliver moved beside you and wrapped his arm over your shoulders. 

He smiled widely as the photo was taken and ruffled your hair just as the flash went. 

“Hey!” You squealed as you moved away. 

“Anyway, Wood, what’d your mother get you?” You flattened your hair back to its original state as you nodded your chin towards the tree. 

“Let’s find out.” Oliver knelt by the tree and pulled out his gifts. 

You watched him unwrap his presents before you both decided to change and head to the great hall for a Christmas lunch. 

You came down in the sweater the twins had given you and Oliver’s draw dropped. 

“Are you really going to wear that?” He asked, his disgust shining through his accent. 

“Bugger off, Wood. I think it suits me.” You shrugged, “It was a Christmas gift after all.” 

“Next you’ll be moving into their home.” Oliver teased you about looking like a Weasley but you chose to ignore him. 

The rest of your Christmas just seemed to fly by...

(NEXT PART SOON)

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[katherinemallory]

#10 The roulette of feelings

Hell is empty and all the previous chapters are here: #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9

After a few days in London we caught our flight to Monte Carlo. I’m not sure how long we stayed there. This mission felt like a long holiday since the very beginning.

Still on board we agreed that Bond would be the one to play poker and I would pose as his wife, or, as he has put it, “a crown jewel”. Usually I don't like being treated as such, since my experience in behaving like a damsel is close to a bare minimum, but this time I really enjoyed it. Bond was clearly pleased with his leading role in this show, and - while sitting at the poker table - he started to take chances more eagerly. He boasted about his poker skills all the time and I kept working from the shadows, observing him and our rivals, and making sure that we don’t expose ourselves too much. A win-win situation.

We were quite busy spending time at the casino, discussing the tactics, or using all the possible attractions offered by the city of Monte Carlo. The only contact I had with the outside world during the first week were my reports to MI6 which went directly to M, delivered to him by Eve Moneypenny.

One day, while Bond was on the meeting with our liaison (it's amazing the SIS has got its people... everywhere), my phone rang. I picked it up and sat on my bed, crossing my legs.

"Hi Eve. It’s nice to hear you. Did you... find out anything?"

"Not yet, Kath, but I'm working on it," she reassured me. "I just wanted to know how you're doing. You haven't been in touch for *days*. I’ve only noticed your daily reports."

"I'm more than fine, thank you. And I’m sorry for not being in touch... I have to admit I've been kinda busy, but... I won’t complain. Finally I do all those things I needed to recharge my batteries."

“I can’t believe what I hear! Does it mean I should become a double-0 if I want to feel more relaxed?” she teased me.

“You definitely should try it,” I replied, smiling. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s absolutely true. I enjoy the high-life more than I expected... All those fancy parties, drinks, wealthy men, late-night strolls around the streets of Monte Carlo... You get used to it pretty quickly," I replied in delight. "Sometimes I forget that I am here for the purpose of work.”

“It’s great to hear that, Kath. You deserve it, especially after what happened in Geneva,” said Eve and hesitated. “And... And w-w-what about Bond...? I guess it’s him who takes you on these late-night strolls?” 

I laid on the bed, putting one pillow under my head. I looked straight at the white ceiling.

“Well... We spend each night at the casino, pretending to be a husband and a wife who just want to enjoy themselves... In the mornings Bond tries to teach me how to play poker. I fail miserably every time!” I chuckled. “We share a suite. I had some concerns before, but so far he behaves."

Eve's voice went up really high.

"You mean he did give up on you?”

I tilted my head to the right, placing my cheek on one of the pillows and pressing the phone to my ear.

"He didn’t. We flirt regularly," I replied, as I scratched my forehead with my left hand. “But he’s more patient now, I reckon. And more self-confident. He knows I can’t pay much attention to the other men at the casino, cause it would blow our cover immediately. He knows I wouldn’t do that... This is what makes him... erm... powerful. And he probably thinks I will fall for him eventually,” I added, rolling my eyes. “And I’m afraid he’s right.”

“Uh, you don’t really *mean* it, do you?” she asked, concerned. “There’s no pressure... This mission won’t last forever.”

“Honestly, Eve? Sometimes I feel like it will last forever... And Bond’s presence gets more addictive every day,” I said, lying on my back again. “I used to make fun of it, but I’m afraid I can’t resist Bond much longer. I mean... Not because he’s irresistible, but because... I really start to feel something for him.”

I took a deep breath and then continued:

“It all depends on what you find. If Mallo... erm, if the man I asked you to spy on... is married, then I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t have an affair with Bond...”

“Fair enough,” commented Eve. “At least you know what Bond wants from you. Suppose that’s something. But didn’t you admit the other day that you loved Ma...”

“It’s more complicated than you think," I interrupted. "When you spend all days in Bond’s company, it changes your perspective entirely... You’d better hurry then. I am so confused recently...” Damn, I thought. There is no need to burden Eve with all of this... I should probably change the subject. “... but you didn’t tell me anything about yourself, how was your day at the SIS? Any news?”

“Business as usual. I can’t share much detail, but it seems like Amanda’s got reassigned as she had requested.”

“Good for her. Send my love.”

“I will. And I promise to get in touch as soon as I find out anything about... *him*.”

...

The upcoming days passed so fast that I didn’t think about anything apart from what was going on in Monte Carlo. Intuitively both myself and Bond concentrated on the everyday tasks of the mission, but it turned out most of the time we just had fun, which meant our Walther and Beretta were absolutely useless.

Since the only moments I had only to myself were those just before going to bed in the evenings, I often spent them on analyzing my own feelings and, as a result, I developed a certain kind of insomnia. Or, I should rather call it “a difficulty with falling asleep”.

My thoughts were centred on Mallory. I miss him. I miss him dearly, but only when I have time to think about what he's doing in his old-fashioned office in London. When Bond is around, it’s only him who matters to me. Why is that? What the hell has happened to me? I don't know, but it's disturbing. And I get tired every time I try to sort things out in my mind... Can I really sleep with Bond if Mallory’s married? It’s not about giving up on a married man (which is an obvious decision from my point of view, as I would never break up *anyone’s* marriage), but about being honest to myself. Do I really love Mallory if I can fantasize about Bond? Or do I really feel something for Bond if my next move depends on Mallory’s marital status?

After a few evenings of such intense thinking I realized that no matter the arguments, such analysis is pointless. I could be thinking about this for a year and still didn’t come up with a right solution. I decided to wait and see how the case would resolve itself.

On the last day - it was one of those splendid days in June when you feel the most alive - we went to the casino for one more time, looking more dashing than ever. Little did we know, when we walked hand in hand into the casino - Bond wearing a black dinner jacket and me in an evening scarlet dress - that Bond would win the night’s poker game, gaining an enormous amount of money.

Late at night, around 3 A.M. I went straight to the poker table and brought Bond a dry martini (I've already had a few of them myself to relieve the boredom).

"Congratulations," I said, handing him a martini.

"Thank you," replied Bond and drank half of his glass.

I looked at him with aroused interest while he was drinking. I was never good at poker and, as much as I didn't want to, I had to admit the way he played that night impressed me.

"What do we do now?"

For a while, he observed the olives that seemed as if they were swimming inside the glass, and then gave me a quick glance.

"We pack and come back to London."

"Is that so? What about the winnings?" I asked in disbelief, expecting some kind of joke rather than a matter-of-fact response.

"I will have to transfer them to MI6. I have already contacted M, he should send me the instructions in the next few hours."

"You've already contacted M? Someone's in a hurry. Was your time here *that* bad?” I taunted him.

Bond smirked, but didn't say anything. I glanced around the room. The people started to leave the place.

"So, it means we came here broken and we leave broken, despite the win?" I asked, laughing.

"One could say that," Bond agreed. "But I can still afford a dinner and a drink. Would you join me tonight for a humble celebration?"

"With pleasure. Let's enjoy our last hours in this marvellous place,” I said, taking him by the arm.

After the dinner in one of the restaurants at the casino, we went for our last walk around the streets of Monte Carlo. Both me and Bond became unexpectedly talkative, probably because of too many drinks we had to celebrate the happy ending of the mission.

It could have been around 5 A.M when the walk started to feel too exhausting, and we went back to our shared suite.

"Would you like another?" asked Bond, pointing to the bottle of bourbon at the table, just after we locked the door to the suite.

"Yes," I replied. "The last one for tonight."

I have no idea why I agreed to this, cause I've never been drinking much or mixing alcohols in the past. After Bond handed me my glass, I let my hair down and rushed to the balcony. I need to see this amazing city just one more time before I go to sleep, I thought. I observed the skyline, waiting for Bond to join me.

"To the king and queen of Monaco," said Bond and we clinked glasses, standing next to each other.

I smiled at him and drank the whole glass with my eyes closed, but I still could tell he was staring at me.

"You know, Katherine, it's been one of my favourite missions so far."

"Really?”

"Yes... It’s the simplicity of it,” he took off his dinner jacket, thrown it on the nearest chair, and then continued. “The task I'm really good at... the fairy-tale location, no rush... and the right woman. You," he said in his deep, smooth voice and put his glass on the floor.

Then he put one of his hands on the railing and turned to me, but didn’t say a word, as if he intended to find out how close to me I would allow him to move.

“It’s an honour to hear something like that from such an experienced double-0,” I said timidly, still holding the empty glass in my hands.

Bond gazed at me for a few seconds.

"It's true, I've been a double-0 for quite a while," he said and turned his head to look at the skyline of Monte Carlo, "but rarely did I feel this close with another agent. It's strange. I’ve always tried to avoid being emotionally attached to anyone. Cause of the job's nature and all that stuff."

This time it was me who stayed quiet. I just kept listening to him, realizing how much I *love* his voice and how could I listen to him talking *forever*. It occurred to me how beautiful his magnetic blue eyes were, especially in the middle of the night. One could say the same about Bond's face which now seemed to me like the face of the most handsome man on the planet. It should be illegal to be *that* handsome, I thought.

Bond turned his head to me.

"Then I've met you... and it seems I forget about all of those rules in the blink of an eye... it seems I don't control myself anymore."

I don't know how it happened, but in the next moment I found myself in Bond's arms. I felt his embrace, so tight, as if he wanted to protect me from all of the threats of this world. The glass dropped out of my hands and probably broke up, but we didn’t hear anything apart from the sound of our pumping hearts. I placed my hands on Bond’s chest, and we began to kiss, not being able to control the lust that started to fulfil our bodies. I quickly moved my hands to his neck and then the back of his head. I caressed his hair, which felt like the most pleasant material I have ever touched.

"You're the woman of my dreams," whispered Bond, when he started to kiss my neck. In response, I tilted my head back, but continued to touch his hair.

Out of the blue Bond picked me up and headed towards the bedroom. He was in a hurry, wanting to put me on his bed as soon as possible. He took off his shirt and laid down on me, holding my waist and passionately kissing my neck.

"Oh, James," I moaned, as the touch of his lips and hands started to turn me on. “Keep going... umm... And use that nice, deep voice of yours.”

“Like this?” he asked, lowering his voice and biting my ear. “Do you like it?”

“Yes...”

Oh my, I am in heaven. If he doesn't stop, I'll melt, I thought. I let Bond kiss me a few more times, but then moved to the other side of the bed to undress. Bond watched me hungrily as I took off my dress and stockings. And there I was, lying on his bed and wearing only my sexy black lingerie. I thought that he would eat me if he could.

I encouraged Bond with a sensual gesture, touching myself where I wanted to be touched the most. He couldn’t stand watching me for long, and came closer to kiss me again. He slowly moved from my belly and breasts to my neck.

“I've been waiting for this moment since the day we've met," he murmured, while kissing my collarbone.

I closed my eyes to double the thrill and make the experience more intense. My hands moved to his back and held him tighter.

"You drive me crazy," Bond whispered into my ear.

A fast thought crossed my mind. It's true what they say in the Service... nobody does it better... he's definitely a great lay... to hell with “the revenge plot”, go for it, Kath. I was just about to take off my bra, when I heard something was vibrating. I got a text. Great timing. I opened my eyes and reluctantly sat on the bed, bending down to the bedside cabinet.

"Oh, Katherine, just ignore it," said Bond who still caressed my waist with his right hand.

"Look who’s talking," I replied. "The most professional man in the Service... There’s no need to describe this to you..."

I looked at the screen and in that exact moment my adventurous mood was gone. I felt as if my heart stopped for a short while.

Hi, just wanted to let you know that I have some evidence. He's not married anymore. Love, Eve

I quickly locked the screen to prevent Bond from seeing the message, as I felt his touch on my back. He hugged me from behind, kissing my left shoulder.

"Shall we continue?" he asked in his naughty manner.

I froze in my tracks. What about M? How can I fight for him if I sleep with another man right now? I promised myself to fight for Mallory and I have to be consistent. This was fun, but... I love Mallory, right? It's high time to stop playing games... and to finally forget about Bond. Perhaps it's a good sign I got this message before we did antyhing reckless.

I stood up with my back to Bond, still holding the phone in my hands.

"I'm sorry James... but I can't do this,” I declared as seriously as I could.

"But why?" he asked calmly, but his voice was full of disappointment and sadness. "Was it something I did?"

Oh, dear James, I thought. If you only knew how perfectly you did everything...

"No," I replied and turned to him. My voice was shaking a bit. "It was... it was a wonderful night, but I've never slept with a co-worker before... and... I've just realized it would be wrong. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for this," I blurted out and felt a tear doing down my cheek.

Bond seemed not to believe me.

"You've *just* realized it? *Just* after you've got that message," he said, pointing to my phone. "I don't know what this is about, but... we've had such a great time here, why not celebrate it tonight? It doesn’t matter at all that we work together."

I turned my head in embarrassment, trying not to look at him. He stood up and came closer to me.

"I know that you like me," Bond said and placed his hands on my arms. "You can't simply deny our chemistry. You've seen what kind of magic it can cause... you don't have to ruin it."

I took his hands off me and went to the other side of the bed to grab my clothes.

"I'm really sorry, James. It's over."

"It's over before it even started... Strange, isn’t it?"

I ignored him, as I headed toward to the door leading to my part of the suite. I must have looked miserable in my sexy black lingerie, holding my evening dress, and being on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"I don't want to hurt you *again*," I said quietly with my hand on the doorknob.

Bond shook his head.

"You will hurt me if you leave,” he said calmly, but I knew he was full of anger. His eyes told me he was suspicious of everything I’ve said.

As I knew he had the very right to be suspicious, I turned my back on him, trying to get inside my part of the suite. My hands started to shake, making it impossible to quickly open the door.

“You still think about *him*, don’t you Kath...?” Bond asked in a raised voice, with his hands on his hips. “Why do you keep deceiving yourself? He’s not cut out for it! He doesn’t see you this way... and even if something happened between us he wouldn’t care!”

But I would, James. I would, I thought, going inside my part of the suite through the door. I couldn’t bear to look at those cold blue eyes again.

I went up straight to the bathroom and locked the door. I could not think of anything else than just bursting into tears.

You're so stupid, Kath. Mallory thinks you're responsible, but you're just stupid, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror. What was that for? Bond might be a womanizer, but no one deserves to be treated like that. No one. Does he use other women? He does. But it’s none of your business, Kath. You don't offer someone the pleasure and then deny it. You just don’t...

I spend a few minutes sitting on a bathroom’s floor and crying.

But looking on the bright side... at least I got my backup story. Everyone will see something’s happened between us, but no one will ask questions. And if there is a slightest chance M cares about me, he’ll get the message.

I can’t wait for this mission to be really over. By this time tomorrow I shall be in my apartment in London. Alone.

***

To be continued.

[whatdyk]

Honour-bound | Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

Chapter 1

This is a new short-series that I’m starting, mainly for my own entertainment lol. I have no particular direction in mind, but I’ll be happy to write any scenarios or ideas that you have to go with it!

Summary: Both coerced into an arranged marriage, you and Horacio are forced to deal with the new life that your wedding brings. 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: None that I’m aware of, a touch of angst and some swearing. 

Walking through the long halls of the US Embassy, you become increasingly unsure of yourself as you pass by each closed door. None of which, you note, have your husbands' name displayed. The overhead lights are flickering incessantly, following your movements as you continue through; illuminating the dull, grey walls of your surroundings. It’s like a prison, you soon realise, closely observing the concrete floor that’s just beginning to crumble.

As you round one final corner, you eventually notice a small light illuminating a corner office. The dull glow is just beginning to peek through the closed blinds, its orange glare contrasting harshly with the bright lights of the corridor. Stepping closer, you quickly remember that you haven't told him that you’ll be stopping by yet. Though, as you look at the bag in your hands, you didn’t think that you’d have any need to. You smile to yourself as you pull the bag closer to your chest, he probably hasn't eaten anything all night.

Earlier that day, you’d passed through the local village during dinner, becoming entranced by the smell of fresh empanadas. You couldn't resist as you spotted the small cafe, knowing that they were one of his favourite treats. The fresh scent still permeates throughout the air as you reach for his office door, raising your fist to knock firmly.

“Horacio?” You call out, hoping that you won’t be interrupting anything too important.

It takes a few seconds, but you soon recognise the sound of his heavy footsteps approaching. As the door finally swings open, you’re met with his broad frame, a not-unfamiliar frown working its way across his chiseled features.

Looking up at him, you’re once again sure that you’ll never get used to his height. Even when you’re sitting down together, he seems to tower over you, gazing at you through those dark lashes of his. Though, you’re certain that his uniform has something to do with it, the dark olive material clinging to his toned muscles perfectly.

“What are you doing here?” He then asks, snapping you back to reality.

Preparing your answer, you notice as he moves away from the doorframe. Why does he sound so angry?

Not giving you much opportunity to reply, he quickly turns his back and makes his way to his mahogany desk, picking up a discarded cigarette as he does so. You follow behind silently, noting the glass of whisky and the empty bottle that sits next to it. You didn't know that he drank at work.

“I brought you dinner” you eventually respond, nodding towards the bag of food still sitting in your hands.

As you finish, an almost deafening silence settles between you, the only sound being the old leather of his chair as he sits back down. Your heart thunders beneath your chest, eyes watching as he squeezes the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. You feel as your face starts to burn.

“It’s late,” he eventually states with a long sigh, tone flat and despondent, “you shouldn't be here.”

You open your mouth to reply, but you feel as the words instantly die on your tongue. He seems so angry, so frustrated as he waits for your response.

“I just-”

You’re quickly cut off as he exhales heavily, closing his eyes for a moment before his gaze eventually returns to you. What is usually a warm, welcoming look, is quickly replaced with an expression of annoyance, his stare unwaveringly cold. Has something happened? Did you do something wrong?

“You need to go,” the words then hit you, “it’s too late to be here.”

Your grip tightens around the bag, “You’re still here.” You reply calmly, taking a hesitant step closer.

“It’s too late for you to be here,” he corrects himself, moving to finish off the last of his whiskey.

After he swallows, he places the empty tumbler down on his desk with a heavy thud, maintaining eye contact with you as he moves. In front of him, you can see the many files scattered across his desk, random notes and pictures littering the small space.

On any other evening, you might have been happy to be here, visiting your new husband at work for the very first time. Yet, instead, you wish that you could be anywhere else in the world.

Ignoring his previous statement, you place the food on one of the empty chairs facing towards him and turn on your heels. You’d be damned if you gave him the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

As you begin to retreat, you barely hear as he calls out your name, your eye-sight becoming blurred as you reach to open the door and close it behind you. You listen to your own footsteps as they echo throughout the halls of the Embassy, knowing that he won’t even bother to follow you as you flee towards the exit.

-----------------------------------------------------

The weight of Horacio's wedding ring has never felt heavier, the platinum band now burning its way through his finger. His eyes linger on the shining metal as he remains in his office, almost suffocating in the silence that now surrounds him.

He feels as a cool breeze slowly ripples throughout the room, an open window lifting and moving some of the papers on his desk. He observes as stray raindrops begin to race down the glass of the window, casting shadows of all shapes and sizes onto the files below. He’s thinking of you as he watches them fall, knowing that he’s just sent you back out into the rain.

Eventually, he drops his head to his hands and silently berates himself for speaking to you in that way. Having been lost so deeply in his work, he never thought that anyone would come knocking on his door. Least of all, you.

Yet, there you were. Looking up with him with that wide-eyed expression of yours and holding something that smelled truly delicious. He’d taken a step back to give you some space, only thinking to ask the first question that popped into his mind. Why were you there? What were you doing out so late? He only noted his harsh tone when he saw the smile from your face drop, taking his stomach along with it.

From then on, he’d only managed to make the situation somehow worse. He cringed as he remembered how you’d left, not even attempting to answer his question as he called out after you.

However, it was probably the least of what he deserved after his behaviour tonight.

As the years continue to pass, Horacio further understands the risks of his job, the dangers that come in part and parcel with tracking down the narcos. Yet, he can't allow the possibility of you ever becoming entwined with that side of his life, running the risk of any informants or leads discovering your existence.

There’s a reason as to why he’s never brought you here before, and there’s a reason why he still wants you to stay away. He needs to keep you safe, he needs to protect you.

After a few more moments of silence, he eventually pushes himself out of his chair and grabs his jacket, looking across at the bag of food that you’d bought for him earlier. Reluctantly, he picks it up as a pang of heavy guilt begins to settle in the pit of his stomach, realising that you’ve bought him his favourite.

With a heavy sigh, he turns the lights to his office off and locks the door behind him, following your earlier footsteps.

-----------

Eventually turning the key to enter your shared apartment, he’s disappointed to be met with the sight of an empty living room and a darkened kitchen.

Usually, he’d return home to the sight of you sitting on the couch, either reading or watching one of the programs that you know he hates. You’d be wearing comfy clothes, sometimes his, and would be tucked up against a mountain of cushions and blankets with a small smile decorating your face. Now, his home feels cold and empty as he wanders through the darkness, being careful as to not wake you.

As always, he leaves his shoes by the front door and pads through the carpeted hall to your bedroom, shuffling in quietly. Almost immediately, he’s met with your sleeping form, watching as your calm silhouette is highlighted by the pale moonlight. Beside you, the window is still open, allowing a cool breeze to flow through the room as you sleep peacefully. He breathes a sigh of frustration before turning to the bathroom to shed his uniform, desperate to leave his work behind for just a few short hours.

He already knows that it’s been a long day, but the reflection staring back at him makes it abundantly clear. The overhead light is almost blinding as he observes his tired features, hurting his eyes he splashes cool water over his face. Preparing himself, he notices a few cuts and scrapes across his face that linger from the latest raid at work. It had happened almost a week ago now, but he hadn't told you about this one, not wanting to worry you any further than you already do.

He frowns to himself whilst tossing off his shirt and stripping from his trousers. He doesn't want to lie to you, he just wants to protect you.

Eventually climbing into bed, he’s careful to not disturb your rest for even a second. He watches the light movement of your chest carefully, observing the deep and even breaths that you take as you sleep so calmly.

As you lie there beside him, he can't help but admire you, noticing that you’re still wearing one of his shirts to sleep in. It makes the corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile, knowing that he mustn't have completely ruined everything with you tonight. Though, he’s still going to be sure to make it up to you.

Carefully shifting to lie on his side, he closes his eyes in an attempt to gain his own rest. However, he immediately tenses as he feels your gentle movements next to him, your arm moving to encircle his waist. With his back to your chest, he realises that you’re still seeking out his warmth even in your sleep.

[detectivesvu]

Another Round

—

Rafael Barba x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,454

“Moral of the story, take a chance in life. You never know what might happen.”

—

The bar was rather uninhabited compared to usual. Even for a Wednesday night the crowd was scarce and things were quiet. The smell of liquor and bodily fragrances wasn’t as thick in the air as it normally was. There were a few patrons seated at the various booths around the establishment. Most of them were office coworkers attempting to blow off some steam to ensure that they could push through to Friday where they could look forward to a couple of days off before having to prepare to do it all again the next week. 

There were only two customers actually sitting at the bar. One was an older woman that you had the pleasure of seeing every Wednesday evening for about an hour or two. She was a lovely lady who worked in accounting at a private establishment. She had actually found the bar you bartended at by accident. She had been caught in a torrential downpour and ducked into the nearest building to let the rain pass. That building just so happened to be your little bar that you offered as a temporary home to those who needed it. You convinced her to at least stick around for a drink, to which she ordered a dry martini. Ever since that day, she now came every week. She was convinced that you made the best dry martini (with extra olives) in the whole city. In a general sense, she was great company and an even better tipper.

“Wonderful as usual, [Y/N],” She called to you from the opposite side of the bar; “I’ll see you next time!”

She tapped the money she had left on the bar to make sure that you noted to take your tip. You flashed her your warmest and most genuine smile, waving at her once she made it to the door;

“Thanks, see you later!” You called back. 

Once she left, you were sure to clean off the bar where she sat, taking your tip, and setting her empty martini glass aside to be washed after hours. That left the only other person sitting at the bar. You had seen him about three times over the last few weeks and not once had he seemed interested in conversing with you. You had impeccable customer service as well as having a talent for reading people. You knew nothing about him, not even his name. However, you knew that whatever he did for a living was a killer on his mental health and overall being. Every time he had come in during your shift, he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He would sit in the same seat and very quietly order his usual drink of choice: a glass of scotch served straight. 

He usually would nurse his first drink for a little while before eventually loosening his tie and pulling some sort of work out of his bag. You were never nosy enough to try and figure out what it was, but it seemed to be important based off of the way he usually never took his eyes off of it. Most people would just look at him as being busy, but you looked deeper and identified that he was lonely. 

You knew that some people weren’t as talkative as others. There was a portion of bar-goers that would rather order their drink and not say a single word the entire time. As a bartender, you craved to talk to those people to give your best job performance. As a good hearted human being, you craved to talk to those people because you knew that they desperately needed to. You wanted to be a listening ear to anyone who needed it. No questions asked or judgements given.

You had a rag in one hand and a highball glass in the other as you gently stood in front of the man. He was extremely focused in on whatever he was working on, so you softly spoke to get his attention and not break his stride;

“Can I get you another scotch, sir?” You asked.

A little startled, his head snapped up and his eyes trained on you. He processed your question before sighing and rubbing his forehead stressfully. He leaned back into his chair and set his shiny pen down next to his papers. Poor guy. He was beat.

“Yes, please.” He replied simply.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You apologized sincerely, but with a slight smile. 

You turned to the array of bottles behind you, selecting the same bottle of scotch you had served him before. He chuckled at your statement and exhaled deeply;

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. I got a little lost there for a minute.” He said briefly motioning towards his work. 

You refilled his glass, returned the bottle to its proper place, and leaned forward against the bar just a little ways off to the side as he began to sip his second drink of the night. 

“I can see that. You always seem to bring work to the place where work is supposed to be left behind.” You astutely noted.

He shrugged and cocked his head to the side shortly;

“You’re observant. I like that.” He responded rather coyly. 

Now it was your turn to shrug;

“It’s in the job description,” You joked; “This might make me a bad bartender, but I’ve seen you in here more than once and never caught your name.” 

He smiled tenderly. It was now that you realized just how charming he was when he wasn’t tied down to his paperwork. 

“Rafael Barba. You’re [Y/N], right?” He introduced himself.

You nodded, but your head was hard at work. That name sounded so familiar. Where had you heard that name? Surely you hadn’t ever met him outside of work. Then it hit you.

“Barba...oh, you’re the prosecutor on the Lindsey Darien case!” You announced.

His smile changed into a surprised expression;

“I am. Not many people remember my name,” He admitted; “Usually I’m just the lawyer that people happened to catch on the morning news.”

You laughed gingerly at that. You couldn’t even imagine being a criminal prosecutor. It all made sense now. The late night arrival at the bar, the tense posture, the constant attention being on his work. He might as well have the weight of the world on him. It was no wonder he always looks so uptight. You couldn’t comprehend the things he probably saw everyday. The stories he had to hear on the regular would keep you up at night for weeks. You were just fine slinging bottles and cleaning up crushed pretzels off of the floor. 

“That case is...an intense one, yeah?” You questioned, being careful not to pry.

He shot you a look that read ‘finally someone gets it’ and ‘you don’t even know the half of it’. You knew he couldn’t tell you any specifics and honestly you didn’t want to know. Again, you were behind a bar for a reason. You weren’t cut out for that kind of work. 

“To say the least. One of the hardest of my career.” He confessed, finishing off his drink.

You wondered if there was anyone outside of work that he was able to talk to about his job. You hoped he wasn’t confined to only speaking to people involved with the cases he dealt with. That was a lot of bottled up feelings to carry around all the time. 

“Well, in that case,” You proclaimed; “The next one’s on me.”

You refilled his glass once more, knowing this would be his last one for the night. He never drank more than three. He thanked you and proposed a new topic, wanting to continue speaking with you. He was beginning to find himself intrigued by you. He had met lots of bartenders in his life, but none of them seemed to have the same kind of energy that you did. He found it refreshing.

“What about you? I bet you’ve got some stories.” He remarked.

Oh, you definitely had stories. You learned very quickly that bartending was going to allow you to see the absolute best and worst of people. In a weird way, that’s what made your job so beautiful to you. It was a relief to know that it was okay to not be your best all the time.

“Sure I do. All bartenders do,” You agreed; “Are you asking for the craziest, funniest, or scariest thing I’ve ever encountered, counselor?”

He groaned with a modest guttural sound;

“Please. Call me Rafael. I don’t need my favorite bartender calling me by my job title too,” He said with a smirk; “But how about your favorite story?”

You felt your cheeks get hot at his nonchalant compliment. Many of your regulars were adamant about you being their preferred bar technician, but for some reason it felt different coming from Rafael. Something strange was brewing inside you and you could feel it in your chest...almost like a weird flutter. He was feeling it too, but he brushed it off as the alcohol settling in. 

“My favorite story...” You repeated; “Well, I do have one in particular.” You declared.

He was very tuned in now. He was not the same man you had just been in contact with when he first walked in. 

“I’ve been at this bar for a long time. Like, almost 15 years. I’ve had a lot of regulars come and go,” You began; “I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve forgotten a good many of them. But there’s this one guy that I’ll never forget.”

Rafael was watching you from over the rim of his glass, sipping slowly to savor his drink. He wasn’t sure where this was going yet.

“He came in every week when I was working and each time he looked more defeated than the last. After he had been coming for awhile, I finally asked him what was going on in his life,” You recalled; “It turned out that there was this woman that he had been friends with since elementary school. He was head over heels for her and always had been.”

You smiled brightly as you continued telling the story. It still gave you chills to this day;

“He was worried because he didn’t want her to reject him. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship. They were both getting close to their forties and he had convinced himself it was too late to get married and start a family. On top of that, he was scared that if they did get together then he’d always regret the times they could’ve had together but didn’t because he waited too long,” You told; “I told him that there was a reason she was still in his life. There was a reason that she never committed to anybody else. They had been tip-toeing around one another for decades. I knew they were meant to be together.”

Rafael was an extremely good listener. He wasn’t one to overly enjoy cheesy romantic stories, but this one was awfully captivating. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t thinking about work.

“We talked for a long time, up until closing time. I convinced him to go for it. I told him that it wasn’t worth never taking his chance and then always wondering what could’ve been. The next time I saw him, he had a woman with him. Sure enough, it was her,” You recounted; “Turns out, they had been waiting on the other to make a move. They’ve been married for...13 years now.” You said doing the math in your head.

Rafael’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Turns out you were quite the persuasive speaker.

“They’ve got two kids. One biological and one adopted. Even after they got together, he didn’t stop coming here every week. She would just always come with him.” You continued.

He leaned his face into his hand. He was positively amazed.

“Wow. Do they still come around?” He asked curiously.

You shook your head;

“Sadly, no. They moved out west a couple of years ago. Although, he still has family here so anytime he visits the city he’ll come by. So we somewhat keep in touch,” You answered; “Every time I see him, he thanks me for giving him a push. He never would’ve taken a chance if I hadn’t.” 

You took Rafael’s finished glass from the bar counter, setting it aside as well. He was speechless.

“Moral of the story, take a chance in life. You never know what might happen.” You advised.

“I’ll say. That’s incredible.” He exclaimed. 

You smiled, happy that he thought so.

“Does that satisfy your story telling request?” You asked.

“Very much so. I appreciate it.” He expressed his gratitude.

Just as you were about to offer him a different story, his cell phone rang. Oh, well. There was always next Wednesday. He fished his phone from his pants’ pocket, read the caller ID, and groaned. He began packing his things up and you took that as he had to leave;

“Duty calls?” You asked.

“Yep. I’m sorry to cut this short.” He apologized,

“No worries. You know where to find me. It was nice to finally talk with you.” You said sweetly. 

He smiled a bright, happy smile. It warmed your heart.

“You too. I’ll see you next week for sure.” He returned the sentiment.

He was in a rush to get back to his office, but you ducked under the bar to grab one of your business cards that had your number on it. With all this talk about taking chances, you found it appropriate to take one yourself. In the split seconds it took you to grab a card, he had already dashed out of the bar and down the street. You laughed in amusement, shoving the card in your pocket. You saw that he had also left a healthy tip, but with a small piece of paper on it as well. 

Looks like you weren’t the only one wanting to take chances tonight.

He had left his office phone number as well as his cell phone number. With a small note that read; 

Consider this as me taking a chance of my own. Call me sometime. 

You grinned, making sure you didn’t lose the piece of paper. You wondered how he was able to scribble out a note and make it out of the bar in the few short moments that you weren’t paying attention. But it didn’t really matter. You had a new favorite customer.

One that was going to have a bigger impact on your life than you would ever dream of.

[madpanda75]

“Taking Chances Part 9: Love, Tequila, and Ice Cream”

And we’re back!!!!! So to give you a brief recap, Rafael and the reader left the Carisi house in a huff after the reader gave Sonny “the slap heard around the world.” Find out what happens next in this latest chapter. Words are said, sexy times happen. It’s fluffy, smutty fun....for now 😉💕

NSFW: Sex by the fireplace! Can ya’ dig it??? 😜💥🔥

Rafael adjusted his grip on the steering wheel as he drove across the Verrazano Bridge. Occasionally he would glance over at you sitting in the passenger seat with your head down and your hands gently folded in your lap. 

Rafael cleared his throat. “So should we go to my place or yours?”

You grunted out a monotone syllable in response.

“Ok, your place it is,” he said with a sigh, turning on the blinker and making a right turn towards your apartment.

Once back at your place, you immediately went to the living room and started a fire. Your apartment may have been a shoebox, but the wood burning fireplace was a definite perk. When you first moved in, the notion of a struggling artist pouring her heart and soul onto the canvas beside a roaring fire seemed romantic and bohemian. 

While you stroked the flames to life, Rafael stood there with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Cold night, huh?” He inwardly cringed at having been reduced to commenting on the weather.

“Mmhmm,” you replied.

“Two syllables. That’s progress,” he thought. Maybe by the end of the night, you would utter an actual word. After several minutes of deafening silence, he made yet another feeble attempt at conversation. “Your mom is a wonderful cook.”

“Hmmm,” you grunted.

“That’s it. I can’t take it anymore.” Rafael crouched down next to you and took your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were still shiny with tears, your nose bright red. 

It was the first time since leaving your parents’ house that you had looked at him or even acknowledged his presence apart from the occasional mumble. “I know this afternoon was a complete disaster, but I can’t take this anymore. Please say something. Anything.”

Your bottom lip quivered before blurting out, “He cheated on me!” As soon as the words escaped your lips, you crumbled into a heap on the floor, sobbing. 

Rafael gathered you into his arms, running his hands through your hair, rocking back and forth. You clung to him, wetting his brand new Tom Ford dress shirt. But neither of you could care less. After all, he knew what it was like to be betrayed.  Once you calmed down, he asked, “So tequila or ice cream?” 

“Both,” you replied with a hiccup and a very loud unladylike sniffle.

Rafael got up and walked over to your kitchen to grab the bottle of Tequila Ocho Reposado you had hidden in your cupboard behind the cheap stuff before rummaging in your freezer for the pint of Haagen-Dazs’ Chocolate Chocolate Chip. He smiled when he saw the post-it note you had left on the frozen dessert.

“This ice cream is the personal property of Y/N Carisi. DO NOT TOUCH OR PREPARE TO MEET A VIOLENT SUDDEN DEATH!” 

He handed you a spoon and a glass. “Why do you have a death threat on your ice cream?” 

“Sometimes Teresa or Gina crash here after partying or a bad date. They’re notorious for stealing my secret stash of junk food.” You pulled the cork out of the tequila bottle with your teeth and drank straight from the bottle. 

Several smooth swigs of alcohol and an unfortunate brain freeze later, you and Rafael sat in front of the fire and swapped war stories. Although he had briefly mentioned being cheated on by his childhood ex-girlfriend, Yelina; tonight he shared more with you than he ever had with anyone. How heartbroken he was. The humiliation. How after such a betrayal he wondered if he ever could trust someone ever again. 

Likewise, you felt safe enough to stop skirting around the ex situation and finally tell the truth about Theo. “We were supposed to go to some bakery in Staten Island to sample cakes for our wedding, but Theo told me he wasn’t feeling well and asked if we could reschedule. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.” You snorted a laugh as you scraped the last bit of ice cream out of the container. “How stupid was I?”

“Hey, don’t talk about my girlfriend that way.” Rafael wiped away a spot of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream on the corner of your mouth with his thumb. 

“Later on that day, I came home with some ribollita and tea.”

“Ribollita?” 

“It’s an Italian bread and vegetable soup. My mom would make it for us whenever we’re sick or sad,” you explained. 

“When I walked inside, I saw a trail of clothes and heard a girl’s giggle coming from down the hall. I followed the sound, opened the bedroom door, and saw him with Lacey. The 21 year old bimbo who worked at the dry cleaners down the street,” you said in such a bitter tone that Rafael could feel the acerbic bite in his bones. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.

 “It had been going on for months. Apparently, she had been doing way more than spot treatments and pressing his pants. I dumped the soup on his 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, threw the ring at his forehead, and left. He never followed me. He never fought for us.” You shook your head and took another shot of tequila when your phone began to buzz and dance across the floor. It was your brother. Since leaving your parents’ house he had called ten times-- a new record for him.

Rafael watched as you shut off your phone and tossed it over to the couch. While Sonny was not his favorite person by any means, he knew how important your brother was to you. The last thing he wanted out of this relationship was to come between you and your family. Not only did he firmly believe they would despise him for it, but above all else he had a gnawing fear that you would resent him for driving that wedge. “You know, you’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”

You scoffed, “I never want to speak to Sonny again. I hate him.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

You rolled your eyes. As usual Rafael was right, but that didn’t mean you had to give in and be the first person to offer an olive branch. Sonny was a colossal jerk and he needed to learn a lesson. 

“He’s just looking out for you,” Rafael continued. “In his own sick and twisted way.”

You arched a brow at your boyfriend. “So how much did you overhear when Sonny and I were in the kitchen?”

Rafael shrugged and averted his gaze, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the  pattern on your rug. “Not much. Snippets really.”

“So pretty much all of it?”

“Pretty much,” he confirmed. “Did...did you ever love him?” 

There was a pregnant pause before you responded. Rafael stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker, unable to face you. Of course he already knew the answer was yes. You were a hopeless romantic. But the idea of you loving another man, planning a future with them, made his stomach knot up.

 “I thought I did once. But it was different. I can see that now.”

Rafael nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the ice cream carton and bottle of tequila to take back into the kitchen. “How so?” 

“Theo and I grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts. The only reason we got engaged is because that’s what people expected of us. It was the next step. But looking back, I realized I was complacent and complacency does not equal love.” 

You glanced over at a picture on the coffee table of you and Rafael. You had taken it one lazy Sunday morning in bed, Rafael was kissing your cheek, his bed head sticking out in all directions while you were laughing hysterically. What the picture didn’t capture was that he was tickling that one spot right under your ribcage. You smiled fondly at that happy moment frozen in time.  “Love should be scary. It’s taking chances. It’s thrilling. I never felt that with Theo. I feel all those things when I’m with you. I love you.”

Rafael walked back into the living room, completely stunned by your declaration. “What did you say?”

“I love you?” you said with a shrug, feeling a wave of nerves. Perhaps you had jumped the gun.

Rafael plopped down on the rug beside you. He had realized early on in the relationship that he loved you, but always chalked it up to indigestion and brushed his feelings aside. He never believed you would reciprocate so soon. “Are you sure?” He turned towards you and cupped your face. “This isn’t just the tequila and ice cream talking. You’re not drunk or on a raging sugar high?”

You giggled and mimicked his movements, cupping his cheeks. “I promise I am not under any influence of any kind. I love you, Rafael Barba. With every fiber of my being, I love you.” 

A tear slipped down your cheek which he brushed away. “I love you too.” He leaned forward and captured your lips with a kiss. Parting your mouth with his tongue, his touch was gentle yet commanding. Your toes were beginning to curl.

A heat crept up your body and you started to undo the top few buttons of your dress. Out of the corner of his eye, Rafael spied a flash of emerald green against your skin and stopped his ministrations.

“What’s the matter?” you asked out of breath.

He ignored your question and tugged your dress aside a little more, revealing the silk emerald green corset. The corset that you had taunted him with when you invited him to lunch on Sunday. The corset that he had envisioned ripping to shreds with his teeth.

You giggled and blushed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “With all the drama, I forgot I had this on.”

“You mean...you wore this to church?” 

You slowly nodded your head. “And to my parents’ house.”

Rafael was already rock hard, but now he was on the brink of coming in his pants at the mere thought of you wearing this sinful lingerie underneath your demure dress all day-- piously praying at St. Thomas; helping your mother with her marinara sauce in the kitchen. “Stand up so I can see you better,” he gruffly commanded.

You obeyed and slowly went back to the task of removing your dress. “Stop,” he said and replaced your hands with his. “Let me.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest at his request. A tiny whimper escaped your throat as he peeled your dress off. Rafael’s hands were trembling with each button. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked before, but this time felt different. He was nervous. Locking eyes with you, he could see you were nervous too.

Once your clothes were shed, he drank you in from head to toe--from how that particular shade of green complimented your skin, to your hard nipples poking through the silk and lace, all the way down to the black thigh high stockings connected to your garters. “Eres perfecta,” he whispered, his eyes half-hooded with lust as he began to take off his clothes.

You grabbed his hands, effectively stopping him. “Allow me.” You arched your brow and began shedding layer after layer. You took your time, running your hands over his exposed flesh, feeling his firm muscles beneath your palms. 

Completely lost in the sensation of your fingertips against his skin, the clanging of his belt against the floor brought Rafael back to reality. His boxer briefs were the last to go. With a flirty snap of the elastic, you rid him of his underwear, his hardened cock springing free. He toed out of his socks and stepped towards you, nudging his clothes out of the way.

You stared at each other for a long moment-- your chests heaving, bodies pulsating. The tension between you both was electric. Not wanting to wait another second, you pressed yourself against Rafael, kissing him hard, nibbling on his bottom lip. He returned the kiss with vigor. You could feel his throbbing erection weeping onto your inner thigh, brushing against your lace-covered pussy.

In awe of this beautiful man in your arms, you began to work your way down his body, laying wet wanton kisses across his skin. “Oh Y/N, please,” he whimpered. Hearing him beg, you raked your teeth against his nipple, a particular sensitive spot for Rafael. He gasped in response. 

You smirked, reveling in the fact that you had reduced him to a begging, quivering mess. Kneeling before him, you took his cock in your hand and teasingly flicked your tongue against his slit.  

Rafael groaned at the sight of you looking up at him with big innocent eyes and a wide welcoming mouth. From this angle, he could see the way your garters rested on the luscious curve of your ass. 

You wrapped your lips around him, swirling around his crown as if you were sucking a lollipop, tracing every vein. 

Rafael threw his head back and groaned, “Ay Dios mío.”

His cock felt hot and heavy in your mouth, you relaxed your throat as you slowly swallowed him down, pushing his head past your tight ring of muscle. Your nose was tickled by his trimmed pubic hair. He held your head there for a moment, relishing in the sensation.

You smacked his ass and grabbed a handful of his flesh before pulling off him with a pop. “Fuck my mouth, mi amor,” you purred while stroking his length. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it.”

He wrapped his hand around your long locks and fed you his cock. “You naughty little girl,” he growled before thrusting. “Going to put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“Mmmhmm,” you moaned. Tears were running down your cheeks as you gagged around him, taking everything he had to give. You loved when Rafael got rough. You craved it. Giving him pleasure brought you pleasure.

One of your hands reached up to massage his balls while the other reached in between his legs, pressing down on that strip of skin between his cock and his ass. That was all it took for Rafael to come undone. His cock swelled and released. His warm seed splashing against your tongue. Rafael came so hard, he was practically bent in half, clutching the mantle, grunting over and over again. You sucked him dry, not stopping until he gently pulled you off his sensitive cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled. “You have a mouth like a vacuum cleaner.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” you asked, wiping away some of your smudged lipstick.

“I nearly had a heart attack just now, what do you think?” He had an evil glint in his eye and took several steps towards causing you to scoot back. “I think I need to repay the favor. Don’t you?”

“Only if you insist.” You laid back down on the floor in your most seductive pose.

Rafael knelt down. “Oh believe me”-- he grabbed your legs and pulled you towards him causing you to squeal in surprise--“I insist.”

He ran his hands across your body, pressing against your form through the silk. Wanting to repay you for your earlier torment, Rafael took his time disrobing you--tugging at the laces of your corset, unsnapping your garters, peeling your stockings off. There wasn’t an inch of skin left unattended from the crown of your head down to the arches of your feet. 

You couldn’t catch your breath. “Payback is a bitch,” you thought as he sucked a mark onto your right hip. Rafael saved your thong for last, opting to tear it off you with his teeth. 

He parted your folds, revealing your glistening pink pearl, stroking your soft, wet, sex. You spread your legs wider, feeling his hot breath on your pussy, arching your hips toward him. He clucked in disapproval. “So impatient.” 

“Please,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

Unable to resist any longer (after all, he was only human), he began to worship your core. Offering his tongue as a prayer as he swirled around your lower lips and traced patterns on your clit.  

You grinded against him. “More,” you pleaded.

With a loud squelch, Rafael stopped and lifted his head. “You have such a perfect little pussy. I love it so much”--he playfully bit down on your inner thighs-- “and it’s all mine. Isn’t it?” With an intense, heated stare, he spit on your pussy. The sensation of his saliva on your swollen clit caused you to jump.

“Yes, it’s yours,” you wailed.

“That’s right,” he cooed while slowly making concentric circles on your bundle of nerves, watching how his spit mingled with your dripping juices. “And you’re gonna come all over my face, aren’t you?”

You arched your back and gasped. “Oh God, yes! Yes!

“Shhh, that’s my good girl,” he said with a smirk before devouring you once more. Your moans of “More” and “Don’t stop” spurred him on. 

With his mouth wrapped around your clit, he penetrated you with his fingers, stroking that spot deep within you that drove you insane. One crook of his finger had you coming with a shriek. 

Feeling your core pulse against his tongue as he fucked you through your orgasm unleashed something savage within him. He buried his face against you, groaning, his lips and chin completely coated in your arousal. Already hard from eating you out, he rutted against the rug, desperate for some relief.

His tongue was relentless while he fucked you with his fingers until he ripped another orgasm from you. By the third time you had come, you melted onto the floor. And yet you wanted more. With Rafael, it was never enough. 

You pushed him off you and straddled him, kissing him with such fierce passion he toppled back to the floor. “I want to show you how much I love your cock.” You nuzzled your nose with his before sitting up and dragging your center against his length. Hovering over his cock for a moment, you lowered yourself onto him. 

Rafael grabbed your hips to keep you in place as he rotated his pelvis, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock. Your whole body shuddered. Digging your nails into his chest, you began to rock against him. 

Rafael groaned, watching you fuck him. “Look down, querida. Look at how fucking sexy you look riding me.”

You followed his gaze down to where you were being impaled by him. Biting back a whimper, you experimentally flexed your muscles, squeezing against his cock. Rafael choked out a sob which only encouraged you to speed up your movements.

You lifted almost completely off him before slamming back down. 

Flames licked at your flesh as you continued to bounce on his cock. Rivulets of sweat dripped off of you, one drop running down your chest. Rafael sat up and caught it with his tongue, holding you close as he latched on to your nipple, suckling against the hardened bud before repeating his actions on your other breast.

Your bodies worked in tandem, pushing and pulling. You were reduced to a wild animal, clawing at Rafael. Red streaks covered his sweaty skin. He loved it, wanting nothing more than to be claimed by you, his own ethereal goddess.

“Rafael!” you cried out in a hoarse voice. He cut you off with a searing kiss.

“I love you,” he moaned against your lips.

“I love you too.” Tears began to run down your cheeks. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears, pressure mounting. You were too far gone by this point. Can you die from pleasure? Oh...but what a way to go. 

He pulled back, forcing you to lock eyes with him. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth slack, panting and whimpering with every thrust. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. This was beyond the physical. Your souls were melding, transforming one another. 

You simultaneously erupted, swallowing each other’s moans and grunts, stroking each other through your respective releases. When you finally floated back down to earth, you collapsed on the floor, your bodies still connected. 

“Holy shit,” you sighed.

“I know,” Rafael panted.

“If I knew saying ‘I love you’ would lead to mind blowing sex, I would’ve said it a whole lot earlier,” you teased. 

“I knew you were only after me for my body.” Rafael let out a breathless laugh and tickled that one spot on your side. Exhausted and not in any hurry to move, you both laid there as the fire weakened until only a few dull embers glowed.

You nestled against his chest, having never felt so happy. As cheesy and cliché as it sounded, you wish you could stay that way forever. That is until the events from earlier in the day came floating back into your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do with your family, especially Sonny. 

But that wasn’t a question for tonight. Right now you were perfectly content being wrapped up in your own little world. Just you and Rafael.

Tag List: @glimmerglittergirl​ @southern-magnolia​ @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @mgarner1227 @dreila03 @tropes-and-tales @thecraziestcrayon @goodluckfindingone @scarletsoldierrr @youreverycolor @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii @imagine-all-the-imagines @imjustreallynosy @graniairish @ashley-chi @lolacolaempath @cocomel0613 @imagine-all-the-imagines @mysterioustrashadventures @that-girl-named-alex @scapricciatello @mrsrafaelbarba @zizzlekwum @katierpblogg @crowleysqueenofhell @caked-crusader @garturbo

[arianalilyblack]

Come home to me - chapter 2

Title: Come home to me

Chapter no: Chapter 2

Author: @arianalilyblack

Pairing: Harry Wells x Reader x Eobard Thawne/Harrison Wells

Word count: 1740

Summary: The wedding of Barry Allen and Iris West is finally here. You and Harry are caught up with the wedding spirit and start to slowly realize that maybe you developed deeper feelings for each other. Everything is perfect until Nazis bust into the church ruining everything. And alongside Earth X villains guess who shows up? Your ex flame, Eobard Thawne aka the Reverse Flash, complicating everything in your lives.

*gif credits to @girl-in-the-suit​*

You heard the alarm go off, you tried to get out of the bed, but you were too weak to move. You couldn’t hide either; you just hoped that everything will work out without your help.

 ~

 The two speedsters were back at each other’s throats again, fighting at a monstrous speed, leaving a red and yellow streak behind them. No one could follow their combat with the naked eye, except Supergirl. She managed to toss the yellow speedster thus buying some time for the team to regroup. They fought hard and almost won the battle, when a metallic thing showed up. In the heat of the fight, Eobard received a message from the Fuhrer. He had found the woman Eobard was looking for.

„Great! Don’t you dare lay a finger on her” he said into the communicator. He was grinning, excitement building up in his body. He was looking forward to the meeting.

 ~

 „What the bloody hell?” you asked mortified when you saw Arrow walking into the room. But it wasn’t the Arrow that you knew. He had a full black outfit with red stripes. It was so familiar and then you remembered the enemy archer from the church. You tried to send out a lightning from your palm but only thing that you managed was a little spark. You felt embarrassed and weak.

„Now, calm down little lady. I’m not going to hurt you, not yet anyways. You see, my associate won’t let me do that, that’s too bad.”

„Who the hell are you and what did you do to my friend?”

„I did hurt them, of course, but they are still alive, locked in the cells of the Pipeline, for now.” He turned around and stepped out of the room not wanting to lose any more time on you. You were weak after all; you weren’t a threat in his eyes.

You were so furious that you didn’t feel any pain anymore. You drew strength out of your anger and managed to sit up. You were still shaky, but the thought of your friends hurting pushed you forward. The infusion bag was almost empty so you pulled the needle out from your arm. There was a bottle of water next to the bed, you drank it out and you with that were on your feet. You went through the Cortex, out into the halls and turned left towards the Pipeline. You didn’t get too far though, because a red streak whooshed you away back to the med bay.

You froze in an instant, your mind going blank from the shock. You stared at him as if he was a ghost, because for you he really was one, a poltergeist more precisely. Eobard stood before you with a cocky smirk on his face; he was enjoying himself far too much.

„It can’t be…” this was all you could muster.

„Hello my little minx” he murmured as he stepped closer to you. His movement woke you up from your startled state.

„Don’t!” you said in a low voice.

You were filled by mixed emotions: anger, sorrow, fear, and maybe a tiny bit of love as well. You were upset, you wanted out of the room, away from his presence. He tried to embrace you, but you discharged a small electric wave out of reflex from your body which astounded him. You took a few steps back until you felt the bed pressing to your legs.

 ~

 A glimpse of sadness crossed Eobard’s face. He was hurt by her welcoming. He was hoping that he’d be greeted with passion and open arms. Instead he was met by a pair of terrified, teary eyes.

„I won’t hurt you, Y/N” he assured her, taking a little step towards where she was standing.

„You caused me enough pain already, Eobard.” Her words stabbed him in the heart, or what was left of it anyways. „You left me here alone; threw me into the deepest, darkest misery. I thought you were dead. I mourned you by myself, cried countless nights because of you. I couldn’t be around the team, because I was ashamed about what you did and what I felt for you. I was all alone…”

She started crying and despite all her negative reactions, Eobard rushed to her and took her into his embrace. He couldn’t stand the sight of her pain. Y/N tried to get out of his arms, she wriggled, kicked and electrocuted him, but he didn’t let go. He held her still in his arms against his chest.

„I’m so, so sorry for what I did to you. Please, forgive me” he pressed a light kiss on her forehead. She flinched at his touch. „I’m here now, and I won’t ever leave you alone.”

„Let me go” she said while pushing him away with her hands. Her palms rested on his chest as she couldn’t push him. „I don’t need you anymore.”

„So that’s what it is.” He felt the jealousy surge inside his body. „You found someone else.”

„No. That’s not…” she paused. It wasn’t that she had found someone else, just found herself. Found her strength to get back on her feet after the horror that she’d been through because of Eobard and his schemes. And of course there was Harry as well, who helped her in so many ways to get over him.

„Don’t lie to me, Y/N. I know you are quit close friends with Harrison Wells from that other Earth” he hissed as he thought about the other one. „I can’t blame you though. You had to replace me with the second best you’ve got, right? But this doesn’t change what you’re needing. And that is me.”

 ~

 „Enough” you shouted and sent a jolt into his chest, where your palms were resting. That did the trick and you managed to escape from his tightening arms. „He is so much more than you could ever be.”

„I doubt that, dear Y/N. I’m the best version of Harrison Wells in the whole multiverse. You know that deep down” he winked at you and before you could react he was already locked onto your lips.

His kiss was intoxicating, something that you’d been missing for so long. You couldn’t help yourself but to kiss him back. You could feel his big hands roaming up and down your tensed body. Your hands wandered into his curls, feeling the soft hair caressing your skin. You were lost until something from the back of your conscious screamed at you. “What are you thinking, stop it right now”. You felt embarrassed and guilty so you attempted to break the kiss, but he was too strong. Noticing that you were trying to escape he pulled you even closer, pressing his whole body onto you and deepening your kiss. You didn’t reciprocated anymore, so he became more and more aggressive.

In your desperation you leapt into action, you hugged him tight and while you were distracting him with your kiss, you sent all the electricity you could produce in one shot straight into his body. You needed some water, and fast, because if not you would end up dead. With your last strength remained you took your chance and ran towards the Cortex. “How pathetic of me to run from him” you thought. Soon enough you stopped, there was nowhere to run from him. Maybe if you were a speedster, but even then it would be questionable. You found a bottle of orange juice and you drank it, you had to stay hydrated as best as you could. You needed your powers if you wanted to get away from him.

„You can’t run from me, love” he whispered into your ears as he hugged you with his left arm from behind. He planted small kisses on the back of your neck which sent shivers down your spine. „Be a good girl and stop this nonsense fighting. Your lips can tell any lie you want, but your body will always betray you.”

He was right and that made you angry as hell. Your body still ached for his touch and his kiss, even if your mind knew that it was wrong. His right hand went down your waist to your hip and grabbed it tight not letting go of your neck with his mouth.

 ~

 „Have you finished playing around, Eobard?” Overgirl’s voice came behind him. He groaned in frustration. „We have work to do. Why are you fooling around with this weak woman anyways?”

„General” he exhaled unsatisfied. „Don’t be disrespectful with the object of my affection, if I may ask.” He turned to face her with a wide, dangerous smile.

„I didn’t realize that you were capable of such emotions. Pardon me, uh, what is your name?”

„Y/N, Y/L/N” she said. Now that Eobard’s attention wasn’t focused on her only, she managed to get rid of the man’s hand from her shoulder. Before she could slip away he grabbed her wrist stopping her movement.

„I can see that you are very important for my colleague. Sorry for interrupting your sweet reunion, but Oliver and I need your help Eobard.”

„Of course, General. I’ll be there in a second.” With that Overgirl left the Cortex. „What should I do with you, love?” She knew better than to answer his rhetoric questions.

„I promised you that I won’t hurt you, so until you calm down a bit…” he took her in his arms and they were in the Time Vault in an instance „…you will stay here. Don’t even try to escape, because you can’t. But you can watch as the plan is set in motion.”

„Why are you doing this?” she asked not looking at him.

„If you are talking to someone, you should face them” said he and turned her face to look into her eyes. He could only see sorrow and hatred, no sign of love or the lust she had when he kissed her minutes ago. „I did it to get back home, to you.”

It was true. He wanted to return to her, but he couldn’t without help. The Nazis were controlling the portal, so he agreed to help the Fuhrer and the General get what they want in exchange of a ride home. Home to where she was. He gave her a gently kiss before he left her alone in the room.

Part 3 

[connieswriting]

Drunk words are sober thoughts// Fred Weasley

Paring: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: @yeethoess: “hello, could you do prompts 15 and 36 with fred weasley please”

@chocok22: “Can I please get number 34 with Fred Weasley?”

@rommylove: “Hey could I request 7, 10 and, 20 with Fred Weasley.”

A/N: I am very aware I’ve been lacking, but I haven’t been very inspired lately. However I made myself write this one cus ya know, today is Fred’s birthday :). If you want to request you can, and please do, I write for more characters except Fred lmao, just go ahead and request it! Or message me for anything idc I’ve been very bored lately :) please enjoy this crap I produced in a few hours.

“We won!” Fred screamed, hosting you up in his arms. “I can’t believe we actually won!” He continued, blissfully laughing before putting you down and pulling you into a tight hug.

“Woah there, big guy. I know you’re excited but you’re suffocating me.” You laughed, playfully punching him in his back.

“I’m sorry, love. I just cannot believe we actually won the Quidditch Cup. Charlie is going to be so delighted.” He continued pulling back, his hands resting on your face.

It had been the last match, Gryffindor against Slytherin, and after an intense couple of hours, Harry had managed to catch the Golden Snitch, resulting in his team winning the Quidditch Cup for the first time since Charlie Weasley had attended the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Oi, you two, stop flirting over there, we have a party to attend to.” You heard from your left turning to face a smiling George who had just finished ruffling Harry’s hair.

You felt a pair of arms rest around both yours and Fred’s shoulders, pushing you forwards and off the station. “He’s right. We ought to celebrate finally winning the Cup. This feels like a dream; on my final year too! And McGonagall thought my training schedule was horrendous.” Oliver Wood’s voice rang in your ears as he pushed himself forward to congratulate the rest of the team.

“Your training schedule was horrendous; we were training more than all of the other teams combined!” Fred shouted after his team’s captain who was already too deep im embraces from his house’s members to hear the twin’s protests. “I barely had time to study this year and this is his reaction?” Fred sighed as you both continued walking towards the Gryffindor common room.

“As if you would study even if you had had the time.” You laughed just as you entered the castle, following the many Gryffindor students who kept joyfully chanting their way to the party.

“Oh, so you’re just so keen on personally attacking me now?” He chimes, bumping his shoulder into yours. “You aren’t exactly wrong, but those training schedules meant I couldn’t spend as much time as I wanted to with you, this year, and we both know just how heartbroken you were when you found out you weren’t able to spend all those wonderful afternoons, cuddling up with me.” He smirked at you, earning a smack on his head.

“Sometimes I wonder why I decided to be friends with such a pretentious idiot in the first place.” You smiled as you finally reached the Fat Lady portrait that secured the entrance to the common room. From behind it, you could already hear the celebrations that were occurring, imagining all the food, the drinks and the decorations that had been put up for this wonderful occasion.

“That’s no way to talk about Georgie. I know his intelligence isn’t his forte, but he’s not that pretentious, you know? Scurvy Cup.” Fred stated as the painting moved forward and the Fat Lady disappeared behind it with a heartfelt ‘Don’t have too much fun’.

Before you could respond to the redhead’s comment, Fred had already been shoved away from you and into a group of giggling girls, all of them intrigued on how he had such strength to make the Bulger hit the Slytherins’ brooms with such intensity. You were used to this by now, although there were many perks of befriending the Weasley twins, there was also the slight disadvantage of how social and outgoing they were which meant you were more often than not pushed away from them, since so many people, specially girls, wanted to be with them as well. You couldn’t blame them, there was something so alluring about Fred and George’s personality that sometimes you were shocked how the whole school wasn’t in love with them both.

“Don’t look so gloomy, (Y/N). Our house just won the Quidditch Cup for the first time in several years.” Lavender Brown giggled, shoving a cup in your hands. “Have a drink. You look so off-putting just standing there, doing nothing at all.”

“Don’t you have something a bit... stronger?” you questioned, eyeing the pumpkin juice in the cup you were holding.

“I might just have a few shots. Someone from seventh year was able to get a few bottles of Firewhiskey, if you’re interested.” The girl explained as you both made your way to the drink’s table. “I don’t know if they hid it better so the younger ones don’t get drunk on it, but Dean said it was under the... Aha!” Lavender exclaimed producing a single bottle of the so desired alcohol. “I’ll pour it for you since I know how you can get when there’s Firewhiskey and Fred Weasley off with some girls involved.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Besides I won’t get drunk, don’t worry; we still have a ton of homework and I’m sure McGonagall is going to make us a ‘surprise visit’ tomorrow to see just how much we have destroyed the common room.” You stated just as your friend finished filling up the bottom of a cup, offering it to you. “Thank you.” You smiled, bringing the cup to your lips, the fiery taste immediately warming up your mouth. “It has been a long day, I needed this.”

Lavender rolled her eyes, safely hiding the bottle again, making sure none of the younger students were looking. “You are so dramatic. The game wasn’t even that long. Now come on, you can’t enjoy a party if you aren’t even dancing.”

It wasn’t long before the both of you joined the rest of your friends, dancing actively just as the alcohol seemed to be starting to kick in. Lavender was partially right- you did drink an awful lot every time there was a party such as this one, but you were always able to hold yourself back from getting actually drunk. You drank enough to feel slightly buzzed, but never enough so you couldn’t remember anything the morning after.

However, today was different. The overly-touchy couple dancing next to you seemed to push you to keep drinking. You knew you shouldn’t feel this way, he was just your friend and he was more than welcome to be with other girls, after all you didn’t own him, nobody did. Yet, every time it look like you weren’t bothered by their proximity anymore, Fred’s loud whisper in the girl’s ear that prompted her obnoxious laugh would make your cup reach your lips almost immediately after. You knew you weren’t just buzzed anymore, your thoughts already becoming more and more incoherent, but you couldn’t stop, you wouldn’t stop. If it meant you wouldn’t be as bothered by his hands slowly sliding down her back as her hands rummaged through his whole body, if it meant those images would be less defined than they were supposed to be, then it was fine by you.

“How about we go for a walk?” Lavender abruptly asked, turning your face towards the door. “I think it’s a bit stuffy in here, we should get some air.” She continued quickly, already pulling your arm.

“Lav, why would we do that when it’s already way past our curfew. That would be absolutely-“ as you turned your head to meet your friend’s eyes, the reason for her unusual request caught yours. Their faces, pressed together, their lips moving rapidly, hungrily, his hand on her hips, pushing her towards him, her hand in his hair, pulling it savagely.

You didn’t even have time to process how Lavender knew you were so infatuated by Fred to the point that this scenery would hurt you deeply. Sure she had made jokes about how you two should be dating but you never actually took any of those seriously. You didn’t even think about the possibility that others might know as well, something you so deeply wished to keep as a secret, in fear it would ruin your friendship with the boy. You felt tears starting to prick in your eyes, pushing through the crowd and out of the common room. Why were you even so upset? Fred didn’t owe you anything, he was you friend and nothing more, that had been made very clear, specially tonight. You made your way to the Astronomy Tower, carefully passing by a lecturing Bloody Baron and a remorseful looking Peeves, so as not to bring yourself any unwanted attention.

When you reached the top, you sat down, looking up at the stars. Ever since you were little, looking at the stars would always help you calm down, see the bigger picture, they would always make you feel better.

“You know, these stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes.” The booming voice startled you, but you didn’t need to turn around to know to whom that voice belonged to. “Why did you run away like that, we were in the middle of a celebrating my big win.” Fred smiled taking a seat besides you.

“Oh, right, what a big win it was.” You spat, scooting away from him. The Firewhiskey you had previously drank seemed to be giving you some unnecessary confidence. “Why don’t you go back to your big win. I’m sure she is missing your lips so much.”

“Love, are you jealous?” Fred laughed, closing the gap between you two once more.

“So now you’re aware of my feelings? All this time I’ve been in love with you but only now are you realising I may have feelings too?” The alcohol was doing quite a number on you as it took you a moment to process your own words. “Did I just say that out loud?” You grimaced, getting up from your spot, and ready to once again run away. Many could argue running away from your problems wasn’t the key to solving them, but you would beg to differ, since in this case it seemed like it was the only solution.

“You did, (Y/N), and honestly can’t say I’m surprised after the way you acted tonight.” Fred grinned, pulling himself up and in between your body and the door, far too quickly for your own liking, preventing you from escaping this disastrous conversation. “I guess since we are giving this whole honestly thing a try, I should do it was well: I did kiss that girl back there but I couldn’t stop picturing you in my arms your hands on my hair, your lips on mine. I was doing it so much that I even ended up moaning your name. I guess you can assume she wasn’t too happy about it, but who would be, imagine getting the chance to kiss me, the most gorgeous specimen there is, just to realise I’m not thinking about you at all.

You stared at him, disbelief prominent in your features. “Right sorry, point is, that is when I saw you running away to this place, and obviously I had to follow you to make sure you weren’t getting into to trouble... At least not without me. Nice spot by the way. Gorgeous view, calm and quite, it’s honestly splendid.”

“I’m sorry, you did what?!” Had he actually called out your name in the middle of making out with another girl? Had he actually pictured you, in her place, with him? You felt your legs give under your weight, as you slid back onto the floor. “You like me as well?” You questioned, hopefully.

“I never said that...” he started, but you quickly interrupted.

“Just admit that I’m right.” You breathed, forcing him to sit down in front of you. “Please?”

“(Y/N), I don’t like you...” He explained, kneeling next to you. “I love you, have loved you since our first year actually. The moment you got really angry at me and Georgie for pulling a prank on you so you pulled one back, I just knew you were the one for me.” He continued, resting his hands on your face. “I’m just admired someone as smart as you took so long to figure that out.”

“You were the one loudly making out with someone else at the party, not me.” You argumentes, leaning towards him.

“Fair enough, but in my defense, I was so strongly convinced someone like you couldn’t possibly like me back that I was trying my best to get you out of my head, thus my many, unfortunate, shared kisses with that girl. Wait, was it really that loud?” He asked making you smile. “Why I ever made such an idiotic decision, I will never know.” His features mimicked yours, as he sat next to you resting his arm on your shoulders. “You know you’ve made me very self conscious of my own kissing abilities, right?”

You jolted yourself up, capturing his lips in yours as the both of you moved in sync, his hands resting on your hips, yours on his neck. “Loud but magnificent.” You laughed, sitting back in your original position, your head resting in his shoulder.

“Mm, if I knew you kissed like that, I wouldn’t have even let you out of my side for a second, tonight.” Fred hummed appreciatively.

It had been fairly quick until you felt your body become progressively more tired to the point you could barely hold in your yawning.

“It’s okay to sleep, love.” You heard Fred’s voice besides you. “You did drink quite a lot tonight, don’t think I didn’t notice. I’ll just carry you back to the dorm, don’t worry.”

“But you can’t get inside my room, remember?” You lazily stated, feeling your eyes close once more.

“I guess you’ll be lucky enough to sleep with me tonight.” He lightly laughed at his own comment, taking your hand in his, admiring how well the both of them fit together. “(Y/N)?” He questioned once he noticed the lack of response from your side. “Are you still awake?”

Yet, once again, you didn’t respond, the alcohol completely taking control over your body, making you fall asleep almost instantly after reminding Fred of the difficulty in entering your dorm room. The boy just shook his head, a smile playing in his lips, trying to picture back the moment you had first confessed your feelings to him. Winning the Quidditch Cup and getting the girl he had longed for so long, in the same day? This was surely a day he would remember very fondly for years to come, and he could hardly wait to share the news with his twin brother.