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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years ago

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A Duel Between Brothers

Word count: 2750

Ok, so this one is one I started months ago, even before most of the other fics I've written, but I never finished it. I just randomly got inspired to finally write the ending. Hope it came out alright!

This one guest stars Thor (trying to write for some other characters here and there!)

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All you had wanted was to sit quietly and watch some TV. Simple, really.

You didn’t expect to walk in on a full-on brawl between the two Asgardian brothers. If you could call it that, really.

You had been making your way down to the common area in the tower when you heard the shouting. At first you were concerned someone was in the process of being beaten to death, the yelling was so loud. Then you noticed the booming laughter strewn throughout the shouts, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Just the boys again… you thought, slowly approaching the doorway to the common area.

Thor and Loki often fought with one another, so this didn’t really come as a surprise to you. What you didn’t expect was to find Loki pinning his brother to the floor, Thor’s laughter echoing through the room as Loki tickled him mercilessly. The sight was sort of adorable.

“It’s not as enjoyable as it was when we were children when you are on the receiving end, now, is it brother?” Loki taunted. Thor reached up to shove his brother off, but Loki was agile, his fingers darting under the elder brother’s arms so he’d clamp them down at his sides.

You felt heat prickle in your cheeks as you stood quietly in the doorway. You were quite ticklish yourself, although no one in the tower was privy to that information just yet. It was unclear whether you were happy or disappointed by this – you actually enjoyed being tickled, in a fun, playful, sometimes flirty way. You also had a weird tendency to feel ‘sympathy ticklish’ when you saw someone else being tickled. Of course, these weren’t things you wanted to openly admit. So, you tried to stay out of the way in the rare instances you came across a tickle fight such as this in the tower.

After watching for a few moments, you already felt tingles on your sides and a small smile growing on your face. You turned to walk back out of the room quietly before the boys noticed your presence. Unfortunately, you’d waited just a moment too long.

“Lady Y/N! Plehehease! I-I require assistance!” Thor begged. You stopped dead in your tracks and spun back around to find both Thor and Loki’s eyes on you. Loki had let up on his brother for a moment as he observed you with a questioning look.

“Oh, uh… I don’t want to get in the middle of this. Sorry Thor, you’re on your own,” you stammered, remaining at a safe distance in the doorway.

“Were you planning to use the common room, Y/N? Please, don’t feel you need to leave on our accord,” Loki insisted, resuming his attack. You took a few gradual steps into the room, unsure how best to proceed from here. If you appeared too anxious and left, surely, you’d give yourself away. If you stayed, you’d have to watch the boys fighting, and your expression may also give you away. You opted for a sort of in-between option for now, standing a few feet away from the brothers but not yet making yourself comfortable.

“Are you sure I won’t be in the way?” you asked timidly, though loudly enough to be heard over Thor’s boisterous laughter.

“Please. Sit down. Pay us no mind,” Loki insisted, conversing casually as if he wasn’t currently torturing his brother. Reluctantly, you sat gingerly on the couch and picked up the remote to turn on the TV.

You couldn’t bring yourself to relax into the couch cushions, so you sat unmoving while trying to avoid looking at the brothers on the floor a few feet away. You couldn’t help but steal an occasional glance at the pair. It was taking everything you had not to start giggling nervously as you watched Loki tormenting his brother. You could only imagine what it would be like if you were in Thor's position...

“Were you planning to use the remote? Or were you simply hoping the television would magically turn itself on?” Loki asked, jerking you from your thoughts.

“What?” You looked down at the remote in your hand, still unused. “Oh. Yes. I was going to watch some TV.”

“You seem a bit… uneasy,” Loki noted, finally releasing his brother as he turned his full attention to you.

“Brother, you will pay for-“ Thor was silenced before he could finish his threat as Loki held his hand up, silencing him.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

“You clearly seem distracted by something. Normally you’re shoving people out of the way to get to the remote to watch your silly reality television programs, but today you seem to have forgotten how to turn the television on. And you’re stiff as a post.” His eyes narrowed a bit as he tried to analyze your expression, and you felt a blush creeping up your neck.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Loki. I’m fine.” You leaned back against the couch cushions to prove your point and propped your feet up on the coffee table, aiming the remote at the TV. Before you could press the ‘on’ button, Loki stepped between you and the cable box, a slow smirk spreading across his lips.

“Tell me, Y/N… are you ticklish?” Your eyes widened for a moment, almost imperceptibly, at the unexpected question. Quickly, though, you tried to regain your composure, clearing your throat, and steeling yourself.

“No, Loki. What would make you think that?” you inquired, fighting to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“You’re not exactly subtle, darling.” The mischievous glint in his eye made you jumpy, and you slowly rose to your feet to move away from the advancing Asgardian. “For one, you’ve been blushing furiously since entering the room to find me torturing my brother. And that is only after you attempted to leave before we noticed your presence.” He started to take a few steps toward you as you slowly backed away, cursing your face for having betrayed you. “In addition, you’re already attempting to hide what I assume to be your most vulnerable areas,” he gestured at your arms folded across your ribs, which you promptly lowered to your sides. Your back suddenly met the cold plaster of the wall, and you mentally cursed yourself for literally backing yourself into a corner.

“I-I really think you’re o-overanalyzing this, Loki… you’re just being r-ridiculous,” you insisted, pressing yourself flat against the wall as Loki blocked your exit, placing a hand against the wall on either side of your head.

“Oh, am I?” His face was now only inches away from yours as his impish smirk continued to grow bigger. “Well, darling – there’s only one way to find out.”

Without any additional warning, he brought his hands down to latch onto your sides. The suddenness of his movement made you shriek as you grabbed hold of his wrists. He kept his fingers still, pressing just gently enough into your skin to set your nerves on fire.

"Wait, wait, wait! C-can't we talk about this?" you asked nervously, the god leering down at you with an evil grin on his face. He applied just a bit more pressure with his fingers, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

"Any last words?" Loki asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"I- eep!!" You opened your mouth to respond, but he suddenly began kneading his fingers into the soft skin of your sides, causing you to squeal and begin giggling rapidly. Your knees buckled as your muscles weakened with laughter, and you slid down the wall as you sank to the floor.

“Oh no, you’re not going to escape that easily,” Loki teased, halting his attack to scoop you up off the floor and carry you over to the couch, holding fast despite your thrashing.

“Whyhyhy?!” you cried, still giggling from the residual ticklish tingles in your sides and the giddiness you felt at suddenly being swept up into Loki’s arms. “What did I do to you??”

“God of Mischief, darling,” Loki mused, dropping you unceremoniously on the couch you’d been seated on when this all began. Before you could move to escape, he planted himself down on your legs to keep you from kicking him as he dug his fingers into your sides once again. You batted at his hands with your own, trying to cover your weak spots as best as possible. “Now, Y/N, you’re making this difficult. Thor, a little assistance here please?”

“Certainly, brother!” Thor obliged, grasping your wrists and pinning them above your head, leaving you feeling even more vulnerable to Loki’s ticklish onslaught.

“Thohohor! Why are you helping him??” you pleaded, tugging at your arms to no avail.

“I apologize, Lady Y/N, but you should have assisted me when I requested your help,” Thor replied, his tone somber but his eyes bright with amusement. “In addition, you are adorably ticklish!” You groaned, your face burning even more, if that were even possible.

“Now then, tell me – where else are you 'not' ticklish?” Loki queried, moving his torturous fingers to your belly without awaiting an answer. You shrieked and squirmed a bit harder, which Loki turned into a game, moving both hands to one side and then rapidly switching to the other when you twisted and exposed yourself. “You’re not doing a very good job maintaining your blatant lies, Y/N.”

“OKAHAHAHAY! I’m ticklihihish! You wihihin!” you implored.

“Yes, I believe we’ve established that, thank you,” Loki replied sarcastically. “I’m having too much fun now to let you off that easily. Where was it you were trying to hide? Oh yes, I remember!” He dug his fingers into your ribs and your laughter grew more desperate, your muscles turning to jelly as he spidered up and down your ribcage.

Meanwhile, you felt another five fingers start scratching underneath one of your arms. You squealed, glancing up to see Thor hovering over you with a huge grin on his face, still grasping both your wrists in his other hand.

“NOHOHO THOR!!” you pleaded, the sensation overwhelming you between Loki’s fingertips drilling in between your ribs while Thor simultaneously spidered his fingers in the hollows under your arms, swapping between each side to keep you squirming.

“Brother, we do not want to kill our little friend here,” Thor warned as your laughter was growing silent, hiccoughing intermittently.

“I suppose you’re right,” Loki agreed, stilling his fingers against your upper ribs but not yet releasing you completely. Even the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your sides, unmoving, was unbearable; keeping you giggling and squirming. “I’m not even tickling you! Have you gone mad?”

“Nohoho, I can’t help ihihit!” you whined. Loki finally let go of your ribcage and Thor released your wrists, allowing you to breathe for a moment.

You certainly weren’t expecting to get yourself in this predicament when you’d entered the common room. You supposed you could have maybe pictured a situation like this with Thor, but never with Loki. While he did have a trickster reputation, you’d never really thought of him as the playful type.

You’d become friends with Thor almost immediately. On numerous occasions, you’d hung out with him and some of the other Avengers in between missions, showing him the art of Midgardian video games and laughing at his overenthusiastic excitement. In a way, Thor was like the older brother you never had.

With Loki, things were different. During the few months you’d been living in the compound, you had interacted with Loki only intermittently during mealtimes or in the training room. He didn’t say much except to his brother, but his sharp wit and sarcastic sense of humor had drawn you to him, and not in a familial sense. It was odd, really; you had only said a few words to him here and there, and yet you felt yourself falling for him hard and fast. There had been just a few longer conversations that you treasured – discussions about a mission, or a novel he was reading or a movie you had watched. He was always friendly when you spoke, but it was hard to know how interested he really was in chatting with you.

You’d been hoping to capture his attention somehow, but around Loki you seemed to forget how to formulate proper sentences. Never in a million years did you expect to find yourself pinned down and tickled senseless by the God of Mischief. But now that it was happening, you weren’t ready for it to end just yet.

You seized the opportunity while Loki and Thor thought you were still weakened from laughter to reach out and grab hold of Loki’s sides, getting in a quick squeeze or two before he grabbed hold of your wrists.

“Haven’t had enough, yet, have we? Oh darling, you’re going to regret that,” Loki warned ominously, pinning your wrists to his chest with one hand and digging into your ribs once again. A new wave of helpless giggles spilled from your lips, and you yanked desperately to pry your wrists out of Loki’s grasp. “It’s adorable that you think you can escape me, really. I am a god – do you truly think your strength outmatches mine while you are in such a weakened state?”

“Lohoho… Loki!! Stahahahp teasing!” you pleaded.

You hadn’t noticed Thor’s absence above your head until you felt a large hand wrap around your ankle. You shrieked as a finger traced the bottom of your foot, tugging your leg to pull out of Thor’s grasp.

“Brother, what in the nine realms are you doing to make her thrash so much?” Loki asked, turning to look back at Thor without halting his attack on your ribs.

“Well, brother, it appears our little friend has ticklish feet as well,” he responded casually, an air of amusement in his tone as he wrapped both ankles in a headlock with one arm and fluttered his fingers up and down both soles simultaneously with his free hand.

“GUHUHUYS!! I CAHAHAN’T!!” you shrieked through wild laughter.

“I suppose we should let up so our dear mortal can breathe,” Loki pondered aloud, slowing his fingers to simply scratch at the bottom of your ribs. Thor released your ankles as well, returning to your side so he could grin down at you with endearment. You pushed Loki’s wrists away from your torso so you could curl up and wrap your arms around your ribcage, residual giggles still bubbling from your chest.

“Rehehe… remind me not to walk in on a tickle fight between you boys ever again,” you mused, chest heaving with exertion.

“A poor decision, really,” Loki agreed, smirking down at you.

“Brother, we should allow Lady Y/N to watch her television program, now that we’ve finished tormenting the poor girl,” Thor urged, tugging on Loki’s arm.

“Wait!” You sat up, stopping them before they turned to walk out of the room. “I… uh… I don’t mind if you guys want to stay and hang out. Watch a movie or something..?”

Loki looked at you with surprise and confusion written across his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have thought that just maybe you saw a hint of red tinged across his sharp cheekbones. Thor smiled, glancing over at you, then back up at his brother.

“I do apologize, but I have a prior engagement I must attend,” Thor responded woefully. “However, Loki would most certainly love to keep you company, wouldn’t you brother?” Loki shot him a wide-eyed look as Thor pounded his large hand against the back of his shoulder, causing him to lurch forward a bit from the impact. Thor’s smirk never faltered, his eyebrows elevating ever so slightly as he held Loki’s stare.

“I would like that,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence. Loki’s head turned to look at you, and upon seeing your pleading eyes staring up at him, his face broke out into a genuine smile.

“Well, who am I to say no, then?” He took a seat beside you on the couch as you aimed the remote at the TV, searching through the movie list. Thor bade you goodbye as he ducked out of the room, leaving you alone with the handsome trickster sitting beside you.

The opening credits began scrolling across the screen. Maybe it was the residual adrenaline from having been tickle tortured only moments before, but a surge of bravery ran through you, and you leaned your head against Loki’s shoulder. You were rewarded with a gentle laugh, vibrating from deep in his chest. He wrapped his arm around you and tugged you closer, his hand resting against your side. You flinched as his fingers twitched, digging slightly into your skin.

“Sorry, love – I couldn’t resist,” he chuckled in response to the playful glare you shot at him. He moved his hand to rest on your arm, and you nestled in comfortably against his side. You weren’t sure yet exactly what this was, but you most definitely liked where it was headed.

#loki tickle #tickle fluff #ticklish!reader #tickle fic #marvel tickle #ler!loki #ler!thor #lee!reader

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justkending · 4 years ago

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The Number One Rule. Chapter 16.

Series Summary: Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left, but don’t worry the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Word Count: 5700+

A/N: This chapter is going to give us quite a bit of background information and some throwback memories. I really enjoyed writing this one and creating a past for these characters. All of them. Let me know what you think! I’m so excited to share this one with you all:)

Chapter Sixteen:

“You know, I thought that we were close enough that you could come to me with this kind of thing. That you wouldn’t feel like you had to hide it from me. Y/N and you both,” he said with pursed lips. “Guess I was wrong.”

With that he turned back and walked to his car. Bucky watched as he started the engine, pulled out, and disappeared.

What the hell kind of mess just happened?

Bucky stood there for a second. He couldn’t wrap his head around what just went down in the slightest. Steve was no longer angry at him, he caught onto that. Or at least he thought that was the case.

No, Steve was disappointed. That was far worse than hatred coming from your best friend. Coming from anyone really, but the person you’ve been joined at the hip to, for 26 years? Yeah. That punches you in the gut and knocks all the wind out of you.

Eventually, remembering Y/N was upstairs probably pacing the ground and biting her nails not knowing what was happening, he started moving to the back porch steps.

He wasn’t even three steps into the kitchen before Y/N was around the corner rushing to him.

“What happened?” she said looking up at him and instantly putting her hands around his upper arm. “Is that blood? Did he hit you?” she said gently, but urgently as she grazed over the split lip. “Oh, I’m going to murder him,” she said through her teeth, immediately moving to the back door.

Bucky caught her by the waist and pulled her back into him.

“Don’t. Don’t. He’s not out there. He left,” he explained as he tugged her back into the kitchen.

“He left? He just punched you and left?” she questioned. A fire in her eyes swirling just as much as the storm Steve had in his earlier. The types of rage are completely opposite, but at the same time just as furious.

“We talked after he punched me, but can’t say I didn’t deserve it.” Disappointment dripped from his own words.

“You didn’t deserve it, B. No one deserves getting punched about something like this.” The fire started to dim as she focused her energy back on the brunette that still had her wrapped in his arms by her waist. His eyes downcast, looking as if in another world. “Hey, talk to me. What happened?” Gently she brought her hand to his cheek and convinced him to look at her. “Talk to me, please.”

They moved to the living room and sat on the couch facing each other. Bucky had almost seemed distant, as though touching or being close to her now was a crime. No doubt Steve’s words had an effect on him in the moment.

He explained pieces of what happened. Mainly just how Steve was upset thinking they were sleeping together, and when he cleared that up, he had just expressed his disappointment of the two. He was upset and deeply hurt that they felt like they had to hide this from him.

“Could he blame us though? He literally split your lip after finding out,” she motioned to him, scooting closer to place the ice covered by a washcloth they got earlier, to his lip.

“I’ve taken harder hits, doll. And even if he got me pretty good, I could tell he was holding back at least some.” He placed his hand over hers and sent a sad smile before taking the homemade ice pack for himself.

“This is going to be hard to come back from with him, isn’t it?” she asked, saddened by the pain she caused her brother. Bucky could see multiple thoughts running through her head as her eyes moved back and forth while looking down. “We aren’t going to end this though, are we?”

Her tone broke Bucky’s heart hearing her say that. The pain, worry, and complete devastation of the idea was playing like a movie in her eyes.

“What? No!” he said, quickly shutting that idea down as he dropped the rag and grabbed both her hands. “I love Steve and I would do anything for him, but I have to draw a line- Well, I have to draw a line when it affects my happiness.” She looked at him hopeful. “In the end, I know he’ll come around. I’m not going to lose you just because of this hiccup. Sure, I don’t really know how long Steve’s going to hate me, but we’ll work it through. Nothing can hurt us that bad. You know that.”

“I do, but it still worries me.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N/N. Really, he’ll come around. It’ll just take time.”

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And boy was it taking its sweet ass time…

Two weeks had passed. Bucky and Y/N still went about their love life the same way. Not wanting to rub it in Steve’s face, they steered clear of Bucky’s shared home with him. Bekah had been talking to a guy herself, and spent a lot of nights over there, so they took advantage of her empty apartment when they could.

Luckily they wouldn’t have to worry about that too long as Y/N was looking into renting a flat herself to get some of her independence back from coming home. Of course, she worried about her mom, but Sarah was sweet and said she understood and was excited for her. She was taking more shifts at the hospital anyway, so they rarely saw each other with their opposite schedules. Sarah did make her promise Sunday dinners to continue, as it was tradition.

Speaking of, Steve had conveniently had a work thing come up each time, so he had missed the past two weeks.

“This is so unlike him. He usually moves his work schedule around Sunday dinners, not the other way around,” Sarah sighed as she handed a bowl of a roast over to her daughter.

“He’s not too happy with me, Ma. I think he’s avoiding me,” she mumbled. She was all happy to be over before her mom mentioned him.

“Why would he do that? You just got home a little over 2 months ago. That’s barely anytime I would hope for you two to start a fight up. Let alone one that I’m realizing is going on two weeks,” she said with a knowing look as she sat across from Y/N.

“It’s hard to explain. He has a good reason, but he’s also being childish about it,” she said poking at the potatoes and beef on her plate. An old irish recipe.

“Hmmm, I see.” Causally, Sarah went back to eating as if her understanding wasn’t questionable.

“You see? What exactly do you see?” she asked tilting her head and raising an eyebrow at her mom. She knew that look. It was the, ‘mom knows everything, even if you think she doesn’t,’ look.

“It’s quite obvious to anyone who has eyes, but I’m not going to put my comments where they don’t belong.” Again, so casual as she took a drink of water and went back to eating.

“Sarah Rogers, you little spy. What do you know?” Y/N chuckled. Her tone was joking, but deep down intrigued.

“Why don’t you say it dear? I don’t want to have my foot in my mouth if I’m wrong,” she gestured. “Not that I’ll be wrong, but I’ll give you a chance,” she winked.

She eyed her mom for a second. The two sending the same stares and telepathically talking.

Then it hit her.

“Oh my GOD! You know?!” Y/N jumped almost out of her seat, but considering the table was in the way, she sat up straight and hit her knee. “Ow, shit.”

“Language,” her mom chided.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “But you knew?” her disbelief coming back. “How long have you-?”

“Lord, as soon as Bucky set his eyes on you coming home. I mean of course I wasn’t there when you saw each other for the first time after all these years, but when we had dinner that night? He was practically fawning over you,” Sarah shrugged, going back to her meal.

“He was?”

“Plain as day, Mini. Though, I wouldn’t put it past you to not notice, considering he acted almost the same when you two were in highschool.”

“What?!” Y/N jumped again. Her food was long forgotten.

“Actually at that point, I think you both were blind to it. Bucky may not even known back then,” she tilted her head.

“Okay mom, you’re throwing a lot of things at me at once. I can’t keep up, can you elaborate some?” Y/N threw her hands up as if to stop her from moving forward anymore.

“Where to start?” Sarah put her silverware down and brought her elbows up on the table before interlocking her fingers and looking off as if watching the scenes replay in front of her.

“Freshman year, you were part of the crew that was in charge of the cancer carnival to raise all the money for that charity. You had come home and were going on and on and on about all the different ways you had come up to raise that money. Photobooths, dunk tanks, crazy games, snowcones, and all that fun stuff. Bucky and Steve had just come in from playing basketball in the driveway and were getting something to drink. Steve laughed as you went on and teased you about how you should be put in the dunk tank, and Bucky just had this look in his eye. Pure admiration for your excitement for that specific cause. That and you told your brother off showing even more how dedicated you were.”

“That was oddly specific…”

“Oh, I’m just getting started…” Sarah had a devilish amused look on her face. “But I guess I’ll just stick with one for each year.” She waved off. “Sophomore year, you were invited to prom from an upperclassman. Who was it?”

“Peter Quill. Ugh, I remember that. He ended up ditching me that night halfway through the prom.”

“Hmm mm, Steve had called saying they were leaving early to bring you home. You were upset and bored not knowing really anyone else there.”

“I honestly had only said yes because I wanted to go to the dance with another upperclassman and rub it in Brock’s face at the time. Bucky and Steve were seniors, so they were there too…” She thought back. Her chin in her hand as she listened to the stories.

“Well, Steve brought you home and Bucky was with him. I guess Bucky’s girlfriend at the time had the flu or something and couldn’t go, so they went with a group of guys.” Sarah got a little sidetracked, but quickly reeled in it. “Anyway, when the night was over, they had already planned on going to Bucky’s for the night. However, I came around the corner after they dropped you off and were about to head back out, and I saw Bucky was convincing Stevie to stay here that night.”

“What? That’s why they were here? I remember that actually... There was an after party at another seniors house.” Sarah raised an eyebrow knowing what happened after parties, but not knowing that was where her son had originally planned to go. “Sorry, but you know how high schoolers are. Don’t act shocked,” she chuckled. “I remember them going, but they came home pretty early.”

“Wonder why…” Sarah sighed to herself taking another bite of food before it got cold.

Not hearing her, Y/N went on.

“Bucky and I talked that night at like 1 in the morning to like 4. We ran into each other in the kitchen getting a late night snack, and it turned into a whole deep talk,” she thought back. “One of the few times we had a conversation like adults instead of pushing each other's buttons.”

“Yes, and you were so stunned and surprised by it, you gushed about it to me later,” Sarah nodded. “Little did you know, you had woken me up at the time and when I came to see what all the noise was in the kitchen, you and Bucky were laughing about something on the kitchen floor with your backs propped up on the cabinets. A stash of junk food sitting between you two as you talked.”

“But what does that have to do with-?”

“I came in when you were going on and on about a new history topic that you had dived into that month. You didn’t even notice him with wide eyes and absolute fondness for how smart and passionate you were on the subject. You were too busy talking to notice, I’m sure,” she laughed.

Y/N had to think back a little further for that memory, but it popped up. “Oh God, I was going on about the progression of execution styles in the Roman times,” she threw her head in her hands of embarrassment.

“Yeah, crazy thing to be looking at a girl like that in that kind of conversation. Talking about chopping people’s heads off wouldn’t be something I see a boy fawning over, and he looked at you like it was the most amazing story to be told. But then again, there he was. Completely blind himself.”

“Wow… I forgot about that moment. I remember the night, but some details are a little fuzzy. Not that one…” she whispered.

“And the way you talked about it the next day? You had the same look. Subtle and hidden, but deep down I could see the wonder in your eyes.”

Y/N smiled as she leaned forward like a child at story time. “What about Junior year?”

“Let’s see. By then Bucky and Steve had gone overseas. We didn’t see much of them…” Sarah was slightly saddened. She was proud of her son in those moments, but the fear and worry that comes with sending a child into war isn’t that fond of a feeling.

Y/N reached across grabbing her moms hand and giving her an encouraging soft smile. Clearing her throat she started again.

“In saying that, there may have been a moment in person, but they only came back for a month that whole year. I didn’t like that year,” she shook her head. “Who sent you all those letters though?” She asked looking back with that same knowing look.

“Steve… and Bucky. I wrote to them both, and I was surprised when Bucky asked me to write to him as well.”

“Didn’t expect that one, hmm?” Sarah smiled. “I don’t know what was written in them, for all I know he was just sending you jokes and teasing you from over the sea like your brother did here and there... But I have a feeling there were some personal things said too.”

“I actually kept all of those. They are in a box in my room. I have Steves in there too,” she smiled fondly as if she had completely forgotten them. Though she could never actually do that. She remembers very well all the excitement of running and checking the mail in hopes of another one being delivered. From both of them.

Her mom was right, there were a few teasing and goofy ones, but the longer he was over there, the more serious they got. There were some crazy terrifying stories and confessions to fear in those. He had mentioned he was only writing to his family and her, but she always wondered why he sent her things like that and not his family.

She had asked Becca once about a letter they had received, and they were sweet, but they disguised the sense of fear and longing to be home. He didn’t want his family to worry.

That’s when Y/N started taking their writing more seriously. She would practically let him vent and write out all his struggles and frustrations while over there, and Y/N would send back distractions of random history facts (which by the way, he asked for personally even if he jested her at home for them). Then she would tell him about her week, something else he asked for, and try to send words of wisdom and reassurance for his time.

He appreciated those and Y/N appreciated him trusting her with those thoughts. It’s not like he could send them to Steve when Steve was going through his own war over there with him.

How did she not pick up on the rise of finding respect for the other during then? The start of full-on admiration.

“Those letters stopped coming in the next year,” Y/N deflated in her spot. The next wave of memories contained her senior year. “Well, they came, but I never could get around to writing back with everything happening.”

“You’re graduate year… Steve came back home after we got the news. It took him a while to get approved, but they dismissed him from duty out of how much he had already served in his short time there. Brave man, your brother,” she says chuckling to cover the tears that were already forming in her eyes. Her daughter's eyes matched. She grabbed her hand again, this time giving it a loving squeeze. “That was a very hard year for all of us.”

“Steve came back, but Bucky had to stay. But he somehow got time off for a few weeks to come visit…”

“Remember his first visit?” Sarah said with a sad smile.

Thinking back to that time of grief and sadness, she really had to dig. She didn’t really dust off those memories often. It wasn’t really a time you would want to look back on.

“The hospital,” Y/N eventually said in a hushed airless whisper. “How did I forget that?”

“Those were moments one doesn’t really want to recall often,” Sarah said with a new tear falling. She had a smile on her face, but it was sad and soft. Nothing stemming from joy.

“We had just got the word,” she gasped faintly, trying to suck back the air that had left her body thinking of the horrible night. “After the surgery, one of too many, the doctors told us…” Taking a second, she hadn’t said this in a while as the family was hush hush when talking about the last days. “We only had a few months with him.”

________________________

5 years ago:

“He… He wha-?” Steve stammered out. “But he was in remission, not too long ago. He was fine!”

He was furious with the new information. He knew there was a chance of these specific results as his father had a new surgery every month for the cancer. Trying to locate it, trying to cut it out, trying to shrink it, trying to get rid of it with all their might. Every surgery you go in, you’re about to learn if it’s worse or better. And this? This was the worse they had gotten yet.

“I’m sorry, Steve. You know I don’t want to tell you this news, but cancer is a horrible horrible demon we have to face in this world unfortunately,” the doctor said. He had been with them the whole journey so the family had grown rather close with Bruce Banner. Someone their father actually worked alongside with. “Just when you’re doing better, it changes things up. I will say with all the past surgeries, we probably got you a few more months then expected. We believe a few months ago, without the treatment he's undergone so far, he would no longer be here with us today.”

“So we bought him a few months. What does that matter for, if it didn’t fix it all?” Steve shouted. The anger wasn’t toward the doctor. He knew that and they knew that. But he needed someone to blame for the shit he was being handed. He couldn’t just yell at the universe.

“Steven,” Sarah had said softly. Speaking for the first time since Steve had started his rant. “Calm down honey. Shouting and screaming isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“Nothing’s going to get us anywhere apparently,” he hissed. His hand coming up on his head as he looked up. After a second, he harshly ran his hand down his face and looked at his mom again. He could see her guard start to fall and Steve couldn’t handle having to be strong for them right now. He was too hurt. It was too painful. He was going to break and he couldn’t let them see him do that. “Ugh, I need air. I need to get some air. I-I can’t-.” With that, he walked in long strides to the elevator and the exit.

Sarah shook her head at the tears escaping without her consent. Turning to Y/N, she saw her youngest looking slightly downwards, frozen. Her nails were already being bitten from her nervous tick, and her eyes showing she was no longer on this earth mentally.

“Y/N,” Sarah said, taking a deep breath and standing taller. “Why don’t you go wait in the waiting room? Sit down, ok. I’m just going to talk to Dr. Banner real fast, hmm?”

No answer. She patted her shoulder making him jump slightly as if she had never consciously been there to start. She gave her a nod and Y/N nodded back and started mindlessly heading to the waiting room with her arms folded tight across her body for comfort. Any comfort…

“Y/N?”

She had been mindlessly looking at the ground in the chair she sat in. She couldn’t tell if it had been 5 minutes or an hour later from leaving the room with her mom.

“Y/N/N?”

That finally got her attention and she turned to see Bucky standing with his helmet in hand and jean jacket half-hazardly shifting off his shoulder from racing in from his bike.

“B-Buck?” she said softly sitting straighter.

Bucky sent her a sad smile as he walked to her, but he made it about 4 steps before she was running into his arms and clinging to him like he was air itself.

“They can’t help him, Buck,” she finally said after crying for a few minutes while he ran a hand down her back softly and let her get it all out. “They said they can’t do anything further,” she pulled back enough to look up. Her arms around his middle and his around her shoulders. “We have a few months…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky sighed, finally getting the news he was waiting to hear, but this wasn’t what he was ready for. He could feel her heartbeat get faster, and at first, he just thought it was the hint to another crying session about to erupt.

In which case, bring it on. He wanted to help her like she had helped him with all those letters of support. But then he noticed her start to slightly hyperventilate. He knew what those two combos usually come out to and he wished he didn’t.

He brought her to a chair he was planning on sitting her in, but instead she plopped herself on the ground. Bucky instantly moved down there with her and looked her over.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart. You’re ok. I got you. Take a deep breath,” he said, bringing her to sit in his lap and hugged her as tight as he could. The feeling of pressure was a calming mechanism for anxiety attacks.

“I-I c-c-an’t,” she stuttered out with hiccups that were forming from her lungs needing air.

“Yes, you can. Focus, doll.” He started doing the breathing exercises himself as a way to guide her since their bodies were intertwined. She needs to sync to his breathing.

She stuttered a little, but her breathing was slowly calming down.

“That’s it… You’ve got it. In and out,” he coached, feeling with each sentence she relaxed more and more. “You’re ok. I got ya. You’re doing great Y/N.”

Eventually she was back to normal. Well, not really. An anxiety attack like that is the kind that leaves you winded afterwards. Completely draining you from energy.

He sat there and rocked her gently in their spot. Her back backed up to his chest and Bucky’s legs spread out with hers inside them as he kept his arms wrapped around her torso. The pressure helps, it really does.

He whispered reassuring words while he played with her hair and then she leaned back and was reaching peak calmness. She turned her head on his shoulder and he looked down at her with his crystal eyes. Their faces inches apart, but nothing other than sorrow in their body.

“They said to be glad we had that long with him as every minute counts. Make all the memories you can in that time...” She closed her eyes for a second taking another deep breath before looking back at him. “How can you make memories you would want to have not so sad knowing the exact day your father could die? What good memories come from that?”

Bucky physically felt her heart in her chest break as if they shared the same one. The emotion he was reading in her eyes this time was one of the few that Bucky could never pinpoint. It was fear, sadness, depression, and longing all rolled into a scared Y/E/C eye colored girl’s orbs.

“You’re allowed to be upset Y/N. You don’t have to fake happiness during this time. Your emotions are there to be felt... But at the end of the day, would you want to look back at more fake happy memories or true and real happiness?” Bucky said.

She wanted to make the next days her unhappy ones and leave it at that. He was right, she should and could feel sad and mad now. This situation called for it. But she didn’t want them to take up the majority of her last memories with her dad.

“Hey, you got Stevie and I,” he whispered in her ear as she turned forward again.

“Steve just yelled at our doctors for almost 15 minutes straight from deniel and then ran out the door like a sissy,” her voice monotone, but he could hear the upset nature behind her words. “Steve’s just as messed up as me.”

“One, you’re not messed up in the least. Two, you are human. Shitty things happen and we have to go through it in each our own way. Three, no grieving process is the same. You’re allowed to scream in your pillow cause you're mad. Or cry for hours on end because you can’t comprehend it. You’re allowed to go eat a whole pint of ice cream by yourself because you're sad. Hell, I’ll join ya,” he squeezed her hand that he had interlocked together on their right side. A light start of a chuckle came out and she squeezed it back.

“As long as you don’t insist on Rocky Road.”

“Really? I’m coming to your cry session and you’re banning me from my favorite ice cream? Some cry party,” he faked hurt.

She let out an actual laugh and turned back to him. “I may have a cry party or two…” He nodded, showing he was proud of her for feeling that was ok and agreed with it. Her eyes showed the actual sadness behind the temporary humor, it was still there swimming around. Her smile wasn’t masking anything. “I guess you can pick your flavor you want to binge on. I get to judge you though if it sucks,” she joked.

She was distracting herself and he was ok with that. He would keep in that direction as long as she needed. And right now, she didn’t want to think about the inevitable. Remember, more happy than sad at the end.

“What brand are we going for?” she asked. He wrapped his arms over her shoulders as she laid back on his chest in their sitting position. Her arms holding onto them in the front like the anchor that he was acting like.

“Um, is that even a question?” he gasped. “I have good taste, Miss. Rogers. What brand do you think I go for?”

“I’m going to say with that pretentiousness, that it’s Ben and Jerry’s,” she grinned, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing beats Ben and Jerry’s,” he nodded proud in his choice.

“Ok, but hear me out… Halo.” He looked at her like she was crazy. “It's like low calorie ones that are really good and kinda healthier than regular ice cream.”

“Darling, if I’m bingeing on some ice cream, you bet your ass I’m going to go all out. No low cal, shit. I want all the brownie batter.”

“Geez, you really are an ice cream snob,” she laughed more. “Guess you’ll have to try mine though because I promise you’ll join the dark side.”

“Dark side?” he asked.

“Yeah, cause you’re eating healthy while eating ice cream, one of the most sugared things to exist. Actually, get this, In the 1880’s they invented the sundae, and after that, the amount of sugar we started adding to our toppings every decade, just kept going up in sugar.” When she finished her little fact splurge, Bucky was looking down at like she was crazy, but still smiling.

“You’re strange, you know that? What normal person memorizes random facts like the year the ice cream sundae was invented? Or, what was it the other day?” he thought back.

“Oh, how the entire earth’s population can fit inside Los Angeles,” she remembered. “Then that led to talking about global warming, and then-…”She began listing off all the random things that followed after another.

Her mom had peaked out the curtain 5 minutes ago to check on Y/N, and found her wrapped up in his arms comforted and then eventually laughing. They needed a little joy that night. So she took in every laugh Y/n let out followed by Bucky laughing or joking. Every single one is what got her through that night…

________________

“That’s when you saw it?” Y/N asked awestruck. She did remember that. That was one of her core memories with Bucky. She always glimpsed back to it when she was sad. It was advice she took seriously. You choose how many bad days you have. Choose wisely.

“That’s when I knew it,” Sarah corrected.

“Knew it? I thought you were talking about how he looked at me differently. What do you mean, knew it?” she asked, confused.

“I had seen it all the time, but that’s when I knew he was head over heels for you. Seeing these things warmed my heart, but knowing it, gave me a whole new hope. As long as Bucky was there, you would be ok. He would make sure of that.”

“I thought that was so much longer ago…” Y/N said. “I guess I repressed it.”

“Bucky was your rock from day one, sweetheart. As soon as the world got dangerous for you, he became a huge protector over you. He checked in on you when he came over, he made you laugh, he knows how to push your buttons, but you love it. He’s a good kid Y/N.”

“I know. Which brings me to Steve being an ass and throwing a hissy fit about it.”

“Your brother is in shock right now. It was something he clearly did not see a mile away. Learning about it made him a little upset. I’ll talk to him.”

“Ma, I don’t need you to talk to him. You do that and he’ll be even more mad and think I tattle taled on him. Child,” she huffed.

“Fine, then you better tell him. Because like it or not, I’m going to have my family dinners on Sunday, and I want BOTH of my children there. Not just one every once and awhile. Plus, you’re moving out in just a few weeks so I need you to get this done cause I’ll miss you,” she smirked.

“Ok…” Y/N groaned basically being told to apologize and make amends to her big brother by her mom. She wouldn’t put it past her mom to ban Y/n from late night reading for punishment of not fixing it. She’d done it in highschool. She’ll do it again. “I’ll talk to him as soon as I can corner him. He’s been avoiding Bucky and I like the plague.”

“Well, then let’s set a trap.”

“Mom!”

“What? You need to fix it sooner rather than later and I want my kids to not hate each other. So, I’ll invite him over tomorrow for a makeup dinner and say you’re going out and won’t be here,” she started planning. “He won’t say no because I won’t let him. So he’ll come and you stay in your room until we’re settled, and then ta-da! He’s trapped.”

“Did you have this already typed up or something?” Y/N pulled back curiously shocked. Shaking her head out at her crazy organized mom. “Who’s to say he doesn’t stand up and walk out? I could about 99% see it going that way,” she nodded.

“Honey, I’ll be home. He’s not leaving. Not while I’m here at least,” she winked.

“You should become a serial killer as a side hobby. They would never catch you with how well planned out you are,” she teased her mom.

“I thought about it once, but didn’t go my way,” Sarah stood up walking to the sink, winking.

“Mom! You’re on a roll tonight,” Y/N laughed loudly, throwing a little pea at her.

“Hey, you make my kitchen floor a mess, and I may reconsider that side hobby,” she said pointing to the pea rolling away.

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Y/N chuckled.

(Tags for this series will be closing soon as it is getting pretty full, please send an ask if you want to be added:)

I’ll post on whatever chapter I decided to close it down here.

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panda-noosh · 5 years ago

Text

unlike me {fred weasley x reader}

Words: 8k

Summary: You, a shy Hufflepuff, have caught the eye of Fred Weasley.

Genre: fluff

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - did i just write pure fluff? wow. i’m learning.

----

Fred Weasley doesn’t do things to impress others. He never has. Trying to please others is so far from his mind when playing one of his pranks that it’s almost laughable to think he and his twin brother do anything for the sake of attention. They live to amuse themselves, and nobody else.

But sometimes the reactions of others do catch his eye. It happens rarely, but there have been the odd times when Fred and George are fleeing from the scene of one of their usual messy pranks, and Fred will look over to see someone standing there, staring open mouthed and wide eyed at the scene in front of them, and he will turn back to the path and smile because - yet again - he has left somebody speechless.

More often than not these days, that person is you.

Fred doesn’t know much about you; you’re clearly very shy, hardly ever being spotted in the hallways unless you’re making your way to your next class, and even then you’re prone to keeping your head down, refusing to talk to anybody who wants to talk to you. Fred doesn’t know if you have any friends, if you want friends, if you’ve ever looked at him and wondered what it would be like to talk to him…

“So, Harry, tell me a bit about that one over there.”

Harry looks up from his breakfast plate, eyes still fogged from a night of no-doubt restless sleep. Beside him, Ron is still trying to wake himself up and Hermione is hastily flipping through a gargantuan textbook. It seems to Fred like the Chosen One may be the only one at this moment in time in a fit enough state to answer his pressing questions.

“Huh?” he replies.

Fred leans forward a little more, so close that his mouth is very nearly touching Harry’s ear. “That one over there.” He nods over to the Hufflepuff table. “The one sitting on their own.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Y/N L/N? What about them?”

“They’re in your year, aren’t they?”

“I think so. I don’t really know too much about them; they’re quite quiet, really.”

“Yeah,” Fred and George say together. “We know.”

Harry raises a brow, flicking his gaze to the twins standing on either side of him. “Why? Are you both interested?”

“Just ol’ Freddy Boy here.”

Ron scoffs. “You? Getting in with Y/N L/N? Mate, that’s about as likely as Percy showing up for Christmas this year.”

Fred slaps Ron on the back of the head. “Shut your mouth, you git.”

“So, what? You really think you have a chance with them?” Harry asks.

Fred shifts uncomfortably; he hadn’t meant for the conversation to get this far. All he wanted was for Harry to tell him a bit about you and that be it - he was fairly confident he could handle the rest on his own using his incredible charm and humour.

But now these snotty little fifth years are making him second-guess his own abilities, which has never happened before in his seventeen years of life.

“I think so,” he replies, trying to keep his voice as confident as possible. “Why wouldn’t I have a chance? I’m charming, and witty, and-”

“And loud, and annoying, and centre of attention literally all the time,” Ginny finishes, waltzing into the conversation. She sits down next to Hermione, pinching a hash brown off Harry’s plate. “Y/N is the complete opposite of that. You’ll scare them away before you even get a chance to ask them out.”

Fred frowns. George says something in his twins defence, but Fred has stopped listening, instead choosing to glance over to where you’re still sitting, smiling shyly at the Hufflepuff boy who has just taken a seat next to you. It’s clear - and always has been clear - that you get plenty of attention - you just don’t want it. Fred has watched you get shy and awkward, shuffling away from people who so much as grin in your direction. Fred has even watched you scurry away when he walks past, and at this point, he isn’t even surprised; the scenes Fred finds him in are far from the types of scenes you’ll want to be caught in.

You really are very different people, and Fred isn’t stupid enough to deny that. Nonetheless, there’s something about you that has always caught his eye, from the day he was a puny little second year, watching you scramble up to the Sorting Hat. Even then he found himself staring at you, fingers crossed in the hopes you would get sorted into Gryffindor, that he could find an excuse to lead you to the Common Room himself - not Perfect Percy - but then you were being sorted into Hufflepuff and an awful long time went by in which Fred did nothing to pursue you.

But now he’s in his sixth year. If not now, then when?

“Have you ever tried speaking to them?”

Ron’s voice snaps Fred from his daze. He looks down and shrugs.

“Not really.”

“That's not like you,” says Ginny. “Have we actually found someone who makes you shy?”

Fred scowls. “I’m not shy. Y/N’s shy - I’m just respecting that and keeping my distance.”

“Good on you, mate,” says George, before he ducks his head down and whispers loudly in Harry’s ear, “Every time he sees them, he wets himself a little.”

Fred kicks his twin. “Would you lot give it a rest? I’ll talk to them today, alright? You’ll all see.”

“Oh, don’t wind him up,” Hermione tuts, slapping Ron on the arm when the group of youngsters start laughing.

“Oooh,” George says. “You’ve got Granger sticking up for you, Fred - who would have thought that would ever happen to us?”

“I think it’s cute that Fred likes Y/N,” says Hermione, sitting up a little straighter. “I don’t know much about them, but I think someone bringing them out of their shell could do them a world of good.”

Fred can’t help but grin; the thought of it, of you actually giving him a chance - it makes him unnervingly happy. “Cheers, Hermione.”

Fred takes that tiny bit of assurance and carries it with him throughout the entire day - he doesn’t really know when he’s going to make his move, just that he is.

At some point.

He has no classes with you. He barely sees you in the hallways. He doesn’t share a common room with you - the situation is really not working in his favour, but Fred Weasley will not let such a drawback ruin his plans. He’ll find ways around it, just as he finds ways around everything.

The solution finally comes to him at 11:00pm.

He should be in bed. He knows he should be in bed, that if Filch were to see him right now, the old man would be going absolutely ballistic, overjoyed with the idea of giving another student a detention. Fred has the advantage of the Marauders Map, plus a lifetimes worth of sneaking around, but that doesn’t make him feel any less nervous.

He’s been out of bed after curfew plenty of times before, but never has he crept into another common room whilst doing it.

He heads towards the basement, checking the Marauders Map every few seconds to ensure Filch and his filthy cat are as far away as possible. His mind is working at a million miles per hour, because for the first time in his life, Fred is convinced he’s being stupid. The amount of protective charms that must be on the doors of these openings would be insane, and Fred is insane to think he could ever try and get past them, but god, he can’t go down to breakfast tomorrow without making some attempt to talk to you, just like he said he would, just like Hermione-

“Eep!”

Fred spins on his heel, nearly falling over a body of armour stood in the corner. Multiple paintings rouse from their sleep, and the ones that were already awake break into fits of giggles. Fred doesn’t even acknowledge the tiny noise that made him jump in the first place, instead choosing to desperately hush the paintings around him.

“Shut up. Sh! Filch will hear and then we’re all in trouble!”

“Speak for yourself, Weasley,” says Doogle Doolaly through a mouthful of giggles. Fred shoots the painting a glare before abruptly remembering what had caused him to stumble in the first place.

He spins around. To his surprise, you’re still there.

You, standing right in front of him with both hands clapped over your mouth, eyes wide. You’re wearing a pair of yellow bed robes, hair a mess. Fred has to take a minute to just stare.

And then, “What on Earth are you doing out of bed?”

Slowly you lower your hands, biting your lower lip as you stare right back at him; Fred, though pleased, finds this quite odd considering he’s so used to watching you avoid eye contact as much as possible. “I was walking.”

Your voice is quiet, timid.

Fred tilts his head. “Walking? At eleven at night?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

You nod. Fred nods back. The two of you stand a good five feet apart, unsure of what to say or do to make the silence go away - of course, there’s so many things Fred wants to ask, considering he was previously convinced you would never step out of line, but none of those questions are appearing right now.

Fred, however, knows this silence can’t last forever, so he’s the one to make the first move in breaking it.

“You alright?”

You look up, startled. “I’m fine. Why?”

“I was just wondering. You look like you’ve seen someone use an illegal curse or something.”

“Thanks.”

Fred’s stomach flips. “Not that you don’t look really pretty, because you do, but I’m just saying-”

“Why were you heading towards the Hufflepuff common room?”

Fred pauses. Have you just caught him out?

“How did you know that’s where I was going?”

“Because nobody else comes down here this late at night unless they’re a Hufflepuff coming back from detention.”

“You’re good at this, you know. Right little detective, you are.”

You shrug.

Fred sighs, rubs the back of his neck before saying, “I was just having an innocent little dander about. Those Gryffindor sixth years can be a rowdy bunch - it’s hard to get to sleep.”

“Oh. Okay.” You trace your eyes along his towering form, and for a moment, Fred is almost convinced you’re genuinely checking him out. It boosts his confidence a little. “Well, I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep. I’m also sorry for making so much noise - you startled me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a pretty scary person I’ve been told.”

Your lips twitch. “Who told you that?”

He shrugs. “It’s not so much a verbal thing. Sometimes sweet little Hufflepuff’s run away when they make eye contact with me.” He raises a brow, smirks when he sees your own smile fade, replaced by a mild look of embarrassment because you both know exactly who Fred is talking about.

You cough and awkwardly kick at the floor. “Sometimes sweet little Hufflepuff’s get a little shy.”

Fred’s confidence is really flooding back into his system now, and he doesn’t know why it feels different. This isn’t the confidence he carries around with him on a day-to-day basis, the confidence that allows him to play these big pranks without a care in the world. This is a type of confidence he has never felt before, makes him feel elated, like he can do anything.

He smirks, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m Fred Weasley, by the way.”

“I know.” Your eyes pop open for a brief second. “I mean - uh - Ron. Ron is your brother, right?”

“He is.”

“I know your brother. He’s in my year. Goalkeeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, right?”

“Right.”

You nod, biting your lower lip in that way Fred has learned you do quite often when you’re flustered. “I heard of you - uh - from him. Yeah.”

Fred nods. He stares at your flustered form, finding amusement in the way you quickly look to the floor, trying desperately to avoid his gaze which has apparently now become too much for you.

He chuckles and pushes himself away from the wall he found himself leaning upon. “It was lovely talking to you, Hufflepuff. Try not to run away next time and maybe we can talk again.”

You look up and nod, lips twitching. Fred grins right back, bows his head to you before he walks off down the corridor, pretty darn pleased with himself.

----

“So how did it go?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

Ginny gasps, slapping Fred on the arm when her, Fred and George sit down to breakfast the next morning. “You kissed?”

Fred snickers. “No. But we spoke, and it was great. Y/N L/N is actually a bit of a rule breaker.”

Ginny raises a brow, reaching across George for a slice of toast. “Shut up.”

“He’s telling the truth,” says George, at the same time Fred says, “I’m telling the truth.”

“Wow. What were they doing to break the rules?”

“Walking about after curfew. Lucky I was there, or else Filch would have had them.”

Ginny scoffs. “Because god forbid anyone be as sneaky as you two.”

“Exactly,” the twins reply.

“So what was the conversation like?” Ginny prods. She wears a distracted gaze in the hopes that Fred won’t see just how curious she really is, but Fred sees right through her.

“It wasn’t bad,” he replies. “A bit short, but that’s easily fixed.”

“So you want to keep talking to them?”

Fred raises a brow. “Of course I do.”

Ginny hums around the slice of toast in her mouth. “Cute, Fred. Cute.”

Fred opens his mouth to give a sarcastic retort, but gets abruptly distracted by the sight of you rising from the Hufflepuff table. He sits bolt upright, craning his neck to see over the heads of everybody else; you don’t spare him a glance, apparently retreating back to your usual, shy self. With your head ducked down and your books piled in your arms, you hastily make your way towards the exit.

Fred is standing up before he can even process he’s moved. Ginny and George watch him, both smiling maniacally as Fred utters a half-hearted goodbye and follows after you. He really has no plans for what he could possibly say when he finally catches up, but he’s decided to take every opportunity he possibly can.

He bustles out of the Great Hall, finding you only a few seconds after as you head back towards the Hufflepuff common room.

“Y/N!”

You freeze, spinning around as Fred jumps onto the step just below the one you’re currently standing on. He pants dramatically, clutching his chest.

“You move quick.”

You glance over his shoulder, hugging your books a little tighter. “Hi, Fred. How was breakfast?”

“Oh, good. Great, actually. I - uh - had toast.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” He straightens up, rubbing the back of his neck; why is he suddenly nervous? “Where are you off to?”

“I have to go grab some books for my first few classes,” you reply, and Fred can’t help but note the slight tinge of amusement in your voice. “Where are you off to?”

Fred pauses; again, this was not something he necessarily thought through when he first decided to follow you out here. He really just wanted a chat, to hear your voice one more time before he was forced to go to classes.

He folds his arms over his chest as nonchalantly as he can manage, leaning against the banister. “I don’t think it’s right for a lovely wizard like yourself to be walking to class on your own; I thought I’d offer my services.”

You raise a brow, once again taking a cautious glance over Fred’s shoulder to ensure nobody is around to hear his flirtations; nonetheless, you make no attempt to stop him, which he takes as a relatively good sign. “Well, you can walk me to class if you like. I have to get my books first, though.”

Fred gestures up the stairs. “Lead the way.”

And so you do. Fred follows you all the way to the Hufflepuff common room, where he is forced to wait outside whilst you gather your belongings. His stomach grumbles, evidence of his uneaten breakfast, but he doesn’t even care right now. Not when you walk out of the common room, all smiles and nervous glances. Fred offers you his arm, and it’s with only the slightest bit of hesitation that you take it and allow Fred to lead you back through the school hallways.

“What is it like in there?” he asks.

“In where?”

“The Hufflepuff common room. Surely you can hear all the house elves rattling about in the kitchens at night.”

You shake your head. “The walls are soundproof; did you know Muggles have soundproof things as well?”

Fred raises a brow. “You’re not obsessed with Muggle stuff, are you? My dad’s into all that stuff - I’ve heard enough of it for a lifetime.”

You giggle, and Fred is fairly certain his hand starts trembling.

“No, I’m not obsessed,” you say. “I do find some of it interesting, though. The similarities between our world and theirs.”

“Are there many? Similarities, I mean.”

You shrug. Looking to the side, Fred can see your face suddenly change; what once was an expression of nerves and uncertainty is now one of interest and intrigue as Fred asks you questions on a topic you are clearly very invested in. It makes his heart lift, and he has to bite his lower lip to stop the smile from spreading and making it too obvious.

“A few I’ve picked up on,” you reply. “They still - like - wear clothes and stuff. Just different styles. And they live in houses, and go to school-”

“School? Don’t insult Hogwarts like that. Muggle school and wizard school aren’t even comparable.”

You furrow your brows, glancing up at Fred. “But they still learn.”

“Not the important stuff. Not like we do.”

“And what would you consider important?”

Fred hums, gazing wistfully into the distance. You giggle again. Finally, he says “aha!” and clicks, whirling on you. “Right, tell me this - do Muggles learn Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

You frown, grip tightening on his arm. “I don’t think so. They don’t have magic, so it would be a bit pointless, wouldn’t it?”

“Ah, but it’s important. What are they gonna do if a Dementor comes knocking on their front door?”

“There’s nothing they can do, even if they knew the basic stuff we know. They don’t have magic, Fred.”

Fred grunts. “Must be a hard life having to do everything by hand.”

“I agree.”

Fred chuckles, glancing down at you. Your eyes meet his for a fraction of a second before you bite your bottom lip and avert your gaze.

“Go on then,” Fred continues. “Tell me some more similarities. You’ve got me interested now.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

You tilt your head in thought. “Well. . . I suppose the way their government system works is quite similar to ours.”

“Explain.”

“They have people in power. A system of higher-up’s, if you will, who control everything.”

“Is theirs as corrupt as ours?”

“Oh, definitely. Sometimes I’d even argue they’re even more corrupt than ours.”

Fred’s eyes pop open. “Blimey. How has the Muggle world not completely broken down?”

You laugh. Full-on laugh, eyes squinting closed and head thrown back. Fred can’t even bring himself to laugh alongside you, suddenly too engrossed in your enjoyment to indulge in his own.

You hiccough yourself back to reality before looking up and saying, “Surely your dad could teach you all this stuff if he’s so interested in Muggle affairs?”

“He’s interested, but he’s also a bit oblivious. Doesn’t matter how many times Harry tells him what a telephone is, he still has no idea how it all works.” Fred shrugs. “Plus, I enjoy my lessons much more when you’re teaching them.”

You stiffen, lower lip hiding - yet again - behind your teeth. You swallow thickly, and before Fred can do anything, you’re unwinding your arm from his and picking up your pace, calling a quick, “I’m gonna be late!” over your shoulder. Fred falters mid-way, staring after you with his mouth dropped open and confusion making his stomach churn.

Someone crashes into his shoulder as you round the corner. “Nice one, mate.”

“Shut up, George.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s going too well.”

“It’s - it’s going fine.” Fred curses under his breath - now you’ve got him stuttering? “They’re just a little shy. But I think they like me.”

“Oh yes, the most obvious sign of attraction - running away.”

----

Fred is beginning to get very tired of his classes.

He’s only here for the sake of his mothers sanity; god only knows how Molly Weasley would react if he showed up at the Burrow six months early, claiming he was finished with school before he’d even managed to bag an acceptable amount of N.E.W.T’s.

But he doesn’t want to be here any more. He’s getting tired of forcing himself to listen to things he only half cares about, getting tired of being told off for things that - honestly - the teachers should just be used to by now. It’s not like they haven’t seen it for the past six years.

He grunts to himself as he and George walk out of History of Magic. Yet another boring lesson that seemed to drag on much longer than necessary; all Fred has to prove he was there at all is the doodle of a cat in the top hand corner of his notebook.

“I need a sleep,” George says. “His bloody voice exhausts me.”

Fred opens his mouth to respond, but his twin brother cuts him off by slapping a hand to his arm and pointing straight ahead.

Startled, Fred looks up. Standing by the gargoyle just outside History of Magic is you, hugging your books whilst awkwardly looking back and forth, as if afraid one of the passing students is going to stop and harass you.

George snickers. “Go on, mate. I think they’re looking for you.”

Before Fred can object, get himself together, George shoves him forward hard enough to make him stumble. Your head snaps up at the sound of Fred saying “You git!” and Fred is quick to lean against the wall, look at you and say, coolly, “Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.”

You stand up a little straighter, lips twitching. “Hi. How was class?”

“Boring.” He smirks. “Much better now that you’re here, though.”

The unmistakable sound of George snorting as he passes by floats between you. You smile, giving Fred’s brother a nod before you turn back to Fred and say, “Do you fancy taking a little walk before break ends?”

Of all the things Fred expected to happen today, you asking him on a walk was certainly not one of them. It takes him a second to reply, and it’s only the realisation that you’re probably just as nervous as he is that he snaps out of it and nods.

You wind your arm through his without him having to offer; his cheeks are burning.

Together, you set off down the hall. It’s quiet for a little bit, Fred still trying to figure out what’s happening, and you inspecting each and every one of the sculptures you pass, as if too afraid to look over at Fred.

Finally, however, you break the silence. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Fred’s stomach jolts. “What are you sorry for?”

“For how I reacted. You were just being nice and I - uh - I don’t really know how to handle that kind of thing.”

Fred perks an eyebrow, glancing down at you with genuine curiosity. “I find that very hard to believe.” Because he does. He finds it downright unbelievable that compliments are not something you have grown used to across the five years spent in Hogwarts.

You shrug. “Well, believe it. I really appreciated what you said, but I just. . . I don’t know how to respond, or if you’re telling the truth-”

“I was definitely telling the truth.”

You bite your lip. “I shouldn’t have ran off like that. It must have made you feel awful.”

Classic Hufflepuff behaviour - thinking more about other people’s feelings than their own.

“You know,” Fred drawls, “if my flirting makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and I’ll stop.”

“No!”

Fred’s eyes snap down. You look back up at him, eyes wide before you realise the abruptness of your protestation and hastily avert your gaze to the floor.

“No,” you say, softer now. “I - uh - I don't think you should stop. I quite like it, actually.”

Fred smirks, keeping his eyes trained on you even as you fight desperately to look anywhere but him. “Do you fancy me, Y/N L/N?”

“Oh, give me a break, Fred.”

“I think you do.” He rubs his cheek against your own. “Just a little bit.”

You jerk away, slapping his arm. “Well, it’s not bloody difficult, is it?”

Fred falters, though his smile only widens. “What does that mean?”

You groan, pulling your arm from his yet again. Fred stumbles back, unable to help the laugh that bursts from his throat at the sight of your flustered state.

“I’m going to class,” you announce.

“You didn’t answer my question!”

“I don’t have an answer to your question.” You stand there a little longer. With a smile still beaming, Fred watches as you take a single step forward, a step back, another step forward-

And then, as if telling yourself to just get it over with, you jump forward and press your lips to Fred’s cheek. His jaw drops open, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything before you’re spinning on your heel and rushing away, rounding the corner without so much as a wave in his direction.

Fred swallows thickly, reaching up to brush his fingers against the area you have just kissed, just like they do in those cheesy Muggle movies his mum is so fond of. He can’t believe the feeling that comes with it - his heart is going to explode.

Oh, no…

----

The Hufflepuff table is boring compared to the Gryffindor table. That’s the first thing Fred notices.

Maybe it’s because his friends aren’t with him. Maybe it’s because George flat-out refused to accompany him. Maybe it’s because Fred is nervous, and he’s angry about it, because since when has Fred Weasley ever been nervous about anything?

This morning, however, he is pushed on by the memory of your lips against his cheek. That is his only source of motivation, the only reason he doesn’t flick Ernie MacMillan on the back of the head when the Hufflepuff boy turns and scowls at the Gryffindor student currently making his way towards you, sat at the very end.

You have yet to look up from your textbook. Fred takes great pleasure in wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your body jumping back against his in your shock. He leans down and chuckles in your ear, moving his head so you can see his clearly amused features.

Immediately your eyes widen. “Fred! What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come have breakfast with you.” He waves his wand; a sausage springs up from Ernie’s plate, which he catches before biting into. “Like a date.”

You bite your lip. “Do you want to sit down?”

“Uh, Y/N?” Ernie calls over as Fred takes the empty seat next to you; he doesn’t miss the way you barely look up when you hum in response to Ernie’s - quite frankly - rude call of your name. “You know the houses have to eat together. He’s breaking the rules.”

You shyly look up. “Oh, Ernie, let him sit down…”

“Yeah Ernie,” Fred jeers. “Let me sit down, you nosy little git.”

You choke on the pumpkin juice you just lifted to your mouth, spinning in your seat to hide the amused smile growing uncontrollably upon your face. Fred grins, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Did you like that?”

“You’re impossible,” you hiss, slapping his arm. “Just ignore him. He’s got a grudge against anyone who plays for Gryffindor.”

“Yeah, I know.” Fred narrows his eyes, craning his neck a little to see over your shoulder, where Ernie sits with a scowl on his face. “He better not give you a hard time for hanging out with me, you know. You’d tell me if he was?”

You shift so you’re covering Ernie’s face and are now the centre of Fred’s attention. “Of course I would. Plus, Ernie doesn’t scare me.”

“I’ll certainly scare him if he so much as-”

“Fred,” you laugh, nudging his knee beneath the table. His eyes drift back to you, his body immediately relaxing at the sight of your glowing smile. “Calm down, okay? He’s got nothing against me - it’s you and the Gryffindor team he’s got a problem with.”

“Is that supposed to make me hate him any less?”

You shrug, plucking Fred’s hands from your shoulders and placing a hash brown between his fingertips. “He’s got a point, you know. You are breaking the rules by sitting here.”

Fred raises a brow. “Right, I’ll leave if you-”

“No!” You latch onto his arm, pulling him back to the bench as Fred bursts into yet another round of raucous laughter at how easily flustered you become. “No, you should stay. Dumbledore isn’t even looking.”

“If I was any less wise, L/N, I’d think you want me to have breakfast with you.”

“I just don’t get to see that much of you,” you mumble.

Fred coos; he’s trying so hard to keep up the fun-guy persona, putting on a mask of confidence despite the speed at which his heart is hammering in his chest at the moment. You make it so easy for him to feel this way, too easy, because sure, Fred has had crushes on people before, but never has he put himself out like this. Never has he wanted to make someone laugh so much. Never has he been so proud of being the reason for someone else’s smile.

Fred leans forward, lowering his voice. “That’s very cute.”

“Yeah, well…”

He chuckles, flicking your heated cheek before he takes a bite from the slice of toast you’re holding. You jolt upright immediately, swatting him away with a glare. “Hey!”

He licks the butter noisily from his fingers. “Yummy.”

You roll your eyes. “Get your own breakfast.”

“But yours is so much tastier.”

You grab another slice of toast from your plate and push it against Fred’s lips. He opens his mouth, takes a bite and hums appreciatively.

And then the world stops.

It really is like those scenes in those cheesy movies his mum watches all the time, where the room seems to go still and it’s like nobody else exists. Your fingers hover inches away from his face, your eyes cast to his lips where the slice of toast has just disappeared. Fred swallows, his own eyes drawn to your lips, slightly parted, so soft looking-

“Weasley! What do you think you’re doing sitting at the Hufflepuff table! Get back to where you belong right this instant!”

McGonagall grabs a fistful of his robes, pulling him up from the bench. Fred gasps, stumbling up with his eyes still locked on you. You hastily look back down at the table, pushing hair out of your eyes, trying to avoid being told off by the Deputy Head.

“Awk, lay off, Professor!” Fred exclaims. “I was having fun!”

“You were breaking the rules, Mr Weasley. You can integrate with your pals whenever breakfast has finished, but until then-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred grumbles, giving you one last glance. It’s to his utter relief that he sees you looking back at him, a tiny smile on your face. Fred winks before McGonagall shoves him forward, back into his seat at the Gryffindor table.

----

When Fred receives your note, he is sat in the Gryffindor common room with George.

Homework litters the table in front of them, unfinished and not understood by either of them. Hermione had long since gone to bed, insisting she wasn’t going to help people who didn’t want to help themselves. And so, the twins sat up until the late hours of the night, staring at their homework with a sense of frustration building between them.

Fred feels certain he’s going to snap at any given moment; this whole school thing really isn’t working out for him nor George, and the two of them have such prestigious dreams that sitting in a classroom all day just feels like a waste of time. Maybe that’s why he can’t bring himself to properly concentrate on his lessons. Maybe that’s why neither he nor George care as much about grades as all his other siblings.

“Right, so clearly Flitwick was on something when he wrote this,” says George, scowling at his charms homework. “He didn’t even mention flying charms last lesson, so why has he-”

The fireplace suddenly erupts.

Both Fred and George jump at the sudden interruption, swivelling round in their chairs to catch a glimpse of what has happened; they both know full well the kinds of things these fireplaces can permit, and neither of them want to deal with anything too dangerous at this time of night.

In the fire, however, is not the face of a Death Eater, or anything close to such - instead, a single piece of paper sits in the ashes, Fred’s name printed in bold across the top.

The twins frown at each other. George makes a suggestive gesture, all but shoving Fred closer for inspection.

Fred stumbles, sends George a glare before he bends down and picks the piece of paper up. Immediately the handwriting is recognisable by the lazy flick of the letters, how effortlessly neat it looks. It would take Fred hours to write a note that looks like this, and yet he’s watched you scribbling notes down; this is undoubtedly your doing.

Suddenly he’s smiling.

“Oh, here we go,” George groans, noticing his twins expression. “You’re sending love notes to each other now?”

“Shut up.” Fred sinks down into one of the armchairs, reading your note thoroughly. “Y/N wants to meet up.”

“Right now?”

“Mhm.”

George raises a brow. “Have you two even kissed yet?”

Fred’s eyes snap up, cheeks heating before he can stop them. He never ever gets flustered around George, but the mention of such a thing has his stomach flipping. “Why do you care?”

George raises his hands in mock surrender. “Never said I did, mate, but the smile on your face right now would suggest at least a peck on the cheek or something.”

Fred scowls. “No, we haven’t kissed. We’re not even properly together, so drop it.”

“How does that make sense? You both fancy each other-”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing official.” Fred lazily flicks his hand, clicking his fingers so the note folds itself into a perfect square and zips into his robe pocket. “You wouldn’t understand these things, Georgie Boy. You’ve got to take it slow.”

Goerge scoffs, throwing a pencil at Fred. “Very bloody slow apparently. But I forgot, it’s a Hufflepuff you’ve got your eye on. They tend to be a bit hard-to-get, don’t they?”

Fred opens his mouth to protest, to stick up for you, but he can’t even deny the truth in George’s words; a fair amount of time has passed since the two of you first started talking, and all you’ve done is say you enjoy his company. There’s been no kissing, no hand-holding, nothing even close to being considered romantic.

Fred is okay with this, of course. He’s in that very weird head space where even just being in your presence is enough to satisfy him; he catches glimpses of you as you parade from one class to another, and that is enough until he sees you again at lunch, or dinner, or during breaks.

He sighs, pushing himself up from the armchair. “Don’t wanna leave them waiting, do I?”

George scowls. “What about our homework?”

“We’ll be fine.”

“I’m not covering for you if Flitwick asks what you were up to that’s more important than his homework assignments.”

Fred grins, not even giving a response as he clambers out of the common room and ducks into the hallways.

He knows exactly where to go, even though he’s never met up with you after hours before - not since the first time, which he doesn’t even count considering it was entirely an accident. To this day, he still isn’t convinced that wasn’t some type of dream - a Hufflepuff, out of bed after hours? Not a single soul would believe him if he told them.

Fred makes his way down the corridor and grins when he sees you standing there; you’re much braver than him. Fred, personally, feels much safer when he’s wading through the halls - it makes it more difficult for Filch to catch him if he’s not stationary. You, however, seem to have no issue with standing behind a suit of armour, waiting patiently for Fred to round the corner.

“Hola. Bonjour. Hello. Hi.”

You look round, face immediately lighting up. “Fred! Hi!”

He’ll never get used to that greeting.

“Y/N! Hi!” he mimics. “I got your note.”

“Good. Great. I was worried I did it wrong.”

“You? Do something wrong?” Fred screws his face up in an expression of mock confusion, which prompts you to roll your eyes and nudge him. He grins, stuffs his hands in his pockets and says, “Out after curfew again, eh? Have I finally corrupted you?”

“You must have,” you reply.

Fred tilts his head. “What’s the actual reason you invited me out?”

And that’s when your expression shifts.

You bite your lower lip in that way you always do, eyes darting to the ground awkwardly. Fred raises a brow, leaning forward a bit in his attempt to get you to look at him again, but you suddenly seem much too embarrassed to even be giving Fred the time of day. His stomach flips with uncharacteristic anxiety, and he can’t stop himself when he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your elbow.

“Hey. Did something happen?”

The words burst out of you in one breath. “I left my book in the bathing room and I’m too scared to get it myself but I really need it to help me sleep, so I was wondering if you could help me get through the hallways without Filch knowing and then I promise you can go back to bed and never speak to me again.”

You take a sharp breath before looking away again, apparently too embarrassed by your request to even look at him.

Fred takes a moment to reply. He has to untangle your words first, and then he has to bask in his amusement at how embarrassed you were by asking it; personally, he doesn’t see the problem. He’s happy to help. In fact, he’d be pretty annoyed if it wasn’t him you were asking.

“Alright.”

Your eyes snap up. “Really? I mean, you don’t have to, I just thought - well, you know your way around, and you’ve dealt with Filch-”

“You don’t need to explain.” He offers his arm, just as he always does. “What book is it?”

And it’s with only the tiniest bit of hesitance that you take his offered arm and allow him to guide you through the corridors he apparently knows so well; in truth, he doesn’t tend to go out after curfew all that often, because he gets all of his mischief done in the day time now. But you were indeed correct in saying he knows this place better than anyone else. He and George spent the majority of their school careers finding secret passageways and little hiding spots they could use at any given time. As he listens to you talk about the book he’s about to try and save, he recalls each and every one of these hiding places whilst keeping a sharp ear out for Filch.

The two of you arrive at the bathing rooms and Fred pushes open the door. It squeaks, and you wince, glancing at Fred anxiously; he merely places a hand on the small of your back, pushing you further into the room.

He follows, closes the door and exhales heavily. “Made it. Now where’s that book you’ve lost?”

You skitter around the edge of the massive bathing pool; it’s still filled to the brim with forever hot water, always clean despite the amount of people washing themselves within it on a daily basis. Fred stands on the edge, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watches you rush to the far side of the room, rummage around in a basket of towels before pulling a particularly thick book out from beneath them.

You look over, smiling broadly with the book pressed against your chest.

Fred raises a brow. “Happy now?”

“Overjoyed.”

You skip back over to him, pulling open the front cover to look inside. Fred leans forward, reading the confusing inside blurb over your shoulder.

“And you use this for a bit of light reading in the bath?” he asks.

Startled, you slam the book closed. “It’s good, honestly.”

“I’ll take your-”

Fred’s sentence is cut off by the sound of Filch yelling.

And it’s unmistakably Filch yelling, because Fred has heard it many, many times before. It always comes with that initial rush of panic, the realisation he’s been caught, and if he was with anybody else, that initial panic wouldn’t have even lasted. Now, however, he takes one look at your slack face, the horror swimming in your eyes, and he realises this is the first time you’ll have ever gotten in trouble with the caretaker.

A traumatic experience for anyone.

“Oh, god,” you whisper, dropping the book with a SLAM. You jump, scrambling to pick it up, but the noise only seems to draw Filch closer to the door. Fred has to think now.

He groans low under his breath, fumbling beneath his robes for his wand - a wand that has been left on the table back in the Gryffindor common room.

You jolt back up straight, hugging the book to your chest, and that’s when Fred does the one thing he can think to do right now - he grabs your arms and pushes you back, jumping into the deep end of the bath with you alongside him.

He holds you close, opening his eyes as much as he possibly can. He can hear Filch’s yelling from above, aggravated screams of “I know you’re in here! I know you’re in here! I heard you!” Fred simply pulls you closer, urging you to hold your breath for as long as possible.

But he can see you panicking, the air leaving you. He can see your lips threatening to split open so you can scream or cry or breathe, Fred doesn’t know, but he can’t let you do it. Not right now.

Without magic, there’s only one thing he can think to do.

He presses his lips to your own and pries your mouth open. He doesn’t know how this works. He read about it once in a Muggle Studies book, but he never thought he would ever actually need to pay attention to the details. He takes your relaxing body as a good sign, tightening his hold on your shoulders as he continues to breathe as much air into your mouth as he can possibly muster.

And then the door is slamming, and Filch’s screams are muted behind the gold plating, and Fred immediately lets go of you and bursts to the surface.

You follow, gasping for air, wiping water out of your eyes along with fat strands of wet hair. Fred pants, wiping his eyes roughly, trying so hard to find words for an apology but unable to gather enough breath to even think proper thoughts at the moment.

His heartbeat soars. He looks over at you; you’re already looking at him, and the entire room is silent besides your synchronised panting breaths.

You shove past the water, into his arms, and kiss him.

Fred’s eyes pop open wide, but his arms wind around your waist almost instinctively. His lips mould against yours, and once the initial shock has passed, his eyes are slipping closed and he’s falling, falling, drowning, never wanting to resurface ever again.

You pull away first. Water drips from your bottom lip, your eyelashes, your chin, and Fred has never seen a sight so beautiful. He reaches forward, swiping his thumb along your lower lip before he leans forward and gives you a final peck.

“Always full of surprises, you are,” he whispers.

----

Fred watches you. Leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest, he watches as you run the towel down your face, grumbling beneath your breath about how impossible it will be to explain your soaked robes to Professor Sprout.

Fred hasn’t even stopped to properly think about how the two of you are meant to get back to your respective common rooms without someone noticing; you’ll surely leave a trail of water in your wake, and Filch is already on high alert. Despite this, Fred can only focus on the kiss the two of you have just shared, and what it means for the future.

You sigh, slamming the towel down and turning. There’s an adorable pout on your face, eyebrows furrowed, hair still soaked and clinging to your skin.

“That really was a shock,” you say.

Fred chuckles. “Just the bit where we took a swim?”

“And the bit where you saved me from drowning.”

“And the bit when we resurfaced and you-”

You groan, waving your hands in front of you as if swatting a fly. “Awk, don’t. I never do anything like that. I probably did it all wrong-”

“You didn’t.”

“Kissing is just something I never got the hang of. I’ve only done it a few times, because I don’t really tend to like people that way, but-”

“But I’m a special case?”

You scowl, deflating. “You know you are.”

Fred grins that cheeky grin of his, pushing away from the door. He wades towards you and stops only when he’s close enough that you have to crane your neck to look into his eyes. “I think you got the hang of kissing perfectly fine. You’re a bloody natural.”

You blink. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” With that, Fred leans down and presses his lips to your own. It’s only slow, slow enough that Fred can feel you melt into him, your rib cage suddenly coming against his own, your fingertips brushing delicately against his waist. It’s adorable, feeling you lose yourself like this, barely registering what is actually happening.

He pulls away just as slow, so you can feel everything when he does so. Your eyes stay closed for a second before opening, lower lip retreating between your teeth, face hot when Fred brings his hands up to your jaw.

“Does - Okay, well, stupid question, but does this make us a couple?” you ask.

Fred laughs. “If you want, yeah.”

“Do you -”

“Oh, Y/N, don’t even ask that; you know full well I want to be your boyfriend. Full. Well.”

A grin splits your face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his middle and placing your chin in the centre of his chest. “Yeah.”

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #fred weasley #harry potter x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #weasley twins fanfiction #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins fic

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rinharu-purple · 3 years ago

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Emmm 👉👈 can i request Gavin's spring festival date analysis?! Ehem especially when Gavin said "I've waited a long time for today.." 💙

But Of course if you're not busy.. I'll wait patiently.. I just.. love read your analysis 💙 like i can feel your love and dedication for Gavin.. a lot of Gavin stan is very smart and loyal.. just like Gavin itself

Hello nonny and of course you can! Thank you for your lovely ask and reading my posts. It makes me really happy to hear this 💞 I can also double up what you've said, Our birdcop is smart and loyal and I really love being a part of Gavin-standom which includes so many talented writers, artists, analysts and it has @cheri-translates! There are so many great posts from various accounts and one can feel the love, passion and loyalty towards Gavin in all of them! 💫

An analysis on Spring Festival date is so overdue, so it is me who should apologize for not having written this before. I will more than gladly include your request scene, I hope you enjoy it ^_^

MC Testing Waters: Spring Festival Date

At the beginning of the game, MC is a young woman with lots of love in her heart, however without much experience in love. Fortunately this starts to change when she meets LIs as adults.

Spring Festival Date takes place after Firework Date and before the Romantic Date, although the timeline is quite messy, which I will come to by the end of this analysis.

If you look closely, you can see MC checking Gavin's romantic feelings towards her by using this "boyfriend game" and also uses the opportunity to get beyond his hardened exterior and touch his vulnerable side 💗

Spoilers start below this line

This date comes to, because MC lies to her aunt about having a boyfriend to avoid arranged blind dates and even promises to visit her on New Years with her boyfriend. Speculatively it seemed like a solid play, until...the time literally came.

Thinktanking about a way out of this with Kiki and Willow, they weight different options as to tell them she broke up with him, leave the city or call in sick but then the best wingman on earth Minor saves the way and suggests that she just takes a "fake boyfriend" with her, surely enough with Gavin in his mind.

MC goes through her contacts list to search for a suitable candidate, but her heart Whispers her the answer by skipping a beat as her fingertips scroll down to one name.

... Gavin

As such... MC has chosen her player for the game and Gavin's Heart Trial with MC's family commences...

---Press Start---

Creativity Test

Unluckily Gavin actually shows up for this highly important date late, with his phone off! From the storyline he arrives a couple of minutes late to MC’s aunt's place, thus starting the game one point behind. He was late because he was buying presents for the whole family! With the spot on gifts which are well received by the family because they're expensive, imported goods, limited products, cute and thoughtful he makes up for the lost points.

But it's just the first stage and he has 3 more stages to clear, the pressure is slowly rising.

This gray suit has a lovely story behind it, which you can find by the end of the story.

Decision Test

Gavin has passed the creativity test with flying colors, but in the second stage more challenging questions are on the menu. The eldest aunt wants to know Gavin's age, occupation, salary(?!) and possessions(?!). The last two questions are fairly over the line and is a no-no in my country. Asking people about their financial status as well as bragging about it is perceived as rude and insolent, that's why the way Gavin answers these questions skillfully without bragging about his wealth adds just another brick on my Gavin-temple.

Age: 24

Occupation: Police Officer

Salary: Covers the bills

Possessions: A flat in the city and a motorcycle.

In my Prank date analysis, I've mentioned about Gavin's ability to deal with impertinence and also here, he stays friendly, but only answers the questions necessary to get through with the situation. MCs family is checking whether he's wealthy enough to take care of MC (which is sad that in the 21st century that in some countries women need to be financially secured by men). So Gavin just gives them just the right enough of information to pass the test and pass he does.

There is another aspect to his way of answering though. You see, Gavin is an unmaterialistic man. He doesn't care about money or any other meta. He doesn't touch upon the fact that he's coming from a wealthy family, or that he inherits his grandparents house or that he can afford designer dresses, overseas travels or gems without giving a second thought. That shows just how humble Gavin is and I love him for it. What defines him is not his wealth, nor does he allow anyone define him on his financial status. It's his character, the values he stand for, the vision he embodies, the way he treats MC.. Ehm.. And.. His champion body and drop dead gorgeous looks (comes as an extra;))

But the game is far from over, because the family council is now going to challenge him on...

Affinity Test

This is where things get rosy as the family would like to know how they've met and whether they've been together since high school.

Look, Gavin is actually not playing a game, but living the moment. He is well aware of the fact that once he and MC become an official pair, he will be standing on the same spot a year later. He is serious...

So when they ask about their affection, he gives them his genuine answer and confesses his crush on her during high school and says that they've been going out since fall. This dazzles MC, as if she hasn't been dazzled enough lol.

The three glasses of drink he gulps surely has a role in this sincerity and taking three glasses of a drink as a punishment also becomes a tradition for MC and Gavin in the future.

And so, he proudly passes the Affinity Test with flying colors, effortlessly. Only one more stage and he's done it!

Execution Test

Every hero has his moment, when the fight takes a gloomier turn against his favor and the odds don't look good as before when he gets a strong blow, that is when the family hits him with the question "Don't you get alone well with your family?".

This is Gavin's weak spot, his cryptonite, his bleeding wound and MC's family just pressed on it. What makes this scene so heartbreaking is not just the topic itself and we know why it is a sensitive topic for Gavin but also that Gavin actually tries to signal them that this is not his favorite topic. He tells them he doesn't go home for holidays (friendly warning number 1), the aunties pushes by telling him to take some meal with him to which he replies "Thanks, but that's okay. I've been away for a long time" (friendly warning number 2) the family pushes further and as a one last resort he tells them that during college he rarely went there and spent holidays working afterwards (friendly warning number 3). Sadly the auntie than ignorantly ask whether his family doesn't worry about him and now because he's given three fair warning shots which, he downright gives them a brief and resolute answer:

- No.

That's usually the latest where people with common sense stop digging in further. Unfortunately then the auntie asks whether he doesn't get along well with his family to which Gavin no longer responds. This is the perfect way of dealing with such people and Gavin has a very intuitive talent for dealing different people from different mindsets. Give them three friendly and fair warnings, still pushing? Then give them a last chance by one final brief and to the point answer, they choose to ignore the signal? Stop interacting, you can only waste time beyond this point.

The only problem with this situation here, is that these people are not just somebody, Gavin wants to win these people over, so he cannot just ignore them. But also he cannot do it without a timeout, so he goes to grab some wine. (God it makes me so sorry everytime he has to face his family drama or is misjudged. I just wanna hug him bring him hot cocoa, give him a backrub and bring spicy food for him. Luckily he has MC ^_^)

But let's not talk only about about Gavin, because MC is struggling too. And we should recognize her stick up for him with the most cherishing words:

-Auntie, you got it wrong. He is a decent and pure man and has come to my aid many time and in quite dangerous circumstances.

When she comes back however cannot find Gavin, once she does, a heartwarming moment blooms between them.

This scene is very crucial in Gavin and MC's relationship because this is the first time MC sees Gavin tired and flustered. She feels sad for him but also happy for herself, for she feels as though she gets closer to him, thus seeing the real Gavin. By the way she show him her genuine care, Gavins heart melts and kisses the back of her hand as a gesture and so the first intimate moment involving them having a kiss ensues. Furthermore, they show each other their mutual care, which brings them one step closer and this gives Gavin the only courage he needs to tackle the situation.

When our hero gets the courage and the stamina he need from his girl, nothing can stop him now. Having gatherer his strength, Gavin returns to the dinner table:

“I am so happy to be here with you all today. In fact, I haven't felt this atmosphere of family in a long time. I have a very strict father and a brother I seldom see...I don’t even know when I turned into such a loner. Eating alone, sleeping alone, doing everything alone...until I met her. It was a beautiful autumn day. The gingko leaves were floating in the wind. I was also going through a pretty dark time. But she saved me before I hit bottom...It’s she who told me I could live a stronger life. And it’s also she who told me I could live a more tender life. I never felt lonely before, until I met her. I started to get used to star-gazing with her, having dinner with her, spending the New Year’s with her. In the future, I'll give it my all to stay with her, to take good care of her and love her. I wanna make up many times over for all the times I wasn't there”

MC’s heart stopped, aunties eyes teary, the elder Aunt want his actions to back up these words and thus Gavin has a pass from MC's family. Now that he's won the game, it's time to collect his prize.

After they leave MC's aunt's house, our lovebirds walk together in the night full of fireworks and Gavin tells Mc that Minor has mentored him on being the perfect son-in-law, hence he was late. He also asks her what she would do if he didn't show up, to which she says that her intuition says that he won't fail her and he murmurs quietly:

- I've waited a long time for today.

Of course he doesn't repeats himself when MC asks him about what he just said. But that's what kept him going all night long.

He has waited for six whole years to meet her again, to stand by here, take good care of her and love her. Tonight, he could do them all by being her "boyfriend", giving his word to her family and having their blessings. He could see that she also cares a lot for him, worries about him and wants to be there for him. He landed his lips for the first time on her delicate skin and could give her warmth.

He could finally confess his feelings for her and say the genuine things he will only say to her.

So yes, he has waited for a long time for this moment to come and when it came, he made sure to grab it tightly.

----—----—---

Timeline issues:

- The order of the dates in the game doesn't always reflect the real course of events. The grey suit that Gavin wears is actually bought after Romantic Date, which takes place after this date.

-Even though MC plans this whole game to avert blind dates, but she still gets set up later on a blind date by another aunt lol.

Thank you once again for your patience nonny and I hope that the analysis proves to be worthy of your wait 💗

Masterlist

For MC's confession let me take you here

For Gavin and MCs relationship milestones here

For a fun trivia about this date you can click here

#Meeting the family is important #Gavin preparing for being the perfect son in law #And getting help from Minor #Anon asks #mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc bai qi #mlqc haku #mlqc baek gi #mr love queen's choice #koi to producer #Meta #Analysis #Saturday night #Saturday

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inkedwarrior · 4 years ago

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Blue Ocean - Chapter Two

AN: Chapter two is here, it got quite long, but I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

You’re standing there, staring at him. His smile reaches his eyes, lifting one eyebrow. Shaking your head, you clear your throat and takes his hand. The spark that goes through your body when your hands wrap around each other has both of you taking a step back. You look down at your joined hands and up towards his face again. The smile has been wiped off his face and his brows are furrowed, looking deep in thought.

”Eh, well, I’m sorry for staring, it’s just that you caught me off guard,” you let go of his hand and immediately a chill forms in your gut. His face says it all, he’s also feeling whatever this is. You both stand there awkwardly, waiting for the other to say something. Now it’s him that seems at a loss for words.

”Y/N, hey, there you are! I’ve been looking for you,” Farah interrupts the moment and you turn around to see her and the rest of her friends standing behind you. A blonde boy you haven’t seen before is with them and you guess that it is Andreas, seeing as Saul is standing in front of you.

”Oh, great, you’ve met Saul,” she comes up to your side and nudges you in the side. Sauls eyes is quickly moving between you and Farah and you can see the cogs turning in his head. You roll your shoulders and look down at the ground again. By now, the rest of the group has joined you, forming a half circle in the corner of the room.

”So, um wait, you’re Y/N? Farah's sister?”, Saul directs his question at Farah and she smiles widely and wraps her arm around your shoulders. ”Yes Saul, this is my sister. My little sister, let that be a reminder to you both,” she says, looking both Saul and Andreas in the eyes. Saul smiles again but this time, it doesn’t reach his eyes like it did before. Andreas straightens up from the wall he’s leaning against and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

”What’s that suppose too mean?”, he says and levels Farah with glare. Ben sighs and pushes Andreas back slightly, as if preventing him from saying something else.

”What she means is that you flirt with just about anyone and everything, and I think that she would like it if you didn’t flirt with her sister,” Rose laughs and shares a smile with Luna who rolls her eyes at the scene in front of her. You, on the other hand, can feel the blush creeping up your cheeks and you shrug Farah’s arm of off you. She barely notices seeing as she’s busy giving Andreas a lecture on manners. He protests Ben’s and Farah’s words, Rose and Luna quickly agreeing with your sister. Andreas scowls at them and mutters something under his breath.

But you only have eyes for Saul. He’s looking at you again and you suddenly want to feel whatever it was that you felt when you touched his hand for the first time. The look in his eyes tells you the same thing but once again, Farah interrupts you.

”Alright, now that this discussion is over, how about we get something to drink?”, Saul is quick to break eye contact, moving to stand between Andreas and Ben. A wise choice seeing as the boys are moments away from starting a slap fight. You notice that Rose and Luna has left the group, already heading towards the refreshment table on the other side of the room. Farah turns to you and repeats her question and you nod, unable to say anything. Directing a punch towards Andreas arm, she pulls you past the boys and you trail after, silently. You turn around once more, looking in Sauls direction but he’s still busy shoving the other two boys.

”What was that over there?”, Rose’s question startles you out of your thoughts. You smile at her and cock you head. ”What do you mean?”, you curiously asks. Luna lets out a short laugh and your sister do the same.

”What she means, what we all mean, is what did we interrupt?”, Luna gives you a vague gesture towards the other side of the room. You feel the blush returning to your cheeks and you curse your inability to control your emotions at the moment. Farah crosses her arms over her chest, looking at you with something you can’t exactly pinpoint.

”You didn’t interrupt anything, I just happened to collide with him and he saved me from cracking my head open on the stone floor,” you answer a little too quickly. Too bad your sister knows you better than anyone. She snorts and you hunch up your shoulders.

”That was the worst lie you’ve ever told me Y/N. Alright, I might buy that that’s what happened but both yours and Sauls feelings were all over the place when we got there,” she looks at you, giving you the same look that your mother often used when she wanted to wring the truth out of either of you when you were younger. You sigh, knowing that you can’t lie to your own sister. The only problem is that you didn’t really know what happened, and that’s what you tell the three girls currently cornering you.

”I don’t know. We shook hands, and the moment our hands touched, there was this spark. I’ve never experienced it before. And when I let go of his hand, I felt a chill in my gut,” you’re looking at the ground, not meeting their eyes. However, you quickly look up when Rose chokes on her drink and Luna draws in a deep breath. You look at your sister for an explanation, taking in her appearance. Her arms has dropped to her sides and she gaping at you. The uncomfortable feeling from before returns and you shuffle your feet, waiting for them to say anything.

”Did you just say spark? Like, electricity going trough you when you touched Saul?”, Rose is the first to break out of whatever trance they’re in and grabs your upper arm. You swallow and take a deep breath, not understanding the urgency in her words.

”Yes. At first, I thought it might be my magic, seeing as I’m an air fairy, but it has never happened before and I’ve got good control. I mean, I can toss around some electricity but not like that,” you don’t understand anything, but you answer Rose as honestly as possible. Luna rubs her temple and turns towards your sister.

”You haven’t talked to her about this?”, she gives Farah a look that says more than the words she just uttered. Luna’s question brings her out of her stupor.

”Of course not, I didn’t think it would be necessary seeing as it’s something not many people know about nowadays,” she is suddenly angry and you’re getting more and more confused by the second. You grow more uncomfortable, not used to seeing her angry. Rose notices and takes your hand.

”Girls, maybe we should go somewhere quiet, and talk about this? Here is hardly the place,” she gently shoves you in the directions of the dorms, trusting that Farah and Luna will follow. You walk along quietly, thoughts spinning and a chill growing colder and colder with every step. Farah picks up on your emotions and despite the burst of anger displayed minutes earlier, she grabs your hand and squeezes it tight. You managed to squeeze back, noticing that you’re heading towards their suite, and not your own. Opening the door, Luna gestures for you to step inside. Farah steers you towards the common area and Rose slips into what seems to be a small kitchen. Boiling water can soon be heard and you assume she’s making tea.

”Alright, what the hell is happening? Why do you all act like I’ve done something wrong?”, your voice shakes just a little bit but you managed to keep the tears a bay. You and Farah rarely got angry with each other, too close connected to fight with one another. Seeing her react that way and what seemed to be directed at whatever situation you’ve caused, shakes you and there’s nothing you’d rather do than run back to your own room. But she keeps a firm grip on your hand, and Luna lounges by the couch situated before the door. Trying to leave would be useless.

”Hey, calm down. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did, it’s just that I didn’t expect to have to deal with this, it's all kind of new for us too,” Farah smooths your hair out and rubs your back while Luna rolls her eyes. You feel yourself calming down and you fall back against the couch, exhaling deeply. The other side of you dips, Rose settling down to your right.

”Here, drink this, it’s chamomile tea,” she hands you a steaming cup and you blow on the surface gently before taking a sip.

”So, who would like the honour? I think it should be you Farah but Rose probably knows more about it,” Luna is eyeing your sister again and Farah sighs. Sitting up straight, she turns slightly so she can look you in the eyes. She opens her mouth to start speaking, but closes it quickly again. She takes a deep breath and cracks her knuckles.

”God, mother would have been so much better than this. The first thing you need to know Y/N, is that you’ve done nothing wrong, alright?”, you nod and gestures for her to continue. ”From what I’ve read, this happens rarely nowadays and there isn’t much to read about it. But centuries ago, when our magic was different from the one we wield today, there was something the books refer to as soul bonds,” your brow furrows and you open your mouth to question her, but she holds up a hand, silencing you.

”Let me explain first, then you can ask your questions. Now, there isn’t much written on the subject, at least not in the library books but from what I’ve gathered, soul bonds is something akin to having a soulmate,” you choke on your tea and Rose pats your back. You stare at your sister, not really understanding what this has to do with you. Sensing your panic, Farah sends a calming wave of warmth, making you relax once again.

”It’s said that when two people meet and their hands first touch, a spark feeling like electricity runs through your body,” you continue to stare into empty space, remembering the feeling when you touched Sauls hand. Like electricity.

”Are you seriously telling me that that is what just happened? That he, Saul, is my soulmate?”, you stand up suddenly, your empty tea cup falling to the floor. Farah is quick to stand too, grabbing you arms to keep you from running away.

”Calm down Y/N, it’s not a bad thing. It’s odd, seeing as it hasn’t been a recorded case for centuries but not bad. Breathe sweetheart, breathe,” you gasp for air, feeling your lungs constrict and your heart beating faster. Black spots dances across your vision and you can hear all three girls trying to calm you down but they’re too far away. The last thing you see is the door bursting open and tall dark haired silhouette shoving his way past the wood. The person reaches out for you but your legs give out and you’re out cold before he makes it past the threshold.

Tagging: @silvafox @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @neemonroe

#saul silva #saul silva x reader #fate the winx saga #saul silva imagine #ben harvey #rose harvey #farah dowling #queen luna #andreas of eraklyon #multichapter #fate winx saga

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stxrrywildflower · 5 years ago

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newlyweds

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - you and spencer have to pose as a newly married couple for a case

warning - mentions of case, cursing

word count - ?

“y/n and reid we need you to go undercover,” hotch spoke to the team.

you and spencer immediately made eye contact. “what? why?” you quickly responded. going undercover was pretty rare and choosing you and spencer was even less common.

“the unsub is targeting young couples, newly married who just moved into their first home. you two are going to pose as a couple. we already have a house lined up for you two to stay at. go pack your bags and meet back here,” hotch ordered the two of you. you ignored the snickers of the team and followed spencer out of the police station. this was most likely going to be extremely awkward.

you and spencer had a flirty relationship. it wasn’t as apparent as morgan and garcia but it was still very much there. emily and j.j. has always told you that there was some real feelings deep down in both of you but you had always denied it. you weren’t sure how you felt about your fellow agent and you were more unsure how he felt about you. so, nothing ever happened.

once arriving to the hotel, you entered the room and began to re-pack your bag with your clothes and toiletries. ten minutes later, you met up with spencer once again and got back into the car. no words were exchanged between the two of you as you drove back to the police station.

you tossed your bag on the couch next to morgan and sat down at one of the chairs around the table. rossi and hotch entered the room a moment later.

two square boxes were tossed on the table. “what’s this?” spencer asked. “you’re wedding rings,” rossi spoke. you spun around to where morgan, j.j., and emily were. “you must be really enjoying this,” you whispered harshly. the three of them either covered their mouths or pressed their lips together to stop them from laughing.

you opened up the box for you. inside was a fancy engagement ring and then a simple silver band. “these fake?” you asked, turning to rossi who then scoffed, “of course.” you grinned at his words before slipping the two rings on your left ring finger. spencer did the same, a silver band adorning his left ring finger. surprisingly, both were a perfect fit.

“the address has already been sent to your phones. we have a camera set up in the living room but other than that, you’re on your own. the cabinets and fridge have already been stocked. we’re not sure how long you two will be staying here but the unsub does stalk his victims for quite some time so you need to keep the act up at all times,” hotch ordered you.

with that, you and spencer stood up, grabbing your bags and lingering in the doorway. “good luck,” rossi spoke. “have fun!” morgan shouted. “but not too much fun!” emily added. you rolled your eyes at that comment before pushing spencer out the door.

“maybe finally those two will admit they like each other,” hotch told the team, much to their suprise. j.j. pulled out her phone with a smile on her face, already dialing garcia’s number.

after arriving at the house in a rental car, you pulled the house keys out of your pocket. “ready for this?” spencer asked you as you began to turn the key. you nodded before turning the knob and entering the house.

the first thing you did was drop your bag on the floor. you didn’t know the layout of the house and wanted to explore before you put your clothes away. some boxes lingered in the open foyer as well as the main living room to make it look like you both had just moved in. all the way to the left of the room was the stairs leading to the upstairs.

“look spencer, our first home,” you spoke as you wrapped your arm around him and placed your hand on his chest. spencer chuckled and moved his arm around your waist. “i’m going to call hotch, if we’re going to be watched, we might as well know where the cameras are,” you added, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

hotch answered the phone after two rings, “agent hotchner.” you began to walk around the main room. “hey, so where’s the camera?” you asked. “it’s in the chandelier. i’ll tell you when you find it,” hotch responded.

you motioned for spencer to follow you before making your way back to the foyer. “you’re right in front of it,” hotch informered you. “alright thanks hotch. that’s all,” with that, you hung up.

spencer turned to you with a smile, “ready to explore?” he asked.

you nodded, returning his smile. the first floor was pretty basic. it had the foyer and then the living room. just off of the living room was the very modern and nice kitchen which lead to the dining room. the two of you grabbed your bags before making your way upstairs. the master bedroom wasn’t difficult to find as it was at the end of the hallway. the other doors were just other bedrooms and a bathroom.

upon entering the room, you immediatly jumped on the large bed. spencer, however, went into the connected bathroom and began to unpack his toiletry bag. once getting off, you put your clothes in the drawer. however, something in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

“oh my god there’s a pool!” you exclaimed, rushing over to the window which displayed a view of the backyard. “we have to to swimming tomorrow,” you spoke. when you saw spencer’s uneasy expression, you stepped forward. “please?” you asked. he eventually gave in and nodded, “okay.” you grinned at his response.

the rest of the day was spent adjusting to the home. at six that night, you had gone into the kitchen and started to cook dinner while spencer sat at the island and did some crossword puzzle. a comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you continued to cook.

after eating, spencer volunteered to do the dishes. you thanked him before going into the living room to sit on the couch for awhile.

meanwhile, back at the station, the team sat around one of the round tables. “they really aren’t selling it,” morgan spoke up. the team all nodded, showing their agreement to the agents words. “yeah they really aren’t,” j.j. added. everyone’s eyes were on the computer screen as they watched the two of you in separate areas of the house.

hotch pulled out his phone and dialed your number. “hello?” your voice echoed over the speakers of the phone. the team all turned to look at their boss. “you really aren’t selling it. would it really kill you to kiss reid?” upon seeing your shocked expression on the screen, emily hid her face in j.j.’s shoulder, trying to hide her laughter.

at the house, you tensed at hotch’s words. “what?” you replied, not sure if you heard him right. “would it kill you to kiss reid at least once,” hotch repeated himself. you bit your lip. part of you wanted to say no because that would obviously be awkward and possible bring up feelings that may or may not be there. but, the other part of you wanted to say yes as the unsub needed to be caught and you and spencer were the best chance you had. you pressed ‘end’ on your phone before standing up.

you took a deep breath before making your way towards the kitchen. spencer had just finished putting the last dish away and leaned against the counter. he was slightly confused when he saw you enter unexpectedly.

without warning, you leaned up and kissed spencer, your right hand moving to his cheek as your left remained on his chest. much to your surprise, spencer placed his hands on your hips and kissed you back.

“wow,” you spoke as you pulled away, hands still remaining on spencer.

“finally!” morgan exclaimed from the police station, high-fiving emily as they saw the two of you kiss with bright smiles on your face.

this sure was one hell of an undercover mission.

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia

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breadoffoxy · 4 years ago

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Blood and Darkness

Summary: You were Death and Jungkook was Life. Two sides of the same coin bonded through blood and darkness.

Written for the BTS Ghosite Marathon. Prompt: Theme: X-Inspired, x = Hades

Drabble: 7/30

Pairing: Thanatos!Reader x Zagreus!Jungkook

Genre: fluff, humor, minor angst

Warnings: small Hades spoiler, mentions of blood and violence but not depicted in detail, tiny amount of angst in the form of feeling betrayed and abandoned

Word Count: 1,067

A/N: I love Hades and want to do more of this with other groups since there are so many amazing characters. I’d love to hear your thoughts on which character you would make each member if you know the game. Also, knowledge of the game isn’t required to understand this. Think of it as a Greek mythology au.

You would go to the ends of the world for Jungkook. Which is saying a lot considering you were Death. Nearly everything was in your reach except the far realms of the underworld belonging to Chaos. Yet despite being the literal incarnation of death, you couldn’t stop him from dying over and over again.

Namjoon once told you to think of it as a cycle of rebirth. He believed Jungkook to be the god of blood and life. Fitting, you thought, with the family motto being blood and darkness. The warrior also continued on saying the two of you were two sides on the same coin. With a chuckle, he explained that’s probably why the two of you got along so well despite your opposite demeanor. You never seen him laugh so much when you said with a straight face, “A coin with common sense on one side and stupidity on the other.”

Jungkook’s return is, as always, loudly announced by your brother, which you hear now. Jin always has the most wonderful advice such as did you try not stepping into that trap and wow Jimin’s whip hurts, don’t get hit by it. Obviously.

Despite Jungkook’s best efforts you still are distant from your brothers, but you are trying. You swear he’s closer to them than you’ll ever be though. Yoongi will most likely remain a mystery to you as your interactions, at best, are more of a business transaction than anything. You bring him dead souls, and he grumbles and ferries them across the River Styx. The two of you appreciate the simplicity of it all.

“Ah, here you are brooding in your corner again I see.”

“I’m not brooding.” Turning, you see Jungkook striding towards you with a grin in his red and black robes. His feet glow like burning embers, lively and bright just like his essence. “Why are you so happy to be back?”

Jungkook doesn’t speak until he’s right next to you. You can feel yourself tense at his closeness, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I saw her again, my mother.”

No longer does the sting of betrayal hit you when he talks about his mother. You first believed him going on a suicide run out of the underworld to find the woman who left him after his birth to be him spitting on you and everything you’ve gone through. You yelled at him, bitter and resentful, yet you helped him anyways. As pathetic as it sounded, he was your whole world. With each escape attempt he went on you saw him grow and become all the happier with his newfound purpose. Every time he saw you, he’d grin that stupid smile he was wearing now. You learned he wasn’t replacing you, but expanding his world, and you’d do anything to help him because you-

“What are you thinking about?”

You do not startle, you are Death, but Jungkook’s smirk swears you did. Blatantly turning your head to the side, you grumble, “Nothing.” Jungkook’s smirk grows at your answer and before he can go on about it further you whisper, “I’m glad your efforts are proving fruitful. How is she fairing?”

“Well.” Jungkook looks wistful before his face clouds over. “I still feel as if I never have enough time with her.” The look is gone and he is smiling again. “I helped her with her garden and had some strawberries. Have you had them before?”

Tilting your head to the side, you think hard on it. Jungkook’s eyes soften at the sight and continues on when you shrug. “Well, no matter. I must tell Taehyung about the taste. Maybe that will be enough to give him inspiration again.”

“If your fantastical feats you boast haven’t risen him from his mood, then I’m not sure if strawberries are the key.”

“Never know until I try. Come.”

“I rather not.”

Jungkook pulls aside his tunic to show off the large vial of ambrosia.

“Fine.”

The two of you walk through the hall side by side, and you are happy that the master of the house is out. Jungkook stops to give Cerberus a big pat on the head and then he excitedly talks the depressed looking musician. The man actually perks up and strums at his harp. Taehyung asks a question, Jungkook shakes his head, and then the musician’s expression sours. An awful twang sounds out and Jungkook backs away slowly before catching up with you.

“Next time, remind me that I need to bring down some strawberries for him.”

You snort at his remark and nod at Hoseok as you approach the dining area. He waves excitedly at you before screeching at the sight of Jungkook and disappearing at the blink of an eye.

“What did you do this time?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook doesn’t look convinced though. “I think?”

“If by nothing you mean the bloody mess the champion of Elysium dragged in and went on in great detail about your heinous deeds as Hoseok cleaned up after him?” A suave voice asks behind you. Jimin nods at you in greeting as he steps around the table he was at, but just raises an eyebrow at Jungkook.

“Is he really the champion if I keep beating him?” Jungkook doesn’t look ashamed in the least. “Plus, what if I said he deserved it?”

Jimin shrugs, “I could care less about him but what your exploits do to burden the house is something that falls on me. I may be able to put in a good word with you with Hoseok though.” Jimin reaches his arm out, waiting expectantly.

Jungkook, already anticipating this moment, pulls out a bottle of ambrosia. “How about this to sweeten the deal?”

“There is no deal, this is me taking contraband.” Despite his words, Jimin is smiling as he pockets the valuable drink. “Now do try not to get into too much trouble.”

Jungkook watches Jimin leave and once the fury rounds the corner, he pulls out another bottle of the splendid drink. Discreetly, he pours a cup for him and you. Being gods, you didn’t have to eat or drink, but everyone in the underworld never misses their chance to get a taste of the rare delicacy, even you.

“You are unbelievable.”

Jungkook grins over his glass, watching you enjoy the drink. “Oh, come on, you love me.”

“Please,” you scoff, but his words never rang truer.

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years ago

Note

“No one has a romantic bone in their body anymore! What happened to playing songs outside windows, glitter and sparkles on handmade Valentine’s cards, dancing in the rain!? What happened?!” this screams jaskier to me, feel free to ignore (:

OH MY GOD. 100% it absolutely does. I tried so hard not to get carried away with this one. And yet...

Jaskier slumps in the seat across from Geralt, crossing his arms over the table and flopping onto them, head down. Is it too much to ask that people spare him a little common decency? Something more than just a quick fuck and out you go. It's not like he asks for much, just a few moments together before heading back off to whatever he's supposed to be doing. If all he wanted was a quick fuck, he'd go to a brothel.

"Should I even ask?" Geralt mutters. Jaskier sighs, lifts his head, sighs again.

“No one has a romantic bone in their body anymore! What happened to playing songs outside windows, glitter and sparkles on handmade Valentine’s cards, dancing in the rain!? What happened?!”

The look on Geralt's face is somewhere between fear and that of a man calculating his easiest route of escape. Jaskier suspects the latter is most likely.

"It's fine," he mutters, "better luck next time. I should prepare for my performance tonight. Will you stay to watch?"

"I have other matters to attend to."

"Ah. Right. Well, I'll try not to be too late."

"Hmm." Geralt doesn't even look at him as he rises from his seat and Jaskier wonders what the point of romance is when it's so hard to find. When even your very best friend in the whole wide world won't stay and watch you sing.

It's fine though. Geralt rarely stays to watch him perform anyway. Though usually he's preoccupied with a contract or keeping Jaskier from being mauled by the innkeeper's husband. Or wife. It just hits a little harder tonight because he's already been effectively turned down once.

Mathilde is a lovely woman, to be sure, but he's never been shooed away after sex quite so forcefully. As though he were a trespasser in her home. And to think, all he wanted was to cuddle a little and maybe talk. But it's fine, he can talk to Geralt later - once he's finished with his other matters.

Jaskier tries to push the thoughts from his head as he chooses his outfit for the night. They're in Vattweir and the inn is large enough and popular enough that he can wear something a little fancier. He picks one of his favourite doublets and the trousers to match - a lovely dark burgundy accented with gold - but even as he admires himself in the glass, he can't bring himself to be as cheerful as he should.

Everyone else's lack of romance is starting to wear off on him and if he doesn't pull himself together soon, he'll be going hungry. After all, what good is a poet without romance?

Jaskier is feeling a little better after his performance, though he turns down the many offers of company - he's not quite ready for any more potential rejection just yet. Already, he'll be going up to a cold and empty bed. And to think, he'd been quite pleased when the innkeep had said their only available room had only one bed. One bed! The perfect chance to cuddle up close to Geralt without it being suspicious! And now Geralt was off doing gods know what for an indeterminate amount of time. By the time he gets back, Jaskier will probably be long asleep, having dozed off alone again, as usual.

He doesn't hurry up to their room, dreading the cold sheets as he considers whether it's worth lighting a fire for only him. Maybe he could stay up and work on some writing, it's been some time since he's had time to just sit down and write uninterrupted. But as he reaches the landing, he finds he doesn't have the energy, not tonight. He's slept in colder places than an unheated room at an inn, he'll be fine.

But when he pushes the door in, it's not dark and cold as expected. In fact, it's quite warm and while the light is focused mainly in the centre of the room, it's also quite light. He pushes the door a little further, wondering if he chose the wrong room and when he peeks in, he nearly drops his lute on the ground.

In his rush to catch it, he stumbles and somehow winds up flush against Geralt's chest. Oh, and he smells wonderful. But- why? Muttering a hurried thank you, Jaskier extracts himself from Geralt's arms, stepping back to peer around him. So he wasn't just imagining things.

In the centre of the room is a little wooden table, just barely big enough for two people to sit at with a chair on either side, a plate of dinner at each setting. In the middle, barely squeezed between the plates, are a pair of candles and a small jar with a little bunch of purple flowers. He wants to cry but he doesn't know if it's because it's so beautifully laid out or just because he's tired and confused.

He turns back to Geralt to ask what exactly is going on, but as soon as his eyes land on him, he stops dead again. Geralt is dressed up. It's not much, a clean pair of trousers and a fresh white shirt with a waistcoat, but for Geralt it's extravagant. Jaskier suddenly finds it hard to breathe. He glances up and finds Geralt's hair neatly tied back, the loose bits tucked behind his ear, and when he can finally look him in the eye again, Geralt seems nervous.

He sets Jaskier's lute down, leaning it carefully against the wall before taking a couple of steps forward, closing the space between them.

"The chambermaid helped me," he shrugs, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. "I know I'm not very good at this kind of thing."

Jaskier doesn't know what to say. He opens his mouth a couple of times hoping for inspiration, but nothing comes.

"I'm not one of your lovely maidens," Geralt mumbles, "but is it alright?"

Jaskier could cry. He might, actually, if he doesn't do something to occupy himself quite quickly. He takes a final step closer, taking Geralt's face in his hands and pressing a soft apprehensive kiss to the corner of Geralt's mouth. As he draws away, he keeps his eyes on him, boldened by softness he finds there.

"My darling Witcher," he whispers, "how could I ever want anything more?"

#rex writes #loved this one so much ty #geraskier #the witcher #replies #contemplativepancakes

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asweetprologue · 4 years ago

Link

Words: 2618, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Witcher

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Fluff, geralt has a fixation on jaskier's hands, Pining, Confessions, it's about the hands tm

Inspired directly by this post by @valdomarx

“I didn’t even ask you to come this time, witcher. I don’t know why you’re acting so dour,” Jaskier pouted. He was standing in front of a small mirror that he’d propped up against the table, the only thing with a reflection in the small inn. His shirt was untucked over his tight pants, which were a startling peacock blue this time around. It was a fetching color, nearly matching the bard’s eyes, though Geralt would never voice such a thought aloud. He was fiddling with the ties at the front of the cream shirt, trying to decide on a complicated pattern of lacing that was well beyond Geralt’s understanding. The smell of wisteria and honeysuckle filled the room, overwhelming in its recent application. Jaskier rarely used scents beyond soaps while they were traveling, and Geralt preferred when he could more easily smell the distinct musk of the bard himself, rather than cloying perfumes.

He grunted in response to Jaskier’s comment, leaning against the bedpost. The inn was nice, actually, even though it was small. The sheets smelled fresh, the mattress was free of holes, and there was even a full bath off of the main room. Jaskier had sunk more funds into their accommodations than usual, expecting a big payout from the ball he’d been hired to perform at for the next several nights. “I’m not being ‘dour’,” Geralt said, watching Jaskier tug his shirt closed. His fingers played over the laces, easily working them into a tight series of delicate knots. Geralt wasn’t lying, truthfully. He wasn’t so much dour as… distracted. His eyes followed Jaskier’s hands as they tucked in his shirt, revealing his slim hips. The bard tugged here and there on the fabric, his fingers fluttering about as he searched for just the right amount of artful dishevelment.

Geralt noticed Jaskier’s hands.

He wasn’t sure if this was a universal experience or not. Over the past few months, he’d overcome the initial shock of realizing he was interested in the bard. He’d known Jaskier for years - closer to decades - and it certainly was a notion that took some adjusting to. One day Geralt had just looked up and realized that the gangly limbed youth he’d met in Posada had turned into an extremely attractive man, a man Geralt very much wanted to put his hands on. The thought had been startling, and he’d spent full weeks telling himself that it was a fluke. And yet he was captivated by Jaskier’s broad shoulders, his strong thighs, his infuriatingly dexterous fingers. It was embarrassing really.

But, he reasoned, he was in good company; literally half the Continent wanted to fuck Jaskier. Geralt was particularly unique in that regard. It was honestly more spectacular that he was a person who wanted to sleep with Jaskier who hadn’t. It was a bitter draught to swallow, but Geralt accepted it. Few people wanted a witcher in their bed for more than an hour, and he knew that it could never be a simple one time roll in the hay between himself and Jaskier. Geralt was already spending much of his time reminding himself that he was not and could not be infatuated with Jaskier, the famous bard, womanizer and, above all, his best friend. He was at least self aware enough to know that Jaskier’s rejection would be painful, and that losing him as a companion was unacceptable.

Still, this left him with a predicament. While he assumed Jaskier had caught on to his developing feelings quickly enough, Geralt didn’t want to make the bard uncomfortable with his attentions. He tried not to let anything change between them. He didn’t reach out to pull Jaskier closer when they shared a bed at night, he didn’t give him the best cuts of meat during meals, he didn’t buy small, intricate rings or beautiful leather bound journals for him when they went to the market. He would think about it and then turn away, and keep things how they’d always been. Jaskier was bright and loud and annoying, and Geralt was quiet and snappish. If the bard had wanted anything more, he would have made it clear long before now. Geralt was doing a pretty good job of keeping things platonic, he thought. He probably would have been totally successful if Jaskier hadn’t chosen a lute, of all the cursed instruments, as his primary tool of the trade.

The issue was that Geralt had something of a preoccupation with Jaskier’s hands, which may be a common experience but might be unique to Geralt himself, much to his dismay. They were just exceedingly nice to look at. They had long and elegant fingers with wide, reassuring palms that had spent hours cleaning, patching up and comforting the witcher. They were unscared except for a thin white line under his right ring finger, where Jaskier said he’d been punctured by a nail as a child. Though that wasn’t to say that they were totally unblemished. Years of playing had worn deep calluses onto the tips of his fingers, rougher skin that made Geralt shiver when they played over his scalp as they so often did.

They were nice hands, but it wasn’t just that. They were expressive, an extension of whatever Jaskier felt at the moment. Geralt never knew what to do with his hands if he wasn’t in a fight, but Jaskier’s moved constantly. When he was angry they curled into fists and pointed fingers, elbows tights against his body as he raged at some perceived slight. When he was happy or excited, they darted about him in wide, sweeping gestures, an unspoken language that Geralt thought he might be able to read now without words. When he was tired they dragged, lingering on Geralt’s shoulders or pulling at the seams of his armor as he bullied the witcher into bed. Those moments were almost the worst, picking away at Geralt’s already frayed control, but he found it got to him the most when Jaskier was playing.

To say that Jaskier transformed when he played was not quite accurate. It was closer to say that he became. Jaskier was always intense, bright and focused and vibrant, but when he picked up his lute and stepped onto a stage he was resplendent. When Geralt had first met him, he’d thought maybe Jaskier was a siren, or some kind of incubus, luring men in with his honeyed words and saccharine melodies. He’d quickly realized that no, Jaskier was as human as they came, but it didn’t stop others from acting like they’d been bewitched when he was around. Jaskier performing was Jaskier at both his least and most genuine, distilled into whatever the crowd needed him to be most at that moment. It was enthralling, to say the least, and Geralt wasn’t immune to the draw.

At first watching the lute had been a defense mechanism, of a sort. Watching Jaskier himself was almost too intense, and Geralt felt exposed anytime their eyes met across a crowded room. So he’d taken to watching Jaskier’s hands, flying across the strings of the lute and dancing up the neck. Initially it had been only intriguing, and he’d found himself impressed by the bard’s skill. He was faster and more precise than any other player Geralt had come across, while remaining gentle in his ministrations. Jaskier touched the strings of his lute with such tenderness, as if he were caressing a lover.

One night while watching the bard, Geralt had though, Sometimes he touches me like that. And after that he was well and truly lost.

“I’m just saying,” Jaskier said, bringing Geralt sharply back to the present, “while I would never begrudge your presence, I don’t think the response to Toss a Coin will be as enthusiastic if the titular witcher is off glowering in a corner.” He reached for his doublet, a green jacket picked out with yellow thread that looked like gold in the right light. It was beside Geralt on the bed, and he nearly flinched away from Jaskier’s grasping hands. He thanked every god above that he no longer had the ability to blush the same way a human did, knowing that he would be pink in the face after watching Jaskier lace up his shirt sleeves. The man was actively putting clothes on and Geralt was nearly sweating from it.

“I’m not going to glower in a corner,” he grumbled.

Jaskier gave him a look that displayed an insulting lack of faith in Geralt’s word. “Well,” he said, “at least you’re dressed appropriately.” He’d managed to wrestle Geralt into a black jacket and a pair of dress trousers, though Geralt had won the fight to keep his boots and his swords. It was better, Jaskier allowed, that the people be able to see the tools of the trade. The bard reached out to adjust the collar of Geralt’s shirt. The witcher forced himself to still as Jaskier’s knuckles grazed his Adam’s apple. His skin hummed where they’d made contact.

Jaskier gave him a pat on the shoulder and turned away. “Well, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” he said, giving himself one last glance in the tiny mirror. With a grin, he turned to Geralt and said, “If you’re very good I’ll buy you one of those tarts from the market for breakfast tomorrow.”

The words if you’re good rolled over Geralt in a disconcerting way, curling up at the base of his spine and settling like they intended to live there. Shit. He made a slightly strangled sound of agreement that he hoped just sounded annoyed.

As Jaskier reached for the door, Geralt noticed that the ties of Jaskier’s undershirt had gotten twisted around one of the buttons of his doublet. He must have accidentally pushed the clasp through a loop in the laces while he was doing them up. Geralt wouldn’t have noticed unless he was watching Jaskier’s hands, but it seemed like he was always watching Jaskier’s hands nowadays. Watching, anticipating, hoping for the next touch. Geralt reached out and snagged the bard’s wrist before he even really knew what he was doing.

“Um,” Jaskier said, eloquent as ever. Geralt turned his hand over - in for a penny, in for a crown - and started undoing the buttons on the doublet. Jaskier hummed in realization, seeing where the laces had twisted into a knot. Focusing on his task, Geralt bent his head slightly, pulling the thin string loose from its tangle. As he did so, pale, unmarked skin was revealed through the parted fabric, a spider web of delicate blue lines branching out before Jaskier’s warm palm. Geralt’s thumb brushed briefly over the veins, Jaskier’s skin as smooth and soft as fresh rose petals under his rough fingers. He was seized suddenly by an overpowering urge to put his mouth there, to breathe in the scent and find Jaskier hidden under all the oils and the smell of crisp linen. Without thinking too much of it, Geralt bent down and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s wrist, just below the swell of his thumb.

Jaskier gasped.

It was like taking a mouthful of Thunderbolt - the world coming sharply into focus, his mind keenly aware of his surroundings. Geralt nearly jumped back, flinching away from the sound. Fuck. Why had he done that? He’d been helping with a fucking sleeve, it hadn’t required his mouth. Jaskier was going to be pissed. He was going to demand that Geralt stay here while he went to the banquet and then he would find someone to bed for the night and he wouldn't try to find Geralt in the morning, and Geralt would have to set back out on the Path alone all because he couldn’t control himself enough to lace up one sleeve -

“Geralt?” Jaskier's voice cracked slightly. The witcher clenched his jaw, wincing.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice sounded strained even to his own ears. He couldn’t meet Jaskier’s gaze. “That was… inappropriate. Have fun at the ball.”

“You’re not coming?” Jaskier asked, sounding distressed now. His scent was still free of the sour stench of fear and anger, but Geralt could hear his heart beating faster. “Geralt, look at me. Just - Are you alright?” Hands came to rest on his shoulders, and Geralt was startled enough at the contact that he raised his eyes to meet Jaskier’s.

The bard looked nervous, but there was something else in his face too. Something softer. Geralt swallowed heavily. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that,” he said. His face tingled with the phantom of a shameful flush.

Jaskeir smoothed his hands gently down Geralt’s arms. A comfort the witcher certainly didn’t deserve. “I don’t mind,” Jaskier said, impossibly. He bit his lip, his tongue darting out to sooth the spot. Geralt couldn’t help but follow the motion even as Jaskier gave him a wry smile. “I wish you’d do it more, if I’m being entirely honest. After all these years, I assumed you weren’t interested.” He took a breath, as if he was about to launch into a very demanding ballad, or perhaps jump from a cliff. “But I very much am. Interested.”

Geralt stared at him for a moment, allowing the words to sink in. Jaskier was looking at him with wide, expectant eyes. His infuriating fingers played anxiously over Geralt’s, not quite holding on. Unsure of what else he could reasonably do, Geralt kissed him.

Jaskier’s hands flew away from his own, and Geralt had a singular crystalline moment of panic before he felt them threading through his hair. Jaskier twisted closer, throwing himself into the kiss with little of the finesse he was so renowned for. It was too hard and too fast, but Geralt drank it anyway, inviting Jaskier in with his tongue and trying to convince him to stay. His fingers tangled in the loose ties of the shirt sleeve, and he could feel Jaskier’s pulse against them. It was almost more intimate than the kiss itself. Jaskier’s heart beat quick and steady under his hand, a rapid tempo just for him.

Finally Geralt pulled away, breathing hard as he pressed his forehead to the bard’s. “This is a fucking terrible idea,” he said.

Jaskier jerked back a bit to glare at him. “How so? Counterpoint: I think it’s a singularly marvelous idea, actually.”

Geralt shifted slightly, uncomfortable. “I can’t… I don’t want to ruin this. You. What we have.”

“We could have more,” Jaskier said, uncharacteristically fragile. Geralt wanted so badly not to break him. “Anything. If you just want a fuck, that’s fine. We can do that. If you want more than that, I… That’s okay too. Or not. Whatever it is, whatever you want.” His fingers smoothed down the back of Geralt’s hair, just at the base of his skull. A caress, as soft as if he were playing his favorite instrument. Maybe he was.

“I’m going to want you,” Geralt said, like a warning. “Longer than you want me.”

Jaskier looked indignant. It was one of Geralt’s favorite expressions, when it wasn’t directed at him. Maybe even then. “I doubt that very much,” Jaskier bit out. The fingers in Geralt’s hair tightened, and the witcher let out a shaky breath. “I have loved you for almost my entire adult life. I doubt I’m going to stop anytime soon.” Jaskier still looked nervous, but there was more anticipation in it than before. Something closer to hope. “So I’ll say it again: Whatever you want. What do you want, Geralt?”

“You,” Geralt said, leaning in again. He pressed the words against Jaskier’s lips. “Always you.”

“Then you have me,” Jaskier said, and he did.

#my work #my fics #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fan fiction #fan fic #witcher fanfiction #valdomarx

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sparkandwolf · 4 years ago

Text

Oblivious (read on ao3)

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale Rating: General Summary: “What is all… this?” Stiles asked, dropping his work bag on the floor and shutting the door blindly behind him. “Why do you look all--” Stiles’ gulp interrupted his words and he said nothing else.

“I just figured…” Derek began, clearing his throat when anxiety reared its ugly head.

For @sterekvalentineweek day two: Anniversary

When Derek woke up in the morning, it was one of the first times he rose with a grin on his face in weeks. He had the entire day planned out. Stiles was sleeping over - as he usually did on Fridays and Saturdays - and should arrive at the loft right after his workday was done. He had always packed an overnight bag prior to this unspoken agreement, but he had left enough stuff at Derek’s place throughout their relationship that he could just come by whenever he wanted.

The thought alone made Derek’s heart warm and his smile widen as he tore his sheets off the bed, ready to replace them with fresh, clean ones that Stiles always seemed to appreciate. He thought back to the first time Stiles spent the night in his bed and couldn’t help but laugh at the surprise that always seemed to shine in his eyes when Derek made the loft more theirs than his. He always had Stiles’ favorite sheets on the bed and dinner ready for when he got home - to Derek’s place, really - and it was usually a meal Stiles had expressed craving the week before.

Derek wasn’t sure why Stiles had chosen him a year ago when they had decided to take their relationship to the next level. It was so gradual that Derek almost wasn’t sure Stiles was actually interested. The kiss they had shared in this thick of battle with that month’s big bad was one that ran through Derek’s mind almost every single day since it had happened. They didn’t kiss often, usually when Stiles was too tired to think about it or when Derek got up the nerve to initiate it, but when they did, it knocked him off his feet.

He wanted to do that to Stiles, which was why his loft was getting a full treatment that day. He had cleaned the night before, putting away anything and everything that might make the place seem solitarily Derek’s so that Stiles would feel more comfortable saying yes when Derek asked him to move in. He thought they had reached that point. Stiles spent as much of his free time he could during the week there and it was rare that their entire weekends weren’t spent with each other. It just made sense, especially since it had been exactly a year since their first kiss.

His phone chimed brightly, signifying a text that would only be from Stiles, and he beamed down at it as he opened the message.

If Parrish makes us stop for coffee one more time during this shift, I’m going to lose it. I’m gonna be so hyped up when I get to your place, the message read. Derek laughed and remembered the last time Stiles had been almost high on caffeine. He crashed so hard that night, they barely had time for a goodnight kiss before Stiles slammed his head into the pillow and was out like a light.

Derek responded quickly, I’ll have plenty of food to help counter your caffeine hangover, promise.

And he did have a lot of food. He might have gone a bit crazy with the anniversary meal if he was honest with himself. He had gotten a special recipe from Stiles’ father - one that his mother used to make him for special occasions as a kid - that was already prepared in the crockpot, just waiting to be turned on and readied for their candlelit dinner.

Derek felt ridiculous when he walked down the stairs to see his loft sparkling like a professional cleaning service had been hired to tidy it up. He had worked hard; he bought an extra dresser, cleaned out half of the closet for Stiles to hang his flannels, made room in the cupboards for the snacks Stiles would definitely make Derek carry if he decided living together was a good plan. He was prepared to take this step with Stiles and truly hoped Stiles was ready to do the same.

Hours ticked by and Derek found himself increasingly nervous as he set up the vase of flowers the florist in town convinced him Stiles would love. They were a mixture of blues, purples, and whites and aptly named Beautiful in Blue. Derek liked them immediately as Stiles was the only one who seemed to prefer the sapphire color of his eyes over the more common golden hue. The florist wiggled his eyebrows at Derek and asked who they were for and seemed more than surprised he was buying them for Deputy Stilinski. He didn’t think they were keeping their relationship a secret by any means, but the sheer shock on the florist’s face irked him enough to toss the money across the counter and run out with the vase as quickly as he could.

When the door started to slide open, Derek adjusted the skinny black tie around his neck, feeling suddenly suffocated by the choice in accessory. He had Cora help him with his outfit. She chose dark skinny jeans and a skinny tie to match but left him on his own with the rest. He’d chosen a dark tan shirt that Stiles had once commented on liking and didn’t think about it any further. He was regretting that, too, as Stiles’ eyes widened considerably, barely glancing away from Derek as he walked in.

“What is all… this?” Stiles asked, dropping his work bag on the floor and shutting the door blindly behind him. “Why do you look all--” Stiles’ gulp interrupted his words and he said nothing else. Derek’s nerves only increased. It wasn’t often he had Stiles speechless and he couldn’t tell if it was a good thing at that moment or not.

“I just figured…” Derek began, clearing his throat when anxiety reared its ugly head.

Stiles sniffed the air and said, “Is that Honey Garlic Chicken?” Before Derek could answer, Stiles catapulted himself down the stairs and lifted the cover to the crockpot, inhaling the mouthwatering aroma. “It is. And--” Stiles sprinted toward the table to sniff at the flowers adorning it. Derek had to pull him away when he got a little too close to the flames burning the candles on either side of it. “Flowers and candles, Derek? What is going on?” Derek froze and found himself surprisingly frustrated that Stiles had forgotten. He was well aware that they hadn’t celebrated an anniversary before but it had been an entire year and Derek thought that feat in itself was worth a bit of celebration.

“You don’t remember?” Derek asked, resting his thumbs in his pockets to try and stave back the claws threatening to break through. He had worried something like that would happen - that he had made mountains out of molehills again - but he didn’t expect that Stiles would look so… scared. “God, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry. I just figured it had been a year since--”

“Since we kissed, the first time,” Stiles whispered, glancing around the room like he was continuing to take everything in.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed in a whisper. He took a step toward Stiles and sighed heavily before continuing, “A year since we first kissed, a year since we made our feelings to each other known, a year that we’ve been together.” At that admission, Stiles gasped loudly and held onto the table beside him as if to steady himself. Derek was more concerned than anything as Stiles’ breathing turned to hyperventilating.

“Oh my fucking god,” Stiles exclaimed, running his hand over his face which was a motion Derek was familiar with when he had gotten anxious.

“It’s really okay, Stiles, we can just--”

“We’ve been dating! For a year! We’ve been in an actual relationship for a year and I--” Stiles pressed his hands against Derek’s chest when he made a move to get closer, wanting nothing but to comfort Stiles through whatever panic had overtaken him. “I didn’t know. Jesus Christ, Derek, I didn’t know!”

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, too stunned to say anything besides a choked, “I’m sorry?”

Before the words could fully register, Stiles gripped onto Derek’s tie and to Derek’s surprise, pulled him into the most passionate kiss they had ever had. It was not dissimilar to their first one - both of them injured and still fighting, but needing to let the other know they were gonna make it through - in the way that it wasn’t planned and it poured every ounce of emotion each of them were feeling. Stiles ran his other hand behind Derek’s head and threaded his fingers through his hair, holding on like if he didn’t, Derek might float away.

He couldn’t imagine pulling away from a kiss like that, though. His hands gripped at Stiles’ waist, one sliding around to hold the small of Stiles’ back if only so Derek could pull him closer. Their tongues brushed together timidly like they had never kissed like that before and Derek’s heart jolted when he felt Stiles get lost in it. They kissed for what felt like hours as if they were making up for the last year of subtle pecks and slow, sleepy presses of lips that could have been so much more.

When Stiles finally pulled away, his cheeks were flushed and his lips reddened and even plumper than they usually were. The sight was so beautiful, Derek had to convince himself not to bring Stiles to his bed right then and there. Stiles’ mouth opened and closed like he was searching for an apology or words he couldn’t quite capture in his mind and Derek leaned their foreheads together, taking a deep breath before he could bring himself to speak.

“I was going to ask you to move in with me,” Derek whispered, keeping his eyes closed because he was scared of Stiles’ reaction. He heard the sharp intake of breath and the only reason he opened his eyes was because Stiles tugged the hair on the back of his head none too gently.

“We’ve been dating for a year and I’ve loved you for longer,” Stiles said once their eyes met. Derek’s heart leaped and he squeezed Stiles a bit harder. “I’ve been practically living here for months and from what I’ve gathered, you don’t mind that?”

Derek shook his head and replied, “I want you here more.” Stiles let out a laugh that sounded relieved and Derek was grateful for that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stiles asked, smiling softly at Derek.

“Everyone else knew, Stiles. It was obvious to literally everyone! I asked your dad for your mom’s old recipe and he asked if it was for our anniversary. I asked Scott how much room you would need to move in and he came over and helped me rearrange. I didn’t think it needed saying!” Derek said, frustration clear in his voice. He wasn’t mad at Stiles, though. He couldn’t be mad when he could see Stiles beating himself up inside. He placed a gentle kiss on Stiles’ lips to stop the internal monologue he didn’t want to take away from their happy moment.

“I always thought you were the oblivious one. I spent years pining after you before we finally kissed. I had this whole plan; in a few months, I would really kiss you, when neither of us could ignore it or play it off. Then I would ask you on a few group dates before gaining the courage to go out to dinner with me alone. Then I would convince you to let me move in and we’d live happily ever after,” Stiles explained. He had calculated every moment that had already been happening and Derek couldn’t help but laugh at the overanalysis that was so entirely Stiles.

“We’ve done most of that, you idiot. We’ve gone out with the pack, we go on dates by ourselves, we cuddle on the couch for Christ’s sake. Can we skip that and just have you move in right now?” Derek asked. He was done waiting and he wasn’t about to start over with Stiles. He was ready for Stiles to be in his life forever and he wanted forever to start as soon as possible.

“How does Sunday sound?” Stiles asked, checking the watch on his wrist. Derek rolled his eyes but nodded, grinning widely as the timer on the fridge indicated dinner was ready.

“Are you gonna let me romance you like I planned now?” Derek retorted, placing one final chaste kiss on Stiles’ lips. Stiles chased after him as he pulled away, but Derek was already making his way to the kitchen.

“Does this plan end with me in your bed?” Stiles asked, wiggling his eyebrows as he followed and wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist.

“I even put on your favorite sheets,” Derek responded and Stiles’ groan of contentment made it all worth it. Stiles seemed attached to Derek the entire night and if Derek thought things were perfect before, he knew they were then.

#sterekvalentineweek2021 #sterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #my writing #ahhhh i love this one!!!#i hope you do too!!

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

Text

Proper Procedures for Wooing Witches

for @littoraly-art because you are amazing and I already said this, but I hope you have an awesome birthday <3

Pairing: Yennefer/Jaskier

Word Count: ~2.2k

Rating: T, some explicit language

„My darling Yennefer,“ Jaskier calls out as he swoops into his Oxenfurt apartment with a flat carton wedged under his arm. It already nicked the lavender mesh overlay of his newest doublet, but for once, he absolutely cannot be bothered by that. It’s too nice of a day. “Hello?” He kicks off his shoes.

High noon’s just gone by and Jaskier doesn’t expect Yen to be up yet – which means she will hex his ass if he wakes her. His giddiness outweighs his fears though, heart warming, as he takes in the cluttered entryway. Several pairs of shoes are strewn about, his and hers mixing on the ground. Yen’s all look like they could double as a lethal weapon and are some variation of black and white (though one pair is tinged brown from blood that crusts the bottom, he doesn’t want to know). It’s awfully domestic, a product of the temporary living situation they are in.

When Yen requested to use his rooms for a week or so, she explicitly asked for Jaskier not to be there, but, well, he is weak, he wants her, he couldn’t have stayed away if he tried. Yen’s been snippy from the moment he welcomed her with open arms and the prospect of sharing a bedroom, snippy to the point of grumpiness. That’s fair, Jaskier supposes. It’s also fair that she slips out at the most random times of day, coming back only when Jaskier’s gone to the academy for lectures or the pub for drinks with his colleagues. All fair and good. He catches her about once a day which is more than he can say for most of the year. Fair, yes. Nice, even though Yen is rarely, if at all, impressed with his affection for her. A bard can dream.

“Yenny,” he shouts again and whistles to himself as he slides through to the main room. To his surprise, she lounges at his dinner table by the window, one hand curled around a steaming mug, the other holding up one of his most beloved poetry collections (not only because he wrote several of the entries). Her hair falls in rich raven curls that cover her chest, barely concealed by the sheer black dressing gown she wears. It’s the only thing she wears, Jaskier notices, gulping heavily. Yen doesn’t look up from her reading, her lips are pursed and her tone clipped as she replies.

“For every time you call me that, bard, your balls will grow the tiniest fraction until, one day, they will explode, never to grow back.”

Jaskier considers it. Directs his attention downward. They do feel a bit strange, don’t they? But that’s only because he’s thinking about them. Right.

“I shall not be fooled,” Jaskier says, grinning. “But if you so insist, ‘beloved’ will do just as well. I brought you a gift.” Brushing past his dusty bookshelves and cluttered desk, he struts towards the table and drops the carton on it. It lands with a thud and swirls up more dust – how is it this dusty already, Jaskier could swear he cleaned the place, like, last month?

Yen licks her finger to turn the page which makes Jaskier laugh out loud. He rounds the table to glance over her shoulder, but immediately has to retch. There, catching Yen’s precise attention, is Valdo’s vomit-inducing sonnet about his first time taking a tumble with what Jaskier assumes was a professional. It has to be, no self-respecting person would bed the man free of his coin. Jaskier makes a mental note to spread another rumour about Valdo and various sexual diseases, then plucks the book from her hands and lets it drop to the table. She sighs softly under her breath and allows him to put a hand on her shoulder. Is that… does she lean into him? The tiniest bit? Oh, dear.

“That better not be a dress,” Yen says, reaching out. Her fingertips trace the edge of the carton as if she’s in deep debate on whether to pop it open. This is a game they’ve been playing excessively, him bringing her gifts, her making a show of whether to accept them or not. On the few occasions that Yen invites him for a drink or gives the acoustic properties of his lute a small magical boost, Jaskier fails to reciprocate her cool attitude. He’s too in love to feign indifference and it’s not like she would believe him either.

“If we’re using dress in terms of the precise cut it implies then no, no dress,” he replies, thumb rubbing her skin through the slippery material of the gown mostly to work through the tightness in his throat. It hurts sometimes because this farce makes him think she doesn’t want him. Hell, most things Yen does are aimed at making him think she doesn’t want him. But then there are fractions of admittance like this, like when her gravity shifts towards him or he finds her in his rooms, barely dressed, that make him think there might be more there. Jaskier simply has to practice patience.

“Julian, do I seem like a woman easily impressed with shallow gifts of clothes? In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a very particular style.”

“Oh, I noticed. Trust me, Yenny, you are very much one of a kind,” he replies, mesmerized by her fingers dancing on the cardboard. She loses no time in jabbing back.

“And yet you revert to common courting techniques? That’s pathetic and you know it.”

“Bold of you to assume I am courting you.”

“Bold of you to claim you are not. If I remember correctly, the last time Geralt was with us you got drunk off your ass and asked him for his permission to woo me. Which was sweet but not at all his place to allow. Then you continued to exert yourself into my life on every possible occasion with flowers and picnics and awful love songs. How else am I going to interpret all this?” Yen asks, craning her neck to look up at him from under dark lashes. Gods, she is gorgeous.

“Touché. But do not think I would waste the efforts of my best tailor on just anyone. This is advanced courting, dear.”

“I fail to see its distinguishing qualities.”

“The difference is that these clothes are hardly a gift and more a means to an end.” Jaskier winks which has her eyes narrow, fall back to the carton.

“You want to take me somewhere” Yen asks and, of course, she untangles his intentions immediately.

“Not just somewhere. My cousin’s forwarded me an invitation to a ball put on by some countryside nobleman or other. His work keeps him in Kerack so I’m to go in his stead. That is to say, I’d hoped you would go dancing with me.”

Yen looks up once more and Jaskier starts a little. He will never get used to the vibrance of her violet eyes, how they see through him. Once, she said it took no effort at all to pick at his thoughts, that she always feels as though he’s screaming them right at her. So, he does.

Please, he thinks, mouth twitching into a soft smile. Please, just this once. It would mean the world to me.

Yen huffs a small laugh and shakes her head, then draws the box towards her. Inside, she finds a slim-cut blouse made from the finest black cotton in the city, complete with white lace trim down the front and flaring out at the cuffs and collar. With it, Jaskier had the tailor make a white corset belt and a pair of deep black pants that have applications of the same lace. It would look precarious, almost edgy, on anyone else, but on Yen… the thought alone makes Jaskier’s chest tighten with adoration.

“Jules, this is beautiful,” Yen murmurs as her fingers trace the line of the seams on the blouse. Jaskier puts his other hand to her shoulder and holds on for dear life as his ear twitches. Was that? Did she just? Oh, how he itches to make a quip about the nickname. Because it’s funny, yes, but it also gives him palpitations. He feels like a lovesick puppy trying to befriend a wild cat. Which also means that any violation of trust can ruin what they have. It’s just so fucking precious, this whole affair, and if he were on the outside of it, he would squeal in delight and write a whole novel about it. He still might.

“I’m glad you like it. And it will look absolutely stunning on you. You will look stunning in it. Ah, not implying that you don’t usually look stunning. What I am saying is, the other attendees will be stunned.”

“You’re ridiculous… and stupid too. Are you certain you want to take me to the ball? I’m not exactly popular with the local nobility.”

“Quite the tragedy,” Jaskier says and because he feels daring, he bends down and kisses the top of her head. Then, he saunters over to the stove, pours himself a mug of tea and takes the seat next to her. “And yes, I am certain. In fact, there is nothing I’d love more. Let the people talk.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Yen says on another sigh. “Not about what they say or think or do.”

“Which is part of what makes you so damn sexy.”

Yen rolls her eyes and folds the clothes back into the carton.

“These are lovely, but I will not wear them to the dance,” Yen says. Which means she will go with him at least. It’s not enough, Jaskier is dying to see her wear what he picked out, dying to show the world that such a brilliant woman would choose to spend the evening with him. Most of all, he wants to make her happy. “Trust me on this. You have a reputation to worry about and bringing me along already risks that. Bringing me along in that can and will mess with your career.”

“Trust me, when I say that it won’t matter. I’m already famous and folk love to gossip about famous people. Probably more than they love my songs. I could imagine worse truths to be spread about me. Besides, didn’t you just say you don’t care what people think about you? Why then would you worry about what people think about me?”

"Well I never," she says, but her lips soften into a smile and her hand rises to fiddle with her pendant. Jaskier gently pries it off and brings her knuckles to his lips.

"I don't care either," he whispers. "I just want to go dancing with you."

"I'll portal to my rooms in Kaedwen and get one of my old dresses.” Her face is all smiles, but an edge has stolen into her voice which makes her sound forlorn, sad even, and her eyes flicker over to the folded clothes in the box. Jaskier’s throat tightens.

"Why are you so stubborn? It’s obvious you want to wear them. You don’t need to start giving a fuck now.”

"I'm trying to do something for you here, Julian. I don't usually go out of my way to attend stuck-up parties with peacocks such as yourself."

“Please,” Jaskier says. He still holds her hands in both of his and because he has no shame, and because this really does mean the world to him, he sinks off his chair and onto his knees before her legs. Yen’s eyes widen a fraction. “For me.”

-----

They dance. Oh, how they dance. Jaskier always considered himself a great dancer, he has music in his veins and has flirted and whirled his way through every ball room and banquet hall on the Continent, and it’s clear that Yen is no stranger to this art either. They are exuberant, relentless, they laugh and pirouette and demand their ground, much to the detriment of those with lesser skills. The lack of a dress doesn’t subtract from their flair, if anything, it allows for a broader range of motion

"The only way we could draw more eyes is if we'd brought Geralt along,” Yen giggles. Fuck. She’s so carefree it brings tears to Jaskier’s eyes.

"Gods no," he laughs. "He would ruin all the fun with his growling and brooding. If you're looking for more attention however..."

"Jules-"

Jaskier twirls her and, in that motion, catches her around the waist and dips her low, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips which are parted on a yelp. Before he can tug her up again, her hands come forward to cup his face and she presses into him, grins into the kiss.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” she whispers.

“Admit it,” Jaskier drawls as he brings her back upright and they fall into an easy basic waltz, closer to each other than the dance strictly necessitates. “You love me.”

“That is awfully presumptuous of you.” But she laughs, and kisses his cheek, and Jaskier thinks that maybe one day, she will. “Don’t bet on it, bard.”

#the witcher #witcher #jaskier #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer x jaskier #yenskier #I'll reblog with ao3 link later #ficlet #my writing #fluff

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judediangelo75 · 4 years ago

Text

He Hates Me!

Person A has a huge crush on Person B, but Person B is convinced that Person A hates them. Idea coming from @pairing-prompts

There’s no real time line here. I have a small burst of inspiration so I’m taking it with both hands.

Main Character friend for this story: Katriona Cassiopeia aka future Mrs. McNully @kc-needs-coffee

---------------------

“Talbott, mate, you’re staring again...” The avian Animagus knew this. Nor did he really care.

“Tell me something I don’t know Egwu,” he mumbled, never taking his eyes off the figure sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Andre rolled his eyes.

“Talbott, I’m pretty sure she can feel you burning holes into her skin at this point. Stop it,” the style wizard chided. A small part of him whined, not wanting to take his eyes of the vision sitting just a few tables away from him.

But he relented and turned his gaze to his fellow Eagle.

“Happy,” he asked.

“Ecstatic. Talbott, why don’t you ask her out already? It’s been years,” Andre pressed. A small blush colored Talbott’s face as he stole a glance at the witch in question.

Judith Harris.

His longtime crush.

At first, he wanted nothing to do with her.

He’s seen her around before, but that was the first time he’s seen her up close. She was really pretty and Talbott wasn’t sure how to properly talk to her when she shyly came to him to ask for his help to become an Animagus. When he rejected her, it was a knee jerk reaction.

He never meant to hurt her feelings.

Whenever they were together, he started to feel things that he never felt before. Despite his coldness and aloof attitude, she still smiled at him.

His heart never failed to flutter at the sight of it. He wanted to see it more often. Directed at him.

He found himself opening up to her.

He told her about his parents.

He felt like he could trust her.

Things were going good. They were slowly starting to form a friendship.

Until he messed it up by avoiding her.

He was 15 when he realized his feelings for her. Unsure on what to do, he started pushing her away. He declined her attempts at eating lunch with him or even offers to go flying for a bit. Very rarely taking her offer to play Gobstones or go out for a Butterbeer.

He did study with her on occasion but never for long.

He found it hard not to get closer to her and indulge his desires. He usually abruptly leaves before he did something stupid.

Like hugging her close. Playing with her hair. Holding her hand. Nuzzling her neck. Kissing her soft lips.

Now, it’s gotten to the point she rarely went out her way to talk to him first. She became skittish around him, never lingering around him like she used to.

And he wanted her to.

Talbott bit the inside of his cheek as he narrowed his eyes at her.

Sweet Gods, he’ll do anything if he meant that he can get close to her heart.

“Talbott?” The young man in question blinked and turned back to his mate.

“You said something?” Andre stared at at Talbott completely unamused.

“I said quit staring at her and answer my question!” Talbott looked a little disgruntled before sighing.

“I’m not sure how. Whenever I get close to her, I can’t seem to find the right words. I feel like I’m pushing her away than bringing her closer,” he admitted, feeling his chest constrict a little.

Andre looked at him with sympathy.

It wasn’t easy to befriend Talbott but eventually, they’ve become good mates. Only time they had a real issue was when Talbott confronted him about Judith being his Celestial Ball date.

Andre just walked into the Ravenclaw Common Room after dropping Judith at her’s in the Hufflepuff basement. He felt like he was walking on air after spending the night dancing with the beautiful witch. The feeling quickly disappeared when he came face to face with an irritated Talbott.

“Talbott, what’s-”

“Out of all witches you could’ve gone with, you picked her?!” Andre immediately raised his hands in surrender at the angry hiss.

“Woah, easy there mate! You didn’t go to the ball so why do you care?” Talbott paused, a soft blush dusting over his cheekbones before he looked away.

“...” Andre furrowed his brows, thoughtful for a few moments before the lightbulb went off.

“Crikey, you like her!” Talbott immediately turned his gaze back on him, red eyes wide with alarm and annoyance.

“Announce it to the whole damn castle why don’t you?!”

There was no hard feelings between the two. Whilst Andre did like Judith, he knew that was just a simple crush.

An admiration for the Hufflepuff and nothing more.

Talbott however...

It’s clear that he got it bad.

The blatant staring.

The blush that colors his cheeks whenever her name was mentioned.

Andre even caught Talbott writing a love poem about her.

What Talbott felt was more than a crush. He was in love with her.

And Andre can’t stand to see his mate pining hopelessly after her.

What Talbott needed was a push in the right direction...

“Maybe I can help...” Talbott side eyed him. Normally he would be strongly against seeking help, but it’s not like he’s any closer to receiving Judith’s affection with what he’s doing now.

“I’m listening...”

—————————

Katriona gave her friend her signature pout as they walked to the Quidditch stadium to practice for a bit.

“Oh come on, Judith! You’d never know unless he talk to to him.” Judith ignored the flush on her face with eye roll.

“The day I decide to tell Talbott how I feel is the day I jump into the Black Lake,” the Hufflepuff witch huffed.

“Oh stop being dramatic. He likes you,” Katriona insisted. Judith stopped to give her an “You’re joking, right?” expression.

“Oh of course he likes me! How can I not tell by his glaring stares that threaten to light me on fire? Or by the fact he rejects my company? Or that he basically runs out early on our study sessions? Face it, KC, he hates me!” Katriona did her best to suppress a wince.

If it wasn’t for a certain Ravenclaw Seeker, she would’ve assumed the same thing.

“Maybe he’s just having a hard time expressing how he feels,” she offered to comfort her friend. Judith scoffed.

“Talbott told me himself. His life is too complicated to be anything but direct,” Judith sighed. Katriona resisted the urge to slap her forehead.

She never meant someone that almost had a comeback for comment until she met Judith. It was annoying just as it can be funny.

They reached the Changing Rooms and went to change in their practice robes.

Katriona just hoped that Talbott found the right locker...

-----------------------------

Judith stared at the piece of paper that was stuffed into her locker with a small flush on her face.

“I haven't stopped thinking about you. It's like you put a spell on me."

“What the hell,” Judith mumbled as she walked out of the tent with the note still in hand.

“Whatcha got there?” Judith stiffen momentarily before relaxing once she realized it was KC.

“Just a note...” Judith tried to brush it off but Katriona was quick to snatch it and read it.

“OOOOO~ Looks like you have a secret admirer~!” Judith felt her blush worsen as she snatched the note back and stuffed it in her pocket.

“Oh stop it. It’s not that serious,” Judith hissed as she sped walked to the pitch. Katriona giggled as she ran to catch up to the embarrassed Hufflepuff.

“What if it’s Talbott,” she teased. Judith looked away, not willing to let her face betray her true feelings.

“That’ll be the day hell freezes over...”

--------------------------------

Judith blinked as she found another sheet of paper sitting her desk in Transfiguration class. She quickly took her seat and read it.

“In a world of secrets and lies, I feel like you are my truth.”

One of her hands rose to cover a red cheek as she glanced around the room to figure out who could’ve possibly left the note.

No one seem to be paying her no mind. Not even Tal-

‘Oh crap, I spoke too soon...’ she thought. The aloof Ravenclaw, who originally was facing the front of the classroom, turned his gaze on her the moment she looked at him. Judith wouldn’t be surprised if she was blushing to the roots of her hair at this point...

“You okay, Judith?” Judith turned to find Andre sitting next to her. Judith can still feel those red eyes looking at her.

“Y-Yeah!” Real convincing...

“Sure... what’s up with the note,” Andre asked.

“Oh, this silly little thing? Nothing import- HEY!” Andre took the paper to read it. The style wizard spared her a smirk.

“Seems like you caught the eyes of a certain wizard, huh,” he teased. Judith let out a soft growl and snatched the note back.

“Nosey Ravenclaws,” she mumbled under her breath. Andre chuckled before asking,

“Have any idea who this secret admirer is?” Judith blushed and shook her head. The Ravenclaw Seeker rose a brow at her.

“Anybody you hoping it’ll be,” he asked instead. Judith let out a soft cough.

“Yes... but he hates me...” Judith completely missed the small surprise on her friend’s face.

And never did she noticed the shell shocked form of a certain Animagus.

--------------------

Talbott sat in the library, doing his upmost not to fidget.

He know that he was terrible at communicating his feelings but he didn’t realize that Judith would misinterpret it for hatred.

He was determined to clear the air between the two.

He was gonna admit how he felt.

It was currently Saturday morning, nobody came into the library. And they normally sat pretty deep in the library, where Pince couldn’t bother them if one of them accidently spoke too loud.

He had a rose hidden in one of the sleeve of his robes.

A yellow rose with red tips.

“H-Hey Talbott...” He looked up to find Judith taking a seat next to him.

He graced her with a small smile.

“Hello, Judith,” he said softly. Judith blinked in surprise and felt heat rush to her cheeks.

‘What the actual hell? Did he just smile at me?’ Judith mentally shook her head and tried not to think about it too much.

“S-so, you ready to get some studying done,” she offered lamely, trying not to look the handsome wizard in his eyes.

Talbott wasn’t having it.

Gently, he pinched the girl’s chin between his thumb and index finger, raising her gaze to meet his own. Judith’s face was slightly red and her pretty gold eyes screamed her confusion and embarrassment.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something...” Judith bit her lip, completely unsure what this conversation has in store for her...

“W-what about?” Talbott studied her silently, his fingers brushing aside a loose curl from her face.

“Have you been receiving any notes recently,” he asked, never taking his eyes off of her. Judith brows furrowed her brows at this.

“Y-yes... h-how do you know y-you know about that?”

‘Now or never, Winger...’

“I never tried being a secret admirer before. I hope you like them,” he whispered as he produced the rose from his sleeve and placed it behind her right ear.

Judith stared at him silently.

A minute or two passed and Talbott felt his bravado crumbling with each passing second.

“Y-you... you like... but I thought you hated me!” Talbott winced a little at her shocked pitch in her voice. Thankfully Pince wasn’t in right now or else they would’ve been shelving books.

“I never hated you, little bird. I’ve had feelings for you for years now... I was just really terrible at showing that,” he said shyly. Judith felt her face flush a dark red.

“I’m not good at dating or anything. I never tried it before but... I’m willing to give it chance for you,” he offered, hopefully. Judith let out a soft chuckle and smiled at him.

“I would like that...”

#hphm #hphm mc #judith harris #hphm talbott #hphm talbott winger #hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott x mc #talbott winger #talbott winger x jacob's sibling #talbott winger x mc #otp prompts #fluff prompts #jacob's sibling #jacob's sister #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery

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straight-outta-kaer-morhen · 4 years ago

Text

Scars <Eskel Soulmate AU>

Request from AO3: "Could you so an Eskel/reader with a soulmate AU? Maybe where soulmates have the same scars. Pretty please?"

Sorry it took so long. This fic has been sitting finished for several months, but I couldn't decide if I liked it enough to post. I've never done a soulmate AU, so this was a fun challenge! Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :D

As always, requests are open

Her claws wracked the side of his face. He'd been trying to avoid this meeting, but fate seemed to always have it's way. He was a fool for invoking the law of surprise all those years ago, and an even bigger fool for running from fate.

Looking up at the young girl, he had nothing in his heart but hate. The way she glowered at him he had no doubts she returned his sentiments.

• •• • A cry escaped her as flesh tore. Her hands shot out to grab her cheek. Blood ran freely down her jaw covering her neck. Horrified at the sight of crimson she helplessly tried to staunch the blood flow. The mage in front of her had his back pressed against the wall. Nothing but horror filled his eyes. This was not how the negotiations with Kaedwen were supposed to go. By the look on his face he hadn't attacked her, or cursed her. He fled the room as the pain seared across her cheek.

At some point she recalled being taken to a nurse for treatment, who was only able to bandage the wound, and send the sorceress on her way.

None of the healers could speed up the process of healing. The wound seemed to be healing on its own time. When it finally did heal, she was left with several jagged scars that even ran down her lips. When she looked in the mirror she was horrified by what she saw.

She seeked out Yennefer of Vengerberg’s powers. If anyone could heal the scars it was her. Very few were close to equal with Yennefer’s abilities.

"I cannot fix this." Yennefer declared, her eyes filling with pity. "This is the mark of a soulmate...and nothing can change fate."

"You were so beautiful." Kiera Metz's voice came softly. Y/N could not fathom the pity filled look she received. Her reflection showed several claw mark's adorned her face. They were raised and red.

Beauty wasn't everything she tried to tell herself, but she knew finding a lover would be impossible. Even her so-called soulmate would want nothing to do with her.

Yennefer gripped her shoulder, "beauty isn't everything."

• •• • "What happened to her?" Geralt inquired, his cat eyes falling on the familiar scars that adorned her face.

"It's a sad story." Triss sighed. "She used to have a beautiful face." Triss began, "the kind of face that makes king's launch wars over."

"Prettier than Yen?"

Triss nodded, "she had a softness, a warmth that Yennefer lacked. It drove men absolutely mad." She mused. "One day during negotiations, her face just tore open. It was the damndest thing."

"When?" Geralt inquired, observing the (h/c).

Triss tapped her chin recounting the years, "it had to have been about 20 years ago...give or take a few years."

"Hmmm." Geralt said, catching the woman's (e/c) eyes. She offered him a soft smile from across the room. He gave her a nod, his eyes tracing the scars that lined her lip. They were uncanny to Eskel's.

"No mage or sorceress could heal her." Triss added. "Apparently soulmate scars work differently, it's a power we know little of."

"Soulmate scars? I thought that was an old wives tale." Geralt asked, startled.

"So did I, but the circumstances of how she acquired them...well there is no other explanation for it." She said with a shrug as she took a sip of wine. "I spoke with the mage that witnessed it. His account was hard to discredit."

"The amount of scars a Witcher acquires, well it's hard to put much stock in the idea." Geralt said, taking another drink of his ale.

Triss waved the woman over, "whatever man acquired those, it must have been hell for him from what Y/N described."

"Y/N, this is Geralt." Triss introduced, "he's taken an interest in your scars." She said leaving the two to get acquainted

Her hand immediately shot up to her face covering the scars. "Forgive me for prying," Geralt began, "I have a friend who has similar scars."

Y/N's eyebrows raised, "is he a Witcher too?"

Geralt nodded, "sounds like he got those scars around the time you did."

"That would explain the pain…" Y/N mumbled, sitting at the table. "I'm very sorry for your friend, I know how he feels." She began a small frown pulling at her face. "No matter how kind you are, people tend to avoid things they can't explain."

"Well, I have reason to believe he may be the answer to those scars."

She shook her head, "even so he wouldn't want to see me." (E/c) eyes flickered up at his feline gaze. "I know exactly how I look Geralt. Kings stopped requesting my presence as soon as they saw my face, the lodge will not send me out diplomatically in case another scar decides to show up." Her jaw was set, "I'm quite positive your Witcher friend would not care to see me."

Geralt nodded, "if you change your mind let me know."

• •• •

Winters were perfect for catching up with his brother in arms. Geralt had debated keeping the scarred woman's existence a secret, but ultimately he decided that it was Eskel who should decide.

He broke the news a few weeks into their stay. He'd made sure Vesemir was in the room. If anyone would have more knowledge on the subjects of soulmates it would be the old Witcher.

"I met a sorceress this past fall." Geralt began, soliciting a scoff from Vesemir.

"Did you bed her too?" The grey haired man asked. Soliciting a soft smile from Eskel as he turned the page of his book.

"No, but she had some interesting scars." Geralt commented.

Eskel's eyes shot up, his hand automatically scratching at the scars that lined his lips. "A sorceress who chose not to have them healed? That's unheard of. They tend to be a vain bunch." Vesemir said thoughtfully.

"They tried, but scars involving soulmates is another thing." Geralt peaked up at Eskel to gage his reaction. The Witcher had stiffened, listening intently.

"Soulmates," Vesemir mused. "That is a very rare phenomenon. I can't say I've ever heard of two soulmates actually finding each other."

"Hmm, I saw the scars with my own eyes. Three claw marks on the side of the jaw." Eskel dropped his book.

"Appeared out of nowhere about twenty years ago." Geralt added. "If I hadn't been mistaken by the pair of tits I would have thought it was Eskel."

Eskel's cleared his throat, "it's a coincidence."

"Maybe, but I don't think so."

"Perhaps it's fate forcing you to make things right?" Vesemir in his infinite wisdom had a point. Much to Eskel's dismay.

"If it's fate we'll run into each other." Eskel dismissed.

"Eskel, you can't outrun fate." Vesemir began, "look what happened to you last time."

Geralt sighed, "I didn't tell you this to feel trapped by fate. I thought you had a right to know, I also think you have a right to tell destiny to fuck off if you want."

Eskel seemed to relax a bit, "was she attractive?"

Geralt nodded, "scars and all. Triss says she was once prettier than Yen." He hesitated, "there is something else you should know…"

Eskel leaned forward curiosity getting the better of him.

"She doesn't think you'd wish to see her."

A frown pulled at the dark haired Witcher's lips. He knew all too well what it was like to carry those scars.

Eskel had once been considered a handsome man. He'd never had a hard time finding a lover, and people used to be friendlier. After he acquired the scars, brothels were the only place he could find pleasure, the contracts he took the people looked on him as if he were a feral beast.

"Go talk to her." Lambert's voice echoed through the hall.

"What have I told you about eavesdropping?" Vesemir asked, turning to the youngest Witcher.

"Ah, can it old man." Lambert said, waving him off. "You're always saying you want a lover. If she really is your soulmate, even she can't turn you down."

That was just like Lambert, to throw his opinion out there regardless if it was welcome or not. "I thought you opposed Geralt bringing visitors to Kaer Morhen. You really want me to bring someone too?"

"If it’ll get you laid, I’m willing to take one for the team."

Vesemir rubbed his temples, no one could get on his nerves like the younger Witcher. Bold and brash, Lambert had a tendency to speak without thinking things through. It seemed the mutations could not quell the passion for living that burned inside.

“You have time. Destiny can wait.” Geralt said downing the rest of his ale. “Think on it.” He said, patting Eskel’s shoulder before heading upstairs for the evening.

Vesemir and Lambert were quick to follow, leaving Eskel alone with his thoughts. He turned to the many shelves that lined the wall. The bookshelves had been moved years ago when the library had decayed enough that Vesemir didn't trust it to house his precious tomes. If anyone were to have a book on the subject of soulmates, it would be the old man.

The book was thin and covered in years of dust. Eskel brushed the cover off. The letters had worn off, but the faint engraving of the title could be seen, Love Potions, Relationships, and Soul Mates. Eskel flipped to the title page, how to tell if they're the one, potions to make them fall in love, and tips turning that crush into love.

A small chuckle escaped Eskel's lips. He wondered when the old Witcher had picked this up, and who he was trying to woo. The table of contents indicated the chapter on soulmates started on page 69.

"Soulmates were fated by the gods. The oldest known magic, but very little have studied it. Soulmates could be confirmed by matching scars. It has been speculated that when one soul receives the mark their kindred soul receives it as well.

It is unknown why the other soul experiences the same wound, and pain. Some scholars assume it is to bound the two souls in a mutual understanding.

Soulmate bonds used to be very common, but the emergence of alchemy, and sorcery has made the magic almost extinct.

Soulmate bonds typically occur during strange phenomenons such as blood moons, eclipses, solstices, etc.

There have been instances where soulmates have argued that they were fated to meet.”

Eskel flipped the page, but the next chapter was regarding a love potion. He took care placing the book back on the shelf.

He let his mind wander as he trudged up the stairs to his room. Having someone to hold on nights like this wouldn't be unwelcome.

The room was silent, the fire had turned to embers. He threw another log on coaxing it back to life with Igni. The only thing in the room that indicated someone lived in it were stacks of books, and his weapons laid on a long, narrow table.

He toed off his boots and sat on the edge of the low bed. He wanted to laugh at Geralt for suggesting such an idea. He wanted to tell Vesemir that destiny could go to hell. He wanted Lambert to realize that no one would ever want him, but most of all he wanted it to be true.

Of course he wanted someone to love him, but how the hell could he accept a love like that? If he couldn't love the scars on his face how could he expect someone else to? The questions raised in his mind, but Lambert's voice rang in the back of his mind if she is your soulmate, even she can't turn you down. Perhaps that was the ember that sparked hope in his heart.

• •• •

The lodge trusted her with an alchemy shop. It seemed even she couldn't fuck that up. The once brilliant negotiator was now grinding, mixing and drying herbs. The shop bell jingled indicating a customer. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Take your time."

She dried her hands on her apron, as she turned to face the deep voice. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. The scars that lined his lips were identical to hers.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault." He began as her hand shot up to cover the scars.

"I told Geralt you wouldn't want to see me." She said turning away from the dark haired Witcher.

He was quick to reach out to her, "no you're beautiful...no beautiful isn't the right word..it's not enough to describe you." Eskel breathed taking in her soft (e/c) eyes. "A choice I made hurt you." Eskel's voice was thick with shame, "and you've had to live with that."

She took him in, and her fingers traced the scars that lined his face. "Perhaps it's not all bad."

Eskel's heart fluttered at the prospect. She had yet to turn him away, and he dared to let his heart hope.

"These scars led me to you."

#eskel the witcher #eskel #eskel oneshot #eskel the witcher x reader #eskel x reader #eskel x y/n #eskel the witcher x y/n #eskel the witcher oneshot #the witcher oneshot #the witcher 3

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

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Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Chapter 4

Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 3.3k

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Three weeks pass by. Three whole weeks of Henry hoping he bumps into his favorite pair again, but no luck. After that time he saw Olivia and Vanessa on the curb and the four of them went to the park, was also the last time he saw them.

He seriously regrets not asking Olivia for her number, so he could arrange more of those kinds of “dates”. He already has an excuse: “Kal needs to be around kids more and since Vanessa doesn’t have a dog, it’s a win-win situation, honestly”.

After Vanessa fell face first into the mud, the two of them left, because she was in need of a bath and Kal was too, because he thought it would be funny to roll into the dirt as well.

These weeks passed agonizingly slowly. The fact that he wasn’t working, isn’t helping at all.

It did gave him the time to realize one thing though: he is falling for someone he barely knows. Google searches for Olivia Tran didn’t bring him a lot, except one of the things he already knew: she’s a veterinarian at Animal Clinic Westside. No social media whatsoever, something that he finds pretty rare and unique.

But finally the day he has been looking forward to has arrived. He is sitting in the waiting room of his favorite animal clinic. He hasn’t seen her yet and he sure hopes that she’s even working today and if so, that she is going to help him out. If she isn’t helping him and Kal, then it’s the universe telling him she is not the one for him.

If she does help them, he needs to ask her out, because he doesn’t know if he can’t endure time apart from her again.

While he is waiting with Kal, Henry looks around at the other animals, even the creepy bird who hasn’t stopped staring at him. For a second Henry is afraid that the bird will recognize him, but he shakes off that thought before he can think about it even more.

A door opens and he hears: ‘Kal?’

He noticed how in this clinic (and maybe elsewhere too, he doesn’t know), they call in the patients by the names of the animals, instead of the owners. He is eternally grateful, not wanting to draw attention that he is in fact Henry Cavill.

He looks up and sees his favorite vet standing in a doorway. He can’t help but smile. He notices a bright grin on her face and from that alone, this day can’t be ruined if it’s up to him.

Besides, he needs to ask her out now.

Henry stands up, tugs Kal’s leash and walks over to the doctor. Olivia steps to the side, letting him and Kal go into the room first. he smells great, he thinks to himself. Like lavender, he didn’t notice that before.

‘We should weigh him first,’ she says, placing her clipboard to the side. ‘He does look slimmer already.’

‘I’ve been restraining myself,’ he laughs. ‘It’s just really hard to say no to this face.’

‘Weak,’ she comments, chuckling in the process. Henry knew he missed her, but after that comment left her lips, he didn’t realized how much he missed her. ‘Come on, Kal, get your fat ass on the scale.’

Henry places his hand over his mouth, but a loud laugh leaves his lips anyways, especially when Olivia looks at him with a playful look on her face. She checks the screen and claps her hands when she hears a soft beep, indicating the scale is done measuring Kal’s weight. ‘Good boy, Kal, you lost three whole kilos already.’ She presses a kiss on top of his head and looks up at Henry. ‘You’re not as weak as I expected you to be, mister Cavill.’

Henry smiles, as he’s taking in her appearance. Those two times he saw her, she was already breathtaking, but there is something different about her today. Is she wearing lipstick? He notices her hair isn’t in the usual bun. Her wavy locks frame her face and when she runs her fingers through it, he has to look the other way, because damn, she is beautiful and this isn’t the time to faint.

‘Anyways,’ she says, a blush appearing on her cheeks, probably because Henry kept gawking at her, ‘this big boy needs to get his shots today.’

‘I do have to tell you, he isn’t the greatest with needles,’ Henry warns her.

She nods. ‘Aren’t you projecting your own fears on your dog?’ she jokingly asks him.

He wonders if she’s like this with other clients or if she strictly reserves this for him. He sure hopes it’s the latter, though he feels a bit attacked, because it may be true, that thing she said about projecting his own fears on his dog. ‘No, he really doesn’t like them,’ he says nonetheless.

Olivia prepares two shots for the big canine, who keeps staring at her, but letting out a small whimper. ‘I know, baby,’ she says to Kal in a higher voice, ‘it may be scary, but it’s over before you know it.’

She sits next to him, pats his head, while Henry crouches down near the dog as well. He can’t help but stare at her. She is so pretty and the way she is comforting the dog, he falls even more in love with her.

When she grabs the syringe, Henry swallows hard, while Kal’s entire body shakes with excitement.

Olivia glances at him, before she sticks the needle into Kal’s thigh. He doesn’t even whine, but Henry rubs his own face. ‘Are you okay, Henry?’ she asks, but he doesn’t hear what she says anymore, because he passes out.

≫≫≪≪

Henry wakes up in the corner of a room, his back pressed against the wall and his legs sprawled out in front of him. Kal is no where near him, while Henry swore they were together before he fell asleep.

He had a nice dream, of the beautiful doctor at the animal clinic. He dreamed that they were sitting in the park, her head against his shoulder, as they watched Vanessa and Kal play. It was nice to dream about her like that, just like he did that in those three weeks he didn’t see her.

He tries to remember where he is and when he looks around, he sees he is at the animal clinic. The examination table, his own dog sitting next to doctor Olivia Tran, who walks up to him and crouches down in front of him. ‘You’re up,’ she says with a chuckle. ‘For such a big guy, I never assumed you’d pass out like that, simply because I was giving your dog a shot.’

‘Oh fuck,’ he mumbles, rubbing his face, a sad attempt to cover his flushed cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No need to, it was kind of funny, especially when I had to drag you around this examination room and had to explain to the assistant that the loud thud she heard, was the owner that collapsed and not the overweight dog,’ she laughs, handing him a paper cup filled with some water. ‘Here, drink this.’

He takes a tiny sip, still embarrassed of what happened to him. God, did he really just pass out in the examination room because his dog was getting a shot? ‘This is really painful,’ he chuckles, hoping it helps him not to feel the shame he is feeling right now, but it’s not working at all.

She places a slender hand on his calve, causing him to hold his breath because of the sudden touch. Him passing out like that, does have his perks come to think of it. ‘Listen, it happens to the best of us. The first time I had to help deliver a lamb, I threw up and passed out in my own vomit, in front of the entire class, so honestly: it’s okay.’

Olivia stands up again and holds out a hand. He carefully places his in hers and she pulls him up, though he mostly pushes himself up, because he is afraid he’ll drag her down. Not that he would compla—

No, he can’t think like that, not when his jeans is already this tight. Later tonight he can think about the possibilities that came with her pulling him up.

‘Thanks, Olivia,’ he says.

‘Are you feeling okay? You want something sweet to eat, before you hit the road again?’

That is so thoughtful of her. ‘Maybe some sugar would be of help,’ he says.

‘Perks of having a six year old,’ Olivia says, rummaging through her purse, ‘I’m always prepared for emergencies.’ She hands him over two candy bars. ‘You can have those, Vanessa doesn’t like them anyways.’

‘How is Vanessa doing, by the way?’

Henry might not know Olivia very well, but what he does know, is that something happened.

‘Is everything okay?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, it’s just that her teacher continues to pester me about how Vanessa should change her work ethic, which I think is too much to ask of a six year old and… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you with this. You probably don’t even care.’

‘No, I do care,’ he quickly says. Way too quickly.

Olivia sighs deeply. ‘I’m just worried about my girl sometimes. Comes with becoming a parent I guess.’

He wishes he could agree. ‘Listen, it might be extremely inappropriate, but I have to ask.’ He can hear the wise words his common sense is screaming. Abort mission. Don’t do it, Cavill. For the love of God, don’t ask the gorgeous doctor out on a date. ‘Would you like to go out with me? Like… Tonight? For dinner?’

Olivia crosses her arms in front of her chest. Why isn’t she saying anything? ‘As in a date or as a thank you for saving your dog?’

She is not making it easy for him and he has to give her props for that. That’ll teach him from asking cute women out, who just smiled at him and were nice to his dog. ‘A date,’ he says, all of the sudden not too sure about this action anymore. ‘I know it might be weird, because of what you do for a living and how we met, but I… I’m really interested in you.’

‘In me as a person or what’s in my pants?’

Well both, but he can’t say that, without looking like an absolute creep. ‘In you as a person, what kind of man do you think I am?’

She chuckles. ‘A man who is afraid of needles and can’t say no to his dog,’ she tells him. ‘I’ll go out with you tonight. Can you remember my number or do you want to put it in your phone?’

≫≫≪≪

It took Henry about three hours to go through his entire closet, just to find the perfect outfit for tonight. He didn’t want to look like such a try hard, but he also didn’t want to look like a slob. He eventually opts for a simple black sweater with some fitted jeans and his Chelsea boots. It’s casual, yet it has a fancy streak to it. He grabs the grey blazer from the hanger and while he checks the pockets, he hears Kal whimper, who lays flat on his bed. ‘We’re going out tonight, bud,’ he tells the large canine. ‘You are going to keep Vanessa and her babysitter company, while I’m going out on a date with Olivia.’

He still can’t believe this is happening. He asked the doctor out on a date and the most bizarre thing of it all, was that she said yes.

Olivia Tran said yes to him.

He would lie if he said that he wasn’t nervous. In all honesty, he is about to die from his nerves.

He checks the clock and realizes he should leave his place now. He clicks his tongue, causing Kal to follow Henry downstairs. He puts on Kal’s leash and when he closed off his place, the two of them get in the car. He hums along with the song on the radio, as he drives to her house.

In the past he went on tons of dates. He likes dates, getting to know someone and finding out whether or not they are compatible. But there is something different about this date. He wants to get to know more about Olivia, but he is afraid that once she gets to know him, she’s not interested in him anymore.

He parks his car in front of her house and he takes a deep breath, trying to procrastinate the moment that he has to walk up to the door. Kal whines, as if he knows where they are and he sees that as a moment to get out of the car. The two of them walk up to the door and he rings the doorbell.

‘Mommy,’ Vanessa says from the other side of the door, ‘Henry is here.’

‘Do not open the door!’

‘But mom…’

‘Sweetheart, what if it’s not Henry, but a pervert?’ Olivia asks.

‘Oh my God, Olivia, the person on the other side of the door can hear you!’ he hears a different female voice scream and he can’t help but chuckle. He wondered what kind of household Olivia would have and somehow this situation seems fitting.

‘Mom, what’s a pervert?’ Vanessa asks.

‘A disgusting human being,’ Olivia explains.

‘Is Henry a pervert? I thought he was Superman?’

‘Olivia, I mean it,’ the other woman says, ‘people on the other side of the door can hear you two.’

The door finally opens and he sees both Vanessa and Olivia standing in the doorway. ‘Hi Henry,’ his already favorite duo say in unison.

‘Hi there,’ he says with a smile. It’s six in the evening and Vanessa is already in her pajama. From the looks of it, it’s light pink with bears on it.

Kal pushes past him, to give the little girl a lick on her cheek, causing her to giggle.

As endearing as that sight may be, he can’t help but look at Olivia, who wears a grey plaid pants paired with a black shirt that hugs her upper body. The outfit shows off her godly proportions. He even sees a hint of tattoos on her arms, but she grabs a coat and it covers them up before he can see them properly.

But if he saw it correctly and she does have tattoos… That’s almost unfair. She is already beautiful, but add tattoos in the mix and that gives him enough to dream about tonight.

Another woman appears in the doorway and she hums in approval. ‘It’s such a shame that I wasn’t on call when your dog started to throw up,’ she says with a smile. She extends her hand and says: ‘Hi, I’m Belle.’

He saw her earlier today. She is another vet and when he was paying for the appointment, she bumped her hip against Olivia’s and they shared a look, one that best friends share. Guess Belle is the certified baby sitter. He quickly shakes her hand. ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Henry.’

‘God, you were right, Olivia,’ Belle says, ‘he is even more handsome in real life.’

Henry detects a fire red blush on Olivia’s cheeks, but she looks down and slips on a pair of boots that have a heel, something he hasn’t seen her wear before. He wants to take in her entire appearances, glancing her over more than once, but he restrains himself, since he doesn’t want to look overly eager.

‘That must be a sign that we need to go,’ Olivia says, before she pinches her friend in her side. She leans down, to give Vanessa a kiss. ‘Be nice to auntie Belle and Kal, okay?’

‘Okay, mommy,’ Vanessa says. ‘Can Kal sleep in my room tonight?’

‘He can,’ Olivia says.

The little girl smiles and looks up at Henry. ‘Is that okay with you too, mister Henry?’ she asks. ‘Kal is your dog.’

‘He can sleep in your room,’ Henry says, touched by the fact that she actually thought she should ask him about this. Olivia is raising such a lovely and polite girl. He truly admires her.

While Olivia rummages through her purse, Belle crouches down and whispers something in Vanessa’s ear.

‘Okay, I’m ready to go,’ Olivia says with a smile.

‘Enjoy your night,’ Vanessa says to the both of them, as Olivia steps out of the doorway. ‘And you two shouldn’t have too much fun.’

Henry nearly chokes on his own spit. ‘Belle, I swear to—’ Olivia wants to say something, but swallows the words before she can express her true feelings. ‘I love you, Vanessa,’ Olivia says to her daughter.

‘I love you too,’ she says to her mother. ‘Will you give me a kiss when you get back?’

‘Of course, angel.’

Vanessa smiles. ‘Bye, mister Henry,’ she says to him.

‘Bye sunshine,’ he says to the young girl, who starts to beam with happiness when she hears her new nickname. He doesn’t know where “sunshine” came from, it just slipped out.

Olivia and Henry walk to his car, but he can’t help but notice how she keeps looking up to him. He opens the door for her and he watches her get in. He waves to the two—three, if you include Kal—in the doorway, before he gets in himself.

‘I’m sorry,’ Olivia says, the second the door closes.

‘No need to,’ Henry laughs, starting his car. ‘It was funny.’

She snorts, while she waves to Belle, Kal and her daughter as he drives off. ‘Well, leave it to Belle to embarrass me.’

‘She a close friend?’

Olivia nods. ‘Very close friend. When I found out I was pregnant with Vanessa, she was there for me when no one else was. She forced me to live in her house for a while, even after Vanessa was born.’

Henry frowns. ‘I thought it was just your ex who wasn’t there for you.’

She sighs. ‘Well, my parents and two brothers weren’t too keen on me having a kid out of wedlock. My mom kicked me out seven years ago and since that moment, no one has tried to contact me. I haven’t seen them ever since.’

This is un-fucking-believable. He knows for sure that, had this happened within his family, his brothers would be over the moon to be an uncle of yet another kid and his parents would love another addition to the family.

And her family just kicks her out?

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he says and he means it from the bottom of his heart. ‘Were you close with your family?’

She shrugs. ‘Growing up I was. Not really with my mom, but with my father and brothers I was super close. I thought that they would love it, a little bean added to the family. Guess I was wrong. But you know, I have Belle, so that’s enough for me right now.’

Right now. That means the door is open for someone else, right? Or is he trying to read something that isn’t there?

‘By the way,’ she says, ‘how did you come up with “sunshine”?’

Why does Henry feels like he just got caught? ‘Just slipped, I guess. I’m so—’

‘Don’t you dare apologize, Cavill,’ she interrupts him. ‘I love the nickname and did you see Vanessa’s face?’

He does actually. He recalls the way her face lit up with happiness and pride.

Olivia looks to the side and when he stops for the traffic lights, he meets her gaze. She smiles. ‘I’m really happy we’re on this date,’ she says. ‘And maybe I’m a bit rusty in the whole dating department and is what I’m about to say way too blunt, but I need to tell you that you look really handsome tonight.’

Maybe that is too blunt, but Henry doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. His hands get a bit clammy. ‘Thank you, Olivia. Allow me to be just as blunt.’

‘Surprise me.’

‘You look stunning and I’m really happy that you agreed on going out with me.’

A/N: Don’t worry, the next chapter will cover their date 😉

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