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fanfictionaries · 4 years ago

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Oh So Many Years: Ch. 11 - Nightingale

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Rita Skeeter's done it again, her latest article sending Hermione Granger into anger and causing tension among the Gryffindors. However, is there an unexpected truth to her article?

George has convinced Fred that Hermione is turning him soft. Fred is so against the sentiment that he swears to himself that it's time to put space between himself and the younger girl. However, he only ends up doing the exact opposite.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<<Chapter 10

Does it seem like I'm looking for an answer To a question I can't ask I don't know which way the feather falls Or if I should blow it to the left

Hermione slammed her copy of the Daily Prophet down, shaking the Gryffindor table and sloshing tea over the side of her cup. Unbelievable, just absolutely unbelievable, she thought as she read and reread the words on the page. She’d nearly glossed over the vile article. Unlike the first bit of writing Rita Skeeter did on her, this one was tucked away between a piece on dwarf affairs and an advertisement for self-cleaning cauldrons. If she’d hadn’t been well acquainted with her own name and shocked by the peculiarity of seeing it in print, Hermione very well might have missed it.

“Alright Hermione?” someone asked. Hermione looked up to find the unwavering brown eyes of Ginny Weasley staring straight at her from across the table. Looking around, Hermione saw several of their classmates shooting her dirty looks as they wiped up puddles of pumpkin juice and tea. A flash of embarrassment rushed over her, but quickly dissolved back to anger when she looked back down at the paper. At a time like this she didn’t really care about a few spilled drinks.

No. At a time like this, the only thing she could focus on was the rage coursing through her veins. The nasty woman had taken things a step too far and now Hermione Granger was livid.

“She’s done it again!” Hermione huffed before reading aloud, “Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. Her latest prey, sources report, is none other than the Bulgarian Bonbon Viktor Krum. No word yet on how Harry Potter is taking this latest emotional blow.”

“You didn’t tell me you were dating Viktor Krum!” Ginny exclaimed, glaring at her. Hermione looked across the table at her younger friend in disappointment.

“Ginny, I am not dating Viktor Krum.”

“Yet,” said two identical voices before the Weasley twins graced her with their presence – seating themselves on either side of her. Ginny raised an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes at her – her silent cue for Hermione to begin explaining. Honestly, she’d rather not get into the twin’s current strange joke they were playing on her, but if Hermione knew Ginny Weasley, which she did, then she knew the ginger girl wouldn’t let something like this go. Hermione heaved a great sigh.

“These two are under the impression that Viktor Krum fancies me—” at the statement, a suspicion crept into Hermione’s brain “—You two wouldn’t happen to be responsible for this would you?” She handed the revolting paper over to the twin on her right, or more accurately, hit him in the chest with it before reaching forward and grabbing her tea, staring down at what little contents were left. She swirled the liquid, watching the tea leaves dance about the cup before sinking to the bottom. I wonder if that batty Trelawney could have predicted this, she mused to herself, finding humor in the ridiculous notion that her old Divination professor could have predicted anything accurately. Divination was a woolly subject.

“Hermione, I can guarantee you that we didn’t do this.” Hermione turned and looked at the twin still staring down at the article. She assessed him scrutinizingly as she placed her cup of tea back on the table in front of her.

“Are you sure? It seems like something you two would do.”

“I swear on George’s life,” he pledged, raising his right hand as he stated the words sincerely.

“You are George,” Hermione rolled her eyes and noticed a flash of annoyance on George’s face.

“Well, exactly. I’m swearing on my own life. Can’t really beat that!”

“Oi!—" Fred spoke up from Hermione’s left and reached across her to grab the newspaper “—You two going to let me in on what we allegedly didn’t do or are you going to keep me sitting here like a twat?”

Fred laid the paper in front of him, smoothing it out with his hand and leaning in to have a closer look. Hermione’s stomach dropped as her eyes fell on the moving picture of Harry and her hugging and then jumping apart at the flash of a camera. She laid her head down on the table, hiding her face in the crook of her folded arms, feeling uncommonly embarrassed. She couldn’t stand to watch Fred’s face as he read the lies that Rita Skeeter once again wrote for the entirety of the wizarding world to see.

“What are you reading Fred?” Hermione heard Angelina Johnson ask. Hermione tensed. Suddenly the urge to sit up and tear the paper away from Fred and Angelina was overwhelming. But she reasoned that everyone would read it, or at least hear about it, eventually. So, what was the point? That didn’t mean she had to be happy about it though.

“Oh my! That’s awful!” exclaimed Angelina, making Hermione perk up. If Angelina found Skeeter’s article to be just as ghastly, perhaps she shouldn’t be so worried.

“I can’t believe Granger is doing that to poor Harry and Viktor!”

In that moment, any feelings Hermione had, that even resembled positive, dissolved into nonexistence. Hair crackling with electricity as it grew twice its size, Hermione lifted her head from her arms and bit harshly, “Are you really idiotic enough to believe everything you read, Johnson?”

Angelina’s eyes grew wide as Hermione glared at her. Clearly, she had not known Hermione was sitting there.

“Oh, Granger, I didn’t—well I mean I thought—" Angelina stumbled.

“Thought? I didn’t know you were capable of it,” Hermione cut her off harshly. She knew the words were harsh the moment they left her mouth. That didn’t keep her from saying them though. If Angelina was allowed to have a bad opinion on her and say it in front of her, then Hermione was certainly allowed to same liberties.

Angelina’s mouth hung open in shock. She blinked rapidly before scrunching up her face in anger and spitting vitriol right back, “Well at least I’m not trying to date every boy in the school like a little slag.” Hermione’s hand twitched towards her wand, currently sitting in her lap, but before she could reach for it, fingers wrapped around her wrist under the table. She shifted her glare from Angelina to Fred, feeling betrayed at his stopping her. He was the first to cheer on any kind of fight or confrontation and he chose that moment to grow a sense of propriety? Some friend he was. Fred didn’t meet her eyes. Instead he continued to face forward, looking down at the article in front of him – acting like he wasn’t currently keeping her from hexing the daylights out of his stupid girlfriend

“Ladies, ladies!” George piped up, “Let’s calm it down, eh? We’re all friends here. No need to get worked up over a silly article in the Daily Prophet.”

“Well if we can’t trust the Daily Prophet, then what can we trust? Right Fred?” Angelina asked, looking towards Fred now and placing a hand on his upper arm. Hermione’s hand flexed in her lanky ginger friend’s hold. He tightened his grip, squeezing her wrist firmly in warning, before letting it go.

“Honestly? This lady sounds like an absolute nutter,” Fred stated matter-of-factly. He crumpled the newspaper resolutely and threw it over his shoulder onto the floor. His tone was firmer than Hermione had ever heard it – very similar to the few occasions she had seen Mr. Weasley cross. It had an underlying statement of finality and so everyone grew quiet. The spat was over, but Hermione could still feel Angelina’s scowl trained on her. It set her teeth on edge. Hermione rubbed her wrist, the skin feeling tingly and oddly empty where Fred had held her captive. Unsure of what to do, she reached into her bag, pulled out her Transfiguration textbook, and began going over the material they would cover in class that morning for the second time. She scanned the pages but found it difficult to focus with the thick and heavy tension that floated around them as everyone silently ate their breakfast.

Then, ever so unceremoniously, the silence was broken.

“So, you’re still dating Harry then?’ Ginny asked, confusion evident in her voice.

Hermione threw her book down on the table in exasperation. “Ginevra, Harry and I are NOT—” she stopped when she saw the wicked smirk on the youngest Weasley’s face. Hermione pursed her lips, fighting the smile that threatened to break through. But Fred and George’s snickering and Ginny’s mischievous wide eyes broke her resolve and Hermione begrudgingly smirked. Leave it to Ginny to make a calculated statement to break the tension.

These Weasleys are going to be the death of me, she thought to herself as she chuckled and shook her head.

At that moment, she spotted Ron and Harry walking into the Great Hall later than usual – both of them dragging their feet looking tired and entirely unamused to be awake. That’s what they get for waiting till the last minute to do their studies, Hermione mused knowing full well that the two of them had still been hard at work in the common room when she left for bed at eleven. She watched as students from the Gryffindor table and even a few from the surrounding houses stared at Harry in awe. Some even shouted out a ‘good morning’ to him as he took his seat opposite her. Yes, it seemed as though Harry’s reputation had changed overnight. No longer was he Harry Potter the cheat. Instead he was Harry Potter the champion. It had been almost two weeks since the first task and still Hermione couldn’t believe that the students who had once scorned him and spoken words of ill favor were now trying to become his new best friend. Even in her own room he was the hottest topic of gossip. Her roommates cooed and giggled over him as they stared at his picture in the Daily Prophet over and over again. It had gotten especially bad after she told them that she was not, nor had she ever been involved with him – no matter what Skeeter wrote in her stupid column.

“He does have a certain devil-may-care thing to him, don’t you think?” said Lavender, lying on her stomach and looking down at Harry’s picture plastered on the front page of an old Daily Prophet. Hermione really wished she hadn’t given it to them when they’d asked to borrow it. She had been under the impression they wanted to brush up on their current events – not ogle her best friend.

“I think he looks mysterious. Like one of those wizards in the books my mum buys,” said Pavarti, turning her head to look at Harry from a new angle.

Hermione snorted, knowing perfectly well that the only mysterious thing about Harry was whether or not he’d decided to change his socks that day.

“What?” asked Pavarti, insulted by Hermione’s rude reaction.

“Nothing, nothing. You’re right. I’m sure Harry has many…mysterious qualities.”

“I think he looks sweet.”

Hermione looked over to her roommate Fay with disappointment. Now she fancied Harry, too?

“He does—” Fay doubled down “—he always seems so nice in class and he’s a very good seeker!”

“Fay has a crush on Harry,” said Emmy in a sing-song voice. Fay stuck her tongue out at her ginger friend, only making Emmy giggle.

“Speaking of crushes—” Lavender sat up, folding the paper in front of her closed “—how are things going with Ron?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermione sighed. “I took your advice, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Perhaps he just doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend.” Hermione was surprised by the fact that when she said the words, it didn’t sadden her as much as she thought it would. Ron was a good friend. Would it be so bad if they just remained friends?

“Ugh, boys are so stupid! It’s almost like you have to walk in front of them bloody naked to get their attention,” cried Lavender.

“Surely you wouldn’t do that, Lavender,” said Hermione aghast.

Lavender rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be so droll Granger. I’m joking!”

“Perhaps he’s not making a move because you spend all your time with his older brothers,” said Emmy casually.

“Oi, aren’t we feeling cheeky today,” commented Fay, giving her best friend an amused look.

“I’m just saying! She’s always with them. Maybe he thinks she likes one of them.”

Emmy’s comment made Hermione pause. She did have a point. Did Ron see her friendship with Fred and George as something else? It was a possibility. He was quite prone to making assumptions.

“It’s a possibility, but why would he think that when I kissed him?”

“WHAT?!” cried all four of the girls, sitting up fully and looking at Hermione with wild eyes. Hermione paused again, realizing that she had in fact spoken her wonderings aloud.

“You kissed Ron Weasley?!” asked Lavender, crawling off her bed and jumping onto Hermione’s.

“Well, yes but—”

“What was it like?” asked Pavarti, sitting down on Hermione’s bed as well in rapt attention.

Even Fay and Emmy had drifted from their beds to stand closer and get the story.

“Was he good?” questioned Lavender.

“I don’t know!” yelled Hermione, flustered and overwhelmed.

“How do you not know?” Pavarti looked at her strangely, tilting her head to the side.

“We didn’t kiss so much as I kissed him on the cheek.”

The four girls pulled back, relaxing in disappointment.

“That’s all?” asked Lavender in exasperation.

“Don’t listen to her, Hermione. Lavender talks a big game, but she’s never even hugged a boy,” snickered Pavarti.

Lavender’s jaw dropped in betrayal and she lunged playfully for her friend. Pavarti laughed, darting off Hermione’s bed and running from a fuming Lavender Brown.

“I think it’s sweet,” said Emmy, sitting back down at the end of her bed and pulling out a herbology book. “Perhaps your kiss enamored him so much that he simply can’t help but act extra normal when he’s around you.”

“What a romantic this one is.” Fay rolled her eyes in good humor before pausing for a moment in deep contemplation. “Do you think Harry’s a good kisser?”

It was at that point that Hermione blocked the conversation out. The last thing she wanted was to discuss Harry’s potential kissing prowess.

Speaking of girls with crushes, Hermione thought as Ginny clammed up the moment Harry sat down. After four years, Ginny still had the biggest crush on Harry. She tried to play it cool, but most of those close to her knew that she still thought the world of him. Unfortunately, however, he only had eyes for Cho Chang at the moment. Or at least, that’s what Hermione suspected, from the stupid look he got on his face every time he looked at her.

“What are we talking about?” Ron asked beginning to load his plate with a pile of eggs, potatoes, and sausages.

“Hermione’s new boyfriend,” piped up Ginny, ignoring Hermione’s glare.

“Boyfriend?!—" Ron looked up from loading his plate with food “—When could you possibly have time to get a boyfriend? You spend all your time with either Harry and me or those two prats!” He pointed to his two older brothers sitting beside her, eliciting a cry of protest from both of them.

Well that ruled out Ron thinking she fancied Fred or George, Hermione thought.

“Now brother, what makes you think she’s not dating one of us?” George swung the heavy weight of his arm over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Yeah, we’re handsome chaps,” Fred chimed in.

Hermione shrugged off George’s arm and rolled her eyes as Ron glared at him.

“No, Ronald,” Hermione stated clearly. “It’s just Rita Skeeter. She’s written another article about my love life and it’s complete rubbish.” She sniffed and picked up her textbook again.

“Really? Are you cheating on me now?” Harry asked, his voice filled with mild amusement as he poured himself some pumpkin juice.

“It would seem so,” Hermione admitted casually, never looking up from her book, an apathetic expression glued to her face.

“Well I’m hurt, what am I going to tell the family? My aunt and uncle were so looking forward to meeting you,” said Harry, not a trace of sadness or despair in his voice.

“Of course, they were. I’m fantastic,” Hermione stated, smiling down at her book.

“Are you sure you two aren’t dating?” Ginny asked now, looking suspiciously between Harry and Hermione.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ron scoffed, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Ron’s statement irked Hermione. Sure, Harry and her weren’t involved, but was it really so ridiculous? Was she not desirable enough to date Harry Potter if she wanted to? Still, Hermione decided to let it be. She had had enough arguments for one morning.

“Ron’s right. Harry is like a brother to me. You know, like Fred and George. Right Harry?” she looked to her best friend to back her up and was met with a mumbled ‘Absolutely’ and an enthusiastic head nod.

“What?” George gasped. “You mean you’re not secretly in love with me, Granger?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous George.” Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to her book, noticing that the general atmosphere of the table had turned around quite nicely. Angelina was no longer grimacing at her over Fred’s shoulder – instead, she was engaged in a conversation with him, Lee Jordan, and Katie Bell. Harry and Ron began to discuss their Defense Against the Dark Arts class that afternoon and what Mad-Eye might have in store for them. Ginny listened quietly, curious as to what the older class was learning at the moment compared to the third years. George had continued on a rant about why he thought Hermione should at least consider him as a potential boyfriend as he was just so handsome, while she tried to focus on her book. She was just about to tell him off for distracting her when Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas approached them.

“Hey, you lot,” Seamus greeted them. “Did you see the notice posted in the common room about the meeting tonight?”

“The one for fourth years and up?” Harry asked.

“What about it?” questioned Fred and George.

“Well I’ve been going around all morning, trying to figure out what it’s about but no one seems to know,” Seamus informed them, scratching the back of his head. “Thought one of yous might know.”

“Haven’t heard a thing, mate,” said Ron, taking a large bite of toast.

“Yeah, no clue,” confirmed Harry.

“We assumed everyone was in trouble for something,” said Fred and George.

Ginny laughed, “Just because you two are always in trouble, doesn’t mean that the entirety of the school is.”

“Not the entirety of the school, little sister,” said George.

“Just fourth years and up,” added Fred cheekily.

Hermione scoffed. Honestly, didn’t these people read…ever? “Maybe it has something to do with the Ball,” she said, never lifting her head up from her book.

“The what?” asked Ron, dropping his toast back down onto his plate.

“You know, the Yule Ball? It’s a tournament tradition?” She looked up now, seeing confused faces at the table around her. “In the past, every year the Triwizard Tournament was held, the hosting school was expected to hold a ball on the evening of the Yule. It was used as an opportunity for intraschool interaction and bonding – a celebration to get to know one another and also honor the champions. Did none of you know about this?”

They all shook their heads.

“Well, I’m sure it’s that. What else could it be?” Hermione shrugged, looking at the watch on her wrist. “Class starts soon. We should go,” she said to Harry and Ron. The pair nodded, taking a few last bites of their breakfast as Hermione tucked her book back in her bag and stood. Just as she began to turn to head out of the Great Hall, a hand caught her wrist once again that morning. Looking back at her outstretch arm, she saw Fred holding firmly to her.

“Have you figured out…you know what…yet?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Hermione leaned down towards Fred, keeping the conversation just between the two of them. The Weasley twins were quite secretive when it came to their product development – for several understandable reasons. For one, they didn’t want any other budding jokesters stealing their ideas, and two, they didn’t want a nosy snitch to figure out what they were doing with their free time and try to get them in trouble.

“No, I’m still working on it,” Hermione whispered back before pulling her arm out of Fred’s grasp. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Fred agreed, his hand hovering in the air where he arm had been.

Hermione turned, exiting the Great Hall with Harry and Ron in tow.

“What was that about?” asked Ron, catching up to her side as they made their way to the Transfiguration classroom.

“Oh, I’ve been helping Fred and George with their studies. He was asking me about an essay he’s working on,” lied Hermione. There really was no need to lie. Fred and George were perfectly fine with everyone knowing she was helping them with their experiments. Hermione felt differently, however. As much as she found working on their inventions to be fascinating and challenging, the last thing she wanted was her name associated to any trouble they got up to. She had a reputation to uphold after all. She couldn’t possibly let mindless troublemaking besmirch her name and future career prospects.

Ron laughed through his nose, letting out an obnoxious snort. “Seriously?”

“What?” asked Hermione in defense.

“Fred and George have never cared about their classes before. I think I’ve seen them pick up a book maybe…once in fourteen years.”

“Honestly, Ronald, that can’t be true,” said Hermione, knowing it was most likely completely true.

“But still, it doesn’t make any sense. Why—”

“How am I supposed to understand the innerworkings of Fred and George Weasley’s minds, Ronald? How is anyone?” said Hermione, cutting Ron off and entering Professor McGonagall’s classroom.

Ron didn’t ask anymore questions that morning, much to Hermione’s relief. This allowed her to sit through the entirety of their Transfiguration lesson with uninterrupted focus. That is until the end of the lesson when Ron looked at her in confusion as they exited the classroom.

“Hermione, is your wrist alright?”

“What?” asked Hermione in puzzlement.

“Your wrist. You’ve been holding it since we left breakfast.”

“Oh—” Hermione looked down and sure enough, she was cradling it in her opposite hand, absentmindedly rubbing at the exposed skin with her thumb. She dropped her arm to her side. “—I didn’t realize…yeah, I’m fine. I’m going to the library. I need to pick up a book for my arithmancy class. I’ll see you in Defense?”

“Yeah, see you later Hermione,” said Ron, still staring at her peculiarly.

“See ya Hermione,” waved Harry, pulling Ron towards the Great Hall for lunch.

Hermione made her way to the library, once again bringing her left wrist up in front of her, now that she was under the safety of seclusion. She hadn’t even realized she’d been cradling the limb all throughout class. Rolling her hand this way and that, she stretched and worked the joint of her wrist, searching for any ghostly pain to explain her actions, but found nothing. So why had she been holding it? Reaching the library, she brushed it off as a silly occurrence and headed to the stacks to try and find the book she needed for her class. She spotted the book on a high up shelf, An Extensive Look on the Origins of Numerology. Reaching up, she lifted onto her tiptoes to take the book, her fingers barely brushing the spine. But before she could grab it, a hand appeared in front of her, pulling the book from the shelf and out of her reach.

“Hey! That’s my—” Hermione stopped short when she turned to see Viktor Krum standing before her, holding the book out to her. She took it from him, clutching the book close to her chest and looking around them. “Thank you,” she mumbled politely, bringing her lower lip between her teeth to nibble on it nervously.

“You are very velcome, боец,” responded Krum, bowing slightly, and smiling down at her. He continued to smile at her, not saying anything – just standing there – for quite some time. What did he want? Hermione wondered. Was he waiting for something? Some kind of payment? Was there some Bulgarian custom she was unaware of when it came to being handed a book?

Eventually when Hermione could no longer take the awkward silence, she cleared her throat. “Right, well, thank you again. I should be…” She pointed behind her, indicating her departure from the library before turning and walking away.

“Do you come here often?” asked Krum from her side. His long legs matched her stride as she walked towards the front desk of the library.

“To the library? At my own school?” questioned Hermione in confusion.

Krum nodded.

Hermione smiled in amusement. What an odd question. “Yes, I suppose I do come here quite often. I very much like books.”

“Vhat is your favorite?”

“My favorite book?” Why did Viktor Krum care what her favorite book was? wondered Hermione, brushing a curl out of her face. “My…well that’s a bit of a difficult question…I suppose it would have to be Hogwarts, A History. It has so much useful information about the history of the school and all the wonderful ways in which it operates. Not a lot of people read it though, which I think is a shame. I think everyone should read it. It’s very so important and quite fun to read. But then again, I know not everyone likes to read as much as I do. Or at least that’s what they tell me—”

“You are very smart, I am thinking, боец.”

“What does that mean?”

“Vhat?”

“That word – boets? You keep saying it.”

“боец. That is you. It means fighter in my language. I did not get your name and so I call you that,” stated Krum plainly.

Hermione was very flattered; never had she been referred to as a fighter. But she still couldn’t help but let out a small guffaw. “That’s me? I don’t know about that. Unless I was throwing a very heavy book at them, I’m not sure I could fight anyone off.”

“No, you are strong. I know these things.”

“Alright…”

They stood in front of Madame Pince’s desk. The matronly librarian was nowhere to be seen, and Hermione was beginning to grow antsy. Krum still remained at her side, staring at her as she waited for Madame Pince so she could check out her book and be on her way. What did he want? Was he trying to get information on Harry? Trying to figure out if Harry had solved the egg yet? Well if that were true, he would have asked about Harry by now. Wouldn’t he have? Still, what else could it—Fred and George’s words popped into her head, making heat rise to her cheeks. Krum couldn’t possibly…

“I vas thinking. Perhaps I could study vith you some time?”

Hermione dropped the heavy book that was in her arms, the tome slipping from her fingers as if it had turned to liquid. She gasped, body twitching and arms extending to catch the falling object before it landed on their feet, but before she knew it Krum had ducked down and caught it. He held it smugly, smirking at Hermione’s open mouth as she gaped at his reflexes.

“I…” began Hermione, unable to form words through her shock. Had Viktor Krum just asked to spend time with her?

“How can I help you two?” Madame Pince’s shrill voice rang through the dusty cobwebs of Hermione’s brain. She turned to find the severe woman staring down at her in mild annoyance.

“She vas vanting to check out this book—” Krum placed the book down on the desk before turning to Hermione with a polite yet slightly wounded expression “—I should be going.”

Hermione watched as he bowed curtly and stepped past her, headed towards the exit of the library. She bit the inside of her lower lip again, conflicting emotions battling inside her brain and across her face as she watched him get further away. He was nearly to the large double doors when Hermione called out to him.

“Wait!”

Madame Pince shot her a warning look. Hermione smiled apologetically before rushing towards Krum who had halted at her voice. She stopped when she stood before him, His tall, hulking figure hovering over her as he looked down at her. His thick dark brows lifted in surprise.

“I’ll be here tomorrow during first break, working on my homework. If you wanted to join me, I guess that would be alright,” said Hermione shyly.

The smile Krum gave her was an answer in itself – his dazzling white teeth coming into full view as his broad features lit up in delight.

Then, with another bow, he offered an uttering of, “Until then, боец” and he was gone.

Fred watched as Hermione exited the Great Hall, followed by Harry and Ron. Chewing on the side of his thumb, he braced his elbows against the table and began to think. Finally done with the development stage of their Canary Creams, their first test of the product was both an accident and a failure. Later in the evening of Harry’s post-task celebration, Fred and George had decided it would be a fantastic idea to try and trick Hermione into eating one of the creams disguised as a raspberry tart. Unfortunately, they had gotten the sweets mixed up and Neville Longbottom had gotten ahold of the real Canary Cream. And while Neville had successfully transformed into a human-sized bright yellow canary, it was for much longer than all three of them expected. In fact, Neville spent the better half of the night squawking and pecking around the common room before he, George, and Hermione were finally able to reverse the effects. Once they stopped laughing of course. Neville emerged back into his human form, red-faced and with a short-lasting tick of pecking at things with his face when he went to pick them up. Watching the unfortunate sight, the three of them all agreed that some major revision needed to be done. So, they had set Hermione to the task.

“Come on Georgie. Time for potions!” declared Fred, standing up.

George groaned. “I hate morning potions. Can’t we just skive off class? I’m sure Towler would give us his notes if we ask nicely.”

“After I put itching powder in his trousers last week? Again? That’s likely.”

“Alright, then Lee or Angelina. I’m sure one of them would give us their notes.”

“I’m sure they would, but who would make our potion for us, brother?” asked Fred, slapping a hand to George’s shoulder, and gripping it tightly.

“Since when do you care about missing marks in potions?” asked George, looking at his brother incredulously.

“I don’t –” Fred scratched the back of his head “—I just don’t think…” he trailed off realizing what he was about to say and fell short before he could.

However, it didn’t matter as George finished the sentence for him, “You don’t think that Granger would be too pleased to hear we’ve been skipping classes?”

Fred chuckled in exasperation, “Do you want to deal with that headache?”

“Oh, so now you’re afraid of a fourth-year girl?”

“You’re telling me you aren’t?”

“I think Granger’s turning you soft. You know, turning you into a little swot just like her.”

“I am not getting soft. I’m simply trying to save myself a lecture. Now – let’s go before I put itching powder in your trousers. We’ll have plenty of time to set off Dungbombs in Filch’s office at lunch.” Fred rolled his eyes, pulling his brother up from the table and towards the corridor outside of the Great Hall. George laughed, clearly pleased with getting a rise out of his brother. Fred scowled, shaking his head at his brother as he genuinely contemplated sneaking itching powder into George’s wardrobe that night. Hermione Granger making him soft? Absolutely ridiculous. He was not getting soft. He simply didn’t have the will to sit through another lecture from her about why they needed to do better in their courses. It took time out of their more important work – her long-winded lectures did. However, he hated to admit that since Hermione had began forcing them to actually do their assignments his marks had increased ten-fold. Even the professors were beginning to notice – Flitwick giving him an incredulous look when he passed back his latest essay with a perfect score. Still, the idea that he was getting soft was so far out of the realm of possibilities that he wouldn’t waste anymore time humoring it.

Or so he told himself.

Try as he might, the thought followed him throughout the day, distracting him in potions causing him to knock his cauldron off the flame and spill its contents all over himself and George. Then later at lunch when they had snuck off to Filch’s office – a routine procedure at that point – his head was so filled with thoughts of Hermione Granger, he nearly got them caught. By the time dinner was over and the whole of the Gryffindor student body, fourth year and up, was filing into the Transfiguration classroom, Fred had made a decision. He needed to spend less time with Hermione. Clearly, she was getting to him and he very well couldn’t have that.

McGonagall sorted all of the students boy-girl, sending them to opposite sides of the room. The classroom had been cleared of all desks. In their place sat a large phonograph in the center of the room. Fred thought back to what Hermione had said at breakfast about there being a ball. Unsurprisingly, she was right once again.

“Quiet down, quiet down!” called McGonagall, walking over to the phonograph once all the students were present and standing on their respective sides. “Now, as some of you might know, the Yule Ball is fast approaching. This is an event held every year of the Triwizard Tournament as an opportunity for us to…let our hair down. That does not mean—” she shot a pointed look towards Fred and George “—that you will not be upholding the civil manners expected of you as Hogwarts students. It is your responsibility to present our school in a positive manner. Now, with that being said, the most important thing to know about the Yule Ball is that it is at its core – a dance.”

The room erupted into groans and whispers as everyone realized what was going on. Professor McGonagall was about to teach them to ballroom dance. Now while most students saw this as the worst moment of their lives, Fred couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. This was an excellent opportunity for entertainment.

“Now, can I get a volunteer?” asked McGonagall, looking around the boys’ side of the room. Fred looked away, avoiding her gaze, and then heard the sweetest words leave the mouth of his head of house, “Ron Weasley, please if you would.”

Fred’s attention was immediate; he stared enrapt in pure joy as he watched Professor McGonagall start the phonograph. The ancient contraption sprang to life, pouring out a lilting waltz and the elderly woman stepped up to Ron with her hands outstretched.

“Now, Mr. Weasley if you would please place your hand on my waist.”

Fred nearly doubled over in absolute joy. Both at the words leaving McGonagall’s mouth and the expression on Ron’s face. He was mortified. The room was in shock. And Fred and George were practically purple in the face as they held in their laughter. George was gripping Fred’s shoulder tightly, looking away from the scene – obviously too overwhelmed at the near perfect scenario to continue watching – but Fred kept his eyes glued to his baby brother as he placed his hands on their professor’s waist and began an awkward attempt at a waltz.

“Hey,” whispered Harry, nudging Fred’s arm. Fred wiped the tears of pure delight from his eyes and looked over at Harry. “You’re never gonna’ let him live this down, are you?”

“Never,” said Fred and George, grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright—” Professor McGonagall broke away from a relieved looking Ron “—let’s pair up now. Young men, young ladies, on your feet! Dance is an ancient and respected artform, let’s give it the respect it deserves.”

The room was slow moving to pair up, but eventually people began to find a partner. George made a beeline to Alicia Spinnet, obviously wanting to get a partner before he was stuck with someone he didn’t like. Fred’s gaze swept the room, briefly locking eyes with Hermione. They both paused. For a moment it seemed Hermione would walk towards him, but before he could find out Fred turned away and spotted Angelina. Less time – he was spending less time with Granger, he repeated silently to himself. Walking towards Angelina, he was relieved to see Hermione walking towards Ron.

“Longbottom. Here, why don’t you pair up with Miss Dunbar,” instructed McGonagall as Fred neared her. Hearing his professor pairing people herself, he quickened his pace, hoping to escape the doom of a chosen partner. He was almost out of her reach when he felt a tight grip on his upper arm. “Mr. Weasley, why don’t you pair with Miss Granger.”

“Oh Professor. Are you sure—” Hermione began, caught in their Professor’s other hand.

“Nonsense. Now begin practicing,” said Professor McGonagall, pushing them towards each other and moving towards her next victims.

Fred stared down at Hermione, his palms beginning to sweat as she stared back up at him. Scratching the back of his head, Fred cleared his throat, “Well, I guess we should…” He extended his arms to her, indicating they should probably start dancing.

Hermione hesitated before nodding and stepping towards him, placing her right hand in his left and bringing her left to lay gently on his shoulder. Fred listened to the music, finding the tempo, and waiting for a lead in before he began the familiar steps. Hermione’s face contorted into shock as they began to move, Fred easily guiding her around the room.

“How—” Hermione let out a small laugh of surprise “—how in the world do you know how to dance?”

“Surprised are you, Granger?” asked Fred, unable to help the smile that spread across his face. It wasn’t every day he was able to shock Hermione Granger.

“Not to be rude, but yes. I’m very surprised. You’re actually quite…good,” said Hermione incredulously.

Fred chuckled, looking down at Hermione as she moved with him. And there it was – the clenching, flipping, somersaulting feeling in his stomach once again. Only this time it was different. Less heavy; lighter. Instead of an impending doom type of feeling, it felt as though something was trapped inside of him, trying to dig its way out. He concentrated on the expanse of freckles on Hermione’s nose and cheeks as he spoke, “My mum insisted that all her boys learn to dance. One of the last few traditions she kept from her pureblood upbringings, I suppose.”

“Really? So, all of you know how to dance?” asked Hermione with an amused smile.

Fred glanced around the room, spotting George dancing effortlessly with Alicia not too far away and then Ron, who ironically had been paired with Angelina. Unfortunately, they seemed to be doing a lot of stepping on each other’s feet than dancing. Fred and Hermione both grimaced at the sight.

“Well, maybe not all of us. No amount of practice can make up for lack of talent I guess,” said Fred, turning back to Hermione. “Which by the way, you have a lot of.”

“Oh goodness. I don’t know about that,” blushed Hermione, the skin beneath her freckles turning a soft pinkish hue. Fred felt the fluttering in his stomach return.

“Now don’t be modest with me. You’re practically floating across this dancefloor Miss Granger,” he murmured, leaning in close so no prying ears could hear him embarrassing her. He really did savor the moments he could successfully tease her, but he also knew how much she hated for others to see her flustered.

Hermione seemed to tremble in his arms, a feeling that went straight to Fred’s spine. He felt his heartrate increase and tongue grow heavy in his mouth. He pulled her closer to him on instinct, holding her firmly in his arms. The curve of her waist and the slightness of her figure surprised him. It was almost as if a girl’s body lived beneath the large baggy school uniform she so often wore.

“I have a good partner,” said Hermione softly, her voice barely audible over the music.

“A good lead is nothing without a good follow, my father always says. It’s like a musician without his instrument. Talented, but unable to make sweet, sweet music.” The words fell from his mouth foreign and strange. He didn’t usually say things like that – especially to people like his little brother’s best friend. In fact, he really only recalled speaking to Angelina like that when he playfully flirted with her. Merlin’s beard, thought Fred, was he flirting with her? Why on earth was he flirting with Hermione Granger? Hermione Granger, his little brother’s best friend. His little brother’s crush. One of his close friends. Barely an hour ago he was swearing up and down to himself that he needed to put space between them and now he was flirting with her.

Hermione grew very quiet at his words, altering between looking up at him and their feet, but Fred didn’t miss the subtle way in which her hand moved in his – her fingers gripping his hand tighter. He also noticed the way she adjusted her hold on his shoulder – gripping at the material of his sweater. Fred tightened his grip as well, keeping the triple time as he spun them through the other couples dancing stiffly. The lull in their conversation allowed Fred to take some time to stare down at the girl in his arms. Why would he be flirting with Hermione Granger, indeed…He already knew he liked her nose – the pixie-like way in which it sat on her face, but it also led to a pair of full pink lips that he had never thought to take the time to look at before. They sat above a soft heart-shaped jaw. A soft cupid’s bow lined her top lip, sitting over teeth that…weren’t bucked like they used to be. In fact, they were normal sized. When had that happened? wondered Fred casually, before his eyes traveled further down to her bottom lip. The rose-hued skin sat plump and tempting. He wondered for a second what it would be like to taste them and was reminded of the only other time he’d been distracted by Hermione Granger’s mouth. Right after he gifted her the box of sugar quills; the way her lips wrapped around the candy ever so suggestively. She didn’t even know it. Would she taste sweet like sugar? Shaking the inappropriate thoughts from his mind, his eyes traveled up, only to lock with a pair the color of Firewhisky.

The swirling specks of brown, auburn, and gold mesmerized him and for a second, he entertained the thought that Hermione might feel the same way. But then she looked away, her focusing drifting across the room. Fred followed her stare and found Ron and Angelina looking over at them with odd expressions on their faces.

“I ran into Viktor Krum in the library today,” said Hermione.

The words caught Fred off guard. Looking back down at Hermione, he found her looking up at him expectantly.

“Is that so?” Fred asked, making his voice sound light and amused.

“Yes. It was very…odd.”

“Odd how?”

“Well he asked if he could study with me.”

“You mean he asked you out on a date,” said Fred, his stomach clenching again, but this time in the sinking sort of way.

“No. He asked me if we could study together,” responded Hermione, her brow scrunching in confusion.

“As a date.”

“I wouldn’t really call studying a date.”

“What would you call a date then?” asked Fred, surprised that he was actually quite curious for the answer.

Hermione paused, seeming to contemplate his question before answering, “Well I guess I always imagined my first date would start with getting tea or something, and then going to a bookstore and browsing the shelves—”

Fred snorted. Of course, she’d want to go to a bookstore.

“—then we’d sit outside and talk and maybe we could do something they like. But that part would depend on the other person, I suppose.”

“So, your ideal date isn’t studying, but it does involve books,” said Fred, a teasing smile slipping onto his face.

Hermione smiled back wryly. “Well after all, I am an insufferable swot.”

“Swot? Yes. Insufferable? No,” said Fred honestly.

“Well, either way. Studying in the library during a morning break is far from a date. I’m sure he’s just hoping to pick my brain to help him with his egg,” said Hermione with a bitter edge to her voice.

“What makes you think he’s not interested in you and not just your brain?” asked Fred, surprised to see this side of her. She was always so sure of herself. Sure, she’d shown him moments of weakness and he to her as well, but there was always no denying that Hermione Granger knew exactly who she was and was perfectly content with it.

“Don’t be silly Fred. Why would anyone be interested in me? Biggest swot known to wizarding kind, remember? A big know-it-all with even bigger hair,” she laughed, although it sounded forced to Fred who had become quite familiar with Hermione’s laugh over the past few months.

Fred was unsure how to respond to Hermione’s words. So instead he pulled her into a couple of spins that made her smile in delight. He watched as her frizzy brown curls glowed in the soft lamplight of the room as the song began to wind to an end. He extended his right leg out, placing his weight on the limb as he leaned low, balancing Hermione as he dropped her into a gentle dip. She laughed, genuinely this time, throwing her head back as she did so. Fred’s eyes followed the long curve of the Hermione’s neck before reaching her face. Hermione seemed to glow from the inside out and as he pulled her back up, the song came to an end. Once standing, Fred found it hard to pull his eyes away from Hermione’s face. The combination of the flipping sensation in his stomach, the sweat on his palms, and the increase of the beating of his heart made Fred come to a sickening realization.

He was wholly and completely attracted to Hermione Granger.

Chapter 12>>>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

#harry potter #fremione #fanfic #fan fiction #fred weasley #hermione granger #fred x hermione #mutual pining #angst

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clonecaptains · 5 years ago

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LIKE LIGHTNIN’ - an agent whiskey fic

word count | 3k+

rating: m for sexy times, language

summary: agent whiskey x female reader; you’ve been crushing on agent whiskey for ages - maybe tonight you can do something about it when you’re assigned to be his wife for a mission

a/n: this was just a stab at a fic w/ him so here goes lol hope yall like it! and we’re ignoring what happens at the end of the kingsman movie in this fic

LIKE LIGHTNIN’

From day one of joining the Statesman, you’ve had a crush on Agent Whiskey. Crush is putting it lightly. Your knees shake when you walk towards him. Your heart pounds in your ears if he touches you. Your face burns hot if he talks to you.

Genuinely you do care for him though, make no mistake.You were at his side in the infirmary after he was shot in the head. He jumped up and called you ‘sugar’ and flirted with you and Ginger Ale both. You almost wish she hadn’t shown him the picture of his lost lover. That brief moment of him flirting with you even if it was superficial - felt nice.

He flirts with you casually, you’re easily flustered by him making you a target for fun. But you’re never the girl he takes home.

After he returned with the Kingsman after the Poppy incident, you’d made a promise to yourself to make a move, or at least TRY to admit your feelings. He’s taken other lovers since the one he lost, surely he might be open to getting to know you better.

Your chance would come on your next assignment. You were to accompany Whiskey to a gala as his wife. It was a recon mission really. It was mostly classified information - need to know. And all you needed to know is you’re posing as Whiskey’s wife.

That alone was enough to make you feel sick. You’d be his date the whole night at a nice party. Even if it was fake, you were going to soak it all up.

You were finished getting ready and were waiting on him. Which was no surprise to you. You were given a dress to wear, it was a classic black dress. No back, and smooth velvet. It fit you like a glove and you felt amazing in it. Even Tequila gave you a whistle when he saw you. Ginger Ale gave you an earpiece to put in, and Whiskey would get one as soon as he was ready.

When he was ready and came to get his earpiece, you almost lost your lunch. He looked so handsome cleaned up. His hair was styled perfectly, and his mustache trimmed. He had a sleek tux on, and you felt dizzy when he smiled at you.

“My beautiful wife,” he winked and pressed a kiss to your cheek. His mustache tickled your skin, and you swear his lips left a burn. Ginger Ale gives you a quick glance as she hands Whiskey the earpiece.

She knows better than anyone about your love for him, She knew before you did.

You fight the blush that fights it’s way up your neck, but you just can’t help it. When he kissed you, a strong whiff of his rich cologne hit your nose. It was all too much to take in.

Playing the part, he offers you his arm and you take it, your hand resting on his firm bicep. You feel like a teenager going to prom with her crush. To add to the scenario, a limo arrives to take you to your destination.

A warm hand touches the bare skin on your back and it sends goosebumps up your spine and a spark of heated pleasure to your core. You’re never gonna survive this night.

Once in the limo, you go over your cover names etc. But just being in the same space is making it difficult to breathe.

“You alright darlin’?” he asks observing you. The pet name sends a jab to your heart and you feel your heart jump up your throat.

“Do you have your flask?” you answer his question with your own. “Things like this make me nervous.” And that’s not a lie. Being with him is making you very nervous, but big parties like this aren’t your scene. This is why you work behind the scenes.

He fishes his flask out of his coat pocket and hands it to you. Your fingers barely touch his during the exchange, and you’re not sure if you can take anymore. You know how this night will go. You’ll do the job and then you’ll go back home. You’ll go to your room, and he’ll go to his and tomorrow will be the next mission. The close moments like this will end. So you make a point to enjoy it even though his touch is too much to bear.

You take a swig from his flask, and taste the smooth whiskey. You wince a little at the burn but swallow anyway. He chuckles as you hand back the flask.

“You’re surprised that I like that?” you ask with a laugh.

“Do you?” he asks taking a swig himself.

“No,” you laugh and he cracks a grin from behind the flask.

“So tell me darlin’,” there’s that pet name again, “why do you work for a distillery if you don’t drink?” he takes another swig.

“Didn’t figure that would matter,” you admit. He shrugs, doesn’t bother him you’re not interested in drinking.

The limo ride doesn’t last as long as you’d like, though you’re grateful for fresh air when you step out of the vehicle. Whiskey helps you out, and his hand finds its place on your back again.

Whiskey has a big mouth and he likes to talk - so you let him do most of the talking tonight. You really don’t mind either, you’re his arm candy and you’re getting a good meal. A whole night by his side hearing him talk and smelling his cologne is enough for you.

And you’ll never tire of hearing him introduce you as his wife.

You know Whiskey is working. You’re so used to watching him on the other side of the camera. Years of aching. Watching him flirt with other women. Now you’re the woman. He’s greeting other guests, and putting on the charm. Kissing women’s hands, he’s definitely working. You’re not even sure who you’re supposed to be observing, but he knows.

As the night goes on, it makes you sad. It’s going to be over soon. Your evening with him will come to a close and you’re not ready.

“Your wife is lovely,” a man speaking pulls you from your thoughts. Whiskey has been talking to him for a moment. You can only assume this is the person you’re here to investigate.

“She is,” Whiskey smiles and gives you a wink. Without warning he leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your face burns red, the only thing saving you is it’s not uncommon you think for a wife to blush at her husband’s compliments.

A tiny spot of lipstick is on Whiskey’s bottom lip, and you wipe it off with your thumb. The action draws his attention, and he looks at you. Really looks at you.

“Hey,” he whispers with a smile. You want to crawl into a hole because somehow you know with this look, he’s seeing you.

The wife of the man just speaking ‘awwed’ at your action, turning Whiskey’s head. His hand is still on your back, and you know he can feel you tremble because his hand is moving up and down, thumb rubbing into your skin.

The rest of the night at the party is a blur after that kiss. You’ll take that with you for the rest of your life no matter what. The feel of his soft lips, the brush of his mustache. The way he looked at you when you touched his lip. His big brown eyes will be the death of you.

And before you know it, you’re back at HQ.

Ginger Ale and Tequila debrief you first. Whiskey disappeared to change clothes during your debriefing. You’re so flustered you forget to give the earpiece back after the two of them give you a look - they saw the kiss.

Soon Whiskey comes in the room, and you’re headed out. Whiskey says something about ‘being glad that was over,’ and you feel a gut punch. Your heart sinks, and you leave the room as quickly as possible.

With your earpiece in, you hear everything being said, and it makes you feel worse.

“What’s wrong with her? She ok?” Whiskey’s voice comes in.

“Dumb ass,” Tequila claps him on the shoulder. “Do you really not know she’s in love with you?”

“That was the time of her life tonight, and you just blew it,” Ginger Ale tuts.

You don’t hear anymore because you take the piece out once you reach your room. Angry, embarrassed tears flow down your cheeks. You try and get your dress off, but in your frustrated movements, the zipper gets stuck on your lower back. Groaning, you crumple into a heap on your bed.

You almost don’t hear the knock on your door the first time. But you hear the second knock. It’s not loud, you can tell it’s a knuckle tapping quickly.

Part of you doesn’t even want to open the door. But if you don’t, you might miss your chance. Makeup is already smudged on your face from crying, and your dress in the lower back is half unzipped, you look like a mess. But can’t get worse you guess, so you open the door.

Whiskey looks just like you’d imagine him to on the other side of your door, leaning against the frame casually- except his face. His eyes look a bit sad, and his lips aren’t curved in the usual smirk.

He’s already changed clothes, and even though it’s late - he has his usual hat and jeans. A white tee shirt clings to his tan skin. Your mouth goes dry.

“Hey,” he nods. “Came to apologize.”

“For what?” you ask moving aside so he can come in your room. It dawns on you he’s never been in here. You’ve fantasized about this moment, but what’s happening now is nowhere close to what you imagined.

He’s quiet for a moment, looking around your room. You honestly have no idea what he’s going to say. And from the looks of it, he doesn’t either.

“I’ve been a fuckin’ idiot. I didn’t know, you-”

“Didn’t know I was in love with you?” the words spill out of your lips.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs with a sigh. “I guess I did. I just thought you were easy to flirt with cuz ya always smiled at me. But then tonight,” you didn’t notice as he’d been talking he’d also been walking closer and closer to you. He touched your lower back again and it nearly sent you to your knees, “tonight little darlin’ you were shakin’ in my arms. And the way you looked at me, fuckin’ damn baby. Bring a man to his knees with that look. Guess I thought you were nervous at the party, but baby you hit me like a bolt o’ lightnin’.”

His face is millimeters from yours and you’re still trembling in his arms.

“Then why did you say you were glad to be done after tonight?” you whisper, making eye contact with those dark eyes.

“I was just ready to get outta that monkey suit and into regular clothes,” he grins.

“Oh,” you laugh embarrassed.

“Truth is, I wasn’t ready for the night to end with you. It was nice. So don’t you cry any more tears for ol’ me now ya hear me?” he presses a kiss to your cheek. He’s turning to leave, but you grab his arm.

“Wait.”

He turns quick, and before he can ask what you need, he cups your face with both hands and gives you a real proper kiss on your lips. His warm hands are on the bare skin of your back, and your hands are grasping at his t-shirt. A denim clad knee was about to wedge its way between your legs, but your long velvet gown kept him from it. You giggled when he grunted in protest against your lips.

“We gotta get this off,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Wait,” you say again and make him look you in the eye. “Is this real?” you have to know.

He takes your hand, and brings it down to touch the growing bulge in his jeans, “that feel real to you?” he asks, mischief in his tone and he bucks himself more into your hand. He delights in the flush on your cheeks.

“I mean it,” you say pulling your hand away. Quick as lightning, he grabs your hand again, and puts it over his heart. It’s a steady thunder deep in his chest.

“Let me take care of you little darlin’,” he brings that hand up to his mouth to kiss your fingertips. “I told ya, being with you tonight made me realize that I’ve wanted you too.”

“Then help me take this dress off,” you gasp. Your head is spinning. “The zipper is stuck.”

“I’ll get it,” he goes around behind you. The zipper is small on your lower back. First he tries to yank it apart, which doesn’t work. Then he fishes out his pocketknife from his jean pocket. A quick cut and the zipper is free.

Now you’re free to get out of the dress.

Oh.

Now you’re free to get out of the dress. It’s backless, you’ve got no bra on. Once this thing comes off it’s only a pair of panties between you and Whiskey’s damn tight jeans.

You’ve stood frozen for too long, and he notices.

“What’s wrong sweet pea?”

Your back is still to him, and you’re holding the dress to yourself. It won’t fall off unless you pull it but you still feel like you need to hold it.

“I’m nervous,” you whisper.

You feel his mustache before you feel his lips on your bare shoulder.

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry about darlin’,” he kisses your skin. The charm is coming on strong. But still there’s a gentleness to his tone. This isn’t like other lovers. The ones who fling themselves at him. He’s looking out for you.

“Whiskey-”

“Sweetheart, call me Jack,” he kisses your shoulder again.

He waits til you start to move the dress off yourself, and he reaches up to help. Soon the dress is off you completely and in a big black heap of fabric on the floor.

You’re clad now only in a pair of underwear, You’ve crossed your arms over your chest, still feeling nervous.

“Turn around,” he says. You’ve memorized what Jack’s voice sounds like, but somehow in your room speaking to you it sounds so different.

You turn to face him, arms not moving from your chest.

“Little darlin’,” he smiles and puts his hands on your shoulders. “Come on, you gonna let me see?” Damn him and his charm.

He wraps his arms around you in a hug, and he pulls your arms off yourself to wrap around him. Now your chest is pressed against his.

He takes one step back. His eyes still locked with yours, and your arms still around his shoulders.

“You gonna let me?” he asks, his eyes are sincere, but his grin is devilish.

One nod from you is all it takes before he looks down between you. He eyes your chest, and licks his lips.

“This was what you were hidin’ from me?” his hands are quick to grab a handful of each breast. That’s when your knees buckle. His laugh in your ear is so playful. You’d smack that cocky smile off his face if you didn’t love it so much.

“Fuckin’ hell, you feel good,” he kisses your neck as his hands massage your flesh. Then he drops his head to a breast and sucks a nipple into his mouth, his mustache brushes against sensitive skin and you cry out. He chuckles again and backs you up towards your bed. Gently he guides you down until you’re on your back. He sucks your nipples and sucks hickies all over your chest.

“Jack,” you whine.

Quick fingers dance down your stomach and into the band of your underwear.

“This all for me?” he kisses your stomach while he feels the slick between your legs. He wastes no time sticking a couple fingers in your heat and pressing a thumb to your clit. Your moan is embarrassingly loud, which only fuels him on. He barely touches you before you’re coming hard around his fingers.

“Fuck, I bet you got a couple more for me don’t ya? How many?”

“As many as you want, oh fu-” you can’t even finish the sentence you’re trying to catch your breath.

He sucks his fingers off, and the sound is obscene. This feels like a dream. A sexy dream you couldn’t even comprehend.

Leaving you on the bed to breathe a moment, he takes off his hat and peels off his shirt. He sits down on the bed next to you, legs spread wide. And he pulls you up over into his lap so you’re straddling a thick thigh.

“You’re gonna ride baby,” he tells you. The pressure of his leg between yours almost sends you over the edge right then. You can’t help but admire his tan skin now that he’s shirtless in front of you. He looks perfect.

Grabbing your hips, he starts to guide you. Your center pressing against him. There’s not enough friction, and you groan and stop him so you can take your underwear off.

“That’s it,” he tells you when you get back on his thigh and move. The friction is delicious, and almost hurts. But soon a thumb works you over, and your juices are leaking out on the denim.

“Good girl,” he tells you and kisses your neck. “You got one more for me?”

Your chest heaves, but you nod. You’ve been wanting him for ages, you’re not gonna waste it.

Shifting back a little on his leg, he makes quick work to unbuckle his heavy belt and unzip his pants. Your mouth waters when he pulls himself out, you’d always wondered what he looked like. Now you know, and now you need to feel. You push his hand away to touch him, he raises a brow watching you. Then he lets out a sharp hiss between his teeth. You shudder to feel him.

His hands find you hips again, and he eases you down onto him. Both of you groan together, and you can’t help but smile into his neck.

“How long you been thinking about this hmm?” he teases and thrusts his hips up.

“Shut the hell up Whiskey,” you laugh and bite down on his neck.

Your bodies move together wonderfully. You’re still sensitive from your last two - and this third orgasm isn’t as sharp but the pleasure is all the same.

And when he finds his release, his groan in your ear is one you’ll never forget.

He pulls back and lets out a whistle, “damn darlin’. I mean DAMN.”

You can’t help but laugh and blush, and fall back into the crook of his neck to hide from his eyes.

When you pull back to look at him, he looks wonderful. His hair is messy (thanks to you) and his lips are plump from the kissing. Even the hairs on his mustache are askew. His eyes are heavy with exhaustion from pleasure, and his grin says it all.

“Don’t leave for your room,” you tell him combing your fingers through his hair. “I couldn’t bear it if you left.”

“Little darlin’ I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

@pajamasecrets / @mandoplease / @spacedadheadcanons

#agent whiskey #kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey x reader #mine #my gifs #my writing #i have no idea what to tag this as lol

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polaroid15 · 4 years ago

Text

New fic :)

Hey everyone! Hope you’re having a great Sunday :) <3 Here’s a short little attempt at humor.. hope you enjoy!

Summary: Movie night ends just as well as anyone would expect: with Peter passed out on the floor and Tony sidestepping a Parker-induced heart attack like clockwork.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054818

“I’m not wearing a Spider-Man band-aid, Mr. Stark. It’s conceded.”

Tony sighs. They’re sitting side by side on the edge of the bathtub, a blood stained cloth forgotten at their feet. Tony is holding a small box of colorful bandages loosely in his hand. “But you’re bleeding-”

“Not for long! Probably.”

“Oh my God.”

“Is there an Iron-Man one?”

Peter smiles at him with an attitude of mischievousness that Tony has become much too acquainted with. He’s holding his hand between them where a modest cut in his palm still sluggishly bleeds. For the past couple hours they had been working with sheet metal in the lab. Neither had managed to leave unscathed.

Tony hesitates. It’s enough. “There is,” Peter gasps. “I mean, of course there is. You’re Iron-Man.” Taking the box from Tony’s hand he fishes around until he finds one decorated in red and gold and holds it out victoriously. “Ah-hah!”

“You’re an idiot,” Tony says, snatching it away. “Let me do it.”

He peels off the plastic and smoothes the band-aid gently over Peter’s skin. He knows the wound will be gone by morning but seeing the cut covered and cared for calms some distant part of him he refuses to ponder too deeply. When he looks up Peter is holding the discarded Spider-Man bandage Tony had set against the tub. “You’re bleeding too, you know.”

Tony rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother fighting it. Soon enough he has a matching band-aid wrapped around his thumb where the sharp metal had cut into him and another on the skin under his pinky.

Something in his chest warms. It feels like a physical weight.

“There. Happy?”

“Yep,” Peter nods. “All better now.”

“Good Lord.”

They both stand. Tony watches fondly as Peter cleans up after them and they leave the room together, Tony flicking off the light behind them. They wander back to the kitchen, Peter in the lead, and find Happy and May standing closely together with a bag of takeout at their feet. Tony can smell it from where he stands and feels his mouth water. He realizes only now that he and Peter had worked through lunch again.

Peter lights up when he sees May and rushes forward to pull her into a half hug. Tony watches as he flexes his hand in front of her face to show off his new Iron-Man band-aid. She ruffles his hair and cuts a soft look in Tony’s direction. Happy laughs.

“We still on for a movie or what?”

“Yes!” Peter catapults himself over the back of the couch like a gymnast and lands gracefully in his usual spot. He looks back at them expectedly. “Whose turn is it to pick?”

“Happy,” May says.

“Oh no.” Peter drops his head into his hands and moans dramatically into his palms.

Happy crosses his arms, looking mildly offended. “What?”

“Look, Hap. I value our friendship. I really do- but you choose terrible movies,” Tony says.

“The worst,” Peter agrees.

May snorts with laughter but doesn’t disagree. She settles herself down on the couch on Peter’s left and kicks up her feet on the coffee table. Tony follows suit, sitting closely on Peter’s right with the same warmth in his chest from the bathroom.

It’s nice.

“This one will be good,” Happy promises. FRIDAY dims the lights in the room and the glare of the TV bathes them in an artificial glow. It glints off May’s glasses as he scrolls through a list of titles and ends on one called ‘The Deep Blue’. Everyone groans.

“Oh God,” Tony complains. “Is this a shark movie? Please tell me it’s not.”

“What does it look like?”

“Shark movies are always terrible,” Peter says.

“Shut up. It’s starting.”

Tony smiles and feels the couch move as Peter nestles further into the cushions beside him. May passes around the takeout and Tony relaxes as the warmth from his box seeps into his sore fingers. It reminds him of the Spider-Man band-aids on his hands and his smile widens without warning. He savours the feeling and uses his chopsticks to pull out a piece of ginger beef.

“That shark looks so fake,” Peter decides half way through the movie. “Why are they even scared of it?”

Happy just rolls his eyes.

Choking back a laugh for the upteenth time that night, Tony tries his best to refocus on the scene playing out in front of him. The main character, an unwise blond girl in a lifeguard’s uniform, stands on the edge of her boat and braces herself to jump into the shark infested water. Shrill, suspenseful music fills the room and Peter suddenly straightens, placing his takeout box on the table in front of them.

A piece of lemon chicken halfway to her mouth, May pauses, eyes widening with some great realization. “Oh, God Peter. Please don’t. Not again.”

Before Tony can ask what she means, the character on the screen plunges into the water. As soon as the camera shows their head underwater Peter takes in a deep lungful of air and holds it in his chest, looking determinedly towards the screen.

Both Tony and Happy share significant looks of confusion. “What the hell is he doing?”

May crosses her legs and sighs deeply, picking back around at her food. “He’s holding his breath.”

“Well, obviously. But why?”

“He likes to test how accurate the movie is. Or if he can outlast the characters. Who knows.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

Tony looks at Peter in exasperation. The boy’s cheeks are bulging with air, eyes strained but nevertheless giving them an enthusiastic thumbs up. On the screen, the character swims furiously down towards the ocean floor, kicking wildly. The shark’s shadow looms in the distance.

With every passing second Tony’s anxiety spikes. Peter’s lips remain pressed together despite the increasingly red flush in his face. “Come on, kid this is dumb. Even for you. Just breathe!”

Shaking his head stubbornly, Peter stares onward. Creases form on his forehead and he slaps a hand against his chest as if to keep it from expanding.

“Just let him do his thing,” May says loosely. “You know how he is.”

Tony looks between them and the screen, lost in the seeming normalcy of the situation. The Chinese food churns in his stomach. “She’s not even close to the surface! This is ridiculous!”

Peter grips onto the edge of the couch with his free hand, looking woozy. Tony’s eyes widen and he brings his hands up cautiously in morbid preparation. “Kid! Okay that’s enough. Tap out. Stop it right now!”

He hates how parental he sounds. He can’t help it.

Peter shakes his head again, his resolve visibly weaker. Tony feels his pulse spike as Peter sways against the pillows, his brown eyes squinting at the screen as if from a great distance.

“Peter Benjamin Parker!”

The kid’s eyes flutter and all of Tony’s nerves drop down into his toes.

“Kid!”

May yells in surprise and Happy drops his takeout as Peter pitches forward. Acting purely out of instinct Tony lunges out and just manages to wrap his arms around Peter’s chest before he knocks his head against the coffee table. The kid is dead weight in his arms and Tony’s own breath is stolen as he slides both of them to the floor, rolling Peter onto his back. His head lolls limply with the movement and Tony’s stomach does a series of Olympic-level backflips.

“Peter!” He feels dizzy as he taps on Peter’s face. The boy’s chest is rising and falling evenly but it does little to relieve the sudden pressure in Tony’s head. “Wake up!”

At first, nothing happens. Tony is distantly aware of Happy and May standing behind him and saying words that don’t quite make it through the static in his head. All he can see is his kid stretched out on the carpet, unresponsive and jaw hanging open. The suspenseful music from the TV still booms around them. It would’ve been funny if he weren’t so goddamn scared.

He’s way too old for this.

And he has heart problems.

“Underoos!”

He taps on Peter’s face again. This time, miraculously, his eyes squint open.

Tony collapses in relief, catching himself with his forearm against the coffee table as the room spins around him. “Thank God.”

“He lives!” Happy declares monotonously.

Peter’s eyes separate further, full of confusion. He tilts his head to look at the floor, the couch, then up to the TV. The character is still underwater and after a moment of delay Peter begins to laugh. It echoes against Tony’s ears and he slowly loses the will to live. “Wow. This movie sucks, Happy.”

Somehow the comment breaks past Tony’s few remaining brain cells and before he can understand it, they’re all laughing. May has tears on her face and Peter clutches at his side, still laying on the floor and bathed in blue light against Tony’s lap.

After a moment Tony finds it within himself to sober up. He ends his laugh in a choke and he pulls Peter up to lean against the couch. The boy struggles to follow Tony’s movement and sags against the cushions, looking tired and dizzy but still smiling like an idiot. “You’re literally going to be the death of me kiddo,” he says seriously. “I mean, you do a lot of dumb things but this has got to take the cake-”

“Don’ worry,” Peter breathes lightly. He holds up a shaky hand for Tony to see. “We got band-aids.”

Tony blinks emptily as Peter’s smile widens. “I need a drink.”

#i should be studying for my finals but here we are #irondad #spiderson #peter parker #tony stark #crack!fic #fluff #peter is an idiot and tony is stressed #marvel #mcu #fanfic #irondad fic #myfic

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c-atm · 4 years ago

Text

"Is something going in between Maheswaran and you?"

Steven looked up from his phone at one of his friends, A tanned freckled-face girl with ginger pigtails and cherry red irises.

"Not especially Spinel. Why?" He arched his eyebrow.

"Curious, Stevie, you two have been spotted together a lot over these few weeks."

"So? I thought me and Connie’s 'rivalry' was a well-known topic."

"Sure, though the stories ain't as much of a 'rivalry' as it is a romance."

"Shipping real live people is wrong."Steven sighed as Spinel chuckled. 'This is gonna be an awkward day ."

"We're here," Spinel announced as the train pulled up to the 35th Avenue stop. Putting his phone away, the president grabbed their book bags before leading his cohort off the train.

"So what is the thing going on between you two?" Spinel asked with a grin as they made their way to the street, bounce in her step.

"Why the hell do you think there's something going on?" He scratched his left chin.

"I wonder."

Steven groaned at the teasing tone from Spinel as they walked The streets of Upper Hattan, loud and lively as usual.

"So, where are we going anyway?" She inquired, following him.

"Actually, we're going to pick someone up, then play it by ear."

"What, no itinerary? No objective?" Spinel gasped, putting her hands on her cheeks. "Doesn't seem like our hardass of a student body president." She gave him a tooth-displaying grin." Maybe the rumors are true, and a certain delinquent is softening you up? Huh, huh? Making you more flexible by showing you her flexibility , Huh, huh?" She knocked his arm playfully, causing him to roll his eyes. "You wouldn't mind giving me the inside scoop, would ya Stevie?"

"There's no scoop, you gossip reporter."

"Sure, sure." She waved him off, digging into her bag and pulling out a high-end digital camera. "Still, nice day to be in the city." Raising the scope of the camera to eyes, Spinel continued, "People out and about; shopping, chilling, hustling." She scanned the area as they walked. "I'm sure there will be a few shots worth taking."

"Nice of the school to allow non-school related articles."

Spinel sucked her teeth at his smug tone, "stop fishing for compliments." She accused, taking his smug mugshot. "It's creepy, see?"

"What?" He said, looking at the screen of the camera," I look good." Rubbing his chin as he looked at the picture.

"Cocky and creepy." Spinel joked before giving him a gentle smile, "Thanks, though, for fighting for the media clubs."

Steven shrugged, "No, biggy, I agreed with your stance, and wouldn't you know it. Students actually subscribed to the newsletter."

"Shocking, right?" Spinel faked a gasp, "Who would have thought other students would relate to their schoolmates."

"One of the wonders of the school."

The two laughed as they continued their journey.

"So, where's this friend of yours supposed to be at, Stevie?" Spinel asked, taking a shot of a pair of kids getting chased by pigeons, "Evil winged buggers." She muttered with a chuckle.

Steven was about to answer when he heard it.

He closed his eyes, listening to where it was coming from. The rhythm of 'Am I Wrong .' being played on Violin.

HER VIOLIN.

Am I tripping for having a vision?

My prediction; I'mma be on the top of the world.

Accompanied by HER VOICE.

"Steven?!" A surprised Spinel yelped as he took her wrist and led her into the nearby park, nearly dragging her as he ran.

Hope you, hope you don't look back, always do what you decide

Don't let them control your life; that's just how I feel

"Get your camera ready; you don't wanna miss this."

Spinel arched an eyebrow at her friend's excited and slightly blushing face, but she followed his directions as they came to an outdoor stage where a medium gathering of people sat, and the music was coming from.

Fight for yours and don't let go, don't let them compare you, no

She saw a cute little girl with waist-length, curly, 'nearly black' brown hair, going through the audience getting donations in a small bucket; it made for a funny picture since she looked so severe one moment and sweet the next.

Steven sat them at the front middle bench, giving them a perfect view of the stage.

When she turned to the stage, her eyes widened.

Don't worry; you're not alone; that's just how we feel

A four girl street band, consisting of a curvy short-stack of a Latina on a portable drum set with flowing violet hair, a towering voluptuous Afro-American girl with a perfect square afro on keytar, an even taller girl with vitiligo, lion mane white hair, and a muscular yet feminine built on bass; and a familiar face that took a second to recognize, playing the violin and leading the performance with her eyes closed.

Until they opened and revealed very familiar raven eyes.

So am I wrong for thinking that we could be something for real?

'Holy hell, that's CONNIE MAHESWARAN!!! ' Spinel mind screamed as she recognized the well-known delinquent of their school perform with her friends and sing the lyrics soulfully, beautifully,

"This..."Spinel began as she instinctively started setting her camera to record as she took pictures.

"Steven did you-"

She turned to her cohort about to tease him about this when she saw his face.

'Stevie, you liar .' Spinel tried to bite her grin back as she took her phone out and snapped the picture of his face. His dopey, broad, crooked smile, large eyes filled with so much affection for the delinquent, and that blush trail across his face. It was gossip gold.

'He better be careful with all that emotion on his sleeve, don't want...OOPS. Too late !' Spinel took a look at the stage, at Connie, and was surprised again to see her looking straight...them?

"Oh, no...She's looking at..." Spinel whispered as she looked at Connie's face. "She looks like the cat that ate the canary."

Connie's eyes were slightly narrowed, her brows furrowed downward, her lips pursed in a curved smug smile. However, the smugness didn't reach her eyes despite how they look.

No.

Those eyes.

They reflected the same affection that Steven was giving her.

Spinel had to back up to get both in them in her camera crosshairs. The

Image of two people, entirely in a world of their own.

"First page."

*click*

#steven universe #connie maheswaran #connverse #steven universe future #steven universe fanfiction #steven and connie #older steven #older connie #connverse fanfic #spinel #highschool au #student body president Steven #delinquent Connie #song insert #garnet #amethyst #Jasper #Stevonnie #facememe

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dettiot · 5 years ago

Note

Luke ending up back in time and instead of being worried about Anakin’s fall he’s more concerned about being born at all after seeing Anakin’s awkward flirting. Surprisingly Padme is into it

I wasn’t feeling the time travel angle, so I went in a different direction. Hope you enjoy!

“Are you gonna get that, Skywalker?”

“I’m busy,” Luke said as he kissed Mara’s neck, ignoring the chiming of his comlink.

His fiancee huffed and pushed at him, reaching down to pluck the comlink off his belt. “If this is Leia, I’m gonna tell her why you were gonna ignore her.”

“And I’ll tell her what I was doing,” Luke countered, grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes and thumbed the comlink. “Luke Skywalker’s comm.”

“Hello, this is Lina Jinzle,” a brisk female voice said. “I’m part of the archaeological team working on the Mount Tantiss project. We’ve discovered something we thought Master Skywalker might be interested in.”

Luke took the comlink and spoke into it. “This is Luke Skywalker. What is it, Ms. Jinzle?”

“We discovered some datacards with security drone footage from the pre-Clone Wars era. And based on the facial recognition algorithms we used . . . it would appear the footage features your father.”

XXX

With a degree of hesitation, Luke set up his holounit to play the datacards he had received from Lina Jinzle. Seeing his father as he was--young, alive, unscarred by battle and struggle . . .

He wasn’t sure how he would react to seeing Anakin Skywalker like that.

At least Mara was here with him. Her clear-eyed outlook would help keep him from falling into despair.

“All right, Farmboy, drink up.”

A glass of starshine appeared in front of him, and he took it before giving her a skeptical look, complete with raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna need it at some point. Might as well have it now,” she said practically as she sat down beside him with her own glass.

She wasn’t wrong. So Luke threw back the starshine and sat back on the sofa, cueing the holounit to begin playing the footage.

The footage was in surprisingly good condition. Good enough that when the image filled the screen, Luke sucked in a breath.

“Wow,” Mara said softly. “I . . . I didn’t realize how much you look like him.”

He couldn’t help leaning forward. “He’s taller than me.”

“It wasn’t just the suit, apparently,” Mara said, resting a hand on Luke’s back.

Shaking his head, Luke kept watching the footage. His father looked so young. Perhaps not even twenty yet, based on the Padawan braid Luke recognized from his readings on the former Jedi. He was walking with a ginger-haired and bearded man--it could only be--

“Ben,” Luke breathed out.

Seeing his father with his Master, with Luke’s first Master, made something twist inside Luke. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep watching--but he also didn’t want to stop.

Anakin and Obi-Wan walked towards a transport, stepping onto it. After a few moments, Anakin left, now accompanied by a petite woman, dressed in some kind of elaborate headdress and matching robes. And following them--

“Artoo!” Luke said in surprise.

“What’s the little tin can doing there?” Mara said, tilting her head. “Because that’s definitely your droid.”

“I don’t know,” Luke said, continuing to watch, but resolving to check with Artoo as soon as the video was over.

The landscape changed from what was clearly Coruscant to a planet unlike anything Luke had ever seen. It was so . . . so green. The camera flew over lush fields, then circled around an elegant-looking villa on the shore of a large lake. Between the soft sound of waves and the distant mountains, the whole aura was one of peace and serenity.

“Different footage from a much better security drone,” Mara said quietly beside him. “‘Cause this has got sound.”

Before Luke could reply, the camera on the camera drone zoomed in, focusing on two people on a balcony. One of them was Anakin, and the other was the same woman as before, Luke guessed. Only now, she was wearing a flowing dress in shades of cream, pink and blue, one that exposed her shoulders and her back.

“I love the water,” the woman said. “We used to lie out on the sand and let the sun dry us and try to guess the names of the birds singing.”

Anakin and the unknown woman came to a pause at the end of the balcony, leaning on the railing.

“I don't like sand,” Anakin said. Luke wasn’t sure, but it appeared he was reaching out to touch the woman’s hand. “It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere. Not like here. Here everything is soft and smooth.”

Luke blinked. Was--was his father flirting?

Then his eyes widened as Anakin leaned in and kissed the woman.

“What--why--I don’t--” Luke spluttered.

“Considering where this footage was found, I suspected it was Palpatine behind this from the beginning,” Mara said, rubbing his back. “He probably wanted to keep an eye on your father whenever he left Coruscant.”

“No!” Luke said, turning to look at Mara. “How did a line like ‘I don’t like sand’ work? Why is she letting him kiss her?”

Mara stared at him, then snorted with laughter. “Luke. You don’t wear a dress like she’s wearing if you’re not interested in the man you’re with.”

Of course, Mara would know, but . . . but still!

Luke turned back to the screen. The footage had advanced, showing some kind of picnic in a field of tall grass and wildflowers. The woman was in yet another elaborate gown, her brown hair loose and curly.

As the footage continued, showing his father smiling at the woman and her smiles in return, Luke found himself watching her as much as Anakin. Could . . . could this woman be his mother? Her brown hair and eyes certainly reminded him of Leia.

As the footage continued to what looked like a dinner, Mara said, “I’d kill for this woman’s wardrobe.”

He huffed out a small laugh and nodded. The camera somehow managed to follow his father and the woman into another room after dinner. Their conversation was somewhat muted, but still audible.

“From the moment I met you, all those years ago, not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you,” Anakin said, gazing at the woman. As soon as he began speaking, she rose to her feet and turned away from him. This put her face in the direct line of the camera, allowing her expression to be clearly visible. To see the sadness, the longing, playing out over her face as his father kept speaking.

“And now that I'm with you again... I'm in agony. The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you- I can't breath. I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating... hoping that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, tormenting me... what can I do?- I will do anything you ask. If you are suffering as much as I am, please, tell me.”

Luke had heard enough. He waved his hand to pause the playback. “I don’t understand.”

“What, Luke?” Mara asked, moving closer to him.

“This woman--my father has known her for years, he said, and he’s clearly in love with her, and he is talking like some second-rate holodrama hero, and . . . and she likes it?” Luke rose to his feet, running his hands through his hair. “I just . . . it doesn’t fit with anything I know about my father.”

Mara sighed softly. “Luke, what do you really know about him? Not much. And seeing him in love . . . that’s very different from any other side of him, it would seem.”

“If you were in her place,” Luke said, gesturing to the woman on screen, “would you have fallen for all of that?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, she definitely is.” Mara cocked an eyebrow at him. “And really . . . you knew it had to be something like this. Otherwise you and Leia wouldn’t be here.”

Blowing out a breath, Luke drew on the Force to center himself, then sat back down. He took Mara’s hand and gazed at her. “Do you think that’s my mother?”

Mara’s eyes drifted back to the screen. She nodded. “Yes.”

“She looks like Leia,” Luke said in agreement, looking back at the screen. He reached out, using the Force to start the holounit again. He wrapped an arm around Mara, pulling her close as they watched the rest of the footage, which soon shifted to his father fighting battles, training a Togruta Padawan, and leading his men through the Clone Wars.

Yet as impressive as Anakin Skywalker was in the heat of battle, Luke felt like that wasn’t really his father. No, his father was the man who romanced a beautiful, intelligent woman, who was honest enough to tell her the truth, despite what the Jedi Code said.

And perhaps someday, he would know about the woman who was enough to capture his father’s heart.

End.

My Star Wars Fic Masterlist

#anidala #luke/mara #luke skywalker #mara jade #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #star wars #Anonymous

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legumelupin · 4 years ago

Text

Cake Week!

here it is! the first chapter of this story that i love so much but is ruining my life! and here it is on ao3! it’s over 11k so please enjoy

WEEK 1 — CAKE

“It’s the moment every dessert lover, every pastry lover, really any kind of bake lover has been waiting for. The tent is staked and there are 12 new bright-eyed and bushy-tailed amateur bakers ready to battle it out. These bakers are some of the finest in the United Kingdom and were hand-selected out of thousands of applicants.

“They practiced for months and months to perfect new and old skills to take on a new set of challenges. Original signatures, grueling technicals, and spectacular showstoppers that are all made to push the baker's creativity and determination to the edge. Who will come out victorious? And who will collapse under a soggy bottom?

“This season, the bakers will be judged by none other than the lovely baking queen of Scotland, Minerva McGonagall. She’s hard to impress and incredibly blunt but boy does she make spectacular ginger biscuits. Her co-judge is the man who looks great for his age and who’s palate ranges from lemon sherbert to cockroach cookies. That’s right, it’s the ever-serene Albus Dumbledore. But the bakers had better watch out, our dear Dumbly isn’t afraid to shatter hopes and dreams. And as always, this season will be hosted by myself, Horace “Sluggy” Slughorn, and the large and in charge, Rubeus Hagrid.

“For their first week, our brand new bakers will have to overcome the woes of cake week. That means avoiding dry sponges, merengues that aren’t whipped properly, and batter that is over’werked’ as our dear Minerva would say.

“Welcome to Season 7 of the Great British Bake Off!”

Remus tied the apron around his waist, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he was still processing where exactly he was. He was in The Tent! The people in charge of the Great British Bake Off chose his application as one of the ones to be a part of the next season. Him! Remus John Lupin! What the fuck? What were they thinking? What was he thinking? He had let his mother convince him into applying, citing his bread and his knack for precision as qualities that could help him. He just never thought he would be here, ever. But he was!

He took a look around, noting all the cameras and feeling his stomach start to twist itself into a knot a bit. Oh gods, what in the world was he thinking? He’d be on TV and chances are he’d make a fool of himself for everyone to see! He thought of the day the camera crew had shown up to his family’s small cottage just outside of Cardiff. He had been maybe even more nervous then than he was now considering how intimate the whole ordeal was. They just followed him around for a few hours and had him hang in the kitchen with his mother while his father sat at the counter reading the paper. They followed him to his job at a bookshop just inside of town and he talked about his dream to go to university to study literature. If he didn’t think too hard about it, being in The Tent didn’t seem so bad anymore.

And then one of the Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore walked in. Gods, he wished he packed a joint in his bag for after. Or even his pack of cigs. He was going to need it afterward judging by how hard his legs were shaking. He looked to the workstation across from him and found a woman with long, red hair and he remembered her vaguely from the little mingling session the producers of the show hosted for contestants the day before. Remus did his best to socialize but he mostly kept to himself, thinking about the book that was waiting for him on his train ride home. But looking at her now, she was hard not to remember with hair like that and green eyes that pierce him even from the distance he’s at.

She caught his eye and offered him a kind smile that he returned easily, feeling a bit better. He could see the worry lines etched on the side of her mouth. Honestly, Remus should have been paying more attention to the competition if he wanted to win but he’d been so inside his head that he didn’t even remember any of their names let alone what they looked like. All he remembered from the night before was the piercing blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore and the raucous laughter of Rubeus Hagrid. He was so shell-shocked that all he could do was tell himself not to panic and have a drink with a few of the other contestants that he didn’t remember the names of.

But now, here he was, smiling at the girl with flaming red hair, waiting for the camera crew to give the cue for them to start. They’d gotten the opening shots with all the new bakers lined up outside the tent and all of them walking into the tent for the first time. Remus was almost positive that his gaze was downcast the entire time. It was almost like he was asking to leave on the first episode but in reality, he did really want to win. He was terrified and an anxious disaster. But he was a terrified and anxious disaster with a passion to win.

“Psst, hey!” a voice whispered behind him and Remus raised an eyebrow, turning his head to find the most gorgeous man his bisexual eyes have ever seen. Remus suppresses a groan. Why did Gorgeous-Man have to get his attention before the first task? As if it wasn’t going to be hard enough before, all Remus would be able to think about now were those stormy grey eyes and long, very soft-looking black hair. He would definitely overbake his sponge.

Sirius Black was very nervous. He was incredibly proud of himself for making it onto the show but he was also still in disbelief. Even when he was standing at his workstation for their first bake of cake week, he didn’t believe he was actually going to be on his favorite TV show. The night before hadn’t done anything to soothe his nerves or let him know that this was actually real but he did meet a really wonderful bloke by the name of James Potter who was also a contestant on the show. They hit off on their first interaction and hit the pub right after the little event had ended. Sirius felt he’d made a friend forever in the guy.

“Hey man, this is crazy right?” a brown-skinned guy with unruly black hair and kind, hazel eyes said, gesturing to the large white tent that was just down the hill from the little area of the grounds the newest contestants were all gathered in. He looked to be around Sirius’s age. “Never thought I’d be here but I guess they liked my application enough even though I made a complete fool of myself,” the guy snorted and Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“I suppose they just wanted a village fool and they thought you’d do the best job,” Sirius snarked and the guy looked affronted but to the point of mocking him.

“You say that as if it isn’t a high honor, young sir!” the man proclaimed and Sirius cracked a grin.

“I have to say, kind fellow, I’m going to put up a hell of a fight to be crowned the title of fool before you,” Sirius jested back and the guy laughed heartily.

“I’m James Potter,” he extended his hand and Sirius took it in his own.

“Sirius,” the pale male answered and James quirked an eyebrow but didn’t let go of his hand.

“Course I’m serious, why would I lie about my name?” James asked and Sirius snorted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” he replied and James just leveled him with a small glare.

“About what, mate? You haven’t even said anything,” James shot back and Sirius rolled his eyes.

“No, you oaf. My fucking name is Sirius,” he laughed and James’s face fell for a second before it broke out into a large grin.

“That’s right funny, Sirius. You can make a lot of jokes with that,” James smiled and Sirius laughed.

“Just did, mate,” Sirius remarked and James didn’t stop grinning.

“Wanna grab a pint after this?” James asked and Sirius knew. He just knew. This guy was gonna be his best friend after this night.

“Sounds like a plan to me. I’d get out of here right now if it weren’t the set of fucking Bake Off,” Sirius murmured and James grinned at him again.

“Is someone nervous?”

“As if you aren’t. Or I suppose you’re too daft to feel nervous.”

“Oi! Now that’s just rude!”

“You didn’t even understand when I introduced myself!”

“Your name is fucking Sirius! Pardon me for not knowing very many people named after celestial bodies!”

“Well, you’re pardoned! Happy?”

“Incredibly, good sir!”

They hit the pub together after the party as promised and got properly shitfaced and Sirius was sure that he would want to remember that night forever. Bake Off was already getting his mind off his shit life but this bloke, this James Potter, seemed to be a forever friend.

James was sat at the station on Sirius’s right and they kept glancing at each other. Both would be lying if they said they weren’t nursing a bit of a hangover which is not ideal considering it was their first day on the set of a baking TV show that would be broadcasted all over England. James pointed to the woman who sat in front of him and made a face at Sirius that indicated that he was absolutely smitten with this woman. He’d never even talked to her. Sirius rolled his eyes and shook his head. James glared at him and stuck out his tongue, and then feigned absolute hurt when Sirius didn’t change the look on his face.

Sirius could only roll his eyes again but with a smile this time. He turned his attention to the guy sitting in front of him who was wearing a sweater that was definitely not appropriate for this fucking disgusting weather. Sirius knew it wasn’t his place to say shit to the guy but holy fucking hell it was as hot as Satan’s balls out! So, like a typical Black (and he was well aware of his cousin’s presence in the tent which was kind of crazy but he tried not to think too hard about it), he said something.

“Psst, hey!” he whispered loudly and thankfully, the guy heard him and turned around briefly. Sirius’s gay panic went haywire at that moment. He forgot about the sweater all at once and was stuck between a sea of honey brown and a forest of glorious summer green and freckled cheeks with a couple of faint scars running across a beautiful nose. He had fucking freckles and heterochromia. Oh gods, he was toast. Pun intended.

“Yeah?” the guy asked, his voice sounded strained. How had Sirius not seen him last night? Or this morning? Was he seriously so far up James’s ass and happy to have a friend that he didn’t even notice this hot string bean amongst the ten other contestants? Yes, yes he was. But that wasn’t an excuse!

“Oh, um, I was just… Mate, how the hell are you wearing that thing right now?” Sirius asked incredulously and the man’s face fell to be quickly unimpressed.

“I've been cold on the inside since I’ve been ten,” he deadpanned and Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. “Basically I’m depressed,” he continued after before making to turn back front.

“Wait, you’re not even gonna tell me your name Mr. I- Wear -a -Sweater -in -the -Dead -of -Summer?” Sirius quipped and the guy actually managed a smile. Sirius groaned internally. No one should be allowed to look that hot!! And he was just fucking smiling!! At this rate, Sirius couldn’t even bring himself to think about fucking cake (unless it was this guy’s cake, if you know what he’s saying. Wink wink).

“Remus Lupin. Care to tell me yours? Mr. I-Have-No-Manners-and-Can’t-Recognized-a-Depressed-Bastard?” the guy snarked back, not losing the amused look on his beautiful face.

Sirius barked out a laugh causing the other contestants to look over to them and Sirius feared of being shushed so he quickly said, “Sirius Black.”

Remus nodded at him, a small smile still piquing on his lips before turning back around. And finally, the set fucking called for action. Now, what was the cake he’d been practicing for weeks?

Marlene McKinnon was an absolute ball of nerves and it was obvious to everyone around them, too. They couldn’t sit still. One minute they were bouncing their leg up and down, another they were wringing their hands, another their fingers were twisting around their long chestnut brown ponytail, and another minute they were braiding that ponytail. But before they knew it, Sluggy and Hagrid were welcoming all of them to Cake Week and giving the prompt, which they already knew, before the legendary send-off:

“On your marks,” said Hagrid.

“Get set!” Sluggy cheered.

“BAKE!” they both rang out together and it was like Marlene blacked out.

Their adrenaline took over and they raced around her work station, grabbing sugar, eggs, and flour for their orange zest angel food cake. Their workstation was one of the first two from the tent’s entrance which they were honestly thankful for because that meant the judging and hosting teams came to them first. And they wanted as little distractions as possible.

“Marlene, what kind of angel food cake are you making for us today?” Sluggy asked, peering around her workstation. They looked up and saw the calculating gaze of Albus Dumbledore on their batter in the mixer and the stern eyes of Minerva McGonagall boring into their own. Their knees wobbled and they fought to keep themself upright. Minerva was an inspiration for them and now the woman was going to be judging their bakes.

“Oh, um.. I’m going to be making an orange zest angel food cake with chocolate glaze and fresh whipped cream,” they said while trying to keep their voice from shaking.

“Sounds quite lovely,” Albus said serenely.

“Yes, I expect a strong orange flavor in your cake,” Minerva insisted curtly but with a small peak of a smile.

“Of course! I hope it comes through,” Marlene smiled and they knew that this was where her little introduction would be placed in post-production of the show. The production crew followed them around Cambridge and talked about how they worked as a physician's assistant for a nephrologist and lived with their two cats.

They were quite happy with their life at the moment, they kept up with their family who didn’t live that far away and their job was fulfilling. But they were a hopeless romantic and were on the lookout for a lovely lady to woo or for one to woo them.

They glanced around their station once the judges and hosts moved on and caught the eye of a dark-skinned girl named Dorcas Meadowes that they met yesterday along with a red-head named Lily Evans and another woman with mousy brown hair named Alice. Dorcas gave them a small smile before turning back to her own bake and Marlene felt their cheeks heat up a bit and really hoped no cameras were pointed at them.

The bakers had two hours for the first bake of the season and Marlene thought everything was going well. Their egg whites whipped up well, they zested many oranges, everything seemed to be going alright. They couldn’t say the same for the man across from them. He had long blond hair and a permanent sneer on his face that said he thought he was better than everyone. Marlene remembered him from the night before and rolled their eyes then just like they were rolling them now.

He fucked up his egg whites it seemed like and was obviously disgruntled as the camera crew moved to his station for what kind of angel cake he was making. Marlene marked him as a weak link in their head but they didn’t dwell on it too long as their egg whites weren’t yet stiff peaks. They kept beating them.

Marlene was a whirlwind of movements for the next hour and a half until Hagrid announced they all had a half-hour left and they felt absolutely overwhelmed despite actually being in a pretty good place in their bake. Their sponge was cooling and it looked well-baked but not over baked, their chocolate glaze was almost ready and all they had left was their whipped cream and to slice some oranges as a garnish.

“Looks like he broke your focus,” the woman behind Marlene’s station smirked but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh yeah,” Marlene answered with a breathy laugh.

“Sorry if that was weird, you’re just in front of me and you’ve been in the zone the entire time. It’s admirable, I hope it’s all going well for you,” the woman smiled sweetly and Marlene smiled back at her. They noticed all around the tent, bakers were conserving and bantering with each other and they hadn’t said a word since the very beginning.

“No, it’s not weird and thank you. I hope it’s going well for you too, this is all so scary,” Marlene answered and the woman smiled at them more. She didn’t seem too much older but she was definitely on the older side of the contestants. Almost everyone else looked to be Marlene’s age.

“Yeah but think about it, if you didn’t deserve to be here, you wouldn’t be,” she reminded Marlene and the person nodded. “I’m Andromeda, by the way. It’s nice to meet you and hopefully, there’ll be a friendly face around here over the next few weeks, assuming I make it through,” she said softly and Marlene nodded again.

“I’m Marlene, it’s good to meet you too,” they answered before turning back to their bake, making sure their chocolate glaze wasn’t burning or anything.

There was a minute left before they could even realize and their cake was glazed, their whipped cream was cold and sitting like a cloud atop the cake, and they were just finishing slicing their oranges. They chanced a glance up and around and saw the blond man across from them struggling. His sponge looked overdone and his lemon glazed looked too runny. They could only hope that the orange was strong enough in their cake to compete with their chocolate glaze and cut through it.

“Bakers, time is up! Please step away from your bakes and move your Angel Food cakes to the end of your table!” Sluggy called out to the group and almost simultaneously, everyone out down what they were doing and stepped back. Marlene was satisfied with how their cake looked, they really only wanted it to taste good now. They took a look around at everyone else’s.

Sirius had dried batter on his face and his usually pristine hair was rather disheveled but his angel food cake looked delicious, at least in his eyes. It was a vanilla sponge with a sweet cranberry sauce running down the sides with strawberries on top. He looked forward at Mr. Remus Lupin’s cake and groaned. His looked fucking delicious and it looked like he made a chocolate angel cake sponge? The fucking drama of this guy! He looked over at James who looked very proud of his key lime pie inspired back and he had to admit it was impressive.

“We got this in the bag,” the man whispered-shouted across the way, his arms crossed proudly over his chest. The girl in front of him who he was gaping at two hours ago turned and gave him a slightly disgusted look and he noticed and grinned at her. “Like what you see?”

“Aha, you wish,” she sneered and Sirius decided she wasn’t his favorite person. What was her deal? Sure James was a little cocky but so what?

“Oh come on, Red. You don’t think my sponge looks good?” he asked with an easy grin and the girl rolled her eyes before facing forward. Judging was starting.

Remus’s internal panic alarms were ablaze. He was proud of his bake for sure but it wasn’t up to his usual standard in his opinion. There was a good chance the sponge was dry on his vanilla one and his chocolate one had a very good chance of being underbaked. His pastry cream was set well enough but he was nervous all the same. All he could hope for was that it tasted better than how he imagined it did.

He watched Albus and Minerva make the rounds with Hagrid by their side from behind him. They were tasting a greasy-haired guy’s cake and they seemed kind of meh with it like it didn’t do anything special for them and from what he could tell, it was just a normal sponge with some powdered sugar and strawberries on top.

“I’d like to see more,” Minerva said, a tone of disappointment in her voice. The guy just gritted his teeth and nodded shortly before turning to look forward.

The judges moved onto the guy in front of the one they just judged who’d been talking to Sirius just a minute ago. He looked very proud and boastful of his bake and with good reason it seemed as the judges loved it and the guy who was judged first seethed very visibly, glaring daggers at the back of Sirius’s friend’s head. But Remus’s view was obscured when the judges crossed over to Sirius’s station. He could hear everything they were saying.

“Right, Sirius my boy, this is vanilla angel food cake with cranberry sauce, right?” Albus asked and Sirius nodded while chewing his lip. He was fucking hot when he chewed his lip. Gods, Remus was so fucking bent for this guy and he had one conversation with him if it could’ve even been counted as a conversation. And he was a dick during the whole thing! How could he be a dick to the one attractive guy who’s talked to him in months? Remus held back a sigh as Minerva and Albus tasted Sirius’s cake.

“Hm, that is scrummy. The cranberry is sharp and tart which is an excellent contrast to the sweetness of your sponge,” Minerva attested and Sirius’s face broke out into a smile. It was radiant and Remus never wanted him to stop.

“Yes this is delicious, thank you,” Albus commented, giving a slow nod to Sirius.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the smile never melting off his face.

As Minerva and Dumbledore moved onto the person behind Sirius with Hagrid, Remus caught Sirius’s attention. “Nice one! Looks great,” he smiled and if it were possible, Sirius’s smile grew even bigger. Remus’s heart clenched because he made that happen.

“Thanks, mate! Yours looks really good, a chocolate angel food cake is impressive,” Sirius whispered back and Remus flashed him a smile this time.

“Thanks!”

Remus faced forward again and waited for the judges to come to his station with a large amount of anxiety that grew with every second. He resisted the urge to bite his fingernails to shreds as he knew the cameras were still around and taking shots of people other than those who had the judges at their table. But Remus needn’t wait very long as the next person they came to was him. He sat up straighter when Hagrid addressed him.

“Remus, what have you made fer the judges t’day?” he asked and Remus swallowed loudly.

“Uh, it’s alternating chocolate and vanilla angel food cake with pastry cream in between the layers, topped with fresh whipped cream,” he said quickly but his voice didn’t waver thankfully. He was a mess.

“It looks very neat and your pastry cream seems to have set very nicely. Quite ambitious for the first bake of the season, let’s just hope you pulled it off,” Minerva remarked but there was a shine in her eyes.

“Yes, I hope I did too,” he said softly as they cut into his sponges and took a piece onto the plate set in front.

“The vanilla sponge looks well baked,” Albus commented, tapping his fork lightly over it. “But I fear you may have misjudged the timing for your chocolate sponge, it appears a bit underdone,” he remarked and Remus nodded. He figured. “Best to try it.”

The two judges put a piece of his cake into their mouths and looked thoughtful for a moment. “These flavors are wonderful. And it’s quite a feat that you got your chocolate sponge to rise and still have such a profound flavor. The pastry cream is a nice texture too,” Minerva commented and Remus smiled at her.

“Yes, this is very good indeed however your chocolate sponge is underbaked,” Albus continued and Remus nodded.

“Right, sorry about that,” he murmured.

“This is a very fine cake you have, Remus,” Albus finished and Remus tipped his head in thanks.

“I’ll jus’ be taking a piece o’ that,” Hagrid said sneakily, taking a piece of chocolate sponge with him and Remus snickered, gesturing for him to take as much as he pleased.

“Oi, mate, that’s amazing!” Sirius whispered from behind him and Remus turned to face him, both of them wearing dazed and happy smiles. Honestly, it went better than Remus had expected it to go for their first bake and he felt ready for the technical, though he didn’t want to be too cocky just yet.

When the judges got around to that bloke Lucius, the one across from Marlene, they couldn’t help but roll their eyes despite the large number of nerves setting their entire body on fire. Oh gods, they were the last to be judged and from what they were hearing, the majority of the others had done really well. The bar was too high!! Too high!! Marlene wished they were high right about now but instead they had to listen to Minerva and Albus be disappointed with the blond git’s bake. At least that was something positive for them. They had heard high praises for Lily and Dorcas’ bakes and they really enjoyed Alice’s flavors. Marlene thought for a second that Andromeda was going to get a Minerva McGonagall handshake and here they were with just a plain old orange-flavored sponge and some chocolate sauce.

They barely even registered when Hagrid addressed them due to never-ending nerves but stood up straight once they realized, watching Minerva and Albus inspect their sponge.

“Looks to be a very good bake and the chocolate has a beautiful shine to it,” Albus remarked and Marlene smiled a bit.

“Yeah let’s just hope the orange came through,” Minerva replied before putting her fork in her mouth. “And it does,” she added immediately after. “Beautifully, too,” she continued and Marlene’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“That’s a very lovely sponge you have there,” Albus praised and Marlene grinned at him.

“Thank you,” they said quietly and the group moved away.

There was a flurry of movements but they were told to leave the tent so they could prepare for the technical and so the camera crew could get a few testimonials from the contestants. They called out a few names of who they wanted.

“Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, and Alice Fortesque,” one of the crew members shouted. “Everyone else, please exit the tent. You may wonder the grounds and enjoy something from the buffet but you are due back in a half-hour for the next bake!”

Marlene hurried out of the tent and into the fresh air, feeling as though they were able to breathe for the first time that morning. Gods, if that was what it was going to be like for the next ten weeks, they didn’t know if they could make it! That was one bake and they were already knackered! They would really need to pack a joint with them for their travels back home if that’s what it was going to be like.

“Hey, Marls! Where’re you headed?” a voice that she recognized as Dorcas shouted from a few meters away. They looked up and saw the dark-skinned girl with pale-skinned Lily by her side, both with wide smiles and welcoming hand gestures.

“Nowhere in particular!” they called back as they headed to join them on their walk.

They talked and gossiped about the first challenge. Lily ranted about the guy behind her, James Potter, being an absolute git who was too cocky for his own good. And while she did sound truly exasperated by this man, Marlene could also tell she fancied him even if it was just a bit. Lily didn’t seem like the type to appreciate being told this though so Marlene kept a tight-lip and settled for exchanging knowing glances with Dorcas who couldn’t hold back the smirk from her face. Gods, Marlene was absolutely smitten with that look and they couldn't even admit to themself. They wouldn’t be surprised if the word hypocrite was emboldened on their tanned forehead.

Sirius was a bit bummed that Remus got called for a testimonial. Not that he wanted to give one or anything but he was hoping he could drag the guy along with him and James during their break. James was great company though, he always had something to say and it was usually hysterical. It’s only been 24 hours since meeting the guy but it felt like they’d been friends since secondary school, if not before.

“Hey, mate, you there?” James’ voice filtered into Sirius’s thoughts and he snapped his head towards the man.

“Huh?” he managed gracefully.

“I said that bloke sitting in front of you seemed pretty cool,” James repeated, not letting on if he noticed Sirius blatantly ignoring him for a minute.

“Oh, Remus?” Sirius perked up causing James’s eyebrows to raise by a fraction before shrugging.

“I suppose if that’s his name,” he jabbed and Sirius laughed a laugh that sounded to be that of a bark. James quite enjoyed it and thought it fit Sirius’s persona perfectly.

“It is. And yeah, he’s very cool. Talked with him for a bit before we started,” Sirius insisted and James quirked a smile.

“Wanna grab a nightcap tonight? We can invite this Remus character as well,” James offered and Sirius’s eyes shone brightly. He couldn’t help it. Remus was cute.

“Yeah, sure! Sounds great to me, honestly anything to stay away from home for the night is good for me,” Sirius grinned.

“Well if that’s the case, then you’ll just have to get too drunk to go home Mr. Black, causing me to insist you stay the night at my place so I can be sure you don’t sick up in your mouth and choke on it,” James grinned and Sirius grinned back. They looked like a right pair of scoundrels right then even if they had no intention of getting drunk enough to even feel their cheeks grow warm. They had the blasted show-stopper tomorrow! They couldn’t make fools of themselves just because they had a pint too many!

“Is that a challenge Mr. Potter?” Sirius poked and James laughed.

“Is that how you see it?”

“Perhaps.”

“I think you mean mayhaps,” James corrected and Sirius snorted.

“You’re fucking weird, Potter. That something you learned in Godric’s Hollow, some posh lingo or whatever?” Sirius taunted playfully and James scoffed.

“You’re one to talk about bloody posh, mate. Sirius Black, named after a fucking star and grew up in rich London. I look like a right plebeian standing next to you. I might as well get down on my knees and kiss your—“

“Alright, alright, you can shut it now.”

“Eh, didn’t go too far did I?”

“Absolutely not, you prick. I’m just annoyed you refuse to acknowledge your own poshness, even if it’s more eccentric and fucking loony.”

“I’m not loony.”

“You just told me to say mayhaps.”

“As a joke!”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure.”

“You better watch your tongue, Sirius Black, I’m not afraid to tell on you to Minerva McGonagall! We’re close personal friends!” Sirius erupted into laughter and James followed suit. The break didn’t seem to last long enough.

Remus stood back at his station rather disgruntled despite having gotten high remarks from the judges. But the attitudes of the two other guys chosen were just abysmal and Remus did not feed well off of negative energy. Thankfully, the girl Alice was an absolute sweetheart and he managed to occupy his waiting time talking with her and ignoring the two other assholes. However, when Alice went to give her shpiel on the first bake, he was left alone with Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, neither of which displayed any kindness.

“That old bat doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Lucius had snarled.

“Neither of them can appreciate true artistry,” Severus had implored and Remus rolled his eyes but his ears burned as the man continued, “Praising an underbaked chocolate sponge. How very soft. I suppose they feel bad with all those scars. Paints a very interesting picture.”

“Hmph, I have to agree. And with all the praise for that brown skin and that black girl,” Lucius had sneered. Remus could tolerate slander directed at him but he drew the line at any kind of racism.

“Hey, you better shut the fuck up,” Remus snarled as he turned around. “To be quite honest I couldn’t give a damn about your bitterness towards the judging but don’t go blaming it on others and don’t you dare bring anyone’s race into this. They have just as much of a right as you or I do and the fact they’re better than you makes you feel inferior. Well, I got news for you mate. You are inferior. And if I ever hear you badmouthing anyone for their race, I will fucking slug you where you stand,” he bit out quietly and without wavering. “Fucking trash,” he gritted out, spitting at Lucius’s feet and glaring at Severus before turning back to ignore them.

The pair behind him continued their conversation much more quietly then and Remus failed to hear any of it but it wasn’t too much longer before Alice came back and Lucius left. She could sense his anger but didn’t ask him about, choosing instead to ask about what he did for a living.

So there he stood, his arms tightly crossed over his chest, glaring daggers into the back of Lucius Malfoy’s head, waiting for the hosts and the judges to arrive, signaling the start of their first technical challenge.

“Psst, Remus,”.said a voice behind him and he really thought about ignoring the guy just because he was in a foul mood. But he relented anyway because he had a feeling that Sirius wouldn’t stop calling out to him until he answered. He turned.

“What?”

“Wanna grab a pint with me and James after we wrap up for the day?” he asked with a brilliant smile and expectant eyes. His heart melted a bit at the sight and he smiled softly. It took him a minute to register what the guy had asked him and then he felt his cheeks flush. He was asking him to hang out after? Him? Remus Lupin?

“James?” Remus asked without thinking or hesitating and Sirius pointed his thumb over to the guy at the station across the way. The man called James smiled a brilliant smile and waved enthusiastically. Remus snorted.

“Sure,” he answered with an easy smile before turning back forward to hide his burning cheeks. He managed to catch a glimpse of Sirius’s own burning cheeks though and the thought made him warm inside.

The technical was a disaster. At least it was for Sirius. He couldn’t be sure about anyone else but he was sure he fucked up his bake beyond repair. All his good graces from the signature challenge would go out the window because he would surely be crowned twelfth place and he would have to claw his way through the ashes during the showstopper just to stay in the competition past the first week. He was embarrassed and he was annoyed with himself for cracking under pressure. Surely he could’ve handled twelve miniature tres leches cakes, right? But no, not at all apparently! His whipped cream was running, his sponges well weak and didn’t hold well after being doused in milk and to top it off, he cut his finger when slicing the strawberries! No one was having a worse time than him, surely.

Except for maybe Marlene McKinnon who was almost in tears at how everything was turning out. How could it be that only an hour ago they were making perfect whipped cream and now it just wouldn’t stiffen? They were on their third attempt and there was only five minutes left in the challenge so if it didn’t work then, they would be serving naked, milky sponges and they absolutely loathed the sound of that. They beat their whipping cream and sugar harder.

Remus Lupin felt oddly calm during the technical. His sponge came out well or so it appeared and he had no way of testing it, his milk concoction was mixed well and his whipped cream wasn’t grainy. All was well at station Remus and he was quite proud of himself although he doesn’t have the self-confidence to believe he’d place even in the top three. But he was still proud of himself.

“Alright bakers, that’s the end of your first technical, if you could, please bring your tres leches up to the Gingham altar and place them behind your visage!” Sluggy proclaimed and everyone seemed to take a collective breath as they stepped back for the first time since starting. Thankfully, Remus had just finished setting his last strawberry atop his cakes and couldn’t help but be pleased as he brought up his platter to the front. He was seventh in the judging so he’d have to wait for Albus and Minerva to get to his bake but he didn’t seem to mind actually was a nice change of events from this morning. He began to fear that his lack of anxiety would be his downfall though and that he’d be taken by surprise and his tres leches would actually be terrible and his sponge would be cracked and dry.

He sat in an odd mixture of fear and calm. But he was sat next to Sirius so that was nice. Sirius looked upset and Remus searched for his photo which was second from the start and frowned. They certainly weren’t the prettiest but they didn’t look awful and as long as they tasted good, he would be fine.

“It’ll be alright, mate,” Remus whispered, trying to sound encouraging and Sirius just shrugged. Remus risked it. He took Sirius’s hand and held it. Yes, he was attracted to the man but also they were in this together. As much as Bake Off was a competition, they were still fighting the same battles and Remus would hate to see Sirius feel alone during this. Luckily, Sirius held on.

“Right,” Minerva said, catching their attention and looking over the bakes with scrutiny. “Let’s see how they did, shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the first bake which was behind the photo of a man Remus had never talked to.

They seemed to enjoy it enough but remarked that the cakes weren’t milky enough and Remus had to stop from blanching at the term used. Milky. Ew. Gross. But they moved onto Sirius’s and the man held Remus’s hand tighter.

“These look a little… disordered,” Albus said serenely. “But hopefully the flavor is good,” he continued as he and Minerva put a piece in their mouths and immediately hummed in delight.

“Quite delicious,” Minerva remarked and Albus nodded in agreement as they moved onto the next bake which was Severus fucking Snape’s.

They didn’t like it. Good.

Next was the red-headed woman across from Remus and they really seemed to like it, stating it almost near perfection. Next came a brown-haired woman that Sirius’s hand tensed at when they got to it, causing Remus to frown. He hadn’t seen the man interact with that woman at all. Interesting.

After the brown-haired woman (Remus should really learn all their names), they moved onto the black woman who was stationed in front of Remus and they also really enjoyed hers, and then it was Remus. He gripped Sirius’s hand a bit tighter.

“They all look very neat which is good, let’s just hope they taste as good,” Minerva remarked as she put a bite in her mouth, Albus following suit. They hummed in approval.

“Quite delicious,” Albus remarked. “This one is going to be hard to judge I can see,” he continued and Remus had to school his face from beaming. But Sirius gripped his hand tighter which made Remus squeeze back.

James was after Remus and he did well but he had thirteen inside of twelve. (Sirius thought James would say something like ‘Well I should get extra points, right? It could’ve been eleven instead of thirteen.’ Sirius would have replied, ‘I think you’re just shit at maths, mate.’) A tanned girl with chestnut brown hair was after James and like Sirius, they looked very messy but the flavor was good.

“The cream is a bit too runny for my taste,” Albus commented and Remus sighed. This is not easy for anyone and it was only going to get harder. Minerva and Albus were picky.

They moved onto Lucius’s which weren’t even topped with whipped cream which made Remus smirk, and then they headed onto Alice who’s were satisfactory it seemed. And they ended with another guy who appeared slightly mousy and even his picture on the altar conveyed a strong sense of panic. He did what Remus would describe as a ‘meh’ job.

And then the judging. Remus kept waiting for his name and he held onto Sirius’s hand tightly and he couldn’t tell who was sweating more. Unsurprisingly, Lucius was last, then Severus, the mousy-looking boy, named Peter, was tenth, followed by the person with the chestnut brown hair, named Marlene, was ninth, followed by the first guy, Frank, then Alice, the woman that made Sirius tense up was named Andromeda and she was sixth. Sirius tensed up again and stayed that way when he was announced to be fifth.

“Sirius, overall a good set of bakes, just a bit of a mess,” Albus noted and Sirius smiled with a nod.

James was fourth and then came the top three which hadn't registered yet that Remus was in. But he quickly realized as Sirius squeezed his hand tightly and Remus held his breath.

“In third, is this one,” Minerva said, gesturing to the bake with the photo of the redhead who’s station was across from Remus’s. “Lily, a really good bake the sponge could be just a bit wetter.”

“These two were really hard to decide between, it was a really a toss up but in second is this one,” Albus stated and Remus raised his hand. Second in the technical! What the fuck! Is this the same Remus he woke up as this morning?

“So that means Dorcas, you are first,” Minerva smiled at the woman’s who station was in front of Remus and Lily leant forward to congratulate her and so did the guy named Frank. She was shocked.

Remus, Dorcas, Snape, and Lucius all got called for testimonials and again, Sirius was bitter. They had a few more things to film just to wrap up the day but either way, he was going to get a pint with Remus and James. But gods, what a day! He had a pretty good signature and he did well in the technical! And he made friends with the hot guy who sat in front of him! Maybe Bake Off is exactly what Sirius needed to turn his life around and to start actually living happily and not in his family’s shadow. It’s only been two days and he already feels like a different person and as long as he doesn’t muck everything up with the showstopper, he feels pretty confident he’ll make it to the next week.

He was packing up his things and also taking out some things he would be using for biscuit week next week just as preparation when Remus finally came back over. “Hey, mate! You did bloody amazing!” Sirius said happily and Remus beamed at him.

“Thanks, Sirius! You did really well, too!” he answered and Sirius grinned.

“Oi, Remus! Remus Lupin!” shouted a voice from across the tent. It was the redhead Lily that James was absolutely smitten with already.

“What?” he asked, his face neutral as she stomped over to him, an unreadable expression clouding her face.

“You and Dorcas, are you two some kind of wizards or something?” she asked, sniffing afterward and Remus grinned at her.

“What, jealous?” he asked, poking a bit of fun but the reddening of his cheeks was absolutely noticeable and Sirius smiled carefully to himself as he watched the exchange.

“Jealous? Me? Absolutely not,” she scoffed. But she smiled after. “Congratulations, you and her seem really fantastic at baking.”

“Hey, you do too,” he answered softly and she smiled at him.

“Yeah well, I was only complimenting you to make you more comfortable so you’d let your guard down,” she shrugged and Sirius watched Remus roll his eyes.

The two of them almost seemed like him and James in the sense that they immediately hit it off. There was no bite behind their words or actions, they were just banting with each other. Sirius felt a green ugly monster want to rear its head in the back of his mind but he quickly shut the door on it. He did not know Remus and he certainly did not know if he was even into blokes. Sure they held hands during the judging of the technical but it was just a high stakes situation. It didn’t mean anything.

“You’re Welsh, aren’t you?” she asked him and Sirius saw the honey-haired man nod out of the corner of his eye. “Could tell from the accent, eh. Well, I’m from Cokeworth, you know in the midlands. I reckon the train comes by both our stops so if you want a friendly face to sit by tomorrow, just shoot me a text. And maybe we could grab a quick cuppa in town before shooting in the morning,” she offered and Remus seemed to light up at the suggestion. It left a warm feeling spreading in his chest.

“That’d be nice! Here, let me give you my number,” Remus answered and both of them pulled out their phones, exchanging numbers and laughed.

“I’m gonna name you Wolf McWolf in my phone,” Lily snorted and Remus playfully glared at her.

“Uncalled for, ginger,” Remus shot back. “Just for that, you will be Little Red to me,” he grinned deviously and she scoffed back at him.

“Hey, there chums!” James’s booming voice interrupted and Sirius was grateful. He was growing tired of watching the two of them flirt or whatever. Yes, he was bitter. Yes, he was a petulant child sometimes. It came with the territory, he was used to getting what he wanted and he wanted Remus. Gods, he’s a mess.

“Ugh, you,” Lily sneered but there was no real malice behind it, Sirius noted. “What is it that you want?”

“The lads and I were going to grab a pint when we wrapped up here. I suppose you wouldn’t want to join us, Evans?” James inquired, his eyes shining brightly and when she snorted, his face fell a bit.

“Not tonight, we have the showstopper tomorrow. It’s rather immature of you to get a drink after today, you couldn’t wait till tomorrow?” she pointed out and James shrugged.

“We could also go tomorrow if you wanted to join then,” the brown-skinned boy offered eagerly and Lily tried to stop the smile from growing on her face.

“Well, we’ll see four eyes. If the three of you make it through tomorrow, then I will think about grabbing a drink with you lot,” she snorted and James was back to full-on grinning.

“Oh I think she’s challenging us, mate,” Sirius finally remarked, glancing over at his new friend who nodded solemnly.

“It would appear so, perhaps tonight we should practice one more time at my place,” James offered and Sirius couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking.

“Alright, everyone! That’s a wrap! See you all bright and early tomorrow! 8 am sharp!” Sluggy called and all of the contestants broke apart and finished getting everything ready for tomorrow. And then he headed out with his new best friend and his new crush. Bake Off was getting interesting.

Remus woke up the next morning with a fond smile already on his lips despite the ungodly hour of the morning he was awake at. The night before had been really fun for him and they hadn’t gotten drunk at all really, just enough to feel a slight buzz but with the promise that no matter what happened today, they would go out again after the showstopper and get properly smashed. Remus was looking forward to it.

He changed quickly and headed downstairs, kissing his mum on the cheek as he entered the kitchen. “Toast for my boy,” she said sweetly and Remus gave her a quick smile before stuffing a piece in his mouth.

“Nervous, fab?” (Nervous, son?) his dad asked from his usual seat at the table, the morning paper open in front of him.

“Ddim mewn gwirionedd, yn ddideimlad yn bennaf,” (Not really, mostly just numb.) Remus answered easily, being completely truthful. His nerves felt fried from yesterday and he knew he practiced as much as possible the weeks following up to the competition. He wouldn’t say he was ready and he also wouldn’t say it would turn out well or he was super confident. But he’d made as much peace as he possibly could with the weekend. Whatever happened would happen and he wouldn’t be able to change. (That’s not to say he wouldn’t be a mess during the actual competition, he figured it was kind of calm before the storm.)

He finished off his toast, grabbed his bag and rushed to the door so he could hurry to the train station. He couldn’t afford to be late.

“Let us know if you’ll be home late,” his mom called and he called back an acknowledgment.

“Hey Little Red, hopping on the train right now, second cart from the front,” Remus sent the message as the train pulled up to the station. He had only arrived a mere 30 seconds before.

Lily texted back immediately. “Sounds good, Wolfie. See u in a few.” Remus smiled and settled into a seat, taking out his headphones and shuffling his guilty pleasure playlist that’s filled with Britney Spears and Lady Gaga.

Lily joined him at the Cokeworth station and he quickly hid away his phone with the incriminating playlist and struck up a conversation. “So, you’re from Wales,” Lily stated and Remus raised an eyebrow.

“So I am,” Remus agreed.

“Speak Welsh?” she asked, light in her eyes and Remus snorted.

“Siarad Saesneg?” (Speak English?) he shot back and Lily grinned.

“Wicked,” she gasped. “What’s it like? Wales, I mean. I’ve never been despite it being just across the way,” she asked and Remus shrugged.

“Green, small, Welsh. I live just outside of Cardiff and the city’s rather nice. If I’m being honest I do love it, I just wish I could get out for a little,” he sighed.

“Like, uni or something? I mean I get it though, Cokeworth is small and everyone knows everyone. It’d be nice to get away but I can’t exactly afford uni,” Lily revealed and Remus looked at her for a second before nodding.

“Me too,” he answered. “I’ve always wanted to go, I love learning, I love studying, I love reading but, uh, we can’t afford it either,” he finished with a mumble and Lily gave him a piercing look. He felt uncomfortable. He knew his scars were noticeable and he knew people would always have questions but it wasn’t their business.

“I say go for it. We both should, money be damned,” Lily retorted finally and Remus raised an eyebrow. “You’re what? 21? I am too, it’s not too late, it’s never to late,” she continued and Remus smiled.

“How’d you guess my age?” he asked and she snorted.

“Didn’t you know? I’m a Seer,” she joked and Remus laughed. “By the way, did you know that Severus lives just over the tracks from me in Spinner’s End?” she added on and Remus tried not to let his mood turn sour. He didn’t want to talk about that dickhead.

“Oh how interesting,” he mused carefully and Lily’s face turned hard.

“The guy is a prick. We used to be friends, you know. When we tykes, inseparable and all that. But he changed and I tried hard to forgive him and help him but he’s just a slimy git,” she huffed and Remus glanced over at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely and she shrugged.

“Past is past, it’s just crazy to see him here after a couple of years of not seeing him and knowing he’s still the same twat he’s always been,” she sneered and Remus nodded.

“I had… a… friend like that,” Remus bit out, trying to keep himself under control as he thought about Fenrir fucking Greyback.

“I’m sorry, too then,” Lily said softly and Remus smiled at her.

“Eh, you know, past is past. A guy tries to rape, permanently disables you as a result, and then you beat the shit out of him. Casual, right?” he offered with a flimsy smile and Lily laughed. He was glad she did.

“You’re a right riot, mate,” she said. “At least you got him back and gave him what’s coming. Fuck that guy,” she continued and Remus scrunched his nose.

“Yeah well, now we’re on fucking Bake Off and Snape may be here too but there’s no way he’s winning. Not with you on the show too,” he offered and Lily rolled her eyes.

“Yeah I think you’re more of the threat to be completely honest,” she answered and Remus smiled a toothy grin.

“We’ll both give him a run of it,” he compromised and she smiled back at him.

“Deal.”

Remus was sure he and Lily would take the train to the tent together every morning they could. He was sure he’d just found a friend forever considering they’d just had a heart-to-heart at 7 in the morning on the way to a baking competition. Plus she shared part of her chocolate scone with him and he’d always been a sucker for chocolate.

Marlene got to the Bake Off grounds earlier than most, the only other person there was Frank Longbottom and they had a very brief but friendly exchange of hellos. Marlene just wanted to get there early to clear their head a bit and focus on the task at hand. They’d practiced their cake sculpture for weeks and they knew exactly what they needed to do in order for it to succeed. As long as there weren’t any major catastrophes, they’d be fine.

They were sat on a tree stomp only a small distance away from the tent when Dorcas Meadowed showed up out of nowhere and plopped down right next to them. “Morning,” Dorcas drawled out with too much pep in her step for 7:41 in the morning.

“Hullo,” Marlene answered with a very small smile. “Lovely day innit?” they asked and Dorcas scrunched her nose.

“Yeah, it is. But it got even better with you in it,” she answered and Marlene immediately blushed. Was this flirting or was she like this with everyone.

“I could say the same for you,” they answered cheekily. “But maybe if you brought me a coffee next time, it would be even better.”

Dorcas smiled. “Oh so, I’m not enough? Need coffee too? Alright, fine. How’d you take it? Black? Cream? Sugar?”

“Black,” Marlene answered back with a playful grin. “One sugar.”

“Oh that sounds gods awful,” Dorcas gagged and Marlene giggled.

“Hey, to each their own,” they snarked and Dorcas rolled her eyes.

“You nervous for today?” she asked and Marlene shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean I think it’d be weird if I weren’t,” they replied and Dorcas nodded.

“Me too, but also. Not really? I don’t know I guess I just feel confident,” she continued on and they nodded along.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good way to describe it,” Marlene concluded, smiling at Dorcas who smiled back.

“Wanna get a drink after today?” Dorcas asked and Marlene snorted but nodded at the same time.

“Yeah, I really do,” they answered. “If you’re interested I packed a joint in my bag, we could share if you want,” they continued and Dorcas lit up at the suggestion.

“Sneaky little thing, aren’t you?” she laughed before saying, “Yeah, that’d be nice. Need something to take the edge off with this competition.”

“Precisely my thoughts,” Marlene smiled and Dorcas smiled right back. Gods, they wanted to kiss her so badly but it’s been less than two days of knowing each other and that was way too forward. But still, the want was there.

James and Sirius showed up to the tent together as Sirius really did spend the night at James’s place. James was oddly kind and perceptive to Sirius’s weird moods when his home life was brought up and he had made a genuine offer for him to stay the night.

“That is if you don’t mind the lunacy of Godric’s Hollow,” James had snorted and Sirius grinned.

“No, I very much welcome lunacy,” he had replied and that was that. Sirius met Fleamont and Euphemia Potter and spent the night in the bedroom next to James. They hadn’t practiced the showstopper challenge like James had suggested earlier in the day but even if they wanted to, they would’ve been able to, considering the size of the Potter’s kitchen. It would send Wahlburga Black on a fucking rampage.

They took their stations easily and Sirius admired Remus from behind as the guy took a spot at the station in front of him, just like the day before. “Still on for tonight?” Sirius asked quickly and Remus turned around to smile and nod.

Sirius took a glance over to find James trying to chat up Lily again and he held back an eye roll. The guy was an absolute disaster but he seemed to thrive on being that way which made Sirius appreciate him even more. He, too, was an absolute disaster.

They settled in quickly after that and the cameras started rolling as Minerva, Albus, Sluggy, and Hagrid all walked in.

“Welcome to your very first showstopper!” Sluggy called out and Sirius leaned forward on his station, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear that fell loose from his bun. “Albus and Minerva would very much like you to make a sculpture of your favorite world monument out of cake. It can be the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Great Wall of China, anything you want but it must be made entirely out of cake and your landmark must be decorated to the highest degree,” he explained and everyone stared at him.

“Yeh have three and a half hours! So on yer marks!” Hagrid boomed.

“Get set!” Sluggy chimed.

“Bake!” the two hosts called together and Sirius rushed to start his bake.

Sirius ran through the process of making his batters very quickly, double-checking that his oven was preheating. He was briefly aware at some point that the judges were making their rounds and they were standing in front of Remus who was explaining his sculpture. He caught words like ‘Northern Wales’ and ‘Devil’s Bridge Fall’ but he was too focused on pouring his batter evenly to be able to entirely hear the explanation.

Just as he was ensuring the pans of batter were even and ready to go in the oven, he was interrupted. “Sirius! How are you today?” Sluggy asked cheerfully and the man smiled at the two judges and the host.

“Hello Minerva, Albus, Sluggy. I’m well today, a bit nervous, but okay,” he answered and they smiled back at him. He bent down to put his sponge batter into the oven. He needed them in as soon as possible.

“What are you preparing for the judges today? Where are you taking us?” Sluggy asked and Sirius held back an eye roll.

“Calais, France. I’ll be sculpting the Calais Lighttower out of raspberry and vanilla elderflower sponge with chocolate buttercream holding it together and fresh-made fondant covering the outside,” he explained and they nodded, obviously wanting more about why he chose the Lighttower. “My family, they have strong roots in France and I used to go there at least twice a year with them. I always loved Calais and the Lighttower is so beautiful, I hope I pay it homage well,” he continued and they seemed satisfied.

“That sounds lovely and you seem to have a lot to do so we’ll let you be,” Albus conferred and Sirius nodded his thanks before running to start his buttercream icing.

Before he knew it, there were five minutes left and Sirius was honestly not very pressed for time. He’d had some banter with the bloke behind him, Peter, as well as Remus which kept the mood light and calm (despite Peter’s obvious nerves and lack of time management; he seemed to be a good artist though). He didn’t have any trouble constructing the tower thankfully and the hardest part of covering it in fondant went better than it did when he’d practiced. All that was left was to imprint the brickwork of the tower with a toothpick and paint on some cracks with black dyed buttercream.

“Bakers, your time is up! Please step away from your bakes!” Sluggy called from the front and Sirius took a deep breath, taking in his full creation and feeling rather proud of it. It looked like a Lighttower and it was standing upright. He just hoped it tastes good. Sirius looked past his own bake and saw Remus’s and was astonished. It was amazing, it looked like he’d painted all the colors of the waterfall and greenery onto the buttercream. And there was a bridge made out of chocolate work that was spectacular. Unless it tasted like horse shit, Sirius was positive that Remus would be Star Baker. The guy was bloody brilliant.

“That looks amazing, Rem,” Sirius gushed and he saw him blush while muttering a quiet thank you as they settled in for the judging to start.

They started with Marlene and went up her row. Sirius watched as Andromeda displayed a beautiful Eiffel Tower and tried not to seethe as she got glowing reviews. He liked Andromeda, she was always his favorite cousin but she was still part of his family and he did not do well with family. Thankfully, neither of them had tried to make contact with each other and that’s how he really preferred it.

James had a beautiful Taj Mahal but apparently, his flavors were a little lacking and Severus’s looked pretty terrible but apparently tasted great. It was a shoddy Big Ben and Sirius thought him to be a prick. He’d never had a conversation with the guy but he just seemed like a fucking douchenozzle.

They went down Sirius’s row and that bloke Lucius who’d been mucking everything up had a lackluster showstopper and Sirius couldn’t even make out a church building let alone the Norte Dame, Alice’s was average it seemed to be, Dorcas’ received rave reviews and Remus’s received glowing remarks about design (as it should’ve). They liked the taste of it and Remus was absolutely blushing on his walk back. It was a great look on him.

“Sirius, would you please bring up your monument,” Sluggy encouraged and he stood for his moment of truth. Honestly, if anyone besides Lucius was booted this weekend, Sirius would be shocked but needless to say, he didn’t feel too particularly nervous about judging. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“Well it certainly looks fantastic,” Albus remarked. “Very tall.”

“Yes, the fondant looks well made and it’s homemade?” Minerva asked and Sirius nodded.

“Yes, it is.”

They sliced through it and the whole thing remained standing, thankfully. They inspected his sponge thoroughly.

“Both looked to be well baked and the buttercream is nice and smooth,” Minerva inspected. The raspberry sponge is a brilliant pink and the vanilla elderflower sponge looks quite airy. Let’s just hope we actually get the elderflower flavor along with the vanilla,” she continued and Sirius watched as they put a piece in their mouths.

Albus hummed. “That raspberry is quite lovely with the chocolate buttercream, sharpness and sweetness both come through really well,” he said simply.

“Yes, I quite agree and it’s a beautiful texture, a wonderful bake on this one. Now for elderflower and vanilla,” Minvera remarked, taking a bite onto her fork, Albus following her lead.

After a second she sighed, “Pity. The elderflower doesn’t come through at all really and the vanilla flavor is very overpowering.” Sirius nodded.

“It’s a bit dry too,” Albus added and he nodded again.

“Thank you,” he murmured, waking forward to receive his bake and head back to his station.

Peter was last and he did fine but not good and that was that. They had a quick break while the judges deliberated, all of them gave small testimonials and then they convened back in the tent for the final judging of the week. All of this was a whirlwind for Sirius, he was dead on his feet but he was still ready to go out for the night with Remus and James.

“This week, I have the pleasure of announcing Star Baker. This baker seems to have an eye for chocolate and a hand for design. Remus, you are this week’s Star Baker,” Sluggy announced and Sirius leaned over the person named Marlene and patted his thigh, congratulating him as he sat there absolutely awestruck. Lily patted his head in congratulations and Sirius sat back in his seat.

“Now I ‘ave the very, very, very sad job of telling yeh who’s leavin’ us this week. I tell yeh, I don’ wanna see any of yeh go and I barely even know yeh!” Hagrid exclaimed, almost crying it seemed like. “This week, the one who’ll be leavin’ us is…” Everyone held their breath but Sirius felt as though it was more for show rather than actual nerves. It could only be one person. “… Lucius.”

Lucius stood up and gave a curt nod and sneered a little but everyone still stood and gave hugs for the week as was tradition on the show. Albus and Minerva went around and congratulated everyone, gave advice to those who seemed to need it, praises to those who deserved it, all while Remus was bombarded with hugs and Lucius was not approached at all very much.

It took too long for the camera crew to call cut on the day in Remus’s opinion but he did cry when he called his mom to tell her he got Star Baker. He honestly couldn’t believe it, he really thought Dorcas deserved it more than him and told her so. She told him to shut up and be more confident in his abilities.

But now, he was heading into the nearby town with James and Sirius to grab a quick drink and maybe get drunk. He was going to get drunk. For sure. Especially with Sirius and James, they seemed to be the types to get absolutely hammered when possible. Lily had in fact tagged along like she said she would and she brought Marlene, Dorcas, and Alice with her.

Remus got progressively more drunk and closer to Sirius throughout the night. Alice left rather early, Marlene and Dorcas spent the entire time talking with each other and Remus almost asked why they hadn’t started making out yet. (Honestly, he might’ve said it later in the night but he was a bit too drunk to fully remember.) James and Lily were talking almost the entire time and she had a hard time pretending to be annoyed by him, even when he really was annoying.

Sirius and Remus spent the entire night talking and he’s pretty sure Sirius told him his whole life story and Remus was also sure he told Sirius his but he was even more sure neither of them would remember in the morning.

Near the end of the night, Remus sent his mum a text that he wasn’t coming home because he was staying the night at one of the other contestant’s houses with a few other people. Lily made sure Marlene and Dorcas got home safe, promising that all three of them would text in the giant group chat they started at the bar. And then he settled in bed with Sirius and James, all three of them muttering drunken nonsense.

“Guys, I have work tomorrow,” Remus murmured, his cheek pressed against Sirius’s arm.

“You can’t go Moony, you’re Star Baker,” Sirius slurred and Remus laughed a very drunk laugh that was all deep and stomach-ish.

“Moony?” he asked.

“Awhooo! Wolf Wolf,” Sirius murmured back. “Moony.”

“Doggy,” James drawled and Sirius pushed him a bit. “Sirius star, Canis Major,” he explained weakly.

“Not Doggy,” Sirius huffed.

“Toebeans,” Remus said flatly. James snorted loudly.

“Absolutely not,” Sirius growled.

“Padfoot,” James stated easily and Sirius huffed as Remus cheered.

“Padfoot!”

“Wha bout me?” James slurred.

“‘Ou got big ears and you get tha-.. tha-.. you know…. ahh-face like that… thing,” Sirius said in an extremely unhelpful manner.

“Oh, I know like the uh… animal.. that..” Remus added trailing off and James let out a noise of impatience.

“What?” he whined, drawing it out as his new friends were being extremely unhelpful. “Moony, Padfoot,” he cried and both other men laughed but Sirius hiccuped loudly causing Remus and James to laugh again.

“Hm, Prongs,” Sirius said, snuffling further into the pillow of James’s bed, perfectly content between his two friends.

“Hm yeah,” Remus agreed. “I have work tomorrow,” he said again and James reached over and pushed on his arm.

“Shu up, Star Baker,” he grumbled. “Tell them no. We have bacon here and you live in fucking Welsh,” James murmured, pressing his face into his pillow.

“Wales,” Remus corrected. “Bachgen ceirw mud,” (Dumb deer boy.) he muttered. James said something absolutely unintelligible

“Hmm quiet, sleepy time,” Sirius yawned and neither of the other two boys said anything as they both thoroughly agreed. It was indeed time for bed.

And Remus did not end up going to work the next day, instead, he spent the day extremely hungover with his two newest and best friends: Padfoot and Prongs. He loved Bake Off before, but now he absolutely adored it.

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elaz-ivero · 4 years ago

Text

It's an Honour to Eclipse | {New WIP} |

[image description: a storefront during midday with the sunlight bleaching giving the photo an orange tint. the glass door has a 'yes we are open sign' on it but the door and windows are behind iron bars. a rainbow is painted on the front of the building, on an angle white text in bold Garamond font reads, 'It's an Honour to Eclipse' beneath it in smaller font, 'A novella' is typed over the image. /end id]

Genre: LGBT +, Young Adult, Mild Mystery

Setting: Wellington, capital city of New Zealand

P.O.V: Third Person, Omniscient

Synopsis: Neveah after leaving university and moving into her first apartment is reinventing herself, discovering the city she lives in, finding the short-cuts, the cheapest restaurants, shaking her head. But when her estranged ex-boyfriend Oka disappears, no one seems invested in his disappearance, no one seems to be looking for the boy she stopped loving and yet his name keeps appearing, turning up in the margins of her life and Neveah is forced to confront the twisted history and secret life of the boy she intended to leave behind.

CW: Religion, drug use, smoking, police violence

[image description: a skyline at dawn, the bottom of the image is cluttered with the tops of colourful houses, hotels, stores and apartment buildings, the sun brings out warm tones hidden in the paint. Above the tops of the buildings, a great blue sky stretches upward and clouds tinged with the yellow of a rising sun. Over the clouds in the centre of the images words in white bold Garamond font that read, 'WIP Beginnings' /end id.]

Frequently my subconscious approaches me with a set of storylines, a character name and a set of random scenes, It's An Honour To Eclipse was a small series of ideas that naturally grew the more I thought about them. I suppose this story came as the result of me moving into a boarding facility in the middle of the city and having to adapt to the fast-paced individualistic world of the great city. My own fear of the housing crisis and the crime rate of a busy city translated neatly into my main character whose whole life surrounds her trying to perfect some form of self-preservation.

The main drive of this story is her relationship or now lack thereof with Oka, a mysterious unfinished boy who drifts in and out of the story. I still don't know where this novella might leave, maybe Oka's captured by an underground secret society of 'face stealers' or people that replace talented local artists. I honestly have no clue but for now, I'm putting it under the vague category of 'mild mystery'. Often, when writing I don't have a firm understanding of my characters or of the ending that is about to surface I follow the flow of expectations and allow my characters personalities and ambitions to drive the story toward its conclusion. Right now Oka takes over the passages, slips into chapters not intended to be given to him, simply because he is a mystery to me and I want to figure out why this boy disappeared and the clues in his behaviour, in the known parts of him.

[image description: a pale arm is turned toward the camera, the cuff of a chunky knit mustard coloured sweater can be seen at the top right-hand corner of the image. At the centre of the image is a coloured tattoo, a renaissance angel holding a branch of baby's breath and wearing a brown and creme-tone cloth himation. In the bottom left-hand corner of the image white bold Garamond text reads, 'Characters' /end id.]

[image description: two images are collaged together, one portion of the image is a close up of a women face she has dark skin and brown eyes, the other portion of the image is another woman on public transit adjacent to a window showing a brick apartment passing by. Slightly central is text in bold white Garamond font that reads, 'Neveah' /end id.]

Neveah, the main character, Spanish and the first female in her family to graduate from university. She's stuck in a cramped apartment and her style consists of what she finds for free on the sidewalk and the brightest clothing at the second-hand opportunity shops. Committed the relationship sin of getting matching tattoos with a boyfriend she couldn't introduce to her parents, a tattoo of the window of their shared apartments in Neveah's there is a sunset in Oka's it's a night full of stars. Neveah is cautious and constantly conscious of how she can improve her situation and herself and tries to best facilitate her own growth.

More points:

Loves sparkling peach and mango juice

Deals with her problems mainly by listening to audiobooks all night and visiting the aquarium to feed the manta rays and stare at fish for hours, at least their coping mechanisms that aren't too harmful.

Neveah has an obligatory shrine to Jesus with the little framed photo...well painting of the son of God sent to her by her parents.

Dangly earrings and platform sneakers are her ish.

[image description: an overexposed photograph of two people, a girl and a boy in a lounge. The girl is sitting up on the couch, a blanket piled over her, one bare leg is extended in front of her. A boy leans against the couch, shirtless and with curly brown hair he looks off into the distance a pillow balanced in his lap. There is a pot plant on a small coffee table in the upper right-hand corner of the image and the ends of some pale curtains fall in the frame at the top of the image. On the bottom left-hand corner text in white bold Garamond font reads, 'Oka', there is texture on the image as though some tape had been laid over the left edge or a rip has been repaired. /end id.]

Oka is a mess, a boy reliant on Neveah's help to get dressed, make the bed, do the groceries. He's tall with brown hair he dyes grey and when he first meets Neveah he's almost quit smoking but crashes back into his addiction when they start dating and every week picks up a bulk box of discontinued unfiltered cigarettes. His dealer likes Neveah and gives her chocolate as a part of the deal and Oka made his living by picking up odd artistic jobs, being a nude model every Thursday, volunteering at an art club and working as a waiter at a local bar. Absolutely hates his Art history degree and will fight their landlord if the rent rises.

More brief points:

Thinks he's super cool for owning a white zippo.

Unironically owns two cowboy hats.

Is actually a pretty good artist but rarely finishes a piece.

Likes ginger drinks and strawberry milk.

Is temporarily nocturnal.

[image description: a wall of framed photographs and paintings, they are organised together in a way that is both scattered and organized. In the bottom right-hand corner there are two lit candles and on the right of an image, a monstera plant is in the corner of the cream-coloured walls. Someone holds a mug in the bottom right-hand corner. In the centre of the image text in bold white Garamond font reads, 'Planning Excerpts. /end id.]

A set of opening lines;

[image description: Over a dark image of pale pink roses growing against a white concrete wall. White text over the image reads, 'For two months all I could think about was diluting detergent- She took the time to change herself, paint thick lines around her eyes and contour muscles she didn't have. She remembered, however, the intricate way that he took up space-" /end id.]

[image description: A city skyline against a greyish blue sky, the building are in tones of brown, red, orange and yellow. In the upper right-hand corner orange text in Garamond font reads, 'Oka took his time, hours to get dressed, hours to eat, every day was half-lived from midday till three hours before midnight.' /end.id]

I see this story changing and developing the more time I put into it but for now, it is made up of its central characters, the colours I associate with the grand city and the mysterious implications of finding someone yourself.

That's an Honour To Eclipse in its rough beginning stages, I'm looking forward to sharing its progress.

-E

#wip intro #wip excerpt #amwriting #writeblr #writingcommunity #novella #ya novels #novel #character analysis #my characters

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gucciwins · 5 years ago

Text

Te Esperé

Harry and you love each other but sometimes it is not enough

Word count: 4673

A/N: I heard this song Te Esperé by Jesse y Joy and I just loved the lyrics. This is filled with fluff and angst. I do present and flashbacks(italics mean flashback). A bit different but I loved how it turned out. This is my first time writing smut. It was a bit hard but I got through it. Writing is about always getting better.

Hope you enjoy !

You let out a sigh as you fall onto the couch. Harry could not help but settle on top of your top of you, seeing how comfortable you look. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with this giant laying on you.

“Are you trying to kill me? It’s our first day here, and I want to live to see tomorrow.” You say in short breaths.

Harry lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.” He sits up goes to sit on his own. “I’ll snuggle myself.”

“Go for it. As long as you’re not smothering me.” You tell him with a big smile.

Harry pouts and lays down gently his head on your chest. “You don’t mean that. Love my arms wrapped around you.”

He’s not wrong. You bring your hand to his and begin to run your hand through his hair. He lets out a small purr that makes you stop because Harry is just the softest human around.

Sitting on the worn-out brown couch, you look to your left to see Harry leaning back, scrolling on his phone. You are there next to him reading Sara Gruen’s book Water for Elephants to distract you from the silence that fills the air.

Sitting next to Harry feels cold. It feels like sitting next to a stranger, and you hate it. You wish for him to cuddle you and hold you close, but it is just not the same anymore. Over time I guess your love just ran cold. It wasn’t like this. It was never like this.

You’re picking up the empty plate to take to Harry that is washing the dishes. He said he cleans because you cooked a delicious dinner. Well, you had made your famous lasagna and thought it was a big treat. He was feeling extra kind, and you decide not to argue. As you wipe the table down, you approach Harry and smile, watching him hum a song under his breath. You hop on the counter because if he is washing dishes, the least you can do is keep him company.

“Sing for me, Harry,” You tell him with a beautiful smile on your face.

Harry has not learned to say no to you and begins to sing the familiar lyrics of your favorite song. Landslide, this song is the one you were singing in the car when he knocked on your window to tell you that you had a flat tire. You like to say that the power of Stevie Nicks brought you together.

Harry turns off the water and dries his hands a bit quickly. Before you know it, he has his hands cupping your cheeks, and he is kissing you with so much passion you can’t help but let out a low moan that changes the calm mood you once had before. It turns passionate and needy. Not that either of you would complain.

You look down at the cup in your hand. It’s the one Gemma gifted you when you spent your first Christmas with them. It has flowers painted all around. You know you can’t give this one away. Clearing up some of the stuff slowly because you know it’s the right thing to do but it doesn’t hurt any less throwing out memories. You love Harry with everything in you, but why doesn’t it feel the same. Why does it feel as if you’re sinking, but you can only save yourself?

Harry walks in the kitchen and stops in his tracks. “What are you doing?” He says panic evident in his voice.

“Nothing, we have too many plates and mugs. I was thinking of taking some to Goodwill.” You look at him, and he seems a bit more relaxed.

“Oh, love. That’s fine. I thought-” He cut himself off before he could say more.

You know what he’s thinking. You’ve thought about doing it before. It sucks that you’ve thought that but how do you make this work. The love is there, but how does one begin to show it again.

The kitchen was one of your favorite places to spend time with Harry because you always fill it with music and laughter, but now it’s quite as if someone died. In this case, it feels as your love has. You both are just too stubborn to let go

You get up from sitting on the couch with Harry and move towards the window. You gently push the white curtain aside and see the two young boys who live next door playing catch with each other.

It brings a smile to your face because you know that one day you’ll get to have that. You want that with Harry. As you keep looking, Harry finally gives in and approaches you from behind. He wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you tight. He leans his head on your shoulder and looks out as well.

“Peter and Steve are very nice to each other.” He says

“Yeah, but May said they still fight over who showers first which ends in a mud war between them both.”

You and Harry chuckled at the thought of the two boys getting filled with mud. That would be a sight to see. Getting to see Harry play and shower your kids with love is something you look forward to in your future together. You hope he does as well.

Standing by the window hurts because you know what used to come, but now all you do is stand here alone. The neighbors moved to a different state because May got a better job offer and her husband agreed it was too good to pass up. You wanted what they had, but you don’t always get what you want.

You know Harry is watching you because you feel his eyes on the back of your head. You want him to come over and wrapped his arms around you. To remind you he loves you and cares. Too bad your left there hoping and dreaming for something that will not happen. He stands, and you tense for a second. He walks down the hallway and up to his room.

You make your way to your bedroom when a photo on a drawer captures your attention. It is Harry and you. You are smiling at the camera, holding a bouquet of pink camellias, and Harry has a massive smile on his face look over at you. This photo is full of love, but where is it now.

"The bed is amazing. I dread getting up from it in the morning," Harry says.

You sit up and look over at him. "I thought I made it hard to get out of bed."

"uh.." Harry stutters for a few seconds. "You're always included when I talk about the bed."

You move and straddle his lap one leg on each side. You lean down close nose to nose. Your lips are brushing gently. "Am I or am I not included because it would hurt my feelings if you just missed the bed." You say softly moving your hips over the hardening dent in his shorts.

His breath cuts short because he knows the game you're playing, and he loves it. Loves when you take control and make him earn your attention and affection in the places he wants it most.

"Well, love my place in life, will always be right next to you." Harry closes the gap between your lips. You forget everything as you get drowned in the love that is filling the air.

You lay on the left side of the bed, ready for bed questioning when was the last time he cuddled you. Was it just last week, or has it honestly been months? When did you stop craving each other?

Harry rolls into bed not long after and shifts so he's not facing you. You're tempted to turn over and pulled him close. He has always loved being the little spoon. You know you don't have the guts to do that, so you close your eyes, hoping your heart doesn't betray you and let you start crying.

It's a new day you repeat to yourself over and over again hoping that when you wake up tomorrow, it'll be as if nothing has changed, but you know better. Tomorrow will be the day you leave. You hope you both can heal with time.

As you walk through the hallway of your shared home, you stop to look at the pictures that have been put up. Each one always makes you smile. One of your favorites is from Anne's birthday where Anne smiled with frosting over her lips and right behind her; you stand with Harry. Your left hand is reaching up to feed him a chocolate cake. Instead of getting his mouth, you get his nose, and he has the most shocked face, it makes you laugh. Your eyes crinkled and nose scrunched up. Harry swears you have never looked more beautiful.

Each picture tells a story, and you're glad Harry insisted on putting up many around the house. You hear Harry yell your know name from the kitchen which causes you to freeze for a few seconds.

"You drank the last Ginger Ale!" Harry exclaims his steps are getting louder.

"Oops" You reply not feeling sorry.

"I'm going to get you." He shouts with no real anger in his voice.

You start to make a run for it too late because you hear his steps. You are about to go up the stairs a hand wraps around your waist and spins you around. You can't help the yell that comes out that quickly turns into laughter. He sets you down gently and leans you against a wall.

He leans in close like a predator who was about to devour his prey. His places gentle kisses on your neck that stop you from moving. You feel your breathing get heavy. He bites a mark in your neck, and you let out a moan that sends chills through your entire body.

Harry leans down and picks you up. He holds you tight by your thighs and keeps kissing down your neck. He stops right above your breast.

"Oh, darling. I want to eat you up" His words are meant to be sexual, but you can't help but let out a giggle.

Harry pouts at you because he wanted to hear another moan and not a laugh although you have the best laugh in the world.

"Baby," He whines.

"H, let's go upstairs, and I'll give you everything you want."

Harry smirks and pulls away from the wall, still holding you. He walks toward the living room and not upstairs.

"Our couch is looking a little lonely, so I'm going to take you right here."

You’re walking away from Harry. The once filled hallway is now empty. The pictures have been taken down over time and never got replaced. It makes you want to cry, but why waste your time on that.

Harry yelled your name, asking you to stop walking away from him. You stop but don’t turn around. If you turn around, you’ll cave, and you’ll stay more time suffering in this hurt. Your love has stopped, but your heart feels like it’s on fire. It’ll take time. You both need to heal.

“Why do you want to leave?” He asks harshly

“Look around you. This house doesn’t feel like home anymore. It lost its color, the spark.” You cry, wanting him to listen.

“We can fix it. It’ll take time, but we can do it.” Harry pleads.

“This has been going on for too long.”

“I love you, isn’t that enough.” He’s crying now.

You turn around no point in hiding your tears. “It is not anymore. We’re broken, and we don’t know who we are anymore.”

“Let’s talk,” He sighs. “Let’s really talk.”

He takes your hand and guides you to the couch. Except you don’t make it there. You collapse in each other’s arms right in front. You both feel the pain and love. You turn your head to the left, and your eyes see the couch. The couch holds the most special memories.

“I can’t believe your mom bought us a couch,” Harry exclaimed.

“She said it’s a gift. One that she hopes is but to good use.” You laugh looking at the note with it because in small letters she wrote a tip for stain removal and underlined on working on everything.

Harry wasted no time before laying down and sighing because it felt excellent on his back. He motions for you to come as well, and you try to tell him no. If you say yes, you’ll never make dinner. You begin walking away when Harry let out the most prominent pout.

“Love, your mom bought it for us to share. It’s not comfortable alone.” He makes grabby hands at you, and you sigh.

You go to sit on the couch when Harry grabs your waist and pulls you to lay on top of him.

“Harry, this isn’t the couch.”

“No,” he answers, “It’s better.”

You’re not going to argue with him because he is right. He’s the most comfortable person. Makes you feel safe and warm wrapped up in his arms. You lay your head on his chest, and you’re lulled to sleep with his steady heartbeat.

You slept although the night safe and sound in each other’s arms.

You pull away. You’re not sure after how long, but you both stopped crying. The room is silent as you both listen to your quiet sniffles. Harry squeezes you tight.

“We love each other.” He whispers, voice a bit raspy. “I know we can make it.”

You don’t want to say anything. You can’t give Harry false hope. What you can give him is one last sleep in your shared bed. The bedroom that was once filled with love, lust, and custom Gucci.

You stand up and offer him your hand. “Let’s go to bed. Please.” You beg him.

Harry takes your hand leads the way up the stairs. He pulls the covers back and lays on his side. You make your way to lay next to him when he pulls you on top of him.

“Keep me warm.”

That small sentence cracks your heart. It’s what Harry would tell you when he had been away for a while and wanted comfort.

Friday, after a long week of work, you drag yourself up to the bedroom to undress and get ready for a bath. Harry should be home in two days, and you want to be relaxed and available for him meaning you are getting work for the next few days out of the way.

Just as you’re settling in the bathtub your phone rings, you let out a groan because you left it in the bedroom hoping to use this time to do some reading. You decide you’ll get up to get it if it rings two more times.

Waiting to hear the sound but all you hear is the tiny sound of a message coming arriving. You settle back and enjoy the warmth of the water.

“Baby, no wonder you didn’t answer my call.” Harry’s sweet voice breaks the silence you had in the bathroom.

His voice startles you, and you drop your book to the side of the bathtub. You are stunned to see him but also a little upset you got your book a bit wet.

“H, you’re home early.” You look up at him with a big smile.

“Decided I comeback since everything got done quick. If I got time to spend with you, I want as much as I can get.” You blush at his kind words.

“Get in with me.” You tell him. “I just got in, so it’s still warm.”

He kneels and presses his soft lips to yours. You let out a sweet hum as he pulls away.

“You enjoy this. I got a few things to unpack.”

He gives you one more kiss, but before standing up, he gives you breast a gentle caress. It makes you let out a small giggle. “Stop that. Don’t play with me. They missed you.”

Harry smirks at your words. “Oh, darling, I know they did. I’m going to take good care of them once you’re out,”

You finished your bath and got out feeling fresh and clean but also a little excited about what was waiting for you in the bedroom.

Harry was lying in the center of the bed, scrolling on his phone until he heard you come in. He placed it on the brown new nightstand on his side of the bed that hadn’t been used much since you moved in.

“Well darling, aren’t you a beauty to look at.” He flashed you that dimpled smile that always left you blushing. This time no different.

You looked at yourself in a small mirror you were standing next too and gave a small smile. Your hair was a mess. Currently looked messy and full of knots. You wrapped yourself in a pink towel that Anne gave you as a housewarming gift it was soft and your new favorite.

Harry was quick to get up and stand behind you. He put his hands on your hips and moved his hands towards your chest as if warning you; he was going to take off the towel and giving you a choice to stop him. You smiled at the mirror, allowing him to carry on. The towel fell to the floor without a sound. Harry didn’t bother to try to hide the smile that came on his face as he saw your naked body.

He wasn’t even touching you, and you felt like you were buzzing. He was admiring what was his.

“As much as I want to touch you in front of this mirror, I would prefer you on your back, screaming my name.”

You let out a moan at his words. “Gosh H, know exactly what a girl wants to hear.”

He leans in close. He gently bites your neck, making sure to leave a reminder. A reminder that you were his as much as he was yours. “Not any girl, baby. Just you.”

In the next few seconds you’re laying on the bed, and Harry is crawling on top of you fully naked but very much ready.

“As much as I want to slip myself right in, got to get your tight hole ready for me.” You moan out his name, just wanting him to do something, anything at this point.

Harry wants to give his girl the pleasure she deserves, but he is craving release as well. He slides his index and middle finger into your aching heat. Harry lets out a small growl when he feels how wet you are for him. A cry falls from your lips, as he works his fingers in and out of you. He curls his fingers in deep, and that makes you arch your back. You want to let out a moan, but it dies on your lips as Harry adds a third finger. The pleasure is too much. You know you will explode soon if Harry doesn’t slow down. Harry knows your body, every stretch mark, every cure, and he is not stopping until you come.

“Let go for me, baby. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“Shit, Harry.” You whisper. “I need you to fuck me.”

Harry stops making you feel disappointed as the pleasure has stopped. He wants to bring you to your release, but his and your needs are louder and stronger.

“I promise after I am finished loving on you, I’m going to love you a bit more in between these beautiful thighs.” He places a small kiss on your stomach that makes you let out a soft giggle. Harry brings his hand to his mouth and sucks each finger one by one.

“Oh baby, always taste so sweet.” He smirks at you. “Have some pineapple, lately.”

You smack his chest lightly but have to laugh because he knows your body well. “It was a kiwi. Have craved lots of it lately.”

“My sweet girl, always thinking of me.”

The talking is over as quick as it started. Harry spreads your legs a little further, and he guides himself right into your heat. You never forget how big Harry is because the stretch he gives you is one that always leaves you craving more.

Harry lets out a satisfied groan. You can’t remember the last time you and Harry were this intimate. The last time you spent time together, it had been minimal that only allowed you to give Harry a gift of your mouth and he was deeply disappointed he didn’t return the favor.

Harry kisses you. It’s a hard kiss, one that says I’m home and I will always be yours. You reach your left hand to rest on Harry’s short curls. As Harry gives you a hard thrust, one that leaves you gasping you pull his hair. He stops for a second, then gives it to you even harder.

“Again, baby.” He’s out of breath, but he is nowhere near stopping. “You know how much I love it.”

He brings his left hand down to your center and begins to rub your clit. He knows your close but lets you know he wants you to hold it. You don’t know how much resistance you have left. You pull Harry down towards you, his lips on your neck. Your nails are digging into his back, leaving red, angry marks behind. You release a soft moan. A tell sign to Harry that you won’t hold on much longer.

You raise your head to bruise Harry with your lips. His hold on you tightens. Your arms wrapped around him; this is it.

Against your lips, he whispers, “Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re both on edge. It washes over you as your back arches and forces you to be closer to Harry than you already were. Harry lets out a groan one that leaves you smiling, knowing this was fast and hot, but it was exactly what you needed.

Harry rests his head on your breasts, making sure to slip out of you slowly. You run your fingers through his hair, making him let out a deep sigh. He knows he has to clean you up but wants to enjoy this moment. The moment of two people in love syncing up their heartbeats as if there was no time away.

“Keep me warm, my love.” He whispers.

“Always, Harry. Always.”

Laying in bed with Harry, his arms wrapped around you. It felt nice as if nothing had been going wrong between the two of you. You lay there awake knowing tomorrow would but it would not be a resolution Harry wanted, but it is the one you needed.

You got out of bed and looked at Harry. He looked beautiful, young, and full of life. Maybe, you were the problem. At this point, you didn't know what your downfall was. You did know you will have to step away for some time.

You walked into the closest and made as little noise as possible. You were packing, you weren't sure for how long but gathered your necessities. Your hand hovered over the sweater Harry gave to you the first time you visited London. You know Harry wouldn't know what you left and took but leaving it behind felt wrong. This relationship has not reached its end, or at least you hope it hasn't.

You held hope for you and Harry, but the timing is wrong. You zip up the suitcase and a duffel bag and take it downstairs. Within the next ten minutes, you're all packed and ready to go.

Go where? You still didn't know.

Maybe Oregon, like you dreamed as a little girl.

You were changed and ready to go when Harry made it down to the kitchen.

"Mornin' love," He speaks softly.

"Harry, I'm leaving." You don't beat around the bush.

He looks confused. Heartbroken.

"But, we said we'd work it out."

"I feel that we aren't giving each other the love we deserve." You sigh, wanting to go over and comfort Harry.

He stares at you. He knows he won't be able to change your mind. He wants to make you stay. He wants to scream at you not to leave him.

"You're it for me. You know that." His voice cracks. "You've always known that."

You nod and step forward. You step as close asHarry lets you. Harry doesn't stop you; he craves your touch right now. You lift your right hand gently to rest on his cheek. He's looking at you heartbroken but with so much understanding.

"Our love is written in the stars. I know you will always be the one for me, but we need time away to be that person we fell in love with." He nods. A tear runs down his cheek.

"We'll find our way back to each other." Harry lets out a small whimper as if your words hurt him.

"And if we don't." He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tight. He knows when he lets go, you'll leave.

"Amor," At the special nickname Harry knows he can't stop the tears. Amor, the nickname that holds precious memories. Your first trip to Mexico together after a few months of dating because the taxi driver said your love is beautiful. The moment when you introduced him to your family as Amor. "Soulmates, that is what we are."

He nods, knowing it's true. He knew it the moment he met you. You're his, and he is yours — time apart to find yourself because somehow you managed to lose yourself while being here the whole time.

"I don't know how long it'll be. It could be days, weeks, or months but I promise we'll both feel it in our hearts when it's time." You don't do anything to stop your tears.

You hold him tight. You don't want to let go, but you do. You pull away. Enough to have him pull you back in and you give yourself this moment.

He pulls his head from resting in your neck to bring his lips to yours. This kiss is full of promise and love. You feel it in your bones. You feel that bond that ties you together. You can't pull away. Harry pulled away very slowly where you feel your breaths on each other's lips.

Eyes closed but a heart open.

"You'll always keep me warm no matter how far I am." He cries.

You step back. You turn your back to Harry and open the door. You don't turn around to face him because you know you'll stay if you do.

"I love you." Strong and loud. Not like anything, you are feeling right now. It's what you both need to hear.

You walk straight to your car, and as your about to get in, you hear it — a shout.

"I love you!"

Stay safe. Stay strong. I miss you. I need you.

You wrap those words tight around you.

Seat belt. Turn the car on. Put it in drive. Accelerate.

Harry watches you drive away. His heart is going with you, but yours is staying with him. He doesn't move to go inside the house. His car keys in hand. He sits on the steps that lead to the front door. He doesn't want to go back inside because that house is not a home without you.

Harry knows you're not coming back; he wants to sit there all night. Harry knows he shouldn't. So, he doesn't. He gets in his car and drives.

Harry drives away from the memories of you and your home.

When the time is right, you'll both return and fill that home like it deserves to be.

Full of love, laughter, and life.

~~~

Read part two here <--

FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED AND APPRECIATED

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #my writing !

829 notes · View notes

temporalwaveofmischief · 5 years ago

Note

Brian and Tim....? Idk if you're into that but. Even just them being friends I Crave Content of them being nice and you? Talented

You ask, and you shall receive

It was Wednesday. The sky was overcast, so far, no rain.

Tim despised rain, but, god he wished for it.

Tim and along with a few other friends of Alex's, were filming a project for their film class. They had to turn in an one hour long film by the end of this year.

In the beginning of production, it was quite nice actually, albeit a bit awkward. Everyone was up-beat and energetic. Tim felt as though he belonged for once and it wasn't anxiety-inducing. Sure, the impending deadline hung over their heads like a pendulum, but everything else was relaxed.

Then, Alex started becoming irritable.

It started with a few irritated comments, 'Act as though you didn't just read from the script' and 'Turn the damn camera over here.'

And it snowballed.

Until, Alex was screaming at everyone over every little mistake someone made. 'What are you doing? Memorize your lines!' And 'God, why do I even bother with you people!'

And tensions rose.

And today was no exception.

Everything that did go wrong, went wrong.

The camera malfunctioned, Sarah read her lines incorrectly, Jay made an error, Brian read the wrong lines, etc.

And Tim's head ached with a head-splitting headache. He didn't get any sleep, and he had to study for an upcoming test.

Tim was in a field with Sarah.

He was acting out a scene where Sarah was talking to him about her feelings for Alex.

"You know," Sarah raised her head up and looked out at the field. "We were great friends. The best, even. And... I don't know if I have feelings for him." Sarah twisted one of the strands of her hair in faux thoughtfulness.

"Sounds like it. Maybe you should go and-"

"Cut! Tim-" Alex approached the other man and pinched his eyes. Tim let out an exasperated sigh.

"What? I didn't read it right? It felt like it was read from a script?! What?! We did this scene twenty times already!"

"It sounded fake. You need to put more passion into it. I'm paying you people."

That, is where Tim lost it.

"Really?! I've done this multiple times. I'm trying my best! And, I'm honestly tired of your bullshit. You've been treating us like we have shit-for-brains. With what you're paying us, I'm surprised half of us are even here."

Alex's face changed from irritated to full-blown pissed off.

"What you are giving me is not even worthy of pay. You people cannot function without me spoon-feeding you."

"Fine. I'm done. Find someone else."

Tim stormed off to the parking lot.

Tim heard someone running behind him. He spun around, and came to face with Brian.

"Hey, man."

"Hey." Tim opened his car door.

"Wait,"

"Let's talk in my van."

Tim considered going home and smoking a whole package of cigarettes. And maybe take a steaming shower. But, he didn't want to abandon his friend crush. If you were to hold Tim at gun-point and force him to confess why he still stayed to act for the dumb film, it was both pity and because he wanted to be closer to Brian.

"Fine."

Brian led Tim to the back of his van and laid down two pillows for them to sit on.

"Okie dokie..." Brian waved his finger in the air and made a motion with it like he was turning the pages of an invisible book. If Tim were not on the verge of bursting a vein or two, he would've found the motion cute.

"I think, we need to calm ourselves down. Afterwards, all of us can talk to Alex and we can try to mend some bridges, yeah?"

"Bri...I'm just so sick of this. I'm tired, and I just want to go home." Tim felt as though he sounded like bratty kid, but he is just past exhaustion at this point.

Brian paused and stared up at the ceiling. Then, he looked at Tim. "I know he was being a huge douche. I personally felt like slapping him a few times myself," Tim chuckled at that.

"And, in no way am I defending what he has done, but, he has a lot of pent up stress. He going through tons of crap. Lots of family drama, college work, and things with Amy are seriously weighing him down. I even received a phone call from him a week ago about having some rather... dark thoughts."

Tim digested all of this. He went back to the times where he himself was overwhelmed with everything. Day after day of the Earth shitting on you can wear down anyone. He felt some sympathy.

"Still, he was acting like a dipshit." Tim noted.

"I agree. He shouldn't take it out on us, but, I think it's also important to know that he's struggling."

"I think you should rest, and then you and him can talk it out?"

"Sure." Tim let out an unruly yawn and stretched out his limbs.

"Wanna drink?" Brian pulled out his ice cooler, it was filled with water bottles and soda cans. Brian pulled out a Coca-Cola.

"Sure." Tim rummaged through the cooler until he found a ginger ale. Tim's mind relaxed. He was alone with Brian. Brian with his starry eyes and his messy brown hair.

They drank their drinks.

Then, Brian came over to Tim's side and sat next to him. Brian hovered his arm over Tim's shoulder. "May I?"

"Sure."

Brian fully rested his arm upon Tim's shoulder. The proximity was making Tim's breathing sporadic.

"Bri." Tim breathed.

"Is this too much?"

"No. J-just.... I have something I want to say. I hope you won't hate me and leave me and never talk to-"

"Shhhh. It's okay. Take your time."

There was a tangible silence between them. Then, Tim coughed and broke from Brian's arms. Tim repositioned himself so that he was facing Brian. Brian followed suit.

"I may have," Tim mumbled the rest of his sentence.

"What?" Brian inquired.

"I-I may have feelings for you. I'm so sorry, you probably I'm a disgusting f-" Brian cupped Tim's face and brought their lips together.

After they dislocate, Tim looked up at Brian with an expression of disbelief and awe.

"I like you and I don't want to see you stressed. Besides, I've seen the looks you gave me. I feel the same."

Brian brought out a blanket from underneath one of the seats, and laid it on top of himself. Brian made a motion for Tim to join him. Tim laid on his chest and snuggled up against Brian.

"Sweet dreams."

#brim #brian thomas #tim x brian #tim wright #babies ❤#everyone's a bit stressed

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meg-tann · 5 years ago

Text

again

a/n: hey my lovelies, you can tell by the title you guys are probably gonna cry but this idea stuck in my head while editing a prince from hell and well I had to get it out of my system. Hope you like it as much as I did writing it.

summary: The reader mum had cancer and when she finally received the news she was in remission while filming, the reader runs to tell her beloved co-star and fiance Sebastian Stan only to find that he was already having a good time without her.

warnings: ANGST!!! and light smut you know if you squit

pairing: Sebastian stan x reader, Sebastian stan x another co-star

Story!

“CUT!” The director David Lynch shouted smiling widely at you and your co-star Luke.

Awesome job guys! I don’t think we will need to be re-doing that scene. Luke, we need you for one more scene but...” He trailed off looking down at his notice board to check again. “y/n we will only be needing you for that final scene later so go ahead and take a break” He continued.

You nodded your head, the final scene wasn’t for another 1 hour so you had loads of time to kill before you needed to head to hair and makeup. You went behind the cameras and popping your bum down on your set chair saying hello to some of the crew and cast there as well. You dug through your duffel bag for your phone and pulled your brown almost ginger hair from its tight ponytail sighing as your hair felt freer.

You almost immediately got bored and your gaze shifted to your fiance Sebastian’s trailer that sat about 60 metres away from where you were, He had gone in there earlier because he said that he needed to take a phone call and hasn’t come out yet, You shrugged thinking it was probably important so you decided to scroll through Instagram replying to some of your fan’s comments on your recent post. It was a picture of you that Luke had taken of you whilst on a break.

Your beautiful body that you worked hard for was clad in a skin-tight black leotard suit much like Scarlett Johansson’s black widow costume. Your hair was flowing freely in the wind and the light had hit your face perfectly highlighting the faint freckles scattered around your cheeks. You had your fake guns strapped into your thigh holsters and was holding onto Luke’s sword that you had swung behind your neck. Your face was tilted up slightly and a soft death glare and smirk that you confidently wore on your face. You looked absolutely badass.

Several celebrities ranging from Robert Downey Junior to Zendaya, Tom and the rest of the spiderman far from home cast were posting lovely comments down in the comments section. It made you smile widely.

You continued scrolling through Instagram when you got a call from your dad, You instantly picked up thinking that something was wrong with mum. Three years ago, your mum was diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer and the doctors gave her about a year to live. This news absolutely devastated you and you didn’t leave the house for days until Sebastian forced you to go visit her in the hospital. Even sick, your mum managed to make a smile and look beautiful. You and Sebastian helped pay for her Chemo Therapy and her different treatments which eased your conscience slightly knowing that she was getting the best treatments available.

You picked up the phone and walked away quickly to get some privacy but you stopped instantly in your tracks when you heard your dad let a cry. You felt tears building up and your mind went straight to the worst-case scenario.

“Dad?” You said wavily.

“Hey love” Your dad answered.

“Is mum ok? Why are you crying? Oh my god please tell me she is ok? I’ll fly back right now” You started panicking, tears leaking out earning you some concerned looks from the crew walking past. Then, your dad let out a laugh or joy which confused you beyond the end.

“Love, your mum is in remission. The doctors confirmed it today” Your dad said, you could practically hear his smile through the phone. He expected you to be screaming with joy but he was only met with silence.

“Darling?” He asked concerned. You were frozen, your mum was in remission. It finally started to settle in.

“Oh my god”

You repeated crying tears of joy, collapsing to your knees. YOUR MUM WAS IN FUCKING REMISSION.

“She’s ok”

“Oh my god” You continued to cry, it seemed like the only words in your vocabulary suddenly was ‘oh’ ‘my’ and ‘god’ but you didn’t care. The smile never left your face as you continued to talk to your dad and even mum for a few more minutes as mum needed to rest from jumping up and down so much from the news and hugging the doctor. You swore that women is the most inspiring person ever.

When you put down the phone, you screamed out in joy and ran around the set nearly bumping into a few people and cameras. You ran all the way to Sebastian’s trailer, not bothering to knock even though he was probably busy with the phone call. You burst into his trailer.

“SEBASTIAN! MY MUM-” You started to say before cutting yourself off when seeing where your fiance was or better yet who your fiance was with. Your mouth dropped in shock when you saw Sebastian on top of Michelle, the girl who played his love interest in the movie. His cock was still inside of her and when his annoyed gaze shifted to see had interrupted them, only to see you on the verge of tears. He gasped and stopped everything jumping off Michelle.

“Sebastian?” you asked in a small voice, tears falling rapidly down your face. You watched as Sebastian struggled to pull on his clothes that he had thrown on the floor from his previous activities. It was like all the feeling in your body had left, you couldn’t feel anything. Until Sebastian came forward and grabbed your wrist. Suddenly, anger and pain flooded into your system and you roughly slapped his hand off of you.

“Stay to fuck away from me” You hissed at him, anger and hate dripping with each word you spat at him. You saw him wince with each word but at this point, you didn’t seem to care. You spun around and ran out of his trailer only for him to run after you without even one doubt in his mind.

“Y/N!” You heard the voice that used to bring you comfort but now just brought you pain. his voice. You didn’t even glance back to look at him but he was persistent.

“y/n! please just look at me! please” He begged. You turned around swiftly, walking up to him.

“What” You spat looking up at him.

“Please, that wasn’t what it looked like” He begged some more.

“Really? really Sebastian because it looked to me like my fiance was fucking that slut I call a co-worker. All I wanted to tell you was that my mum was in remission but I guess that is not the only thing that made me cry today” You spat more. He might be taller than you but you watched at that second where Sebastian didn’t look like the big strong man that he played out to be.

“Hey, she is not a slut,” He said and your eyes widened in disbelief. That was he got from that? seriously? and to think that my mum actually loves him like a son. You scoffed, turning away and walking away from him but he ran after you and grabbed your forearm tightly. A little too tightly.

“ok ok please just listen” Sebastian pleaded.

“With you filming for this movie and you being the main character and everything, I just didn’t see you as often anymore and I-” You stared at him and let out a pained laugh.

“You didn’t see me as much anymore” You scoffed, tears not stopping.

You turned to face him, you were so close that you could feel his shaky breath on your tear-stained face. “That is absolute bullshit” You whispered.

“How many times were you the fucking main character in a movie Sebastian? HOW FUCKING MANY?!” You shouted poking him in the chest each time.

“SO fucking many and NOT ONCE did I ever cheat on you! Even when you left for months and then re-shoots! NOT once. And now when I finally get my big break you cheat on me then come up with a bullshit excuse? because let me tell you something Sebastian, You are a piece of shit.” You spat.

That's when you saw it, the change in body posture and facial expression. Sebastian was fuming.

“You know what you piece of shit? You wanna know the truth? Sure I fucking cheated on you because YOU are a disgusting rat and fucking terrible in bed. I only fucking proposed to your sorry ass cause I felt bad for you to know you wouldn’t be able to find anyone else. ” His words dripped in hate, you looked in his eyes to see if it was just the rage talking but no. He meant it. He really did.

You finally cracked. You let a sob of just pain as it flooded every inch of your body. You stared at him but his face didn’t soften in the slightest, the same hate that spat those hurtful words at you. You looked down at your finger and saw the beautiful diamond ring that Sebastian proposed to you with.

You remembered that day so clearly, It was 2 years ago. You were wearing a flowy flowery maxi dress and Sebastian was in your favourite tight black shirt and black jeans that hugged his thighs so nicely. It was sunset and the sky was filled with vibrant reds, oranges, pinks and purples. The palm trees were blowing in the wind and the fairy lights that were hung from each made the place look like a fairytale. The waves were crashing against the rocks as you and Sebastian strolled down the white sandy beach of Hawaii. You sighed happily and let go of your boyfriend of 3 years Sebastian’s hand to turn and get a better look at the sunset.

“Thank you for taking me here sebby,” You said smiling and breathing in before turning back to smile at your boyfriend. Then, your breath caught in your throat, there was Sebastian, down on one knee, holding out a beautiful yet simple diamond ring.

“Y/n, you are literally the most beautiful women in the world and you are my whole world. You are my everything and I love holding you when we sleep, I love kissing you goodnight and whispering soft nothings into your ear when you have a bad dream, You are the only women I could ever see myself with. You are brave, talented, kind, selfless, loyal, funny, generous and so so so pretty. I would continue but we would be here all night and day if I listed everything I love about you. Urgg... I had this whole speech planned in my head and I’m just-” You cut him off by collapsing down the sand, crying and hugging him so hard that you both fell to the sand.

“Yes,” You whispered shakily into his ear. You looked at him and pressed your lips into his soft pink ones.

That night was the first time that Sebastian made love to you and truly showed you how much he really loved you.

You went silent replaying that memory as you snapped back into reality, the only sound was Sebastian’s fuming breaths and your sobs that you tried so hard to choke back. You watched as he didn’t say anything but hold out his palm, no emotion placed on his face. You let out a final cry as you wiggled the ring and so many memories off your finger placing it in his hand.

He whipped his hand back and immediately walked away not even giving you a second glance. You did what you knew, run.

You ran out of the set building. Little did you know that, after you turned away Sebastian did look back. He looked down at his hand to see the ring, the pain finally set in knowing that you were gone and it was all his fault. He didn’t mean anything. He loved you.

He ran after you.

You ran until you reached the main street. The pain was still flooding your veins.

“Your disgusting rat”

“Terrible in bed”

“Sorry ass” “Felt bads for you”

“Never be able to find anyone else to love”

It repeated over and over in your head. You wanted it to stop. Your tears didn’t stop flowing and you didn’t notice that the light had become red when you started crossing in the middle of the road. The last you heard was the sound of a car horn blaring loudly and a strong impact on your side. Everything went black.

You were free.

Sebastian ran and ran, He finally reached the main street. There were police and a crowd of people all surrounding one spot. He felt the blood leave his face and he prayed that nothing happened.

“Move it people”

“fucking move it”

He said pushed roughly through the crowd. That’s when he saw you. Your eyes were closed and there was dried up blood and fresh blood dripping from your head and stomach, staining the concrete road. He gasped and dropped down the ground not caring if he hurt his knees. He grabbed your body and hugged it close to his chest. Your blood staining his t-shirt, pants and hands.

“No no no no no”

“Hey babydoll, you're ok, you have to be”

“please god no, please don’t leave me”

“You're ok”

He cried and cried. He felt sick like he was going to throw up, his body was numb as he just cried and cried. He rocked your body back and forth. He couldn’t lose you. He reached his blood-covered hands into his back pocket and pulled out the ring. He cried as his trembling fingers slipped the ring back onto your ring finger along with the diamond-encrusted wedding ring that he had purchased a few months ago. He looked inside and reading the writing engraved into the ring. ‘sunt cu tine până la sfârșitul liniei prințesei’

Romanian for “I’m with you till the end of the line princess” Sebastian whispered to himself before letting out another cry

He reached up to your neck and noticed that you didn’t have a pulse. It was like a spear had stabbed his heart 50 times and somebody ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it continuously.

Finally, the paramedics arrived and he was forced to let go of your body. They offered to let him ride with you which he immediately said yes.

He watched behind the glass as they tried to get your heart beating.

He watched behind the glass as they failed.

He watched behind the glass as they tried again.

He watched behind the glass as they failed again.

He watched behind the glass as they announced the time of death.

He prayed.

“You can’t leave me y/n, this is all my fault, please god take me instead” He pleaded.

“Please don’t leave me”

“please”

“I can’t live without you”

beep. beep. beep.

Your heart started beating.

again.

x end x

a/n: ok, I’m sorry that the ending was shit but I hope you kind of like it. let me know.

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan smut #Seb Stan #sebastian stan fluff #happy birthday sebastian stan #seb #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan angst #sad #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes angst

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