#i guess i too would get a kick out of startling and making god uncomfortable

[glitterdragonthegreatprotector]

I don't think my mom is awake.

I think Wolfgang knows too, as he is now near my side of the bed-

[skipper19]

Imagine this...

Wade Wilson is and always will be a cocky bastard. And ever since the..upgrade, so to speak, he will always be a little crazy as well. He's also a very good observer. Most people think of Wade as more of an idiot than anything, which isn't necessarily wrong, but he's not completely ignorant either. He makes astute observations all the time.

Especially after he met you. A hobby of his includes people watching. He enjoys making guesses and hypothetical observations about people based on how they perform naturally. This became especially true after he met you. It wasn't under the best circumstances, that's for sure, but it's a story for another day. Basically, you killed him (if he could die), and he became obsessed. Simple as that.

No, it's not really because you.. incapacitated him. People are after his head on a platter all the time. It was more because you did it on accident, isn't that fun?

Wade was chasing some poor robber down the streets. Chasing is a bad word for it. He was more like following him. The poor asshole decided to steal some ladies' purse, but Deadpool happened to be nearby. The man gave chase, and Wade began to happily skip after him down the streets of New York.

He was happier than usual because Spider-Man had requested his help in New York, hence why he was there in the first place. This was unfortunate for the robber. Wade happily unsheathed his sword as the robber backed himself into the dead end of an alleyway. "Alright, macho, I've got plenty of time to teach ya some manners. 'Cause honestly, it was so rude of you to take that ladies shit. Like, you didn't even ask. I can't let you walk around with a bad attitude like that!" And his joke would have been perfect, say the line and then cut off one of his legs. But he didn't get to the punchline before a heavy metal bucket fell onto his head.

The robber didn't hesitate to take his chance and run as Wade's neck snapped, and he fell to the ground. He wheezed as he blinked, struggling to move. "Oh.. oh, this isn't fun." His voice sounded as if his lungs were being squeezed. He couldn't move anything but his eyes and mouth, so he couldn't turn his head to see who was running out of the side door to the building.

Quick footsteps approached his folded body, and he could see their feet. Or rather, their shark slippers. "Oh my god.. Oh my god. I just killed a man." The voice panicked. "Ah, don't worry about it -" but he was cut off as your foot came flying in contact with his nose. You screamed and covered your mouth, eyes wide as you eyed the man on the alleyway outside your apartment.

His neck snapped in a way that made your gut queasy, and his, now broken, nose looked funny, pointed so far to the right. Even through his odd mask, you could tell it wasn't a pretty one. You didn't mean to kick him. It just happened! You thought he was dead, and then he talked, and he sounded so casual that a natural fight or flight picked up in your brain and...well yeah.

..now you're dragging him into your apartment elevator. He was heavy, and you couldn't tell if it was because of his suit and armor or because of his own body weight. It was probably both. Luckily, the landlord just recently got the elevators fixed. You might have given up the moment you saw the stairs if they were the only option.

Now you were really doubting your decision as you stared down at this masked man on your couch. Basic respect kept you from pulling up his mask, and anxiety kept you wondering if the couch was too uncomfortable. You then had to remind yourself that you broke his fucking neck before dragging him up here. A deep sigh escaped your lungs, and you moped to the kitchen.

It didn't take long for your cup of coffee to brew, and you hummed in delight as you smelt the beverage. It may have been too late for caffeine, but you really needed a pick me up after the day you were having.

"Oh damn, I love that brand! Can I have some?" Wade's voice startled you, and your glass slipped from your hands. Hot coffee poured down the front of your cotton shirt, and you gasped in pain before dropping the mug. The noticeable cracking of the mug slipped your mind as you hastily pulled your soaked shirt away from your skin. You did NOT need to be burned on top of everything today.

Wade kissed his teeth and held a fist up to his mouth, tilting his head as if he had been the one burnt. "Ah, fuck, really didn't mean to scare ya toots." Ironic, you thought to yourself. It was way past that point after breaking his neck and-

.. wait, he looked fine. No, that's impossible. Surely you just couldn't see him properly because of the dim lights in your kitchen. Or maybe it was because of his suit. Oh! Perhaps you were dreaming, and all of this was a big nightmare.

"Uhm..nope, I'm very real princess." Wade's voice cut through the tense silence. After a few more seconds of staring at him, your eyes rolled back, and you stumbled to the floor. Wade wasn't even slightly fazed by this. He's had worse reactions to a first meeting with a stranger.

"And you haven't even seen my face yet, sweetness." He mumbled as he kneeled down next to you. He debated on what to do for a few seconds before huffing and shrugging his shoulders an 'oh well.' He stood back to his feet and opened your cabinet to find a clean mug. "Ohh~ I haven't had good coffee in ages!" He spoke to your unconscious form in excitement, pouring the hot liquid into the yellow mug. Wade smiled as he downed the coffee in one gulp, the steam coming out his nose. "That's the shit right there.." Wade belched with a nod.

And that's how he met his shy girlfriend..

-------------------------------------------------♤

Months went by, and it wasn't long before Wade Wilson was wrapped around your finger. He would randomly appear in your home and stick around for hours at a time. Most nights, he wouldn't stay all night and would get out of your hair as you went to bed. Eventually, he came around and began sleeping on your couch.

This evolved into the big idiot coming to you after every mission, no matter the shape he was in. You became used to his company, and luckily, you grew used to the sight of blood and gore pretty fast. Even better, you enjoyed his personality. He was surprised with how fast you grew comfortable with his insane rambling and odd comments to "the audience past the screen." He found his feelings for you to start growing out of proportion.

Once he realized just how down bad he had gotten for you, he was very bold about his feelings. He wasn't trying to hide a single thing around you, especially his adoration for you. One thing led to another, and you both began to date.

After he brought you home blood-soaked take out bags and got down on one knee like he was going to propose to you. Outside of your home. Where all your neighbors could see, of course.

Despite the rocky start, it was a hit. The relationship between you both blossomed into a happy routine. But this didn't mean you grew out of your shy personality. Since day one, you have been quiet and reserved. And not in the way that you were keeping secrets. You answered any questions Wade had for you without missing a beat. But you would never initiate things unless he did. You never asked to see his face. You never once stated you wanted to know his career. Hell, Wade had to tell you himself that you should be angry with him for dragging blood into your apartment.

Wade was definitely the opposite. He was cocky, loud, flirtatious, funny, and if he had something to say he would fucking say it. He didn't need someone else to do it first. Perhaps this was mostly because he was an impatient man, but also because he had never been afraid of conflict. Hence why he became a mercenary in the first place. Plus, the money was damn good, too.

On one of the more slow days, Wade had decided to stay in your apartment and just wait for you to return home from work. You hadn't texted or called since your lunch break earlier, but he simply thought it was because you were busy. Surely you would call him on your way home, like you always do, to make sure he didn't need anything at the store. But your call never came.

Instead, Wade heard the front door quietly open and close. He smirked softly at the soft footsteps in the entrance hallway. "Took you long enough short cake! I was getting worried thinking about ya, I didn't want to have to eat dinner without my favorite dessert around." He would often tease you like this, and every time you would respond with a shy smile and a fond eye roll.

It was a beautiful smile.

And Wade felt his heart drop when he looked over his shoulder, peering over the back of the couch, to see you standing there. Your cheek was swollen, a slight cut on your lip, and a distant look in your eyes. There is no trace of the sweet girl he loved so much. You looked so numb at the moment.

Wade didn't hesitate to stand from the couch, but his actions made you blink out of the trance you found yourself in. You glanced at him and looked down at the floor, eyeing the trail of mud you tracked through the house. "I'm sorry.." You mumbled. Wade didn't get to say anything before you kicked off your shoes and started walking to your bedroom.

Wade silently followed you until he was standing in your bedroom doorway, watching you change into something more comfortable. You were moving like a zombie. He hated it. He was so used to your timid and slow movements because that's who you were. But this was..this was heartbreaking.

"I'll, uhm.. I'll clean up the mud after I change." You mumbled, pulling your arm through the hole of the T-Shirt. Wade stepped forward with a sigh. "Honey -" "I can cook dinner after, I meant to stop and get groceries on the way home but..I got sidetracked." You interrupted him, your quiet voice sounding forced. Almost as if you were holding back tears.

"Baby, stop -" But you interrupted him again when you attempted to push past him, probably trying to go to the kitchen. Wade gently gripped your arms to keep you in place as he stood in front of you, blocking your way. Your gaze stayed planted in front of you, as if you were looking through him. Wade leaned down so you would finally look at him. He could see the bruise forming under your eye better now. And something in his gut twisted painfully at the sight.

"What happened?" He said softly. You shrugged, and your eyelids fluttered softly. "It-It doesn't matter now. It's over, and I just want to relax." You sounded like you were trying to make yourself believe it more than Wade. And his eyebrows (or rather, where his eyebrows would be if he had any hair) furrowed, and he held eye contact with you. "What. Happened?" He was more stern this time.

Perhaps it was his serious demeanor that caused your facade to crack and crumble. He was never this way, even when he returned home missing limbs. The concern in his voice tilted your already fragile state. And you began to sob. Wade hadn't expected such a turn in emotions so fast, and he pulled you into his chest. He easily ran his fingers through your hair as he waited for you to calm down. Maybe Wade wasn't a patient man, and he was definitely too cocky for his own good, but when it came to you, he dropped all of this and just became Wade Wilson.

The man before the tests and experiments, before the laboratory and cancer, when he was just himself. And he loved that you did this to him. You put the scrambled pieces of his mind back together by just being with him. By loving and supporting him. And Wade would be damned if he let this situation go. He would stay and put your own broken heart back together. He didn't know what happened, but he could take a guess. And it wasn't pretty.

Especially for whatever asshat decided to lay their hands on you. But Deadpool could worry about that later. Wade Wilson was more worried about his girlfriend at the moment.

He soothed you and rubbed circles on your back, allowing you to cry into him. It was just you two in the whole world right now. And that's how you liked it. Everything else could wait until later.

[agentstarkid]

This little story turns one year old this July 31st!

We hopped with Girlie on a rollercoaster of finding (true) love, being quarantined in a foreign country, lots of internet meanies, making new friends, angst, heartbreak, depresh sesh, finding love again and so much more to come -- What a wild journey it's been, and I'm so proud I took the leap!

Looking back a year ago, I can't believe how far this story and I have come. I remember being so full of uncertainty and nerves to post that first chapter, and now, a whole year later, I'm writing little blurbs and one-shots in a whole different language to my main one.

And to celebrate this milestone with you guys, the DAN-Y/N stans out there, and as a thank you for all these 365 days of support and love to Danielito & Girlie's love story—a.k.a. my baby—, I put together a list of dialogue prompts from where you can pick one—or as many as you'd like—and send it to me so I can write a little blurb to go with it!

You can request a specific moment on the fic you'd like to see more (c'mooooon, they were together for 2 whole years! Let's see if you've been paying attention hehe), or just make a general request with a quote of your choice (or you can suggest one! Can't promise much on this, but I'd try my best to bring it to life, unless it is smut. I can't write smut for shitzels yet soz).

I'll be accepting resquests for the next 2 weeks!

✧. ┊ Series Masterlist

P.S. Fingers crossed next month I can—finally—post a new chapter! Adult life has been kicking my ass these past months so please be patient with me! — But my inbox is always open to talk! :)

— All the dialogue sources are linked!

“These are way too many, omg, I’m being squeezed by these pillows, love!” “Well I just, you know, thought that since you like to hold on to me while you sleep but we can’t do that right now, I decided to bring you all these.” “Aww, I appreciate it, baby, but would you mind moving some? And even though I do have these, I will miss your warmth beside me.” 

“You weren’t uncomfortable back there, right? I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” “No, no, I wasn’t. Thank you for doing that.”

"You had no business looking that good back there."

"Those could be our kids one day." "What...?" 

“They don’t know you, love. They don’t know how much we love each other. Let them think what they want to. It doesn’t matter, you know why? Because you are enough. We are enough.”

“I don’t want you to be perfect, sweetheart. I want you to be who you are.”

“I…I wasn’t sure if you’d like this, so I just bought all the colors they had there.”

“Stoooop. Stop making me all��” “All… what?”

“Sorry. I just... like seeing that I have an effect on you, I guess.”

“Life would suck complete testicles if it weren’t for you.” 

“I like seeing you this way. so… at ease. makes me wonder how anyone could ever purposely put you under stress and live with themselves afterwards.”

"I know you're struggling right now, and it's okay, okay? We'll get through this."

“With you, I see a forever I’ve never envisioned before. Not that I didn’t want to, it’s more because I wasn’t able to… At least until I met you.”

“God, I really don’t want to leave”.

“I’m so deftly terrified of falling in love. Because what if I end up with a broken heart? That thought itself is just so scary to me. I want to, but I can’t get over that fear.” “Then how about you let me be that first step you take into falling in love? I can help you get over that fear, if you’d let me.” 

“People say they fall in love like they fall asleep — slowly, then all at once. But the way I fell for you can only be described as that feeling when you’re drifting off to sleep, only to feel like you’re falling, oh-so-suddenly. So suddenly that it ends up startling you awake; heart racing in your chest because it feels like you fell off the precipice of a cliff. It’s quick and sudden, and there’s no slowness to it. It’s a crash and burn type of love that I feel.”

“They say the second time’s the charm.” “Was the first time not charming enough for you?” “No, but the second time’s going to be even better, I promise.” 

“If people can hate for no reason,  then I can love for no reason too.”

“I dunno who taught you that love comes with conditions and limitations, but mine doesn’t. Not when it’s you.”

“I don’t know how to ask for help i just— I’ve never had anyone to ask for help from before.  so…this is me trying i guess.  I need it and i’m afraid to ask for it.  That's the best I can do.”

“You really think a relationship should be that hard?” “No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.”

“If you don’t kiss me, right now…” “Then what?” “Then I will have to do it myself.”

"I think destiny wants us to be together, and you should never argue with destiny.”

“What do you think is our song?”

“I can’t concentrate, when you look at me like that.” “Well, you should be concentrating on me instead, so…”

“Sing for me.” “What would you like to hear?”

“I feel like I can breathe better with you around.”

“You’re much better off without me.” “You’re not the judge of that.”

“I love you, okay?! And I can’t stay in your life when I’m just ruining it.” “You can’t just say that and don’t wait for me to answer.”

“Your mom is coming over today.” “Tell her to bring fried rice or she’s not invited.” “You tell her, she’s your mom.” “But she likes you more!”

“Wait, you can’t swim?” “I was always more into sports on land where, you know, I can’t drown.” “I will teach you!”

“Every night before bed I write three good things that happened to me. And every night I find myself writing down your name.”

“God, don’t do that. You’re going to make me go on Santa’s naughty list tonight.”

“This heart belongs to you, and only you. And I’d hope you want to keep it for a very, very long time.”

“What matters isn’t the place, but the person you’re with at that place. So this is to say, being with you is enough for me. So long as you are there, then all is well.”

“If you don’t wanna spend the night in a empty house, you could always come over to mine.” 

"Hey, i think i can fit over here in this corner." "What are you, a plant?" "Maybe. you shine on me every day, after all."

“I don’t know what the future holds. all i know is that i hope you’re in it. “

“Annoying you is what I’m best at.”

“You get to curl up in my lap, and I get to watch a cinematic masterpiece in peace and quiet. i think this is a pretty sweet deal.”

“This is your home, just as it is mine.”

“That was your master plan? Really?” “No, my master plan was having no plan actually.”

“When life gives you lemons, squirt the juice into your enemies’ eyes and watch them whimper.”

“Maybe i'm too late to be your first, but right now, i'm preparing myself to be your last.”

“Over everything, I choose you.”

“You’ve given me so many memories, I'd hate it if you become one”

“I hope you heal from the things you dont wanna talk about”

“I was gonna marry her…”

“Because you always been my ticket home…”

“Have you ever gone stargazing?” “yeah, i’ve seen your eyes a few times.”

"Oh God- why are you half-naked?" "nothing you haven't seen before, love" "it's freezing, go put on a shirt-" "Nah, you can warm me up." 

“You never have to fear that you’re losing me.”

“Aw, you brought out the smile.” “Which smile?” “The one reserved for the people you love.” “How could you even tell?” “Because that’s how you smile at me.”

“No, you’re not allowed to smile at me like that.”

“This is not some predestined soulmate shit or fate or whatever. I love you all on my own. Because you’re awesome and because I want to.”

“You know, I prefer you naked, but that dress also looks breathtaking on you.”

“Believe in the me that believes in you”

“Work can wait. You need rest.”

“I got the recipe from your mom, i hope i did it justice.”

“I think i deserve a cuddle for letting you stick your icy little feet on me all night.”

“Ok…so, umm I made this playlist for our first month anniversary. I hope it’s not too bad!” “Omg, this is- I can’t believe it! I always wanted someone to make me a playlist!” 

“You already are a handful. Together, you guys are insufferable.”

“I’m right here.”

“Careful, or I will fall for you.” “You’ll be fine. I’ll buy you some knee pads.” “Knee pads but no helmet?” “If you’re falling for me, you’ve already taken a hit to the head.”

“Uh-oh.” “What’s wrong?” “That’s their ‘oh, you messed with the wrong bitch, bitch’ face.”

“You look like an idiot.” “You know, other people would say it’s nice to see me so happy. Or that I have a beautiful smile.”

“I’ve never seen you this happy before.”

“(Congrats.) You’re one of us now.”

“Please, never apologise for wanting to be loved.”

“Come on. I’ll show you how to dance”

"Are you still mad at me? I mean, it's okay if you are. I'm mad at myself, too."

"Put your head on my lap and sleep a little."

 “I don’t want to go to bed angry…can we please talk about this?” 

“Your cheeks are really soft.” “Stop squishing them!”

“You didn’t have to do anything…” “But i wanted to.”

[yourstruly-caycay]

Buddah, Loki, Poseidon with s/o who always covers their chest/collarbone area, and when they finally show it to them it turns out they have a big scar from a knife.

Nice! Hope you like it.

Buddha

It's summer today, and Buddha are wondering how you can wear a sweater in a hot days, "Hey, isn't today too hot for you to wear sweater?"

"Oh, I'm actually okay with wearing this in summer-" Buddha scoop you an ice cream.

"Then have some ice cream, you're totally melting right now." You chuckle and appreciate the ice cream. Deep down, Buddha is curious why you’ve been covering your collarbone area this past few months.  

It’s already five month you both start dating, It’s actually doesn’t bother him at first. But time pass by, he feel bother with it — as if there’s something she’s hide from him. But he’ll just respect your privacy and wait for you to tell him.

Until one day...

You’ve finally decide to tell him, you know that he’s been curious on why you’ve been hiding you collarbone area, and it’s not like you plan to hide it forever. “Buddha, there’s something I wanna show you?” 

“Let me guess, you hide something on your collarbone?”

“Wha- how do you know? Nevermind, I’ve been planning to tell you this anyway.”  By the time you show him what happened, his eyes went wide and freeze. A big scar that suppose to kill you and what a miracle you survive, “About this though, I got it from the fight and I’ve been wanting to tell you before but I feel insecure with it, but I’m okay right now.”

You thought he’ll be worry and feel sad, but now you don’t know if you should regret it or not seeing him really mad and his face become serious, “Who did this to you?”

“Buddha, you don’t need to worry.” You hug him to calm him down, he’s silent for a moment until he sigh and hug you back. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Buddha mumble, his forehead touching yours — it sure give you a warm feeling and he continue, “But seriously, who did this? I want to kick their ass.”

“Don’t, I have already kick their ass.”

Loki

Unlike Buddha who respect your privacy and rather wait for you to tell him, Loki will put an endless prank on you just to find out what you’ve been hiding.

just because you are his lover, doesn’t mean that you can escape his prank, don’t worry it’s not a harmful one. 

He really want to find out why you’ve been hiding something from him, but he doesn’t want to push you and make you uncomfortable so he’ll just discover it by himself without you knowing.

“Here.” You been given a flower from here as he avoid your eye contact, which is unexpected from him. But, you didn’t let your guard down and you know that Loki isn’t someone who give a gift.

“This isn’t another prank that you try to make me fall into, right?”

“Just accept it, I rarely give any gift to anyone.” You thank him and appreciate it, you smell the flower and... there’s a water coming out from the flower as it spray your face. Loki just laugh, he can finally find out now. 

Now, not only your face are wet, but your clothes are also wet too. Although, you only have a poker face, not surprise by his bullshit. “You’re still troublesome as always, I’m going to change clothes.”

“Prank has always been my habit, dear y/n.” He giggle, making sure she doesn’t know that he follow you, he change himself into a fly and trail you into your room. He hides in the corner of your bed and see you change your clothes, but... it’s not what he expect.

A big scar from your collarbone into your stomach, and he doesn’t know how you have survive that injured. He does’t know how he should feel right now, but for sure his face turn dark and feel the need to kill the person who hurt her. 

Somehow, your room feels tightening, it’s like giving a grim aura. “Wait, since when my room feels this uncomfortable?” You want to get out of here quickly.

Ever since the reveal, you hasn’t been seeing Loki for a few days. Neither Thor or Odin have see him too.

Then by next week, you have finally found him walking toward you. He begin to hug which you startle by his action. 

“Loki? Where have you been?” You’re totally worried for him, and yet didn’t expect him to hug you out of the blue. 

“Somewhere.”

“Yeah, but where?” 

Loki pat your head as he lead you while holding hand, “You don’t need to know, dear. Let’s go get some sweet.” Loki humming happily, you don’t why or how after few days of his missing, he come back with a smile on his face as if he feels satisfied for what he’s doing.

“Maybe he has done another prank on someone.” You sigh.

Poseidon

You would never tell him about this, it’ll be dangerous and you aren’t gonna see him make massacre on the person who put a scar on you, even though you know that the person never intend to harm you and the scar is actually an incident, which he already apologize.

Although, Poseidon wouldn’t notice that you’ve been covering your collarbone for this past few months. 

It went pretty smooth and fine at first, until you almost reveal the scar which Poseidon only slightly see it.

“What is that on your collarbone?” 

“There’s nothing in here.”

“Show me.” He command, you curse yourself, you already knew how aware he is at you, but you show him rather seeing his anger. Poseidon finally see the big scar you have on your collarbone, although it’s not really big. 

And yet you have predict this, he approach you closer as he touch the scar, “Where did you get this scar?” 

You don’t like the tension in here, this is nothing but like a calm before the storm — you really feel bad for the person who did this. “Is an incident, I fall and got a scratch on here.” You lied. 

“Don’t lie.”

“I don’t.” 

The god of sea feels shame and annoyed on himself, he feel like he can’t protect you at all with that big scar on your collarbone. “Next time, be careful.” That’s all he say.

After the discoveries, Poseidon have been watching you closely and stay by your side so you won’t get hurt again.

You feel bad for lying, but if you want that poor person to be safe from getting killed, you would have to lie. And make sure no one know about the true incident.

You actually plan to find something to heal the scar and so you plan to go to human world, it’s actually been a long time ever since you go to human world. Because you forgot to tell Poseidon, he begin to panic when you’re gone. 

When he knows you’re in human world, he keep going back and forth thinking if he should catch-up to you or leave you alone in the mortal world that he dislike to step into. You can take care of yourself, right? You won’t get any injured just like your scar, right?

You have finally come back from the human world to get a medicine, but when you step into the castle. You feel like you’re dead — you forgot to tell Poseidon about your small trip to human world.

You went inside the castle and immediately go to Poseidon’s bedroom where he is, you enter his room and see him sitting on the bed looking down.

"Where have you been?" You don't like this type of voice from him.

"I've been searching some medicine in the human world, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you before."

Poseidon approach to you, gaze with his cold ocean eyes. You can see his usual stoic face in the night as the moon shine on the room, but his anger and disappointment easily can be see.  “Idiot, I’ve been worried for these few hours.”

“I- I know, and I’m really sorry.” 

He suddenly grab your hand and take you to bed, he’s beside you and cuddle you — you didn’t expect this from someone like him. “Tch, you seriously annoy me.” 

Yep, here comes his mean words. You have your hand play with his hair to ease his grumpiness, he have no reaction beside closing his eyes and chin lay on your head — as if he enjoy it and make him feel comfort by your side.

The end~

I think I accidentally make Poseidon out of character (I hope not), but anyway I hope you like it!!

[nitewrighter]

for the teen Titans ficlet thing, I don’t suppose you could do “there was only one bed” for robin and starfire?

*slams fist down on table* STARFIRE IS THE BIG SPOON.

----

"I think you are overacting," Starfire said, her arms folded across her garish tye-dyed nightshirt.

"Overreacting," Robin corrected, adjusting the waistband on his sweats as he stepped out of the bathroom, "And--I'm not. I've slept in lean-tos in the Alaskan hinterland and in literal trees in the Virunga mountains. I can handle a hotel floor."

Starfire scoffed. "You are being ridiculous! It is a bed! There is room for two! Plenty of my people sleep in Tesh'li!"

"Er..." Robin gave her a blank look and Starfire seemed to realize that that word hadn't translated over.

"Uhm..." Starfire's brow furrowed for a few seconds as she struggled for the closest english equivalent, "Tesh'li are like... clusters? P-piles? It is very common for families."

"...Tamaraneans sleep in piles?" Robin's brow crinkled at the mental image.

" Tesh'li. 'Piles' implies gravity is a strong factor in the composition of bodies," said Starfire.

"...right, floating..." Robin said quietly.

"The whole team had a big Tesh'li in that cave when we had that mission in Markovia!" Starfire said, clearly frustrated, "Beast Boy turned into a grizzly bear and Cyborg turned off his cooling systems to share body heat! You and Raven even shared your capes! Why is this worse? Am I worse?"

"It's not worse--I mean obviously you're not worse-- it's just---when it's just two people--" Robin drew in a tense breath through his teeth before slumping his shoulders, defeated. "It's like... an earth... thing."

"I am aware that earth has many things," said Starfire, clearly not satisfied with this answer.

Robin sighed.

"Oh!" Starfire perked up, "It is one of your earth intimacy hangups! Because large portions of your population spent several centuries convincing yourselves that your natural instinct to be close and reproduce were affronts to your creator deities! And that still lingers in your cultural practices!"

"Uh..." Robin didn't really have a response to that.

"I have been reading the Earth histories," said Starfire, a little smugly.

"That's great," said Robin, meekly.

“Well it is not like any of ‘the funny business’ will be happening,” said Starfire, using the finger quotes around the words ‘funny business.’ Robin really regretted letting Beast Boy teach her how to make air quotes with her fingers and that she had only been getting better at figuring out when to use them. “But I will respect your cultural practice and let you sleep on the floor, even though that is dumb and a little gross and you will wake up with the aching back.”

"You sure are a diplomat, huh?" said Robin, drily.

“Mm-hmm!” Starfire nodded.

This was supposed to be a victory in the argument for Robin--since Starfire was recognizing the boundaries he was laying out, but who was he laying them out for if she didn’t care about them? Himself? Alfred had made a point of bringing him up to be ‘proper’ and ‘gentlemanly’ (perhaps to make up for some shortcomings with Bruce) but Robin’s own childhood in the Circus was closer to what Starfire was describing--the performers spent so much time traveling and setting up and breaking down the circus that they had to catch sleep when they could, sleeping in piles, often with little regard for gender or age. He remembered sleeping splayed across his parents’ laps when he was small, or with his cheek smushed against Samson the Strongman’s bicep, or even in the pile of poodles, borzois, and border collies that made up the act of ‘Rivka’s Fabulous Tumbling Dogs.’ Sometimes he would even wake up with white greasepaint smudged in his hair from sleeping on one of the clowns’ shoulders. But now here he was, feeling like a bit of an idiot as Starfire pulled some sheets off the bed and the extra pillow and handed them over to him, before plopping down cross-legged on the bed herself and turning on the hotel room TV. 

“Did you want to watch something?” Starfire glanced at him.

“I’m fine with whatever you want to watch,” Robin shrugged.

Robin took the uncomfortable wooden chair next to the too-small hotel table where their mostly-eaten one-half pepperoni one half pineapple-anchovy pizza sat. Starfire quickly flicked through the channels until reaching a public access channel where a reindeer bellowed on the screen.

“The noble caribou,” the narrator spoke, “A proud fixture of the tundras of the north that have roamed these grass-covered polar deserts for thousands of years.”

Robin gave a glance over to Starfire who was lying on her stomach on the bed and kicking her feet back and forth, her chin in her hands like any preppy teenaged earth girl watching her favorite low-budget cringeworthy high school drama starring 29-year-olds.

“But this is not a story of the caribou, no we will focus on a friend who has been here even longer,” the camera panned down to a caribou gnawing some knotty, netted-looking substance from the ground, “That industrious, unsung hero: The lichen. This is... Life of Lichen.” 

“What happened to ‘World of Fungus?’” Robin tilted his head.

“You remembered?” Starfire perked up.

“I mean it’s your favorite,” Robin shrugged, “Or I guess this is your new favorite?”

“Life of Lichen is the sequel!” Starfire said excitedly, “Technically it is the third sequel. The first was ‘Our Friend the Algae,’ the second was, ‘World of Fungus’ and now it is ‘Life of Lichen!’ Because you need both algae and fungus to create it,” She paused a bit, “I can... change it if you prefer something else though.”

“Nah I kind of like it. It’s calming,” said Robin, “I used to only research stuff for like... missions and investigations... it’s nice to just... be interested in things.” He craned in his seat a little to see better.

“There is room,” said Starfire, scooting herself over, “You can see better here.”

Robin paused for a few seconds, then got up and took a seat on the bed, propping some pillows up against the headboard for himself to lean against. 

“While lichen bears superficial similarity to moss, there are many differences, the first starting with composition. Mosses, of course, are plants, while lichens are composite organisms, there are over 20,000 known species...” The documentary narrator continued talking as the camera panned across a rainbow of lichens on the side of a rock and Robin found his eyelids drooping, 

He could have sworn he only rested his eyes for a few minutes when he suddenly startled awake. Most of the hotel room lights were off, save for the bedside lamp, the credits were running on the TV and the previews were next week’s episode were promising to delve into the exciting world of lichens growing on trees, as opposed to this episode which mainly featured lichens growing on rocks.

“Starfire?” Robin said, his voice hoarse with sleepiness.

“Mm?” Starfire was already turning around and fluffing up her pillow, the faint green glow of her eyes creating a low spooky light in the room.

“The floor’s kinda gross,” said Robin.

“The floor is indeed gross,” said Starfire.

“Is it cool if--”

“It is very cool,” said Starfire. She reached and got the pillow he had on the floor next to the bed and passed it over to him.

“Alright,” Robin got under the sheets. Maybe he would have found more energy to be flustered about the action if he hadn’t been lulled by an hour of a husky British accent talking about lichens. Starfire seemed to be respecting his ‘earth intimacy hangups’ and slept on her side with her back to him.

“G’night,” said Robin.

“Sleep well,” Starfire’s voice was half muffled into her pillow as he turned off the bedside lamp.

It didn’t take too long for Starfire’s breathing to go slow and rhythmic, but Robin was still staring at the ceiling. 

God, I made that weird, he thought, Why did I have to make such a big deal about sleeping on the floor? I mean I literally was repeatedly saying it’s not a big deal and it wasn’t but now it’s a whole thing. What if she thinks I don’t like her? What if she knows I like her but she’s really pushing the alien thing so we don’t have to address it? No that’s awful, she wouldn’t do that--earth means too much to her to do that. That was shitty of me to think. ‘Earth Intimacy hangups.’ I don’t have earth intimacy hangups. I should probably let her know that it’s probably not cool to tell people they have ‘earth intimacy hangups’ right to their face. I’m cool with it though. Because I don’t make big deals of things. I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal to sleep on the floor. Oh god I’m obsessing over this. 

He turned on his side so that he was facing her back in the bed. He stared at her, watching her shoulders slowly shift with her breath. He tried to match the pace of his breath to hers. 

Tesh’li, huh? he thought, and he felt his eyelids get heavy. He imagined a distant world with high-ceilinged palaces, and a family sleeping in a pile on a heap of luxurious cushions and circular futons, one of their two daughters hovering upside-down just above them. His eyelids slowly slid shut, Doesn’t sound so bad...

He woke up at 2 in the morning drowning in hair.

Starfire was hovering about a half foot off the bed, half the blankets hanging off of her, still in that same ‘lying on her side’ position, though now angled so that the majority of her hair was piled directly on Robin’s face. Robin sputtered quietly, pushing hair out of his eyes and mouth and flinching hard as he realized Starfire was floating.

“Star-pft-fire?” he whispered hoarsely, still pushing hair from his face.

“Robinnn... Kan’ah peq lor-faon eshdarm...” Starfire murmured in Tamaranean.

“...What?” Robin said blankly before she dropped back down onto the bed with a bounce and a loud creak of mattress springs, still dead asleep. A cat-like snore escaped her as she readjusted herself in the blankets. Robin breathed in a steadying breath, coming to terms with what he had just seen and how it was all perfectly normal what with Starfire being an alien. Then he repeated that last mental sentence back to himself and wondered how long ago this work had claimed his sanity like it had claimed Bruce’s. He didn’t have long to dwell on that thought, however, as Starfire turned over in her sleep, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him close, her alien strength moving him with the same ease as she might grab a stuffed animal.

“Star?” Robin whispered again as her arm snaked over his chest. He felt her body pressing into him from behind. His face was burning. 

“Hmm... Wurul tai horqarr, Silkie...” she mumbled, squeezing Robin close.

“Er.. Star--I’m not--Ggk!” Robin winced a little at the tight squeeze, wondering for a few seconds if he was going to get a broken rib,  but then Starfire seemed to nuzzle her cheek against his hair and her grip relaxed with a slight sigh.

Her hair was still enveloping him in a river of orange. She was warm--warmer than any human he could remember, and being in her arms felt like that almost- too-warm that’s perfect for dozing off while reading on summer afternoons. She smelled like ozone, and Lapsang-Souchong tea, and fresh-cut citrus. He wondered how he smelled to her. If he smelled like a memory of another planet. He listened to her breathing for a few minutes longer, as the warmth of her sank into him. He felt the exhaustion he always felt like he was barely outrunning catch up to him again, but here he was willing to let it overtake him.

Maybe I should wake her up? I mean... alien strength... don’t want to get crushed if she has a weird dream or something. Probably the smart thing to do, he thought.

“Zontar-ha peq lor-yuur’vyn...”  Starfire murmured in her sleep and readjusted herself against him again, her body curving around him. 

Eh. There are worse ways to go, he thought as he closed his eyes.

[lenissa]

You always meet twice (Wanda Maximoff x Romanoff!Reader)

(not my GIF)

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Pietro Maximoff x Reader (Past), Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Siblings)

Warnings: cursing, i think that‘s it?

Summary: When your sister Natasha asked you to be her representative at the Avengers, you immediately agreed. But then you meet Wanda Maximoff again and it seems like your shared past comes up as well as the then developed feelings.

Word Count: 3.1K

In bold are flashbacks.

A/N: This story is based on my POV i started some months ago, but the plot varies most of the time. Keep in mind that this is my first story and please be nice hahaha

Good reading!

——————————————————————————

You are walking through the halls of the Avenger‘s compound. Although your sister always talks about them, “her new family“, you have never met them before. At least not all of them. Some agents throw judgy glances at you, but you decide to ignore them - you are (Y/N) Romanoff, you’re not in need of being popular, being friendly, you’re a damn skilled agent, always ready to kick asses. That’s also why it didn‘t bother you when Natasha, your older sister, called and asked you for a favour - rather, you have always been curious what it is like to be an Avenger, so you didn‘t even think twice about accepting her offer of being her stand-in for some months.

Are you confident? Yes. Well... you try to be? Maybe- no definitely: it became a coping mechanism. But nobody could blame you… being Natasha Romanoff‘s sister sucks. Don‘t get it wrong, you love your sister with your whole heart, she is your one and only, your tower of strength. But constantly being overshadowed by her? Once people hear about your famous relative you were only seen as her sister, your own persona and personality weren‘t interesting anymore. As a result, you were working for S.H.I.E.L.D in an outpost in Europe, distant enough to start your own life, own career and only hearing about one Romanoff, (Y/N) Romanoff.

You stand before the door of the meeting room, aware of as soon as you go in there, there‘ll be no going back. Surprisingly calm you take one final breath before you knock and get invited in. There they are. The Avengers. Some of them you already know: Clint aka Hawkeye, your sister‘s best friend, Steve aka Captain America, your sister‘s ex-lover, Tony Stark aka Iron Man, sarcasm in person, and… the Maximoff Twins? Seeing them, seeing her, it literally took your breath away. You freeze, not able to breathe, to react nor to say anything.

„(Y/N),my god, have you grown?!“, Clint breaks the silence while coming near to hug you. In his arms you finally release the breath you unconsciously were holding in, and when you pull back you take a closer look at him.

„You‘re becoming grey, Legolas, are the kids that bad?“, you tease, matching his tone and patting his arm lightly.

„Oh dear, it just makes me nervous to see you again“, he jokes as he motions you to sit down.

„Speaking about that, it‘s nice to see you again, (Y/N).“ Steve nods at you and you force a smile - you think Steve is a nice guy, you really do, but you don‘t know the exact circumstances of his break-up with Nat, so you decide to keep distance in a friendly manner.

The remaining time of the meeting nothing special happens, though every time you look around the table you can‘t help but rest your eyes on a certain brunette. And it seems like she notices your gaze, meeting your eyes on and off. You try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that sets in your stomach whenever her green eyes meet yours, and obviously you are not able to hold the eye contact, so you always look at the floor quickly.

After the meeting the heroes all pop off, only you stay to put away the new equipment and gear you got. But then suddenly a well-known voice speaks up and you startle.

„Already forgot me, (Y/N)?“ You turn around, your heart racing.

„How could I forget the Wanda Maximoff?“, you nervously chuckle.

„I must say I‘m disappointed, I at least expected a greeting.“

„Wanda I-„

„(Y/N)! How long has it been? I…“, Pietro speeds in the room and rubs his neck tense, „I missed you.“

Wanda wheezes and rolls her eyes. „I‘m gonna leave you lovebirds alone“. She walks out of the room before you can say anything more.

„Well that was… weird.“ you say as you turn completely to Pietro.

„She‘s going through a hard time, she will be gentler soon.“

„You think so?“, you laugh, „define soon.“

Pietro chuckles and doesn‘t answer, not even he sees through Wanda‘s feelings, especially when it‘s about you. „Come on, I will introduce you to the others.“

——————————————————————————

Pietro took you to the living room and you have to say, you never thought the Avengers, the world‘s mightiest heroes, would be so endearing. You can finally understand why Nat sees them as her family, even after only spending some hours with them you start to let them in your heart immediately. Until Bucky decided to bring up a sensitive topic.

„From where do you know the twins, (Y/N)?“

You choke on the soda you are drinking, completely caught off-guard with that question. But after clearing your throat your coping mechanism once again appears. „They didn‘t tell you, huh? Well, we had a past.“, you chuckle.

Tony rolls his eyes, annoyed by the childish behaviour, but it makes you smile even bigger. Pietro blushes at the sudden mention of him and tries to distract. „(Y/n), why don‘t you tell them about your powers?“.

„Ok, ok… I'm pretty good at Teleportation, mind manipulation and shape shifting objects.“

Bruce, who you learnt was the human version of the Hulk, was stunned. „Wow, that sounds like a nice substitute for Natasha.“ You smile at him appreciating.

„So Romanoff, since the only other mind stuffy person in this house seems to be pissed, you’ll start training with Rogers.“ Tony announced bugged.

„Can‘t wait.“ You and Steve get up to go to the gym and the rest starts talking about their new member.

„She seems like a faithful person. A true Romanoff.“, Bucky states.

„Ironically, she‘s really good at betrayal and hurting people.“, Wanda says snippy as she walks in to get a snack.

Pietro sighs, „Wanda, what the hell?“

„She‘s not as perfect as you think, Romeo.“

Tony claps to get their attention, „Concentration, guys! You better clear up, Wanda, I just got Information from Fury, you and y/n will be a team in tomorrow‘s mission.“ Wanda rolls her eyes in annoyance, but she knows that it‘s unnecessary to protest.

——————————————————————————

During training, all you thought of was Wanda. Then you tried to read, sleep, watch tv, but nothing could distract you from thinking about the Sokovian. It felt like all the feelings you tried to suppress this past year flood you now at the same time. You barely perceived that you got up, your feet carrying you to the kitchen. Standing in front of the kitchen door you finally wake up from your trance. Your hands are sweaty and shaky, your heart pounding. “What the hell am I doing here?“ You think and just before you turn around the door opens, hitting your shoulder lightly.

„Oh my god, I didn't see you, are you ok?“

„Don‘t worry, I‘m fine. I- I was about to leave anyway.“ 

„But you haven’t even been in there yet, (Y/N).“ The way she says your name releases a cluster of butterflies in your stomach, green eyes watching you amused. „I‘m sorry.“

„Really, it‘s fine. Wanda, list-“

„Don‘t, (Y/N). We don‘t have to do this.“, Wanda sighs.

You take a deep breath and continue, „No, I have to. I am sorry. For everything. I-...I miss you.“

„(Y/N), please, sto-“, she says almost whispering.

„As a friend. I miss my best friend.“

You notice slightly tears forming in her eyes. „You did this to me-“

„(Y/n)! We need you to show us your powers!“ Bucky shouts excitedly as he approaches you both.

„Bucky, now is really not the time to-“

„We need it. For the plan. You know, tomorrow‘s mission?“

You clench your fists and sigh, you know the private moment you just had was ruined. With one apologetic look to Wanda you follow Bucky to the meeting room.

This job will be your end.

——————————————————————————

You weren‘t wrong about this job being your end. Well at least the circumstances. Last night’s events were just... crazy.

After showing the team your powers you went straight to bed, exhausted from all the physical training and psychological stress. When you heard the knocking on the door, you‘re surprised to see Pietro standing there after opening it.

„(Y/N), I think we should talk.“

„Pietro, i-...“, you sigh, „today‘s really not my day. Can we wait until tomorrow?“

„I can‘t wait. Please. I need to get this out.“

„Oookay, go on then, i guess.“, you say, kinda annoyed by the pushiness of the Sokovian.

„I‘m glad that you are here and ok.“

„So am I...“ you laugh humorlessly, „it certainly feels nice to know someone here that doesn‘t completely hate me“ Pietro looks you in the eyes and slowly comes closer. Your breath hitches and you gulp hard when he takes your hand.

„Pietro, what are you doi-“ Before you can finish the sentence, lips are pressed on yours. You are shocked by the action, and you hesitate to kiss back. Yet you can’t resist the familiar feeling of his lips caressing your own, so you kiss back.

„(Y/N), we need to...“, Wanda says approaching your floor but when she sees you both, she immediately freezes„...talk.“

The second you hear her talking you pull back and step away from Pietro. The brunette looks at you incredulously and then walks away.

„Wanda. Wanda!“ you shout while running after her. „Wanda, would you please stop eloping!“ She stops and turns around, eyes burning red. She‘s furious, dangerous, not in control of herself.

„Wanda, use your words. Calm do-“

——————————————————————————

She did not calm down. In fact, she threw you against the closest wall. Even though you don’t have any serious injuries, you are mad. If you were trying to find the courage to talk to her, she could use her words too, right? The morning was quiet, too quiet if you are honest. Each time the door to the gym opened you startled, expecting to get yelled at. But it never happened. Once the twins walked in, they ignored you. Both of them, though Pietro occasionally glanced confused at you. After debating whether you should talk to her or not, you decided to walk up to her and confront her. „What the hell was that yesterday, Wanda?!“

She just huffs and continues to hit the punching bag, but you are determined to talk about it before going on a mission with her, you couldn‘t risk being distracted.

„You‘re acting like a bitch, I don‘t even recognize you anymore“, you say incredulously.

She aggressively turns around. „I am the bitch? You‘re the one that throws herself at anyone, not being here for even a whole day!“

„He“, you point at Pietro, „ he fucking kissed me! I never wanted it to happen. He caught me off-guard!“

„Oh and of course you couldn‘t defend yourself, poor (Y/N).“ Wanda ironically retorts, pushing you against your shoulder.

„Guys-“

„You literally came in one second after he kissed me-“

„GUYS!“ Pietro shouts and both of you turn to him, not noticing that he’s still in the same room. „What the hell is going on with you two?“

„You know what? What the hell Pietro, too! You can‘t just kiss me after not seeing me for a year! What if I don‘t like you anymore?“

„You don‘t like me anymore?“

„You don‘t like him anymore?“

You sigh. „Yes. No. I mean…. I don't like you anymore like that. I- I like you as a friend, Pietro. After you flew from Hydra-“

„-alone-“, Wanda interjects.

„After you flew from Hydra alone, it broke my heart! You freaking left us there!“

Wanda scowls. „And then you did the same to me some time later.“

„Wanda I-... You think it was easy for me to just leave you behind? Fuck, Wanda, do you really think that low of me? When Nat rescued me I tried to convince her to take you with us but she… we… you...“

„Say it, (Y/N). I was the enemy. You were the poor agent, kidnapped by Hydra and experimented on and I was the maniac that volunteered for a dangerous organization.“

„I tried to come back and get you!“

„Don't lie to me, (Y/N).“

„Oh my god“, you huff, „believe me for once!“

„Why should i?!“

„Because I love you!“

O oh.

You both tense, green eyes filled with rage, jealousy, confusion, probably every emotion there is, staring wide at you. You all stand there in silence, all shocked by your outburst, and the only thing that can be heard is your shaky breathing. „Shit. I- I need to go“, you mumble as you storm out of the room embarrassed.

——————————————————————————

This was not going well. Your relationship with Wanda was already complicated enough and your dumb, unplanned love confession didn’t really help. However, you needed to suck it up, ignore all the overthinking in your mind. You are here for a reason. A job. Not a witch.

You are here for the missions. For Nat.

That’s what you tell yourself all the time. But your brain and your heart don‘t really agree, especially while being on a mission with Wanda. You have never been more thankful for your powers that were blocking her out from reading your mind, you were sure your thoughts were literally screaming at her. And gee, you know her too well, she was trying to read your mind - Wanda always has that certain concentrated cute gaze and slight wrinkles between her eyebrows when she does it. Studying her so precisely was a mistake, it made the whole thing even more uncomfortable.

She didn’t react to what you said earlier (not that you gave her that much chance), she acted like you never said anything important like that. But when she caught you staring at her she raised her eyebrows challengingly and broke the silence.

“Are you nervous?”

“Hmm? Oh well, no. I- I guess we had more difficult missions.”, you give her a shy smile and start playing with your fingers nervously.

“Sure.. That’s why you’re currently doing one of your habits when you’re nervous.`` Wanda teases.

You blushed, your cheeks turning faint red. “Let’s just do this'', you say, stepping out of the jet and putting in the comm - earpiece.

Your task wasn’t hard. Go in, kill the enemies, destroy the data, walk out. It was going well until you saw Wanda getting attacked from behind. But before the agent could point his gun at her and hurt her you shut your eyes close and focused on turning his gun into a flower.

“Romantic!”

“You’re welcome”, you playfully roll your eyes. You curse yourself for having no other - less with love connected - idea to use. You scream just before a grenade goes up next to you, throwing you through a glass door. You can’t use your teleportation in time and the impact is pretty hard, causing you to pass out.

Wanda turns after hearing your scream. “Shit, shit, shit Romanoff!”, she activates her comms, “Guys, pick us up, (Y/N) is down!” She stands protectively next to your unconscious body, defending you from getting attacked or worse.

— — —

You wake up in the medical wing of the Avengers. The first thing you notice is that you’re still wearing your suit, so the injury couldn‘t be that bad. At least you thought. Only seconds later you feel the banging in your head, ringing sounds in your ears. You bury your face in the pillow, frustrated of being new and your first mission already gone wrong. You could hear them teasing you for being the “weaker” Romanoff and start rethinking the choice to even get on this team.

And then Wanda walks in and all thoughts are gone. No more noises, no hammering - all senses preoccupied with her. She seems tired, still wearing her suit as well, and exhausted.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” You look at her curious. “You look tired.”

She chuckles lightly. “You pass out and the first thing you comment is how I look? Wow.”

“What can I say, you really make me concentrate on other things than my condition.” She looks confused at your statement, though an amused smile on her lips. “Because you’re a known face- family- and that reminds me of my sister and gives me comfort.”, you stutter complete nonsense.

Did i really just say that?!

You wished she wasn’t standing there, then you would have been able to facepalm yourself as hard as you could.

“Oh, eh, sure. I’m tired, you were right. You were unconscious the whole night. I stayed, I thought it would be nice for you to not wake up alone.” She tries to overplay your weird comment.

“The whole night? Holy shit. I was unconscious for that long i-”, you feel your whole body tingling as you just now realize her purpose, “that’s very nice of you. Thank you.”

“No, no (Y/N). I owed you that. You saved me...thank you.”

“Wanda Maximoff, you do have manners after all.“ She playfully rolls her eyes on your comment and glances at the floor in embarrassment. „You’re welcome. You would have done the same - I hope?”

She giggles and you can’t help but smile like an idiot at that adorable sound. Then you just stare at each other, both too shy to break the comfortable silence. But then Wanda speaks up again.

“You know I’m-”, she starts fidgeting with her rings, “I’m sorry. For being such a bitch. I.. appreciate what you said… earlier. I guess I was just hurt and frustrated.“

“I know Wanda. Don’t be sorry. You have every right to be mad. It was wrong to expect that we could pretend like nothing happened back there in Sokovia.”

After a short silence Wanda asks, almost in a whisper: “Do- do you regret it?”

“What?! No! Loving you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. As a friend. But also more.”, you shake your head as if to underline your sentence and the last part of the sentence coming out almost inaudible, but she still hears it.

Wanda says nothing, she just nodds. But then she slowly moves her hand to your own and takes it. Ignoring the butterflies spreading all over your body, you squeeze her hand, happy you both stopped fighting. You shuffle to the edge of the sickbed and pat to the free place next to you. The Sokovian hesitantly moves next to you, but as soon as she feels your warm body next to her, she gives in and relaxes. You both lie there, just enjoying each other’s presence, until Wanda’s eyes start to get heavier and heavier and she eventually drives off to sleep. And seeing her, the girl you love, in this peaceful state relaxes you as well and you can’t fight falling asleep with the calming sound of her steady breathing next to you.

——————————————————————————

Part 2

[coldsandfluff]

Friday Night Fever (F/M, Original, Illness Care-Taking Fluff)

Wrote this little original F/M care-taking fluff fic inspired by something that happened to me when I was in college (basically, caught a cold, three friends came over unannounced and insisted on me coming with them to the bar until one of them noticed the thermometer on my nightstand and realized I really was too sick to go). I've changed all the characters personality/appearance (including myself) so that we are completely unrecognizable, and added more to the story of course 😚

So if you like group of friends, platonic to maybe romantic care-taking fluff and F/M illness, read on!

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

Annabel left the sandwich shop at the end of her evening shift, feeling the cold autumn air seep through her jacket. Darkness had blanketed the town hours ago, and college students were already filling the streets on their way to the bars to celebrate the end of the week. Not that they’d really needed a reason to drink, of course.

As she launched the trash bags in the large dumpster in the back alley, Annabel felt an uncomfortable shiver running down her back. She’d been feeling under the weather for a couple of days, downing vitamin C fizzy drinks to stave it off. What she’d hoped would end up being a little annoying cold was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for. She could feel the icy tendrils of a fever crawling on her skin, and all she wanted to do was slip under the covers of her warm bed and sleep all weekend.

Her phone pinged as she started making her way back to her apartment.

Finn: We’ll be there in 40 minutes. Zack wants to pick up some pregame vodka from the store first.

Annabel sighed. She’d met Zack, Finn and Alex at her second job—a fancy new restaurant in the heart of town where she’d been waitressing part-time for the past two months. They’d hit it off on opening day, when Zack had accidentally broken a whole stack of plates. No one had seen what had happened but the four of them. Zack had gotten his dishwasher’s apron stuck on the door handle, and his hands had slipped at the sudden pull.

The crash had been deafening.

Right before the owner had rushed in to ask what had happened, Zack’s best friend, Finn, had kicked the wheel of the cart where the plates had been sitting a few moments ago, giving Alexander and Annabel a knowing look.

They’d all told the owner that the cart was broken and had tipped over without anyone touching it. Somehow, the owner had bought the lie. That night, Zack insisted on paying them a round of shots at the bar, and a tradition was born: The four of them. Every Friday. With lots of alcohol.

It was the only time Annabel let loose. With her two jobs and college, she was struggling to find free time, but Friday nights had become sacred. There was nothing like downing drinks and letting the buzz take over, following her three new friends wherever they wanted to go. It was always an adventure. Especially with Zack at the helm.

But tonight, there was no way she could make it.

Annabel: Actually, I can’t come tonight. Sorry.

She walked past a group of friends laughing and hollering, wishing she’d felt as good as they did. But the headache growing behind her eyes wasn’t going to let up, and adding alcohol to the mix would only make it worse. Not only that, but her nose had started running in the past two hours. She’d had to go blow it in the restroom every half hour, getting herself banished from the front of the store by the manager. She’d washed her hands so often that her skin was almost raw.

Just like her nose.

Finn: Nah, you’re coming. Nobody cancels Friday night. Come on.

Annabel couldn’t hold a smile. She typed back, sniffling. Her sinuses were prickling like crazy, as if she’d accidentally inhaled a cloud of tiny fireworks. She stifled a sneeze in the crook of her elbow, mid-word. “Ehh—Ehh’KSHHeeww!” Her eyes watered from the force of it. She wiped the tears away and resumed typing.

Annabel: I’ll make it up to you guys next weekend. Drinks on me.

She grabbed a crumpled tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed at her nose. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, beckoning her. As she crossed the last stretch of sidewalk to the entrance, she kept checking her phone.

No reply.

Shrugging, she unlocked the front door and took the stairs.

***

Back in her apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom to the right and used toilet paper to blow her nose, finally free to make as much noise as she wanted. She winced from the roughness of it on her chapped nostrils, but it was all she had. She wasn’t exactly the planning type. Her idea of a grocery list was memorizing the first three items and hoping the rest would come to her as she walked through the aisles. Most often than not, she’d have to make a quick run at the convenience store down the street to get what she’d forgotten.

She gathered her thick curly hair into a bun and looked at herself in the mirror. It was enough to confirm that she’d made the right decision. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin was so pale that her freckles popped like they did in the summer. Except for that slight flush high on her cheeks, of course. She popped a thermometer under her tongue and removed her work clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the bathtub.

Shivering from the sudden change in temperature, she covered her arms with her hands and ran to her dresser. Her warmest, softest sweater was the first thing she grabbed and put on, before throwing on a pair of comfy leggings and wool socks. The thermometer beeped.

100.8 °F. Figured.

She rolled her eyes and shuffled over to the “kitchen” of her studio apartment, which was the size of a matchbox and only contained a mini fridge, a microwave and an old sink. She poured herself some water and walked over to the bed, placing her glass and the thermometer on her nightstand. She would have brought over medicine as well, but she’d run out last semester after catching the flu going around campus, and had forgotten to replenish her stash. No matter. She could sleep this off. It was just a cold.

She suddenly sneezed twice in a row, as if her body wanted to protest her minimizing her illness, then got under the cover. Just as she was getting a little warmer, propping up her laptop to watch a movie, there was a knock at the door.

Annabel sat up, startled.

“Anna, open up!” a voice said behind the door.

Zack.

Annabel chuckled. Of course they wouldn’t give up that easily. She groaned, getting out of the warmth of her bed. She considered rushing to the dresser and putting on cuter clothes—they were her friends, but they were still boys, and she didn’t want to look like shit in front of them—but the thought of it was enough to drain her energy. Screw it. She walked over to the door and opened it.

“Finn told us you don’t want to come,” said Zack as he walked in. It was her friends’ first time coming up to her apartment. They’d usually wait for her downstairs. “So we’re here to change your mind.” He didn’t look at her, too busy checking out her place. He was dressed for the night—a buttoned-up shirt, navy blazer, jeans and dress shoes. His casual chic style always stood out in the local bars filled with broke college students, but he liked it that way.

Finn walked in after him, a crooked grin on his lips. “See, I told you you can’t cancel Friday night.” His shaggy blond hair half-covered his eyes, as always. Finn and Zack had been best friends since high school, and couldn’t have been more different from each other. At least physically. Finn was tall and lanky, Zack was smaller and worked out a lot. But they were both party guys, always ready for a crazy night—even though Finn was a bit more mellow than Zack.

Finally, Alex came in, and Annabel closed the door behind him. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if apologizing for the other two. He was a lot more like Annabel. Quiet, chill, along for the ride—whatever it may be. His deep brown eyes held her gaze for a second too long, and Annabel noticed one of his eyebrow raise ever so slightly. She bit her lip, feeling self-conscious about her appearance. They’d never seen her in such a state before. Thank god she hadn’t had the energy to remove her makeup yet.

“So this is where you live, uh?” Zack said, sitting on her desk chair and spinning it around and around. “I like it. Dorms suck.”

Before she could reply, Finn tsked. “Wow. So no love for your roommate, uh?”

“Dude, I love you,” Zack said, “but between you and an apartment all to myself, the choice is obvious.” He stopped spinning and turned to Annabel, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s so important that you can’t come with us? Do you have a date?”

All three boys turned to her. Annabel almost laughed. Could they not see the condition she was in? She cleared her throat. “No, I’m just not feeling well.”

Finn sat on the edge of her bed and examined her from afar. “Like what? Stomach thing? Flu?”

“Probably a cold, I guess.” Annabel could feel Alex’s gaze on her at her side. She glanced at him, then looked down, feeling silly. Now that she was saying it out loud, it sounded like a poor excuse. But she did have a fever, after all. She just didn’t want to start listing her symptoms.

Zack clasped his hands together. “You know what will make you feel better? Alcohol!” He grinned, as if proud of his solution. “Didn’t they used to give brandy to people when they were sick? We’ll make a special mix for your throat. Something with lemon and orange juice. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, I already have a headache…” Annabel said.

“Just take a couple of Tylenol. It’s like a hangover in advance,” Finn said with an encouraging smile. “One time, I went out clubbing with an ear infection and everything was fine. Actually felt better the next day, weirdly enough.”

“I don’t know guys, I won’t be much fun if—” Annabel was interrupted by a fierce tickle deep in her nose, spreading like wildfire. She ducked to her side, away from Alex. “Ehh’KSSHeeew! ‘KSSSHeeew!”

“Bless you,” the three boys said almost in unison.

“See?” Annabel said, pointing at her nose and sniffling. “You want me to sneeze all over you guys all night?”

Finn shrugged. “We’ll bring tissues. Whatever.”

Alex walked over to the bathroom and grabbed the toilet paper roll from the counter, then handed it to her. “Here.”

Annabel ripped a piece off and wiped her nose. “Thanks,” she said, sheepish.

Alex’s gaze paused on her for a few seconds before he turned to the other two. “Guys, she’s obviously sick. Let’s just go and let her sleep.”

“It’s just a cold,” Zack said. “She’s young and healthy. It’s nothing.” He got up and put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Give it an hour, and if you’re not feeling better after a few shots, we’ll walk you home.”

Annabel considered it for a second, trying to fight the shivers. Maybe if she wore something warm and took a few shots, she wouldfeel better. Numb the pain a little, at least. While she pondered it, Finn laid down on top of her bed spread and locked eyes with the thermometer on her nightstand. He frowned and sat up, picking it up.

He looked at her, thermometer in hand. His voice softened. “It’s that bad, uh?”

Annabel blushed. Why did admitting that she had a fever feel so vulnerable? She looked down and nodded. “Kinda.”

Zack looked at the thermometer, then back at Annabel. He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on her forehead. “Ooof,” he said, a hint of concern slipping in his tone.

Finn got up. “Let me see,” he said, walking up to her and placing his own hand on her forehead. His eyebrows shot up. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, you need to be in bed,” Zack finally said, guiding her back to bed. “Why didn’t you say you had a fever? Jesus, Anna.”

She shrugged, sitting on her mattress. “I don’t know. I just get fevers with colds. I guess it’s normal for me.”

“Fevers suck,” Finn said. “Last time I had one, I stayed in bed for two days and everything hurt.” He walked over to the front door. “We’ll miss you tonight, though.”

Zack followed. “Hope you feel better. We’ll text you all the crazy shit that’s going to happen so you don’t miss anything.” He followed Finn out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Alex.

Alex watched them walk by, then grabbed the roll of toilet paper on the counter where Annabel had left it. He brought it over to her nightstand and gave her a sad smile. “Do you need anything?”

Annabel shook her head, relieved that she was going to be able to stay in bed. “I’ll be okay.”

He seemed to hesitate for a second, then nodded. “Let us know if you want us to get you food later. I know I can never sleep when I have a fever.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. Her nose scrunched up, overtaken by another annoying prickle. “Ehh… Iihh’KSSSHHeeww!”

“Bless you.”

Zack’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Alex, you coming?”

Alex snickered. “I guess I should go.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “Feel better, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.”

***

Annabel tried to sleep, but her fever and runny nose kept waking her up, leaving her floating halfway between dreams and reality. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get any rest in her state. She needed cold medicine.

It took her a long time to finally convince herself to get out of bed and go to the convenience store, but she managed to push the covers away and get up. She shivered, causing another tickle in her sensitive nose—it had only gotten worse in the hour since the boys had left. She ducked at the waist in an exhausting triple. “Ehh… Hehh’KSSSHeeeew! ‘KSSHHeeew! Hiihh’KSSHeeew!”

Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Annabel frowned and made her way to the door, cracking it open.

It was Alex. Alone.

“Bless you,” he said with a shy grin.

Annabel let him in. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with the guys?”

He shrugged, closing the door behind him. “I thought you might need this.” He showed her a plastic bag filled with tea, tissue boxes, ramen, cough drops and—she gasped—cold medicine.

Alex chuckled. “So I was right. You don’t have any medicine, do you?”

Annabel laughed. “How did you know?”

“Your nightstand. You only had a thermometer on there. When I’m sick, I take Nyquil everywhere I go.” He handed her the bag. “And I wanted to make sure you had tissues instead of toilet paper. Your nose will thank me.”

Annabel touched her chapped nose, smiling. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” He stood there for a second, as if not knowing what to say. “I’ll uh—I’ll let you rest.”

Before he could go, Annabel put her hand on his elbow. “Wait. Do you want to—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, her nose scrunching up yet again, her eyes fluttering. She spun around and sneezed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Hehh’KSSHH! Ht’Ksshht!” She turned back around, blinking away the tears and laughing. “Sorry!”

Alex laughed, too. “Bless you.” He held her gaze, then looked down. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh—I was just wondering if—maybe if you’d like to watch a movie with me. I don’t think I can sleep until the medicine kicks in.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. Of course he didn’t want to watch a movie with her. This was Friday night. What kind of college guy wanted to hang out with a sick, sneezy, nose-drippy girl on a Friday night instead of getting drunk with his friends. “Sorry,” she added quickly, “I forgot that the guys are probably waiting for you. I guess I’m kind of loopy from the fever.”

Alex took a step forward and placed his hand on her forehead. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, that Annabel closed her eyes, appreciating the coldness of his palm on her hot skin.

“You are definitely burning up,” he half-whispered, frowning. “I was wondering if the guys were exaggerating. Guess not.”

Annabel bit her lip. “I’ll be okay after I take the medicine. You don’t have to stay.”

Alex removed his hand. “I do,” he blurted. “I mean, I do want to watch a movie with you. And stay.”

“Are you sure?” Annabel asked through her blossoming smile. “Aren’t you worried you’ll catch my cold?”

“Actually, I have a confession to make.” Alex led her to the bed and placed the content of his bag on her nightstand. “Last Friday, I kind of had a cold. It wasn’t as bad as yours, pretty minor, but… Zack convinced me to come out anyway and I—I think I might have given it to you. You drank out of my glass and I didn’t have time to stop you.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Annabel laughed. “I can’t believe Zack didn’t rat you out earlier. It would have been the perfect example of someone going clubbing with a cold and ‘being fine’ anyway.”

“He probably knew it was partly his fault that you’re sick and didn’t want to admit it.”

Annabel shook her head. “Well, you owe me a Friday night.” She got into bed and patted the spot next to her. “That means I get to pick the movies.”

Alex grabbed the throw blanket at her feet and draped it over her. “That sounds fair.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and settled next to her. “But when you fall asleep, I can’t guarantee I won’t change it.”

“Deal.”

After taking a dose of Nyquil, Annabel started the movie, snuggling under the blanket. She wondered what kind of crazy adventures Zack and Finn were getting themselves into. She expected to feel FOMO, but instead, she shot a glance at Alex next to her, and realized she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was Alex’s shoulder touching hers, but it felt like this was the start of a different kind of adventure. Maybe not alcohol-fueled, but Nyquil was pretty close.

All because they’d shared a not-so-secret cold.

And Annabel had a feeling it would be worth the fever. And the countless sneezes to come.

THE END

[hopemakesstuff]

Protecting Assets

Hey y’all so uhhh I don’t normally do this kind of thing but a couple of my friends and I have been on a major Danganronpa kick these past few months since one friend in particular just recently got in the series, and part of that major kick has been discussing various AUs (mostly of the G/t variety).

One AU in particular that we’ve all latched onto involves sizeshifter!Makoto, wherein one Makoto Naegi has the ability to alter his size somewhat at will, and the various shenanigans that ensue as a result of him trying to keep that ability a secret from his peers. 

So anyway here’s a little fic I wrote based on some various brainstorming we’ve come up with. 

A bit of helpful background info before I jump in: 

Makoto can shrink or grow mostly at will. His abilities are sometimes influenced by his emotional state or physical well-being. (i.e.: he shrinks if he doesn’t get enough sleep or eat enough.) It’s basically a way for his body to conserve energy. 

Makoto’s clothes shrink or grow with him accordingly. Because this is fiction and I do what I want. (Let’s just say his clothes are made from a special kind of material or something idk)

I don’t really have a specific time in mind for when this particular fic takes place, but definitely after the first murder. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Makoto’s return to consciousness was a slow one. His senses came back to him gradually, starting with the feeling of soft fabric cocooning him on all sides. It honestly took him a moment to even realize that his eyes were open, given how dark his surroundings were—almost pitch black, save for a thin line of light peeking in overhead. 

His first guess was that he’d probably gotten tangled up in his bedsheets, but… the longer he sat there, the more that didn’t seem quite right. Instead of a mattress beneath him, the only firm surface he could really feel was a wall on his left side. At least, he was pretty sure it was a wall.

Maybe he was laying on some kind of hammock? Of course, that only begged the question of where he was, and how he’d gotten there in the first place. Surely he wasn’t in his dorm room…

Well, wherever he was, it was quiet. Peaceful, even. The faint hum of the air conditioning was the most prominent noise, but he was pretty sure he could hear someone breathing as well. Aside from that, the only other sound Makoto could make out was the occasional turning of a page, as if someone was looking through a book.

He wasn’t alone. 

The desire for answers only grew more urgent as that realization came to him. He obviously wasn’t going to get those answers if he just kept laying around, though. 

Trying to find any decent sort of foothold was a challenge, but Makoto was eventually able to pull himself up to a standing position as he clung to a small portion of the fabric. Then came the process of actually trying to climb his way up toward the opening above him. It took a considerable amount of effort, but after a few moments, he managed to pull it off. 

Poking his head out, the first thing that caught his eye was the array of bookshelves lining the wall just ahead of him, all crammed to maximum capacity.

The library. 

What was he doing in the library?

“Oh, you’re finally awake.” 

Makoto let out a rather undignified yelp in response, nearly losing his grip on the fabric in the process, but it wasn’t necessarily the suddenness of the voice that had startled him. Part of it had to do with the familiarity—he knew that voice, and hearing that person speak was plenty surprising all on its own. But it also had to do with the proximity and volume. Each word practically reverberated through his entire body, shaking him down to the core. Not loud, per se, but… big.

Turning his gaze upward, Makoto immediately locked eyes with the voice’s owner. Those icy blue irises practically pierced through him like a pair of daggers.

“B-Byakuya? Wh—” 

Before he could form a proper question, the sight of a massive hand descending upon him caused Makoto to choke on his words. He didn’t have any time to react as equally massive fingers coiled around him, hoisting him up with all the care of someone retrieving a handkerchief from their pocket. 

That was where he’d been. Byakuya’s pocket. 

That realization alone was more than enough to send his mind reeling—nevermind the lack of concern Byakuya showed when handling him.  

The Togami heir all but dumped him onto the desk, nearly causing him to fall over. Thankfully, Makoto somehow managed to keep his footing. Now he just had to contend with the fact that he was trapped in the library with Byakuya looming over him.

God, it was bad enough that Byakuya already knew his secret. Actually being caught in his most vulnerable state was a nightmare come to life. 

For the longest moment, there was only silence between the two boys. Makoto was almost too nervous to even breathe, let alone speak. 

Eventually, though, Byakuya seemed to grow bored with their little staring contest. 

“How much longer are you going to be stuck like this?” he questioned, setting his book aside and crossing his arms. 

“I… What?” 

“You heard me.” 

Sure, Makoto heard him, but that didn’t make it any less confusing. 

“I don’t… I’m not sure? What happened? Why was I—” 

“You don’t remember? Hmph, figures,” Byakuya huffed. “You fainted right outside your door, and then your little… quirk kicked in. You’re lucky I was the one who found you.” 

Makoto didn’t know if he necessarily agreed, but he wasn’t about to say so. 

His memory started coming back after that, though.

In the aftermath of the last class trial, it would’ve been a huge understatement to say that Makoto was feeling stressed out. He could hardly remember the last time he’d eaten a proper meal. Or gotten a full night of sleep. Normally he was a lot better about taking care of himself, given the consequences that came about with his shifting if he didn’t, but… 

Could anyone really blame him for slacking a bit? 

“So, you… brought me with you to the library?” 

“I can’t keep you in check if your secret gets out prematurely, now can I?”

Ugh. Right. Now things were starting to make more sense. Byakuya just wanted to make sure he still had blackmail material.

“So? How much longer?” The affluent progeny didn't even bother trying to hide his annoyance at having to ask the question a second time.

“Well, um. I mean… it depends,” Makoto tried his best to explain. “How long was I… er, how long has it been since you found me?”

Byakuya looked over at the clock above the door. 

“Just over two hours.” 

Two hours?!

To think he’d been alone with Byakuya for that much time, unconscious and barely more than three inches tall… Makoto didn’t want to let himself dwell on that for too long. 

At least he was still in one piece. 

…For now. 

“Um, I guess I could try shifting back up now?” he offered. 

Byakuya didn’t give any sort of verbal response. He just sat there, watching and waiting. 

Taking that as his cue, Makoto tentatively made his way over to the edge of the desk and sat down. He briefly thought about asking Byakuya to set him on the floor, but quickly pushed that idea aside. Better to avoid any more rough handling if he could. 

Makoto then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. Even without looking, he could practically feel Byakuya staring at him the entire time. 

But more importantly, after a few moments, he could also feel himself beginning to grow. Namely he could feel the surface of the desk gradually getting smaller and smaller beneath him. 

When he opened his eyes, he was now looking down at Byakuya, if only just slightly. Back to his normal height, thank god.

“Hm. Fascinating.”

All it took was that one word to send a shiver crawling up Makoto’s spine. Just the way Byakuya said it left him more than a little uncomfortable. Like he was some kind of science experiment or something.

“R-Right, well. I should go,” he stammered out rather quickly before hopping off the desk and heading for the door. 

Just as he was about to reach for the handle, he paused to look back over his shoulder. Byakuya had already gone back to reading whatever book he'd been looking through earlier. 

“I, um… Thanks? For making sure no one else saw me like that.” 

Even if Byakuya’s motivations for doing so had been purely selfish, thanking him still felt like the right thing to do. 

A noncommittal grunt was the only reply Makoto got, though. Byakuya didn’t even look up from his book.

Well, there was no point sticking around any longer than he already had. After leaving the library, his next intended destination was the dining hall. Nothing really sounded good if he was being honest, but… for the sake of making sure he didn’t pass out again, he figured it would be best to find something he could stomach.

[absolute-flaming-trash-archive]

Hurt - Part 2

Was not expecting that many people wanting a part 2, but who am I to deny y'all?

Trick question, I myself am insatiable

Pairing: Hisoka x Fem!Reader

Smut and Angst

Word Count: 4′645 This was supposed to be short

Warnings: NSFW, Dubcon (bordering on Noncon), Unprotected Sex, Blood, Hisoka being a cheeky little shit. Semi-edited.

I’m gonna use this opportunity to say that, even if your partner doesn’t outright say “no”, that is NOT consent. Unfinished sentences, hesitation, and no response at all does not mean “yes”. Always check in for consent.

That being said, enjoy my fellow Hisoka fuckers. I loved writing this and I will actually cry if this flops.

Part 1, Part 3 

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

The silence that filled the room was palpable, interrupted only by the rhythmic drips of water falling from the cloth into the bowl.

Hisoka had yet to release his hold on you, making you narrow your eyes in annoyance. He licked his lips as he stared down at you, enjoying the direct line of sight he had down your shirt.

“And what if that isn’t my cards, what would you say then~?”

“Then I’d say that if you have enough energy to be thinking about that, then you are capable of cleaning yourself up. Your wounds have stopped bleeding, anyways.” You wrenched your wrist from his hand, trying not to think about how easily he let you go as pushed yourself to your feet. “You know where the shower is, there’s clean towels under the sink as usual.”

He leaned back against the couch, tilting his head slightly as he regarded your aloof attitude with a chuckle, “What if I really do require your... assistance? I have lost a lot of blood, after all.”

You scoffed and folded your arms in front of your chest, “I think we both know it takes a more than a little blood loss to make you lose consciousness.”

He hummed and stood, walking towards you to bring a finger underneath your chin, “Will you be joining me, just to make sure?”

You swallowed thickly as your cheeks burned when his hot breath fanned across your face, and you wanted to kick yourself. His heavy-lidded gaze did nothing to help the feeling that stirred deep in your gut. You pulled yourself away from him, taking a step back to collect yourself and fixing another glare on him, only making his smirk widen. “Don’t be ridiculous, and don’t use up all the hot water.”

I’m gonna need one after cleaning up all your shit

You let out a sigh of relief as he relented, walking towards the bathroom. You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath.

Running a hand down your face, you slung the bloody cloth over your shoulder and turned your head to examine the damage done to your couch since his arrival. You groaned at the sight. Deep red patches stained the cushions and armrest, there was no way that those were coming out no matter how deep you cleaned. There was only so much that online tips and laundry detergent could do, but that was a problem for later.

Your attention turned to the bloodied shirt that Hisoka had tossed unceremoniously on the floor, grimacing slightly at the way the clotted blood stuck to your fingers when you picked it up. Fuck, it was.... absolutely drenched! How the hell he was even able to stand was a miracle to you, but you didn’t want to think about it too much. That man was an enigma enough as it was.

The faint sound of the shower starting filled the silence in the house, making you relax slightly; the tension from earlier finally beginning to dissipate a little bit. You moved to the kitchen in order to attempt to restore the atrocity in your hands. It would need to soak in cold water for at least an hour before you could even begin to try scrubbing the blood out.

The sound of the sink filling with water aided in calming your nerves further as you held your fingers underneath the stream to test the temperature, tossing the bloody cloth onto the counter. It didn’t take long for the water to reach the halfway point before you turned it off.

The water immediately turned a deep red as soon as you placed the shirt in the sink. You repressed the urge to gag as gobs of clotted blood began to float off and onto your hands. No matter how many times you bandaged him up, you would never get used to the sight of the blood...

You paused briefly; your hands starting to get numb from the cold of the water as your mind wandered. How many times had you done this? How many times had he come into your house whenever he pleased, only for you to treat him without question? You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at yourself. ‘Without question’ wasn’t entirely accurate, but who could blame you for asking the Magician with a death wish what the hell he gets up to every once in a while. You frowned, looking over your shoulder towards the hallway that led to the bathroom. What were you going to do with him?

Guilt began to eat away at your heart as you thought about the gash going down his chest. You made him clean himself up, then again, he deserved it, but you wouldn’t leave him to patch himself up. You sighed, and picked the shirt up out of the water, ringing the material as much as you could before pulling the plug in the sink. You’d have to keep changing the water if you wanted any hope of getting the majority of the blood out.

While the sink filled again, you retrieved your kit from the living room and set it on the counter by the sink; pulling out what you believed you would need. Gauze for sure, it didn’t matter if the wound had stopped bleeding, you would need to pack it. From the state of his clothing though, you figured the worst of the bleeding had stopped before he arrived. Antibiotic ointment was mandatory... so was the compression bandage...

You groaned and massaged your temples in an attempt to relieve the oncoming headache. You couldn’t do stitches, which meant he would have to stay in your home so you could monitor his recovery. Which meant you’d have to get close to him to change his bandages. Multiple times.

The couch was out of commission as a place to sleep on now, given the state it was in...

You wanted to scream.

Hitting the handle on the tap a little harder than necessary, you placed the shirt back in, this time the water turning only a dark pink as it began to soak once again. You worried your bottom lip while wiping your hands with a dishtowel, trying to think of any possible sleeping arrangements that didn’t result in him sharing your bed; your anxiety rising the more you realized that it was looking like he might just have to share your bed...

God. Fucking. Damnit.

You shook your head, glancing over at the stove to read the bright red numbers that displayed the time.

11:06pm

With another sigh, you threw the towel on the counter and turned around to go deal with the couch. What you did not expect was to see Hisoka standing directly behind you, making you flinch in surprise and letting out a startled gasp.

“Holy mother of hell, Hisoka, warn a girl would ya?!” You panted, placing a hand over your now racing heart, sending yet another glare to the offending man in front of you. The glare, however, was short lived as soon as your realized his state of undress. The only thing keeping this man from being entirely stark naked in your kitchen was a grey towel that was slung a little too low on his hips for your comfort. You coughed and averted your eyes, despising the heat you could feel creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“Would it kill you to put a pair of pants on?”

It was difficult to keep yourself from tripping over your words at the sight of him, and you glared at the wall when you heard him laugh in response.

“You’re so red, my dear, am I making you uncomfortable?”

You grit your teeth in frustration, seething at how his casual drawl wasn’t making anything better for you. You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply through your nose in an effort to calm yourself down before looking back over at your newly acquired house guest.

“You are beginning to overstep your bounds when it comes to my hospitality, either cover up or find someone else to treat your wounds.”

It was an empty threat and you both knew it. You both knew you were too kind to kick him out of your house, despite how uneasy he made you. It just wasn’t in your heart to do so. You ran your hand down your face again, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt the headache begin to form once again.

“Just... grab the pair of sweatpants from the top left drawer of my dresser at least. I’ll wash your clothes tonight, since that’s the only guess I have for you being naked as a jaybird. I’ll meet you in the living room when you’re done.”

Grabbing your kit and a chair from the kitchen table, you brushed past him as quickly as possible and placed it in front of the one patch of the couch that wasn’t covered in blood and set your kit down on the floor. You peeked over your shoulder to see if he was still standing here.

He wasn’t. Thank god.

He reappeared moments later in the pair of grey sweats that looked way too good on him for how small they were. You felt heat creep back into your cheeks for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

“Take a seat in front of me, please.” You began to pull out what you would need, “it’ll make things easier if I don’t have to crouch in front of you.”

It would also make it harder for him to pull the same stunt he did before. A look you didn’t recognize flashed through his eyes before he complied. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, holding your hands under your chin as you began to reassess the damage.

The injury on his torso wasn’t as bad as you initially thought. It was deep and would still require stitches, but with the blood washed away it didn’t look as horrid as before. Clearing your throat, you began to work.

“I’m going to have to do this once or twice a day depending on how you heal,” you said, scooping some antibiotic ointment onto your fingers, “you won’t be able to do any more jobs until the large gash is fully healed, or anything too strenuous really.”

He simply hummed in response as you began to apply the ointment to his chest, trying to ignore how his muscles twitched with every swipe as you worked over his wounds. God, his skin was so hot against your hands...

“That being said, this isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” you began to pack the wound with gauze, being careful not to press to hard on the wound, “with the amount of blood on the couch and on your clothes, I was expecting a lot worse...” you trailed off, the realization hitting you way later than it should have.

The sly smile that graced his face was frightening.

“Most of it isn’t mine, darling”

Your stomach lurched when he confirmed your suspicions out loud, but you forced the bile rising in your throat down; only nodding as you reached for the compression bandage. Your discomfort was still noticed by the magician, however, who leaned forward towards you a little more than necessary as you began to wrap the bandage around his chest.

“Because of the state of your injury, I would suggest you stay here for the next little while so I can keep an eye on your progress.”

You didn’t like the smile that crept across his face at that, or the way he leaned in closer to you when you wrapped the bandage around his back, “How long are we playing house then, hmm~?”

You gulped. His voice was teasing as always, but the implication behind it combined by the fact it was spoken directly in your ear sent shivers down your spine.

“I’d say about week or two.” You didn’t trust yourself to say much more as you secured the bandage with tensor clips. You checked your work over one last time before beginning to gather your things up. A frown tugged at Hisoka’s lips from the less than pleased tone in your voice.

“Don’t you want to play with me~?”

You shot him an unimpressed look as you stood up, wanting to be away from this man sooner rather than later. “I’m not your toy, Hisoka. I’m doing this for the sake of your health, because believe it or not, you are mortal.”

He followed your movements, standing in front of you before you had the chance to create any more distance between the two of you; once again taking your chin in his hand, this time more gently than before. It was.... caring almost.

“And it’s for reasons like that, my dear, that you are my favourite toy, and the idea of... playing with you in such a way is too much to pass up.”

It was your turn to frown at his words, “I don’t know what you mean, and I’m quite sure I don’t want to know.” That was a lie. You got the message loud and clear, but by god you wanted it to be wrong.

A dramatic sigh left his lips before he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“My my, do you need me to explain it to you more simply?”

He didn’t. Shit.

You stared up at him, his red locks tickling your face from how close he was to you.

“Why me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. He tilted his head almost mockingly so.

“What was that, my dear?”

You narrowed your eyes, a sudden resurgence of bravery. “You could have anyone you want, why me?”

You expected him to give you that insufferable smile of his, or to at least laugh at you for even daring to ask such a question. Instead his eyes bore into you with an intensity that you’d never felt before, “Because you’re the only one that I want. You healed me when you didn’t have to and did so without question. I don’t think you understand what that means, my dear.”

You let out a surprised squeak as his lips collided with you in a kiss that held pure unbridled lust, teeth clashing from the intensity. He left you panting when he pulled back, licking along the shell of your ear. “You’re mine”.

You couldn’t even get your bearings before he kissed you again, just as bruising as before. Your gasps granted him the access to your mouth that he so obviously desired. The feeling of his hands wandering up your sides to your breasts brought you back to your senses enough to pull away from him and send a hand flying towards his face.

The smack resonated around the room, leaving your hand stinging while your chest heaved. You felt dizzy. Too much was happening too fast.

“How fucking dare you,” your voice was barely audible as a whirlwind of emotions ran through you. Hate? Want? Fear? You didn’t know anymore, but all you knew was that it was too much for you to handle, “You mistake my kindness and hospitality for something more. I am not yours, Hisoka.”

His head was still knocked to the side from the force of your slap. He wouldn’t admit it, but you hit harder than he expected. His shock was quickly replaced with a look that could only be described as predatory as he looked back towards you, licking his lips, tasting the blood from the small split you had caused; a mixture of a moan and growl leaving his throat.

“Oh, but you are, Y/N. You have been mine for a long time.” 

The dread hit you like a bus. He had never said your name before, never in all the times he had come into your home. He was serious.

Oh fuck... what had you gotten yourself into...

In a last ditch effort, you bolted, but you didn’t get far.

You felt yourself getting yanked back, making you lose your balance and land on the floor; knocking the wind out of you. You wheezed, coughing from the force of the fall, stars littering your vision from your head smacking against the floor.

You regained clarity to the sound of your clothes being torn from your body, making you yelp, kicking and slapping the man on top of you in a vain attempt to get free. He chuckled and easily batted your hands away, gathering them into one hand and pinning them above your head. You whimpered, your clothes around you in ruined strips, leaving you bare beneath the man you had just treated moments ago; a small feeling of betrayal forming in your chest.

You were trapped.

The room was silent as Hisoka stilled above you for a moment, seemingly admiring the view. You were frozen in a state of shock and fear, tears beginning to form in your eyes while he ran his other hand down your body, stopping to cup your sex. You squirmed at the look he gave you when his fingers came away wet. How could you be wet from what he was doing to you?

He began to stroke your folds, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck and letting out a loud groan.

“Why you, you say?” He dipped one of his fingers into you, smirking into your neck as your breath hitched, placing open mouthed kisses along your throat as he began to thrust slowly.

“Because of this.” He punctuated the word by biting into the skin on your collar bone and sucking harshly, making you keen when he inserted another finger. “I’ve dreamt of this~”

You turned your head to the side, refusing to acknowledge the pleasure he was giving to your body when his lips wrapped around one of your nipples; his teeth lightly scraping making you shudder involuntarily. He groaned in response, shifting his heavy-lidded gaze towards your face and releasing your nipple with a pop.

“Oh, no, no, no, my darling~” He quickly withdrew his hand from your cunt hand and gripped your cheeks, forcing your head straight; his nails on his fingers, still wet from your arousal, digging into your skin harshly. You whimpered when your eyes met his, the intensity almost too much for you to bear, “I want you to watch every single thing I do to you.”

He slowly let go of your jaw, dragging his claws lightly down your throat to your breasts, giving them a light squeeze. You flinched, your hands clenched in fists at your side.

“I’ve dreamt of you under me...” He continued; the sentence broken up by wet kisses placed down your body. Your eyes widened, realizing his intentions immediately, but forcing yourself not to look away in fear of what he would do if you did.

“S-stop.” God, you hated how weak you sounded. Tears began to slip down your cheeks as he ventured lower down your body until you could feel his breath right on your cunt. “Please, Hisoka, I-”

A loud growl against your skin killed whatever pleads you had on your lips; the pupil of his eyes blown so wide they nearly swallowed the golden iris. He looked feral.

“I love the way you say my name, Y/N”

A squeal left your throat when you felt his tongue on your slit, your hips bucking on their own accord when the hot muscle dragged from your core up to your aching clit before he latched onto it and sucked harshly; making you toss your head to the side as you squeezed your eyes shut at the burst of pleasure that shot through you, more tears dripping onto the floor.

The breathy moans and growls from Hisoka only added to your reluctant growing arousal as he ate you out like a man starved. His hands gripped you from under your thighs so he could pull you close to his face while holding you down; the sounds coming from his mouth loud and downright lewd as he lapped at the new slick.

“I want you to say my name over, and over again; I want you to scream it so loudly your neighbours can hear exactly who you belong to.”

Your breathing hitched as you felt a familiar tightening beginning to form in your lower stomach. You bucked against him, the last of your resistance starting to die out as your orgasm continued to build. You felt him groan into your core more than you heard him, making you shudder.

“Moan for me darling, don’t hide any of those pretty noises from me.”

You cried out when you felt his fingers back at your entrance, dipping into you with less caution than the first time. You could feel his nails dragging along your walls as he fucked his fingers into you at a steady pace, scratching lightly on your g-spot in a way that should not have felt as good as it did.

“Hisoka!”

“Cum for me, darling, let me hear you~” He purred, suckling on your nub with vigor as he pumped his fingers into you faster.

You came with a chocked sob mixed with a moan, your pussy clamping down on his fingers like a vice, gushing around him. You felt sick as you came down from your high, watching as he released his assault on your clit with a lewd pop, a thin trail of drool connecting his lips to your swollen cunt. 

“You’re so good for me, darling.” He cooed. You could only muster up a withering look, your words failing you. This, of course, just made him chuckle as he pushed the grey sweats down his hips, his length springing free and slapping against his stomach. “However, I’d much rather feel you come undone on my cock.”

Your eyes widened... he couldn’t seriously go through with this... could he?

Could he?

“Hisoka wait!”

Your shout made him pause briefly before he kissed his way back up your body, coming to hover just above your lips; that insufferable smirk back on his mouth that shone with your slick. Your face flushed at the sight, and you rolled your head back to the side in shame.

“Please... please don’t...”

Another silence filled the room as he regarded your trembling form pinned beneath him. A spark of hope was reignited in you, his hesitation giving you the courage to bring your hands up, pressing lightly against the bandage on his chest in your attempt to push him away.

That spark was quickly snuffed out when he let out a guttural moan, his eyes rolling back slightly before focusing back on you.

You forgot he liked pain.

“Didn’t I already say, love?” He teased the head of his cock against your swollen clit making you squirm, new tears forming in your eyes from a combination of the stimulation and the hopelessness. Your back arched off the floor and your jaw fell open in a silent scream as he sank into you in a slow, agonizing thrust. He licked a stripe up your neck with a possessive growl, stopping just in front of your ear. “You belong to me.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust to his size before he pulled back and thrust his hips against you harshly, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing throughout the room along with your moans and hiccupping sobs.

“Oh fuck, Y/N...” He gasped, his head tilting back in ecstacy, your walls fluttering around him as he hammered your insides; stretching you out in a painfully blissful way.

You loved it, and you hated yourself for it.

“Oohhhh darling, you were mine the first time you treated me.” He grunted, shifting the angle of his hips to penetrate you deeper. You bit your lip, desperately trying to contain the whines leaving your throat with each brush of his cock on the bundle of nerves deep inside of you, his words only making you flush deeper... if that were even possible.

“I would’ve taken you then and there, had you begging and crying under me like you are now.” You felt his dick twitch inside you at his own words and your pussy clenched around him.

God, what was wrong with you?

He growled, and suddenly pulled away from you. Relief flooded your system for a split second before you felt yourself being flipped over, your hips being pulled back and his cock sheathing back inside you with a thrust that made the whines finally spill from you; your arms laying limply next to your head as he resumed to pound into you at a pace that could only be described as inhuman. His balls slapped against your clit each time he bottomed out, making your breath come out in quick, desperate gasps.

“Do you like that, my dear? Knowing that I could’ve done this to you sooner?”

You only groaned in response, the coil in your abdomen beginning to form again. The tears slipped from your eyes as you weakly shook your head. Why did this feel so good? Why did your body react to him like this?

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip when you felt his hand circle around to your clit, rubbing in rough circles that made your eyes roll back into your head.

You couldn’t take it.

You couldn’t help the wanton moan that passed through your lips as you came, your head hanging loosely as your body continued to bounce from the power of his thrusts; your pussy convulsing around his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Hmmm~ you didn’t want to cooperate a few minutes ago, look at you now,” He fisted the hair at the base of your skull and pulled you back to his chest, his thrusts never wavering as he spoke into your ear, “coming undone for me a second time.” His chuckle gave way to a breathy moan as his thrusts became more erratic, losing rhythm as he began to slam into you with fever.

“I’m going to fill you up, my dear.” He growled, biting down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, making you cry out when his teeth broke the skin. The sight of your blood making him thrust into you harder and faster. “Then you’ll truly know that you are mine.”

Your moans left you with no restraint, incoherent babbling falling from your lips at the overstimulation. You could no longer think, all your energy focused on the dick that was pistoning in and out of your squelching cunt.

Hisoka’s hips stuttered as he came inside of you, his cock spurting thick hot ropes of cum right against your cervix, coating your walls as he bit down on your neck once more, lazily fucking into you a few more times before he stilled.

Your breathing was ragged as everything slowly came to a stop, the weight of everything crashing over you as your lids dropped with exhaustion. You whined weakly as he pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness now foreign to you. You slumped to the floor, emotional and physical fatigue washing over you as you stared blankly up at the man who had just ruined your trust and your body. Your eyes flickered to the bandage on his chest, a thin line of red beginning to form from your exertions.

Even after all that... you still cared.

Damn him.

He ran a hand through his hair as he stared down at you, a pleased smile on his face as he took in your fucked out form, his dick twitching at the sight.

Oh yes.

He would enjoy playing house with you much more now.

----

Part 1, Part 3

Tag List: @prettycutebunny, @my-child-gaara, @shorkbrian, @luesi, @mynameseri, @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes, @trash-writings

[panda-noosh]

unlike me {fred weasley x reader}

  Words: 8k

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

Genre: fluff

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “Huh?” he replies.

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

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

  “They’re in your year, aren’t they?”

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

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

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

  “Just ol’ Freddy Boy here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Have you ever tried speaking to them?”

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

  “Not really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   At some point.

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

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

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

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

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

   “Eep!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Your voice is quiet, timid.

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

   “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Me neither.”

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

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

   “You alright?”

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

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

   “Thanks.”

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

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

  Fred pauses. Have you just caught him out?

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

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

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

   You shrug.

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

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

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

  Your lips twitch. “Who told you that?”

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

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

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

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

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

  “He is.”

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

 “Right.”

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

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

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

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

  ----

   “So how did it go?”

  “I don’t kiss and tell.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Exactly,” the twins reply.

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

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

  “So you want to keep talking to them?”

  Fred raises a brow. “Of course I do.”

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

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

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

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

  “Y/N!”

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

   “You move quick.”

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

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

  “Sounds nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “What is it like in there?” he asks.

   “In where?”

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

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

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

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

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

  “Are there many? Similarities, I mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

  “And what would you consider important?”

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

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

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

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

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

   “I agree.”

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

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

   “Really?”

  “Mm.”

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

   “Explain.”

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

  “Is theirs as corrupt as ours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Shut up, George.”

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

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

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

   ----

   Fred is beginning to get very tired of his classes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “I was definitely telling the truth.”

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

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

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

   “No!”

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

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

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

  “Oh, give me a break, Fred.”

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

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

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

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

   “I’m going to class,” you announce.

  “You didn’t answer my question!”

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

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

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

    Oh, no…

   ----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Did you like that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yeah, well…”

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

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

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

  “But yours is so much tastier.”

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

   And then the world stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

   ----

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

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

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

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

   The fireplace suddenly erupts.

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

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

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

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

   Suddenly he’s smiling.

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

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

  “Right now?”

   “Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  George scowls. “What about our homework?”

  “We’ll be fine.”

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

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

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

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

   “Hola. Bonjour. Hello. Hi.”

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

  He’ll never get used to that greeting.

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

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

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

   “You must have,” you reply.

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

   And that’s when your expression shifts.

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

   “Hey. Did something happen?”

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

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

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

   “Alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Fred raises a brow. “Happy now?”

 “Overjoyed.”

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

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

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

  “I’ll take your-”

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

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

   A traumatic experience for anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  ----

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

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

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

   “That really was a shock,” you say.

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

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

  “And the bit when we resurfaced and you-”  

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

  “You didn’t.”

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

  “But I’m a special case?”

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

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

   You blink. “Yeah?”

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

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

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

  Fred laughs. “If you want, yeah.”

  “Do you -”

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

   A grin splits your face. “Okay.”

  “Yeah?”

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

[jesslockwood]

rakes | chapter two

pairing: regency!Harrison Osterfield x regency!reader

words: 2.1k 

warnings:  bridgerton s1 spoilers, swearing, mentions of sex

a/n: this took me forever to write because i wrote the ending ish and I have even the whole end part planned out lmao. now I just need to write up to it lmao. 

Please Reblog and Like if you enjoy!

series masterlist

You awoke startled, sweaty, and with tears streaming down your face. It had been from a nightmare, of your first season’s debut. You knew that things could not go as horribly wrong that night did, yet, you were afraid deep down it might. 

You could never forget the piercing scream that rang through your body as you watched helplessly, your worst unknown nightmare becoming real in front of you, and being able to do nothing for your parents. 

After sitting in your bed for what seemed like hours, you decided to get dressed at the start making a list of what you had to do in haste to get ready for the season’s rush.

There was so much to do and so little time, so you knew one worry could be put at ease if you planned it all out. At least then your mind would hopefully quiet down the thoughts in your head. 

Sitting near the window with it open, you watched the sunrise, wondering how your dear William was doing. You had left hastily, not even with a goodbye to him. It was too painful to be in Grosvenor square where all your fondest memories had been with your deceased parents. He was of course in those fond memories, yet it was too painful as you saw your father in him, and the man he became because of your father being a parental figure to him.

You wondered how he was handling being the earl, especially without the guidance or help of anyone. Especially since your presence is missing. You wrote to him all the time, yet he had no return address to send it to so you knew not much of how your dearest sibling was doing.

You knew not much of duty of being a man and running an estate and the burden weighed on society of being an earl, yet you knew the pressures and gossip and betrayal all too much so you knew it could not have been easy. 

You only wished as much that you could have stayed for William, yet you knew your body would not let you stay as the fear would crawl into your bones, rotting you into some sort of insane spinster. 

You stretched your body out after sitting for too long on the uncomfortable chair, deciding it was time to head on out- “the earlier the better”- you thought.

As soon as you stepped out into the hall you had turned, and collided with a strong torso, almost falling to the ground. Strong arms had caught you before you took a nasty spill. 

“Pardon me-” you whispered quietly, as you then realized the close proximity of you and the man that had caught you, his face very close to your own. 

He looked disheveled slightly, with his golden locks out of place slightly, and a small amount of dusting of freckles that adorned his face. His icy blue eyes had been staring into yours, almost too cold to even look into, yet you felt a sense of curiosity to capture the color of them in your mind. You also had noticed the closeness of your bodies in this very moment, almost too scandalous to even think of in society’s ton. 

“Apologies, Miss.,” he said with a slightly crooked smile that could make any woman melt at this moment. 

He helped you regain your balance on your own two feet, before heading towards the stairs, giving you a lopsided smile again, nodding at you, and went downstairs.

You were almost too stunned to move from the interaction. You had never been as close as that to a man in your life. It gave you a small chill down your spine, even thinking about him, the mystery man. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your maid, Lucy, was walking out of the adjacent room to yours. 

“Madam, shall I fetch the carriage?” she asks you politely, suddenly snapping you out of your entranced state. 

“Yes, we should get going.”

Arriving at the Bridgeton home was, interesting to say the least, in a good way. It had been around noon, after your stop at the modiste, picking up dresses for the most -well- dreaded season, and you had been welcomed by most of the Bridgerton ladies in the drawing-room, embraced by Violet, asking for your time heading to their home. It was quite a shock as the chaos yet love could be felt in the room, as whom you were assuming the two youngest were arguing of some hair ribbon, and two of the other elder brothers of Daphne’s were in some heated debate about god knows what, and one sister was writing in a journal of some sort as the other played the pianoforte. 

“Welcome dear, to our home. I apologize in advance for the chaos, we are getting ready for Elosie’s first season, and our masquerade ball.”

“No need to apologize, Lady Bridgerton. Thank you for letting me stay until William gets in tomorrow. I just couldn’t stay in the house alone.”

“Please call me Violet! And any friend of my family is welcome here. Children, This is Lady Y/L/N.”

“If I am to call you Violet I insist you all call me Y/n” she smiles warmly towards you, “Eloise, could you please show Y/n to her room, I’m sure she is but tired from her journey.”

She comes out of her trance of writing responding to her mother, “Of course Mama.”

As you walk out of the drawing-room with her she looks as if she’s in deep thought. 

“I have so many questions to ask of you! How were you able to travel? I only thought men such as my brother could do so, yet here you are!”

“Well when my parents passed, I just- well, couldn’t stay here, so I ventured off with what my bro- erm, cousin, William had given to me. I went to visit some other cousins in France and had gone off to other parts of Europe. It was better than I had ever imagined. But now my duty is to my family, and the adventure has stopped, for now at least.”

You had stopped walking when you reached a door, that you assumed was your room.  

“That is incredible, I shall wait to ask more of you, later on of course.”

“Why don’t you show me the grounds and I shall tell you more, right now, and you can tell me about yourself, Eloise.”

Her face lit up.

“I would quite enjoy that!”

After walking around their grounds, you had sat on the swings on a tree, telling her all about your adventures, and she told you about herself and even told you quite a bit about Lady Whistledown and her venture in trying to find the writer behind the pen. It had been a few hours, probably nearing dinner time, but you felt at ease with Eloise. At least, you knew you had a friend in her, that hated society almost as much as you,

“I cannot believe you went in the ocean on the beach! Most ladies here would assume it unlady-like!”

“Well, I am especially not one for lady-like behavior! Especially structured by vicious mamas!” you both laugh together at that comment. Oh how you both knew of the shocking behavior of the ton’s mamas. 

“I believe we should head in now, Dinner will soon be ready, and I can only assume you are starving since we only had biscuits earlier.”

You both get up stretching your legs lightly, before heading indoors. 

You felt warmth sitting at the dinner table, though not typical, it felt like they truly loved each other, and actually enjoyed each other as a family, something you had longed for from your own family, especially for William’s sake.

William had never felt like he belonged in your family, at least not fully. The warmth you and your parents tried to give to him almost did not get through his thick skull, that you had accepted him as an esteemed member of the family. You had always wondered if it was because his true father never accepted him until he needed him to fulfill his wants. 

“So, Y/n are you excited for the season?” Anthony cuts through his current conversation, to include you. 

“Probably something of the sort. I am quite intrigued to see how people have changed.”

“Well, most have not, especially the men.” 

You laughed slightly at that. 

“Well do tell whom to stay away from.” you joke.

“If you have not read the most recent lady Whistledown I assume you don’t know.”

“I’m not quite sure I’ve ever heard of a Lady Whistledown?” you question, curiosity getting to the best of you. 

“Lady Whistledown is a gossip writer, under a pen name, whom, however, mentions people in the ton in name, by name in full.” Eloise cuts in.

You raise a brow quizzically. That was unheard of. 

“She mentions you in her most recent edition” Hyacinth mentions, before going back to throwing peas strategically when her mother wasn’t looking at her brother Gregory.  

“I’m sure Eloise has it if she hasn’t already shown you.” now you were fully intrigued. There was truly only one main thing you thought the writer could write about.

“She wrote about Lord Holland today, and might I say he is pretty dreamy.” Francesca pipes up, before earnings glare from Anthony and a kick from Eloise.

“Ow!” 

“If I didn’t do it, Anthony would have and he kicks harder.” 

You giggle at the family’s interactions. You only hoped you could have one as close as the Bridgertons.

“I see we are quite the entertainment for our guest tonight. I guess there’s no need for Eloise to get on the pianoforte. God knows I’m in motion for that.” Benedict adds before earning a kick from Eloise as well. 

“Ow!”

“Back to the topic at hand, I’d stay away from Benedict for certain.” Eloise says, which erupts you five into a fit of giggles, before getting your end of the table gets a hard stare-down from Violet, almost as if to say ‘behave’.

“So I'm assuming other than Daphne missing, the letter C, Colin, must be the one travelling? Daph did mention he would be writing me asking about the best places to travel.”

“Yes, Colin is the one travelling, but was the letter system too obvious of whom is which?” Benedict asks in an amused manner. 

“I think it’s adorable, and if you must know I find it orderly.”

“Don’t tell my mother that, or she won’t stop talking about how ‘Lady Y/n complimented her naming system’.” Benedict jokes.

You laugh before you see Eloise bringing out what you assumed was the gossip sheet. She hands it to you before you read it over, turning slightly pale at the mentions of your family so intimately.

Harrison had made it into town earlier that afternoon, only to be wondering why Mama’s, and Ladies alike- married or not- had been whispering and pointing at him. On the other hand, he had been met with a warm embrace from his wonderful sister Charlotte, and loving Mother, Phil, only to be dragged by Charlotte for her to tell him to read the latest Lady Whistledown, a woman he knew he hadn’t heard of, nevertheless thought he’d fucked. 

He however listened to his sister and her worry, before being shell-shocked by what was on the page. 

“Charlotte what the hell is this? And who the hell wrote it?"

“Lady Whistledown is but the biggest anonymous gossip columnist, and everyone reads it. Haz what am I to do if no suitors show interest when I am eligible for marriage? What if I end up a spinster?!”

“Char, I won’t let that happen I promise you.”

Harrison was determined to make sure charlotte never had to worry. She was the most lovely of any woman on the market and he would make sure she had a shot. 

“Wait Osterfield, you’re saying, you’ll Woo whoever is the most desired by the queen and marry her?” Tom askes very confusedly as to what sparked this in his bestfriend.

“Yes Tom, That is my plan,” Harrison replies before taking a sip of his drink again.

The two men had reunited at the Bridgerton’s gentleman club, talking over Harrison’s not so genius plan, according to Tom.

“Do you know how many mamas loathe even the sight of you right now? Especially because of Lady Whistledown.” Harrison’s face scrunches up, cringing at that. 

“Yes, I know already. But if I can just get in the good graces of Lady Whistledown, then I know any mama will turn around! maybe if I form an attachment with someone she might see that I’m serious about marrying. Don’t you have that cousin? Zendaya?”

“That’s a terrible idea, Harrison. Also, Zendaya is now going to be under my care according to my mother. She told her father, who is ill,  I’d watch out for her during the season to find her a suitable husband.”

Harrison gets a mischievous, conniving look on his face as the gears turn in his brain. “I said suitable Haz! Her father would have a heart attack if you came near her!”

“Fine, but can you at least convince her to show interest in me to the other ladies? So I can find a wife?”

Tom rolls his eyes before downing his drink mentally hating the idea, but agreeing to try for his almost brother,  even if he didn’t think he’d find a wife.

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[ana-benn]

I seriously want Jamie to just come and grab me, whipser in my ear that I'm his, that he owns me and always will. FUCK.

Holy FUCK...

I need a minute.....

Okay. This turned into a whole ass smutty, possessive, domineering fic. This totally messed up my planned fics too, but you know what? I don't even care. You send something like this you jump the line 🥵 So.... You're welcome?

Stupid Possessive Man

It's been well established that Jamie doesn't play nicely with others. But sometimes you have to remember that can translate off ice too. It all started because of stupid ego-centric male jealousy too. Which was both hot, and slightly annoying if you were honest. You loved seeing Jamie this worked up, but also hated feeling like a piece of meat. It was a strange place to be.

It had started innocently enough you'd shown up with Jamie to Tyler's BBQ, and immediately gotten swept up in his charisma. Tyler had shown you where you could stick your overnight bag, as he didn't want any of the team leaving afterwards, since everyone knew how much alcohol was involved in a Seguin party. He'd left you and Jamie to change into swimwear and went downstairs. You'd taken your suit into the bathroom to change, it didn't matter how many times he'd seen you naked if it wasn't sexual you just felt uncomfortable. Jamie knew this and gave you your space, while he changed in the bedroom.

You'd chosen a flattering bikini that was also actually functional for swimming, wanting to actually have fun, and a bright orange cover up.

(because olive and orange is hott, you can't change my mind... Also I bought this so yeah)

When you stepped out you felt Jamie give you a once over before he asked, "You didn't happen to pack something else did you? I'm going to have to fight my own teammates," you laughed, and handed him the sunscreen.

"Here, you'll be the lucky one who gets to touch first," you smirked at his little scowl. He took his time, and ran his fingers over your body, long after the lotion was absorbed.

"I'd better be the only one who gets to touch," he growled out in your ear.

You have him a cheeky wink, as you threw on your coverup, "Guess we'll see."

With that you walked downstairs towards the party, chuckling as Jamie grabbed the towels and headed down after you. It was so easy to rile him up at times. You made it downstairs and staked out a couple of tanning chairs for you and Jamie, although you knew at most he'd sit there for a little while with you before one of the guys pulled him somewhere for a man-contest Tyler's parties were known for.

Exactly as predicted you'd just flipped onto your stomach when Jamie was called over to have a ping pong contest. You rolled your eyes playfully and swatted him away. He gave you a big grin and jogged over to play. It wasn't long before several other guys and their wives or girlfriends showed up. You got to talking with them, comparing notes on what they'd been doing since the season ended. A few of the guys inevitably would wander over and check in, but for the most part the party was easily divided between guys and girls. It was almost comical how like highschool it felt.

Eventually you and a few of the other ladies got into the pool, which brought a few guys in. You noticed Jamie had disappeared, but quickly were pulling into a game. Tyler had the bright idea to play chicken, and Joe and Sarah were onboard. As the reigning champs from last summer, they felt confident.

Tyler came over to you as everyone started pairing off, "Come on, let's partner up. Jamie's inside kicking everyone's ass at Mario Kart." You smirked at that. He really was ruthless at any competition, and he definitely loved beating his teammates.

So you agreed, and climbed up on Tyler's shoulders. The next twenty minutes or so were spent with splashing and laughter as those of you who decided to play fought tooth and nail to stay up. You didn't even notice Jamie coming back outside, fresh off a Mario Kart ultimate victory. A particularly hard shove had you lock your ankles around Tyler, just as you noticed Jamie. The hard look in his eyes sent a very clear message though, he was jealous.

Now a good wife would've probably gone over and reassured him, a better wife probably wouldn't have even played the game with Tyler, but you weren't that kind of wife. You craved his raw power and dominance, and it sent a chill up your spine to know that the worse you made this the better it would be. If he was smarter you knew that he would've figured out by now when you were purposely pushing his buttons, but if he had one blind spot it was definitely in his ability to control the possessive jealousy that ran white hot in his veins. So you made it your mission to be a touchy feely as possible with anyone you could.

Tyler needs someone to help him with the grill? You were right there getting platters or whatever for him as you placed a gentle hand on his arm. Ben needed a new beer? All of a sudden you're feeling super hospitable and you jump up to grab him one, making sure to put a hand on his shoulder and bend down to hand it to him. Anton decided to do a cannon ball off the side of the pool? Obviously the splash would be bigger if you held hands and jumped together.

As it was right now you were laughing with Andrea, and sipping your most recent glass of sangria as she was telling you about their trip. You felt hands wrap around your waist, and startled slightly before you recognized the strong hands on your hips. You vaguely recognized Andrea smirk as she left you two alone.

Jamie stood like that for a moment, before leaning into your ear, "You're mine little girl, and I'm not letting you go. So here's what's going to happen, you're going to put my shirt on, and then we're going to sit with our friends around the fire pit. You're going to put your cute little ass in my lap, and I'm going to stuff you with my cock. If you're good, when we get upstairs I'm going to fuck you. Got it?"

You couldn't breathe, let alone speak, so you did exactly what he said. Grabbing your coverup as well to drape over your legs. When you made it back over to the group Jamie was already there, you did exactly what he's asked and sat on his lap. He manhandled you into the position he wanted, and once he'd stoped you placed the coverup over your legs.

"You cold?" Tyler asked.

Jamie took that moment to enter you, causing you to choke a little as you attempted to answer Tyler, "N-no just a little over exposed from the sun is all."

Jamie chuckled lowly, as you fought the urge to elbow him. He started easily conversing with his teammates, and you just quivered around him. You tried just leaning back into Jamie's body, but being enveloped in the smell of chlorine, beer, and campfire along with the musk that was just Jamie was too intense with his buried deep inside of you. You could feel the wetness dripping as you sat there and squirmed, trying to find a way to get comfortable in the situation.

Jamie leaned into your ear creating what looked like a sweet moment, though his words were anything but sweet, "Do you you think they know you're sitting here quivering on my cock? That your quivering and clenching around me like a desperate, needy whore?"

You almost whined, as Jamie pulled from you. A seamless movement that looked like a basic adjustment, "We're going to head up guys, see you in the morning." Jamie said pulling you up, and along with him. Those around you waved, and you noticed a couple gathering their things to follow you.

Jamie pulled you into the room, and as soon as the door closed he was on you. Lips attacking your skin as he peeled your clothes from your body. Possessive nips followed by soft kisses, as he backed you towards the bed. No foreplay needed after you'd spend the last half-hour on his cock, and you'd teased him all day.

As soon as he had you naked he was over you, thrusting up into you. He settled his lips over your jugular, and set to work marking your neck while he pounded into your soaked pussy. He was intense, and his hands alternated between caressing your body and coming back to your his where he would grab rough as he delivered random hard thrusts. It was animalistic and deliciously rough, so all you could do it was wrap your arms around his shoulders and spread your legs.

"Tell me who owns this tight little cunt," Jamie demanded harshly.

"You do," you whimpered, Jamie rewarded you with a harsh thrust.

"Again," he growled.

"God, Jamie please. I'm yours I'm all yours," you cried.

He smirked then as he doubled his efforts, "Then cum with me." You couldn't help but follow then, as Jamie trapped your cries in a searing kiss.

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

The next morning when you got up you appraised yourself in the mirror "Jamie!" You gasped out, causing him to stick his head in the door.

"What's up?" He asked concerned.

"You left a purple hickey on my neck," you admonished.

"Guess you'll just have to wear my shirt instead of that tank top," he grinned.

"Stupid, possessive man," you groaned, causing Jamie to laugh as he tossed you his shirt.

[psychiatristreturning]

four times steve harrington knew he loved you and the one time he told you (steve harrington x henderson!reader)

a/n: for anon. this is my longest fic so far. i worked real hard on this. i really like it.  word count: 2.6k warnings: violence, language

5. 1975

Steve didn’t know what love was. All he knew is that his parents didn’t have it. Crushes were a different story, but Steve wanted to know what love was. 

You knew what love was, it was your mom making you your favorite meal after a big test. It was your brother smiling at you, even though he was toothless. Love was your cat purring when you pet her. But you never knew romantic love, not with your parents or yourself. 

Moving to Hawkins had changed your life. You had some friends back home, but this place? No one wanted to be friends with you. Nine-year-olds were brutal. Though at school there was one boy, who, even at nine, had established himself as quite the ladies man. But he seemed sweet, no matter how much of a jerk he could be sometimes. 

At recess one day it all changed, for both of you. 

The swing set creaked in the wind, it’s cold metal seat under you, bending under your weight. A group of rowdy boys ran past you, and one, ran directly into you. Tumbling face forward into the concrete you yelped in surprise, your face stinging. Blinking back tears you suddenly become aware of the boy behind you, who wanted to help. 

“Are you okay?” his oddly timid voice sounded.

“Yeah, I’m good.” you turned to him, “Is it bad?” you questioned as he grimaced. 

“Um, I think you’ll be okay. But I’ll take you to go get some band-aids.” he kicked a loose rock on the concrete, “I’m sorry.” 

“No worries.” you stood up, realizing your knees were cut too. 

Steve quickly stuck his arm out and wrapped his hand around your bicep, helping keep you steady. A teacher who was wondering haphazardly around called over, “Mr. Harrington! Where are you taking  Ms. Henderson?” 

The young boy looked at the teacher, dumbfounded, “To get some band-aids.” Couldn’t he see all the blood? 

“No, she can do it herself. It’s not a man's job to care.” all Steve heard was his dad, and he didn’t have the courage to stand up to his dad, but he did to his teacher. He knew what was right. 

“She needs help.” he stated, flat out. Steve didn’t understand what was wrong with helping you. 

Now, you were uncomfortable in this stare off with the teacher, Steve’s grip becoming tighter. The teacher locked eyes with Steve, “You help her I’ll give you detention.” 

Steve gulped knowing his dad would yell at him, but you, a person, needed help. Leaning over you whispered, “Go,” to him. He shouldn’t get in trouble for helping you. 

“No.” he said firmly, helping you walk inside, the teacher screaming about his detention or whatever. The boy seemed unbothered, you admired it. 

“Okay, well thank you.” you squeaked out. You knew he was probably only helping you because he bumped into you, but part of you wanted it to be different, and maybe it was. 

He helped you into the school and into an empty bathroom, Steve was not the smartest per se, but he knew to clean the cuts. Which there were a lot of. “Steve,” he looked down at you from where he was cleaning a cut on your forehead, “Why did you do this?” 

Steve looked adorably confused at you, “Do what?” 

“Help me. Was it because you bumped me?” 

He took a deep breath, thinking, “No, you deserve to be helped, you’re nice Y/N. And, yes, I hit you, but, you shouldn’t have to help your self up.” 

You stared ahead, feeling something, feeling loved. 

Steve wondered what this was. Why did he help you? Maybe, just maybe, because he loved you. 

4. 1983

Who knew what was going on anymore? You had no idea where your brother was, and some reason you were with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers, trying to summon his brother or something. Not that you would ever admit it, but you were truly terrified, lights flashing around you, yelling, fake bodies. You didn’t know what to do. The world was coming apart at its seams. Nancy, Jonathan, and you sat in the Byers house on the couch, shaking, worried about what would happen next. The weapons in your hands were clutched tightly, ready for action. 

No one dared speak, when a knock came at the door. Startling all of you out of your skin. Nancy jumped up pointing her gun at the door. The banging on the door continued, when you heard, “Jonathan, man! I’m sorry! And I feel terrible! I wanna help!” 

“Steve!” Nancy hissed quietly. 

Jonathan walked up and swung open the door to stop the incessant banging. Steve practically falling into the house, but he quickly straightened up, seeing Nancy point her gun squarely at him. Steve raised his hands quickly above his head, “Hey, Nance, I’m sorry! You don’t have to kill me-” 

“Steve get out.” 

“I’m just here to talk to Byers.” 

“Nancy, put the gun down!” you shouted at her. 

Steve’s head whipped to you, his eyes widened, “Y/N! What are you doing here? Holy shit!”

No matter what Steve said to you, you didn’t look at him, knowing you’d get distracted by his stupidly perfect hair and crooked grin. Instead, you continued to walk slowly toward Nancy, “Put the gun down.” she was shaking, conceivably using every muscle in her body to get Steve out. To help him. 

The lights started flashing irregularly, that’s when Jonathan started yelling. “Nancy! Stop it!” almost like she was in a trance, she snapped out, “He’s here.” 

Steve’s eyes widened, “Who’s here? What’s here? What’s going on?” 

At that moment it burst through the walls, the same thing you and Nancy saw in the Upside Down. They went to run to the back room, but you tripped, Nancy and Jonathan were already running, and Steve who was behind them stopped, and looked at you, and without hesitating, ran back to you. Grabbing your arms and lifting you up, helping you off the hard floor and clasping your hand, guiding you quickly into the back bedroom. 

He kept holding your hand in the dark, your backs pressed against the door. Once you realized you were holding his hand, you hastily let go. Looking across the room at the blank wall, you remembered years ago, Steve helping you up, selflessly. And once again he was ready to save you. 

Steve looked at you, shoulders pressed against each other, you looked amazing, and you were brave. But, Nancy, he had slept with Nancy, and they were something, hopefully. And at the moment, he realized there was something he felt for you that he didn’t feel when he thought of Nancy. But, now was not the time for that. If he told himself he loved Nancy, he would feel that eventually. So sure, he loved Nancy, he didn’t care about you. Never would. But part of Steve knew he was in deep shit.

3. 1984 

Oh boy, you were a part of this mess from the start. You should’ve known it wasn’t going to go well from the second Dustin said that he had found a ‘lizard’. But that wasn’t even the weirdest part of it all. It wasn’t Billy. It wasn’t Eleven suddenly showing up again. It was, at least for you, Steve Harrington. Not him, but the way he was acting. He was acting, sweet? Steve was attempting to give your brother shitty dating advice which you had to cut into, saying “Just don’t ignore her. I mean, girls like some attention.” 

Dustin looked back at you and questioned, “How many boyfriends have you had?” 

You slapped his shoulder, “Shut up.” you grumbled. 

Steve shrugged, “I mean, you are the girl here.” 

“Thank you for the acknowledgement.” 

“But are you?” 

“Dustin shut up!” Steve looked at you with a face that if anyone saw they could only categorize as lovingly. But as soon as he saw Dustin smirking at him, he turned away, flustered, tripping over a stick on the path. Steve was confronted with remembering  thinking, that he couldn’t care about you. Nancy was there. And while, yes, he grew to love Nancy, she didn’t love him. And that’s not her fault, but Nancy had broken his heart, and for the first time in quite sometime, his heart felt complete, and it was because of you. Not that he would tell you. Steve was content, for the first time in a long time, to sit back, and fall in love slowly. But, truly, deeply in love. Farther than he thought he could ever feel.

2. 1984

You had all recovered, somewhat, from what had happened. And life returned to a sense of normalcy. But that morning Dustin woke up, practically bouncing around the house, for the Snowball dance that night. You were chaperoning, so you had to look marginally good. But, what you weren’t prepared for was Steve Harrington coming over to help your brother get ready. 

Hiding in your room getting ready, you heard a knock at the door, Dustin racing downstairs, and the unmistakable voice of Steve. While it was definitely nice to hear Dustin this happy, you realized that Steve would see you like this and that was not ideal right now. 

You could hear the two of them walking upstairs and the voices getting closer, then a loud bang on your door, “Steve’s here! And we’ll have to go soon!” 

You could hear Steve say quietly behind him, “The dance is in an hour and a half.” 

“Okay and an hour and a half!” 

“Alright Dusty!”

You turned your attention back to the mirror, and you heard Steve say, “Dusty? I’m gonna use that one.” the smirk was evident in his voice. That was followed quickly by a loud “Ow!” guessing Dustin hit him. 

As you finished your makeup you couldn’t help but wonder why you had a new pit of anxiety in your stomach now that Steve was here. Why did that change the dance so much? What was it about him? 

~~~~

Sure enough, an hour and a half later, as promised, Dustin was banging on your door. You could hear Steve hyping Dustin up, telling him how great he looked, and how all the girls will dance with him. And taking one last deep breath, you opened your door and walked downstairs. Steve was absolutely in awe of you. Steve knew he was over Nancy Wheeler, you were so wonderful, smart, and beautiful. God, he thought you were the most heavenly creature, and he didn’t believe in God. You walked shakily on the godforsaken heels to Dustin where you smirked at him. “Nice hair.” 

“Thanks, it’s pretty cool.” he nodded slowly trying to be cool. 

Steve was still gaping at you, “Uh, you, um, ready to go?” 

Dustin giggled at Steve’s red face, and you answered, “Yeah, thanks by the way.” He just awkwardly nodded, shoving a free hand in his pocket, the other opening the door, you called out to your mom, “Mom we’re going!” 

“Alright kids, have fun!” she called back from the kitchen. 

You guys shuffled out of the house and began the awkward drive to the school. 

~~~~

Once you guys arrived you and Steve began the final pep talk for Dustin. “Alright, now remember, you want to care but not to much.” 

You stopped Steve, “But do care.”

“Not to much.” 

Leaning forward you retorted, “He’s not going to by her a house or something.” 

“I’m just saying!” he threw up his hands in defense, “All the girls are gonna love you, I mean,” he stopped for a minute, “you look great!” 

“Yeah! Looking great!” you attempted to back him up. 

“They won’t be able to resist me with these pearls.” he purred and both of you began a chorus of ‘No’ and ‘Don’t do that’.

He got out of the car and looked back at you, “Are you coming?” 

“I’ll be in a minute.” Steve’s eyes widened realizing he was in a car, alone, with you. “Thank you, Steve.” 

“Oh it’s no problem-”

You cut him off promptly, “I mean for everything. This year, last year, you’ve really changed. In a good way,” looking into his sweet, brown eyes, you smiled, “I really appreciate you.” 

“It’s the right thing to do, plus, I was an asshole. It was a real low bar.” 

You laughed softly, “I’m going to go, but I think you should come in and dance with me.” 

Steve’s stomach flipped when you said to dance with you. You wanted him to come. With you. “I wouldn’t want to-” 

“Please.” he couldn’t resist your pleading eyes. 

“Sure.” Steve was very busy trying to hide his smile while stepping out of the car. 

You slid out of the backseat the Dustin had forced you into, and as soon as you stepped out onto your heels you tripped and began to fall. But someone's arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you back up. Steve.

“Thank you.” you replied breathlessly, “I’ve gotta stop falling around you.” you made a lame attempt at a joke. 

He let go, and you walked in a little bit ahead of him, and under his breath he whispered, “I’ve already fallen for you.” no matter how cheesy he might sound. 

Steve Harrington loved you. 

1. 1985

All you wanted was ice cream. You didn’t want to end up taking care of two teenagers high on Russian truth serum. Trying to keep Robin and Steve collected when they’re not high is difficult enough. Robin was at the absolute goofiest you’ve ever seen her and Steve, oh, Steve. Over the past year you had harbored an extreme crush on the idiot. However, this was just sad. You were glad they were alive, but this was definitely the finale of any part of his old personality. You sat with Robin and Steve in the movie theater, Steve bopping your nose continuously. “Boop!” you grabbed his hand and moved it away from your face. 

“Shush.” 

He dropped his head onto your shoulder, and he looked up at you with his chocolate brown eyes, “You’re pretty,” he whispered, smiling like an idiot. 

“Thank you.” you whispered back, trying to act stern even as your stomach erupted in butterflies. All of a sudden Robin rushed out of the theater, mumbling something about water. You followed, Steve stumbling after you, he gripped your arm again and leaned into your side when he said to you;

“I’m in love with you.” 

You stopped in your tracks, Steve going on without you, a stupid smile on your face. Then it hit you, he’s high. It’s not him. You shook your head to rid the idea of Steve loving you. And you walked after him. Steve and Robin were drinking water manically when you got out of the theater. Both talking nonsense about Back to the Future. 

You stood, leaning against the wall. Looking lovingly at Steve. In their haze they stared nonsensically at the ceiling. Suddenly running to the bathroom, you ran after them. 

The two of them were curled over toilets, throwing up. You sat back, feeling horrible for what they had to endure. 

After what you can only describe as traumatic sickness, the three of you sat on the floor in stalls, Robin leaned her head onto your shoulder, and you spoke to Steve, knowing you couldn’t say it to his face. “Do you mean what you said, Steve?” 

Somehow in his mind, Steve knew what he admitted, “Yes.” he answered quietly. “Yes, I love you.” Robin smiled at you. And you felt hopeful, “Did I overstep?” 

“No,” Robin nodded her head quickly telling you to keep talking, “I, uh, I love you too.” 

Steve slid under the wall and next to you in the stall, “I would kiss you right now, but I just threw up.” 

“I got that.” 

“I’ll make it up to you soon enough.” 

“You two are disgusting,” Robin said, smiling at the display of two people obviously in love next to her.

[hood-ex]

Dick stares at the ceiling of his darkened bedroom for what feels like forever before the alarm on his phone starts going off. The Backstreet Boys song that Babs had set as his default alarm fills the room with a chorus of, “Everybody! Rock your body right! Backstreet's back alright!” 

He normally tries to shut the obnoxious song up as soon as it goes off, but, well, there isn’t really anything normal about Dick’s current situation, and he figures that letting the song play out for a little longer than usual might curb his feelings of homesickness.

It fades into background noise as he flings off the covers and rolls out of bed, wincing as his bare feet meet the chilled wood floor. He blindly turns in the direction of the Alexa device and—wait. It’s called Cora in this universe, not Alexa. 

Right. 

“Cora, turn on Dick’s bedroom lights,” he says to the small white device that’s sitting on the bedside table. Cora glows green to indicate that she heard the demand, and the lights flicker on immediately. 

Dick squints at the sudden brightness and stumbles his way into the bathroom for a piss and a quick shower. It takes him all of ten minutes to finish. After he dries his hair with a towel, he heads to the closet and surveys the small selection of clothes that are all in his size but aren’t actually his. That’s made obvious by the fact that all the shirts are neutral colored, many of the pants are ripped at the knees, and any form of outerwear consists mostly of hoodies. 

At 27-years-old, Dick can’t imagine himself wearing ripped jeans. He knows from what Alfred told him when he arrived here that this universe’s Dick is only 19. Still, even when Dick was that age, he’d been wearing outfits that were considered more fashionable. 

He figures the casual wear has something to do with the fact that this universe’s Alfred and Bruce are way more laid back in both manner and appearance than his own. Just yesterday, Bruce had been wandering around the kitchen in nothing but briefs and a t-shirt, something Dick's Alfred would definitely not have been pleased about.

He grins at the memory and surveys his options one last time before pulling on some light wash jeans and a beige colored Stussy shirt. He goes for a watch next—this Dick is apparently a watch guy because he’s got like six of them—and while he’s in the middle of fastening it to his wrist, he’s startled by Cora suddenly glowing green and emanating the sound of a bell ringing. 

Alfred’s pre-recorded voice then comes through the speaker and says, “Breakfast is ready. Please make your way downstairs before it gets cold.” 

Dick has to admit that out of all the things that are different about this alternate universe, having Alfred take full advantage of Cora’s abilities is one of the most amusing. Also, weirdly convenient. He’ll have to see about teaching Alfie how to use Alexa when he gets back home. 

The Backstreet Boys are finally silenced once Dick turns off the alarm. He shoves his phone in his pocket before following the heavenly scent of food towards the kitchen. 

The first thing he sees when he walks in is Bruce is sitting at the table with a tablet, no doubt reading this morning’s news. He’s already dressed in a black polo with the Wayne Enterprises crest embroidered on the breast. It’s tucked into a pair of gray trousers that are nicely tapered and draw attention to his suede penny loafers. Bruce’s hair is already neatly styled into place, and as Dick takes a seat across from him at the table, the smell of spicy cologne hits his nose. He can’t help but feel a little sad that the cologne isn’t the same as what his Bruce wears. 

Bruce sets the tablet to the side when Dick finally settles in his seat. His soft blue eyes roam over Dick’s face in a way that Dick’s come to be familiar with since landing in this universe. He figures it’s because he looks a little different than 19-year-old Dick and that Bruce is probably curious about what his boy will look like in eight years. Either that or he just misses his kid in the same way Dick misses his Bruce. 

“Morning, Dick,” Bruce greets with a smile, his tone rather chipper. 

Bruce’s upbeat attitude and smiles had thrown Dick off when he’d first arrived in this universe, not having seen his own Bruce act like that since it was just the two of them against the world. 

“Good morning, Master Dick,” Alfred greets while he gathers two plates from the marble island in the middle of the kitchen. He’s decked out in his white apron which looks pristine as always. 

“Morning,” Dick says. He reaches for the carton of milk in the middle of the table and carefully pours it into the glass that’s been preset next to his placemat. 

Alfred swoops in with the two plates and places one in front of Dick and the other in front of Bruce. Dick nearly curses in excitement when he sees what it is. 

“A full English breakfast, Alf? Aw, you shouldn’t have,” he says, and his stomach rumbles loudly as if telling him to shut up and just eat. “But I’m so glad you did.”

“Me too,” Bruce says, having already taken a bite out of a sausage. “Thanks, Alfred. This is great.”

Dick hums in agreement and quickly works on lathering his bread with some of the beans, meat, and eggs.

“Thank you, sirs. I figured Master Dick might like it, seeing as he mentioned it’s something my counterpart enjoys making.”

“You figured right,” Dick says after he finishes swallowing a mouthful. “Back home, I’d eat one of these plates so fast that Alfie would get all Shakespeare on me.” With a switch in accent and tone, Dick imitates Alfred and says, “‘He hath eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his!’” 

Something like pride fills his chest when both Bruce and Alfred’s faces scrunch up in laughter. Bruce’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and Alfred covers his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement. 

Dick’s just glad they have something like Shakespeare to relate to even though he knows that this universe's William Shakespeare only wrote half the number of plays that are in Dick’s universe. Not seeing the recognition on Bruce and Alfred’s faces when he had quoted Romeo and Juliet at them the other night had broken his heart if only because it’s quoted frequently in his family.

“Sounds like Alfred alright,” Bruce grins. 

“I’ll have to save that for when our Master Dick returns,” Alfred says, looking both fond and sad at the reminder of his missing boy. 

“He’ll get a kick out of it,” Bruce nods, looking equally as wistful. 

Dick shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the blatant display of affection for his counterpart. He can’t help but wonder if he’s being missed just as strongly back home. If he is, he’s sure it’s not being expressed as openly as this. Well, he likes to think that Babs, Tim, and Damian might have something to say about it in their own ways. 

Alfred clears his throat to dispel the sudden quiet that falls over them. “Excuse me, sirs. I’ll be eating my own breakfast in the other room.”

“Going to catch up on watching You Just Got Served?” Bruce asks knowingly. 

“What’s that?” Dick asks.

“A morning gossip show in the UK,” Bruce says, taking a sip of his coffee to no doubt hide his smirk from Alfred’s piercing gaze. 

“Gossip,” Alfred practically scoffs as if offended by the idea that he could ever find such a thing enjoyable. He grabs his plate and cup of tea from the counter, and before he leaves the kitchen, Dick hears him mutter, “If I wanted to be entertained by gossip of all things then I would spend my days reading tabloids with your face plastered across them, Master Bruce.” 

“Ohhh, burn!” Dick cackles while mentally high fiving Alfred and his quick tongue. 

Bruce cocks an eyebrow. “Burn?”

Right. Universe differences. 

“Where I’m from it’s something you say when someone else gets mocked or teased but, like, in a playful way.”

“Oh,” Bruce says quietly, eyes raised to the ceiling like he’s thinking. “I don’t know if we have a word like that here. I’ll have to ask Dick when he’s back.”

Dick hums in acknowledgment and falls quiet. His mind is a little occupied by all the food that’s still sitting in front of him, and he can tell that Bruce is the same way. Both of them are happy to sit in comfortable silence while they finish off the majority of their meals. 

It’s only when Dick is washing most of it down with his milk that Bruce suddenly asks, “You sleep okay, Chum?” 

Dick pauses at the question. Not because Bruce refers to him by the same nickname that his own Bruce calls him on occasion, but because the nickname is said with a soft look that Dick hasn’t seen on his own Bruce’s face in god knows when. He’s not sure what prompted the question, but he guesses he must look a bit rough for Bruce to bring it up. 

“Kind of,” Dick admits with a shrug. He places his glass back on the table and then continues to dig into the scraps on his plate. 

“Nightmares?” Bruce prods after chewing a mouthful of baked beans. His eyes are trained on Dick, and they’re unguarded in a way that his Bruce’s rarely are. It’s obvious he’s concerned, and Dick feels slightly touched that this Bruce who isn’t his dad is worried about him.   

Dick’s fringe flops in his face when he shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “My mind just wouldn’t shut up.”

Bruce hums. “Thinking about home?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighs. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair. “Mostly just thinking about what I’m going to do if things go wrong in my universe and my Bruce isn’t able to implement the protocol.”

The protocol in this particular situation, as Dick had explained to Bruce the first night he showed up in this universe, involves a ten day wait period. He’s to standby and wait for his Bruce to get either Zatanna or Doctor Fate to open a dimensional portal to take Dick home. If they don’t come within the first ten days of Dick’s arrival, Dick is supposed to seek out the closest thing this universe has to a magic user. 

On one hand, Dick is lucky that he ended up in a universe that has a non-hostile Batman who’s willing to help him. On the other hand, he’s completely fucked in that this universe’s Zatanna is on a deep space mission and isn’t due to return for another month. The League is also apparently not on good terms with Doctor Fate here, and while it’s not out of the question that they can eventually get him to help, Dick’s been told that it will be extremely difficult. 

Dick knows that Bruce has already been looking into other options, desperate to get his own Dick Grayson back. For now, they’re mostly relying on Dick’s Bruce to make a successful swap. 

“We’ll figure it out, Chum,” Bruce says with a comforting smile. “Worst case scenario, we wait a month for my Zatanna to get back.”

Dick bites his lip. “And if she dies on the mission?” 

Bruce’s face shifts into a closed off expression that’s familiar to Dick but looks weirdly out of place on this Bruce's face. “Like I said… we’ll figure it out.” 

Dick's mouth twists into a frown at the answer that is, frankly, not good enough for him. The only thing that keeps him from pushing the issue further is that he can tell Bruce isn’t satisfied with his answer either. 

Dick decides to back off… for now.

[crystalbahamut]

victory in stages

FFXIV Write Day 10: heady

Summary: You’re used to being liked because you’re useful, but it’s harder to believe someone likes you for…well…you, and you’re not brave enough to ask. Luckily, you have a plan to get around that. A stupid plan, perhaps, but a plan.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, unspecified/ambiguous WoL, they/them used for WoL, WoL has low self-esteem, such low self-esteem they have to get knocked about the head, literally, mild violence, 2nd person, G’raha Tia/WoL

Words: 3,363

 ---

Purging the remnants of the Lightwardens from you would have been enough to make you feel weightless but combined with the defeat of Emet-Selch, the fact that you had gone into a fight and come out with no causalities, the fact that G’raha Tia had stood in front of you, hurt but so gloriously awake and alive…

You were so overwhelmed by gratitude, by things going so right for once and so drunk on the heady feeling of absolute victory you had surged forward and grabbed G’raha in your arms and squeezed. He had gasped and hugged back, stammering your name…

…But now, a couple of days removed from it, you’re wondering if you hadn't just…startled him.

“Did you travel back to the Source without telling us?”

You jolt up, taking your chin from your hand and sitting back to face Alisaie and Y’shtola, who look unamused and amused, respectively. “Sorry,” you say. “What were you saying?”

Alisaie rolls her eyes and looks askance at Y’shtola. “It’s probably a good thing we made them sit with their back to the Crystal Tower or we’d never catch their attention again.”

You frown. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” But Y’shtola smiles into her cup as she merely holds it to her lips. “You seem to be very deep in thought, is all. One has to wonder what has caught your mind so thoroughly.” Her smile widens. “Or who.”

You duck your head between your shoulders at the insinuation. “Oh, it’s not…”

“Please, you’ve been asking after the Exarch ever since we got back from the Tempest,” Alisaie says. “Haven’t you gotten tired of his company even a little?”

“I haven’t seen him since we came back.”

Both Y’shtola and Alisaie lose the teasing edge and sit forward. “What?” Alisaie asks in disbelief.

You shrug, very uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. There must still be some sin eaters around somewhere that need killing, right? That seems like more fun than being subjected to Y’shtola’s and Alisaie’s very special brands of tough love. “He’s still the Exarch helping run an entire city, and I’m just…what he needed me for is done. There’s no reason for him to want to see me.”

“Did he say that?!” Alisaie asks and starts to rise.

“Oh I severely doubt it.” Y’shtola grabs Alisaie’s sleeve and pulls her back down into her seat. “You know our friend and their insecurities.”

“Hmf.” Alisaie crosses her arms but looks less murderous, at least. “Honestly, I thought that would all be assuaged by that show of affection in the Tempest. I didn’t know a hug could be so fraught and romantic.”

“I think I just surprised him.” You stare down at your cup. The tea is likely lukewarm but you don’t pour more; you doubt you’ll drink it. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him, to ask him if–…Back when we first explored the Crystal Tower, I thought maybe he might…but then he locked himself away, and that answered that. But before we went to fight Vauthry he said some things that implied maybe he…might feel something for me, but I haven’t asked him about it since, and…”

You look up and jerk back. Alisaie and Y’shtola are both just staring at you. You feel like crawling under a rock for the rest of your miserable life. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?” you say and hide your face in your hands. “Gods; please forget I brought it up.”

“The Exarch spent a hundred years trying to prevent your death,” Alisaie says, speaking slowly. “Nearly sacrificed his own life to do so, calls you things like his ‘inspiration’ with sickening amounts of adoration, looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you don’t think he’s madly in love with you?”

“I don’t know if he likes me romantically.” You duck down into your shoulders again. “Just because other people think I’m a hero that needs to go on living doesn’t mean there’s any deeper attachment to it. Stories can inspire, but at the end of the day they’re just that– stories.” You take a sip of your drink and grimace. It’s not even lukewarm anymore. “Also, the stars thing…technically I did bring back the night.” You put the cup down. “But I was supposed to do that. Now that I’m not useful anymore–”

“Warrior!” one of Lyna’s soldiers says, nearly breathless as she rushes up. “The captain bid me give a message to you.”

“What is it?” you say and stand.

“There’s been sightings of sin eaters accumulating over by Sullen; they seem to be disorganized and frenzied– likely starving and desperate– but there’s a similar issue by the Ostall Imperative that has most of the soldiers occupied; they won’t get to the settlement in time. Please, will you–”

“Understood.” You grab your weapon and relief surges through you– it’s terrible, probably, considering the danger people are in, but at least you can still be considered useful. “I’ll head out to Sullen right away.”

“Wait for me!” Alisaie says, leaping after you and you hear Y’shtola and the soldier talk about grabbing Thancred and the rest of them just before the two of you run off.

 ---

There is nothing quite like a successful battle, you think as you trudge back into the Crystarium with Alisaie emanating the same sense of relief behind you. Your blood is raging and your mind is clear; you feel like you can fight a primal. Maybe two primals. You feel like–

“Thank goodness you’ve returned safely.”

You stop so suddenly Alisaie bumps into you. She curses but you don’t really listen to what she’s saying. How can you, when G’raha is standing right there, looking so radiantly healthy and smiling at you like he truly is grateful to see you.

“Coming to see us back? I hope you weren’t worried,” you tease, and are rewarded by a slight flush of his cheeks.

Thancred mutters something too low for you to hear and that’s probably for the best, as Alphinaud chokes.

“Yes, well.” G’raha clears his throat and smiles. “‘Tis always a pleasure to see you all return safely.”

“And here I thought I might be special,” you say, with absolutely no acrimony.

Alas, G’raha doesn’t blush, but there is a rather fetching mischievous sheen to his expression when he says, “There was never any doubt of that.”

You swallow hard. Is he flirting? Does he mean it like you want him to? You almost mean to continue– to see how far he’ll let you go– but apparently the healers have been warned of your coming because a few of them come to escort you to Spagyrics, and as you sit for healing and bandaging and whatever else, the adrenaline settles and you start to second-guess everything again.

“You see?” Alisaie says pointedly. “He was waiting for you.”

“He was waiting for all of us,” you say and sigh. “And I was…was I inappropriate? I don’t think so, but…”

“By the Twelve, you can’t be serious,” Thancred groans. “You were so brave not half a bell earlier, I thought you were making real headway.”

“I always feel braver after a battle. It’s…” You try to think about it. “I guess after fighting for my life everything else just seems easier.”

“Would that we could bottle that bravery for you,” Thancred huffs and stands, shifting his shoulder and thanking the healer.

You sigh. “If I had a gil for every time I thought–” Wait a moment. You can’t bottle it…but you can try to manipulate it. All you have to do is talk to G’raha immediately following a fight. And that isn’t a difficult thing to do– leatherworkers need Smilodon skins, Hoptraps breed like crazy…

Alphinaud says your name as if cautious. “What are you thinking?”

“If I’m not brave enough to talk to G’raha normally, I can make myself brave enough to talk to G’raha,” you say and punch your fist.

“Excellent work, Thancred,” Alisaie says sharply.

“Y’shtola is going to kill me,” he groans in reply.

“No; this is a great idea,” you insist, because it is. “I fight things all the time and I’m still alive! This is perfect; it’s just a little adrenaline rush, nothing big.”

“Y’shtola is going to kill you,” Alphinaud sighs and Thancred nearly whimpers.

You are going to prove them all wrong and find out once and for all what G’raha truly thinks of you.

Win-win.

 ---

So your first fight does…not quite go according to plan. You found a strange looking horse while traveling through Lakeland and tried to get a better look at it, only to be immediately kicked back by hooves and knocked out. At least the sun is still out when you wake up again, but when you try to get up your ribs are definitely badly bruised, if not mildly broken. You use what healing magics you have to patch yourself back up and carry on your way. You try not to be grateful that you can’t find the horse again.

You find a botanist in a spot of trouble and help him by gathering lumber amongst a gaggle of angry triffids. It’s perfect– you get knocked around a little bit but dodging branches and putting down angry trees is surprisingly challenging and gets your blood flowing. And you help someone. A win-win indeed.

You try to clean yourself up just a little bit and head straight for the Ocular, only to be stopped by the guard.

“So sorry, but he’s in a meeting right now; no interruptions,” the man says regretfully.

“Oh, of course!” It makes sense; G’raha is still The Crystal Exarch, leading a city, doing so many important things…

The rush fades quickly and you head back to your room in defeat. G’raha comes by later, looking so sorry when he apologizes for missing you earlier, but you do your best to wave him off.

“It wasn’t that important,” you say and thankfully a yawn overtakes you.

“I’ll not trouble you any longer, then,” he says and steps back, bids you goodnight.

You watch him leave, thinking about calling him back with every step, and yet he turns a corner without a word from you.

You sigh, but it’s only day one. Tomorrow will be better.

 ---

Tomorrow is not better.

Neither is the day after that.

Neither is the day after that.

You are a capable fighter, truly– sometimes you think it’s all you’re truly good for, being thrown at violence like a martially adept doll– but you just keep having problems. Most of them are scheduling conflicts, as G’raha is still an important man and you still have responsibilities of your own, but the healers are proving far too troublesome as they seem to intercept you ninety-percent of the time. You sourly wonder if they have a magic mirror they can watch the world in as you trundle back to your room late one night.

Or perhaps they have informants.

The next day you take a little break. Or so you tell everyone. Y’shtola seems quizzical (you wonder if no one told her about this plan of yours) and your other friends seem relieved. Especially Thancred.

“I’m just doing a little delivery job this morning,” you tell them. “No fighting; since I’m carrying goods I’ll be avoiding confrontation. I’ll be back tonight.”

Sure enough, when you get back from your delivery you spy a healer watching as you come through the main plaza, and when she sees that you’re well she goes back to Spagyrics.

Snitches. Well you’re not so easily foiled– you go back to your room and then use the aetheryte at Fort Jobb to get back to Lakeland proper. The strange horse has been spotted and a few other hunters with Clan Nutsy are keen to take the job. With help, it shouldn’t take you long at all, and G’raha is almost never busy at this time of night. It’s perfect.

 ---

Up until you get knocked headfirst into a tree. That and the fact that it takes much longer than expected means you all but storm into the Crystarium later than expected, and feeling too foul to see G’raha. Sure, you can fight a primal, but with your mood you’d chew up and spit out a Lightwarden too, which is hardly conducive for a love confession.

But then there’s G’raha, calling your name before you get too far. “I was looking for you earlier; Urianger said you’d gone to your room but–” He jerks back when he sees you and his eyes widen in surprise, and concern, and so much care that your anger fizzles like an overloaded lamp. “What happened?”

“Bad luck,” you say and sigh. “And if I see a healer I might…do something I’ll regret. I’m sorry, G’raha, but maybe we can talk later.”

“Oh no; the blood on your face is worrisome enough, but the way you look makes me think you may have a concussion,” he says. “Pray, if you will not see a healer, would you allow me to care for you?”

There is a right answer, a wrong answer, and an inappropriately desperate answer, and your tongue twists on the latter. G’raha doesn’t wait for you to speak– he grabs your hand and pulls you along behind him, and you become so focused on that (he’s holding your hand) you barely realize what’s going on before you’re in a room in the tower you’ve never seen before, where there’s a bed and a nightstand and…

Maybe you do have a concussion.

“Here,” he says and sits you on the bed. It’s a really nice bed.

“With as much as you do I’m surprised you ever sleep,” you say and feel over the soft top blanket while he prepares something or other for…something or other. Why are you here again? You try to shake your head and gasp in pain. Right. Concussion.

“Easy; no need to cause yourself more pain,” G’raha murmurs and sits next to you. He cleans your face as gently as he can and you try to hide how much you ache regardless. You feel a little clearer, a little more focused, and you try to remain that way. “And I don’t sleep much, but it looks like you’re picking up my bad habits, friend. You’ve been keeping so busy lately,” he says as he bandages the cut on your forehead. “I feel like every time I try to see you you’re out doing something or another.”

“I’m not…doing that much.” You swallow. “I’m just trying to be useful, and, well, fighting is all I’m good for.”

“It’s not all you’re good for.”

“It’s helpful,” you insist. “For me too. I needed to–…to…”

“To?” G’raha repeats and you wonder if maybe the concussion can take you now, because G’raha has always been the same when he gets one little piece of information– he hounds about it. Relentlessly.

You sigh. Heavily. If it gets too hard you’ll clam up, and he’ll be disappointed, and then where will you be. But G’raha says your name, and so you steel yourself to try. “I needed…to be brave,” you say and wince as he dabs at a cut on your hand. “I wanted…I wanted to talk to you.”

He slows his motions and then stops. “My friend,” he says gently; he’s always so gentle and sweet it makes you nearly sick with want. “What would make you so afraid to talk to me? After all we have been through together, surely you can tell me most anything?”

“It might be stupid. Presumptive,” you admit. “And I…I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Gentle fingers touch the bottom of your chin and tilt it up. You stare into crimson that somehow looks so adoring, but does he adore you as a savior…or a person? “My dear friend,” he says. “There is nothing in this world that can make me think less of you.”

Staring at him, you feel your heart pound like it’s going to burst out of your chest and you think– you can’t do this anymore. If you don’t find out you’ll go crazy; you have to know, whether it hurts or not. “G’raha, in Kholusia, before Vauthry– were you talking about me?” you say, trying to speak as fast as you can, before you lose your nerve. “Do you like me? Romantically?”

He stares at you. Dumbfounded.

Like he couldn’t possibly have predicted this.

You swallow a lump of tears and feel shame settle upon you heavier than the world itself. You look down to try and maintain some dignity. “F-forget I said anything; I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I swear–”

“I thought I was obvious.”

You blink. You lift your head and some of the nausea quells. G’raha is smiling softly at you and wringing the cloth in his hands, even though it’s nearly gone fully dry. “I didn’t want to pressure you,” he says. “You seemed to shy away from me so I thought I would give you some time to figure out your feelings, for mine– mine have always been thus, ever since the first time I saw you again after you cleared the labyrinth and my heart swelled to see you safe.”

“Really? Even then?” you ask.

“Oh, most certainly.” It is adoration in his eyes as he slides his hand over your cheek and you lean into his touch. “How could you sound so disbelieving?”

“I’m just…me. I go where I’m needed and do as I’m told. If anybody else had the blessing they’d be twice the hero,” you say but you can’t help but slide your hand over his. “But you, G’raha, you’re strong and smart and kind and clever and you’ve always been so much more; are you sure you–”

He kisses you so suddenly he has to hold your shoulder to keep you from falling back. But it’s so good, you forget all about trying to talk some sense into him. He pulls back to pant for air and you try to stop the swimming of your head. You are not letting a concussion get in the way of this. “My friend– my love,” he corrects and it’s your heart that swells. “Anyone could have had the blessing and not been a tenth of what you are. If only you could see what I see.”

“I-I can try.” You know it gets tiring for people to have to listen to what you think about yourself sometimes– even your friends have gotten fed up on occasion– and you don’t want to drive him away. If he thinks you’re good enough for him, you can but try to be good enough for him– without getting knocked in the head again, you hope.

“Good,” he says simply and brings your hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. “However we will have to continue this when you no longer have a head injury.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say and try to lean in for at least one more kiss, but you wobble, and the next thing you know G’raha is laying you on the bed.

“I’ll be checking in on you often to make sure that concussion isn’t severe.” He squeezes your hand and smiles. “By morning you’ll take back everything you said, for how much you’ll want to murder me.”

You squeeze his hand and return his smile. “If I didn’t drown you in a puddle in the Shroud, I’m not going to be that cross with you now.”

You fall asleep to his laughter.

 ---

When morning comes it’s even brighter (in a good way) than it has ever been. You and G’raha have breakfast together, and hold hands, and when G’raha kisses you goodbye as you leave him to get some work done you practically float across the Crystarium to share the good news.

Your friends, touchingly, are very happy for you.

Y’shtola doesn’t even kill Thancred when she finds out what incited the whole thing.

(It’s a near thing though.)

[fangirlovestuff]

Family - Frank Adler x reader

a/n- Hey lovely people! this is my second entry for the shameless hoes for chris challenge, so i’d like to say a very happy birthday (and belated birthday) to the lovely @stargazingfangirl18​ & @navybrat817​ who are hosting this challenge! thank you for sharing your kindness, talent, and shameless hoe thoughts with us through this challenge and every day, i hope you both had great days! here’s this Frank one shot as a gift! also, disclamer: i know nothing about boats. thoughts are in italics, prompt is in bold. Enjoy! <3

Summary: You move into a new town in search of a new job, and you meet a very handsome man and his cute niece. Or more accurately, their cat finds you.

Word count: ~3,550

Prompts:  Oops I caught feelings for you and I got ‘em baddd. &  “Oh god, did I say that out loud?”

Warnings: SMUT, explicit sexual content, explicit language. please do not read if you are uncomfortable with any of the above!

You opened the curtains of the small window, squinting a little as the morning sun hit your sleep-deprived eyes. It was the first night you spent in your new little house by the docks, and you'd always had a bit of a hard time sleeping in new places. 

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, getting the coffee started. You had another week until you had to work, giving you enough time to get to know your new surroundings and fix your sleep schedule before you took over at the local library. The pay wasn't too high but you needed a job while you were working on your novel, and what better than being surrounded by books?

You moved here to clear your head a little, feeling a change of scenery might be what you needed to write your story. What your parents and relatives referred to as your "little passion project" was in fact something you were willing to work hard to achieve. Being a published author was your goal, not a mere daydream. 

You sipped the warm coffee from your mug, looking out of the window at the quiet neighborhood. You startled at the sight of an orange cat appearing, out of nowhere, chased by a little girl who seemed to be around ten or eleven years old. You chuckled into your mug before seeing the girl stumble and fall. You put down your mug to rush to her aid, but before you could leave your doorstep, a man was already kneeling next to her. Maybe her dad, even though he seemed a little young for that.

You turned in search of the elusive cat, and found him in some bushes, licking his paws. You got closer and realized the ginger cat only had one eye. You cooed at the cat, beckoning him over, and to your surprise he listened, coming out of the bushes. You pet him a little and he willingly purred at your touch. You smiled before hesitantly reaching to lift him and hold him in your arms. From your acquaintance with cats, you expected him to thrash, scratch, or try to escape, especially from the hands of a stranger, but to your surprise he stayed put, letting you carry it over to the little girl and her dad, who were still kneeling on the grass.

The girl's eyes lit up when she saw you come closer, the cat still in your arms. "Fred!" she yelled and the cat finally showed signs of wanting to get away from you. You put him down and waved at them, coming closer and sitting down beside them, to be at eye level.

"Hey," you said and introduced yourself. "I couldn't help but notice this little guy trying to hide in the bushes. He's your cat, right?" you asked the little girl and she nodded, embracing him further. "Well, you've got a very well-behaved cat," you smiled at her, "he didn't put up a fight when I lifted him up, which is remarkable." Then you remembered a little girl of ten might not know what remarkable means, and opened your mouth to explain. 

"Yeah, Fred is very remarkable," she spoke before you could. You closed your mouth. All the while the man just sat there, seemingly evaluating you with his piercing blue eyes. From anyone else, you'd probably find the gaze daunting or uncomfortable, but from him, it sent a pleasant warmth through your body. 

"I'm Mary," she spoke once more, reaching her hands out to you. You took it and shook it, smiling at her. 

The man finally spoke up, "I'm Frank," he said in a deep voice, "nice to meet you. When did you move in? I haven't really seen you around."

"Actually, just yesterday," you smiled warmly at him. "This neighborhood seems lovely," you added.

"It is," he smiles. His smile is soft, lighting up his rugged features with evident kindness. You dismissed his previous hostility as a bad morning.

"C'mon Mary, we gotta get you ready for school," Frank got up and Mary took his hand and got up as well, waving at you as she and Frank marched back to their house, Fred trailing behind them. 

You smiled seeing Mary skipping next to Frank, holding his hand still. They made a very pretty, wholesome family. You wondered who the mom was.

A couple of days later you woke up to a weird scratching sound. You located the source of the noise was from the door, frowning before opening it. You were met with the sight of Fred, who immediately entered and rubbed his head on your leg. 

"Feeling at home, huh?" you smiled and scratched behind his ears. "Come on, let's get you back home," you got out of the door just when Frank came into sight.

"Good morning!" you called out as he got closer. 

"Morning!" he replied, lightly making his way to you. You noticed the way his white shirt stretched over his muscles and gulped. 

"Come on bud," he said as he lifted Fred up. "I'm sorry about him," he said. "I have no idea what's gotten into him," he smiled. You noted it seemed like he was in a better mood this morning. 

"It's fine," you replied, "he's a great alarm clock," you chuckled. 

"Oh god, he woke you up?" he scoffed at Fred. "Well, if you want to there's some coffee at our place, as a sorry for this little menace," he pet Fred a little.

"I'd love too, but I should probably get dressed," you gestured at your pajamas. 

"Yeah," Frank diverted his gaze, "Fred and I can wait," he said apologetically.

"Thanks," you said. 

You were back out within a few minutes, dressed and ready for the day. You walked beside Frank, making a bit of small talk about the neighborhood.

Once you reached the house you came in with Frank to find Mary eating breakfast in the company of a woman you haven't seen before.

"Thanks for watching her, Roberta. She couldn't be late today too," Frank said to the woman, Roberta apparently, and then to Mary, "Mary, we can't go chasing after Fred every time he decides to disappear."

"He was at my house," you intervened, "just coming to visit. He seems independent, you shouldn't worry if he goes on trips every once in a while. I promise if he comes to visit again, I'll get him back to you, okay?" you smiled.

Mary was quiet for a moment, as if considering what you just said, and then nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. And thanks for bringing him back. You too Frank," she smiled and continued to eat her cereal. You fought the puzzled expression that was threatening to rise on your face. Why would she call her dad Frank?

"The bus will be here soon, honey," Roberta told Mary, "better hurry."

Mary jumped up, took her bag, and grabbed onto Frank's hand. 

"Be right back," he said and started walking away with Mary. 

You felt Roberta's gaze immediately on you, as if observing you. You turned to her. "So, you new here?" she asked.

"Yeah, just moved in," you replied. "I bet you know everyone far better than I do," you smiled. You didn't know her relationship with Frank and Mary, but you were too embarrassed to ask. 

Roberta seemed to have picked up on it though, because the next thing she said was "When Frank moved in here, he didn't even have Mary. I live in a house across the street. I've always been friends with Frank, but when he needed to take care of his niece, I knew he needed a serious ass-kicking so he'd do it right," she chuckled. "but I think between the two of us, Mary came out great," she smiled fondly. 

"She seems wonderful," you agreed, thankful for her silent understanding of your cluelessness about the situation. 

Frank came back inside, closing the door behind him. "Thanks again for watching her Roberta," he said, "I'm sure you two got acquainted already," he added while pouring you a cup of coffee. 

You accepted the coffee gratefully, blowing on it slightly before taking a sip. Roberta was leaving to go about her day, so only you and Frank were left. You took in the house, and while it was a little messy, it radiated the happiness of a home. 

"So," Frank started, "I assume you've wondered about Mary… I'm her uncle, but her parents are gone." 

"It's okay," you hurriedly said, "Roberta explained a little, I get it."

"Of course she did," he chuckled. "Well then, tell me about yourself," he said.

And you did. You told him about your new job and your aspiration to become an author, even a bit about your family back home. He was easy to talk to, and in return told you more about Mary, that she was gifted, about life in the neighborhood. Before you noticed it, a few hours passed by. 

"Oh, look at the time! I'm so sorry, you probably have better things to do than sit here and talk to me, I can go if you want to," you rambled on before Frank reached forward and put his hand on your knee to stop you. You couldn't say you felt a jolt of electricity, because you weren't that cliché, but the warmth of his hand splayed on your knee did funny things to your stomach. 

His sincere eyes met yours when he said, "I work down at the docks, I repair boats, so I'm kinda freelancing, I can work whenever I feel like it. If you want though, you can come see the docks with me. You haven't been there yet, right?"

You shook your head, "I'd love to," you replied. 

You drove to the docks, getting out of the car and squinting your eyes at the bright late morning sun. Frank led you between a maze of boats and buildings until you reached the shed where he kept his tools. You sat down on a table and looked around, taking in your surroundings while Frank tidied up some stuff in a hurry.

"It's a cool place," you said, still roaming your eyes so you wouldn't have to meet his. Or more accurately, so you wouldn't let them linger on his arms, or shoulders, or face. You know, the normal things that you'd find insanely attractive about someone you've known for less than a week. Everything's totally under control.

"So, have you ever tried fixing a motorboat?" Frank smiled.

You raised your eyebrow at him. "I think you know the answer to that is a definite no," you chuckled. 

"Well, why don't you try it?" Frank suggested, "These aren't much use when they're sitting around here," he gestured at the tools. " if I'm here I might as well do some work. Wanna come?" 

"Sure, why not," you jumped down from the table and made your way to follow Frank through the door and back into the summer heat. He led your way to a small boat. When you got closer you could see the engine, the part that was covering it propped nearby to allow access to the mechanics of the ship. You both made your way on it and Frank crouched down and peered down at the engine.

"Okay, you wanna come see this?" he said and you came closer, crouching down next to him. He started explaining something about which part exactly is damaged, but you were too busy staring at his lips to really register what he was saying. Besides, you excused to yourself, it's not like I would've understood even if I was listening.

"So, what do you need to do to fix it?" you asked, breaking from your trance-like state and hurriedly changing the subject before he would realize you weren't paying attention. Or even more humiliating, realize what you were paying attention to.

He took a screwdriver and extended it to you. "For starters, I gotta open it up, which is the easy part so you can help," he smirked. 

You rolled your eyes but took the screwdriver from his hand, unscrewing where he showed you. You tried to focus on the job at hand, but honestly, you were kinda thinking about how much you wanted to screw him. Okay, chill the fuck out, you chastised yourself, he has a kid to worry about. And is way out of your league. 

For the next hour or so you and Frank, or mostly Frank, worked away at the engine. You actually managed to keep up with most of his explanations, despite the closeness between the two of you feeling both consuming and thrilling. The repairing the boat part was fine, and it was great to get some experience with something new, but it couldn't compare to the rush of your heartbeat every time Frank's arm brushed against you, or he'd lean into you a little, or grab your hand in his and show you how to properly do something. 

 Frank fixed one last thing and then looked up at you with a soft smile, "that's it," he said.

"I did it!" you exclaimed. "Wow, do you think I should start doing this as my job? I mean, I'm really good," you both laughed. 

"Yeah, sure," he said, "and you could fix some crankshafts and bearings," he smiled.

"Okay, yeah, we get it, I don't even know enough about boats to tell if these are actual boat parts," you laughed. 

"You wanna maybe get some lunch after all your hard work?" he gave you a lopsided grin and you accepted his invitation.

You were sitting at a small restaurant, enjoying your food, when you suddenly realized, "Hey, shouldn't you pick Mary up from school or something?" you frowned a little.

"Oh, no, Roberta wanted to have her for the night, so she's gonna take her," he said.

"So, Roberta is like a mother figure for Mary?" you asked tentatively. 

"I wouldn't say that, she's more of an aunt," Frank answered with a smile. "I guess the mother figure part is reserved for whoever I marry or something," he shrugged.

"Okay, maybe I'm prying a bit, but why don't you find someone? I mean, it doesn't seem too hard since you're so dreamy," you said, and then closed your mouth immediately. Please make the ground swallow me right now.

"Oh god, did I say that out loud?" you said and chuckled in an attempt to mask your embarrassment. "Whatever, ignore me, I'm just nosy and—"

"No, don't retract that," Frank smiled, his eyes glinting, "it's not every day you get such a compliment from a cute girl," he smiled timidly, blushing a little, but kept his eyes on you. 

"Thanks," you said, smiling. He was just being nice. You got through the rest of your lunch, ignoring the subject completely. You were glad he took it in good humor. Great, we're adults. We can move past that. 

You drove back into the neighborhood and stopped next to your houses. You got out of the car, stopping next to Frank. 

"Thanks for today," you said. "I had a great time," you continued and almost started walking away until Frank caught you by your wrist, effectively stopping you. You turned around; a questioning look on your face.

"You know I meant what I said at lunch, right?" he asked, smiling. "I'd love to take you out on an actual date sometime. You know, if you actually meant what you said at lunch," he smirked a little.

"I did," you admitted softly. "I'd love to go out sometime."

"Great," he said. "that means I can do what I wanted to do all day," he said. Before you could ask what that was, he closed the distance between you and attached his lips to yours. You brought your arms to wrap around his neck while his tongue slipped into your mouth. You explored each other's mouths eagerly, your hands tangling in the back of his hair while he pushed you against the car, hands exploring with passion.

When you pulled apart after what felt like forever but was simultaneously too short a time, you spoke. "So," you panted, "Mary's at Roberta's you say?"

"I like the way you think," he smirked and took your hand, leading you into the house with him.

Once inside, Frank led you to the bedroom. He was quick to recapture your mouth with his, his warm hands sneaking under your shirt, lifting it above your head, and tossing it aside. He stopped to marvel at you before you quickly closed the distance once more, pushing your hips against him a little before pulling off his shirt, moving to lick and suck down his chest and abs.

You reached his pants and made quick work of his belt, pulling his pants down with his boxers and freeing his already hard length. You spit in your hand before stroking him, and even watching him get hard made you wet with anticipation. You looked up at him, and maintaining eye contact you wrapped your lips around him, taking him into your mouth with greed. You started swirling your tongue around him and he groaned, thrusting into your mouth. You nearly gagged but you continued your ministrations, starting to hollow your cheeks and suck him for all it's worth. 

He put his hand on the back of your head, pulling you away and you stood back up. "As much as I'm enjoying this," he rasped, "you gotta get in on the fun." He attached his lips to your neck, sucking at your pulse point as you moaned. He reached to take off your pants and you undid your bra, tossing it across the room as well.

"Now we're even," he breathed against your ear, his hand trailing down before pushing a finger into you, smirking at the sensation of your wetness. You clenched around his finger, holding onto his shoulders while your breathing hitched. He inserted a second finger in and continued to finger you in a slow, torturous pace until you finally had it. You left open-mouthed kisses along his neck and whispered in his ear. "Frank," you moaned at his thumb reaching your clit, "I need you."

He didn't need to be told twice, pulling his fingers out of you and swiftly tossing you on the bed, hovering above you before capturing your lips in a thorough kiss before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into you, the stretch causing you to moan and grab onto his back. 

He started moving and you dug your fingers into his back, panting at the feeling of him reaching your g-spot. The feeling of him on top of you, inside of you, was tenfold more intense than what you felt before on the boat, and you bucked your hips against him at the thought. He sensed your need and picked your legs up. You wrapped them around his waist and he started going faster, the change of pace and angle quickly pushing you both over the edge. 

Later you laid in his bed, the sheets messed around you, listening to the far-off sounds of the evening from outside. You absentmindedly moved your fingers along his chest, drawing the pattern of a heart over and over again, like a schoolgirl in a notebook. He said nothing, just took your hand in his, brought it up to his mouth and kissed it. 

"We should probably get some dinner," he said and you hummed in agreement. "Maybe I could take you out on that date?" he smiled.

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled and you both laughed.

"Let's go dreamboat," you sassed and got up to search for your clothes.

Some months later you celebrated Mary's birthday. You had a little party at home for her and some friends, which you helped organize. By now you were a part of Mary's life, and you couldn't be happier about it.

Frank came up to you, smiling. "I think we threw a pretty great party," he said.

"I do too. Mary seems like she's enjoying herself." You smiled at the sight of her playing with her friends.

"She is," Frank said. "And it's thanks to… me. Dreamy Frank at it again!" he said and you both burst out into laughter. 

"God, you're really never gonna let me live that down will you?"

"Well, you're cute, so maybe you still stand a chance," he winked and you both laughed. He went to help the girls with their game and Roberta came up and stood next to you. "You know," she said, "besides Mary, he never laughs with anyone like that. Certainly not an adult," she smiled and you smiled at her as well, catching Frank lifting Mary in his arms from the corner of your eye. "Well," she continued, "I guess that's how it is with family." 

That is how it was. You've never felt happier than in the moments you spent with Frank and Mary. You love them both dearly. To think you found your family when you were looking for a job! Well, life's funny like that sometimes. And you wouldn't have it any other way. 

hope you enjoyed! this was supposed to be fluffy but... oh well best of both worlds

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