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fluffytriceratops · 2 years ago

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Random facts about Monet. <3

Couldn’t help myself, I drew an older Monet. I love this bab so much. She deserves the world. Raph is definitely a proud papa. And Kristina feels lucky to have raised such a strong young woman. 😊❤️

I’ll be doing Nefertiri next, so stay tuned for that! ^~^

I drew this quite a while ago, I just never had the time/chance to post it. But since my job is done with, hopefully I’ll have more time to come online. See my pinned post for more details hehe. There’s quite a bit that went down the past couple weeks. I’m on vacation rn, so I won’t have a ton of time, but I’ll come on when I can! Expect to see a lot of spam from me because my notifications are overflowing— I’m talking way over 500 lol. So if I accidentally missed something you tagged me in, I apologize profusely. 😫 (also I am in no way trying to brag or anything about how many notifications I have, if it felt or seemed like that I’m sorry that’s not my intention I’m just trying to explain why I might miss something someone wanted me to see— 😅)

Tags: @thelaundrybitch @rheawritesforfun @digitl-art-monstr @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @drowninghell @squirrelfurs @lec743 @raphslovemuffin80 @bibiz82

(If you want to be tagged in my future TMNT/Raph&Kris related posts, feel free to let me know and I’ll happily add you!)

Have a wonderful day/night! Sending all the virtual hugs to you!! <333

—

- She was named after Claude Monet, a famous French painter.

- She is super strong, like really freaking strong. (Mystic power strong?) She can take a hit and she can deliver one too. When sparring with her sister (Nefertiri) she has to continuously remind herself to take it easy and not use her strength to its fullest. Otherwise she could accidentally really hurt her. This probably goes for other family members as well, especially those that are human and can’t really handle the brunt of her attacks when she is using 100% of her strength.

- Monet loves her strength but sometimes she’s scared she’ll accidentally hurt someone. (Something that’s happened on a few occasions, especially when she’s upset/angry or overly excited, she tends to forget how strong she really is) so she usually dials her strength down a lot if she can remember to. One of her biggest fears is to accidentally go too far and really hurt someone she cares for.

- Definitely a secret softy. Very few people in her inner circle have seen this side of her. It’s not something she’s comfortable with sharing. However, a lot of her family and friends knows she’s like this. She just heavily denies it. (Classic Raphael move hehe)

- She has anger issues and they only get worse the older she gets. She can be very violent and sometimes needs a reminder to take a step back and breathe. This is usually given to her by one of her family members.

- She is not afraid to put anyone in their place. She will speak her mind, no matter the consequences. Her bark is just as big as her bite. Monet is brutally honest and has a hard time keeping her mouth shut. She will snark the shit out of someone and loves a good banter. She loves to poke fun and tease people and doesn’t mind it if they do so in return.

- Please challenge her to an arm wrestling battle or spar with her. She loves it and will forever be your friend.

- Hates bitter and overly spicy or sour foods. She has an enormous sweet tooth. Loves baked goods, chocolates and candies. (All except the sour ones) Also prefers cold foods/drinks over hot ones. For example, iced coffee over hot coffee. Or milk/boba teas over regular hot tea.

- A good way to get on her good side is by bringing/making her something sweet. Whether you bake her some cookies or buy her a boba tea. Whatever. She might not show it right away, but she would be very grateful and happy about it.

- Loves to pull jokes and prank people, especially with her cousin Noa ( @rheawritesforfun ‘s OC).

- Monet is obsessed with horror/gore. She loves the genre, they’re always her favourite movies/books/video games. Halloween is her favourite Holliday. She goes all out for it. Candy and horror? That’s her shit! And it’s one of the only times she gets to be out on the surface. Which is awesome.

- Second favourite Holliday is April fools/Loki day. Everyone dreads the first of April because they know it’s about to go down. She prepares months in advance and anyone and everyone she knows will be suffering from her pranks. No matter who you are or how old you may be. No one if safe on that day. She goes all out.

- Bares her teeth at people often. Monet has sharp canines like her father, and sometimes they poke out of her mouth. But when she’s angry or in a bad mood, she will bare her teeth threateningly at people. Especially when she’s fighting.

- Queen of resting bitch face. Even when she’s in a good mood she’ll look the opposite.

- Often tells people to go fuck off or to go fuck themselves. Her mum hates her potty mouth, but Monet loves to curse/swear. She likes to come up with weird or creative comebacks too.

- Just like her mother, she is not the best singer. She’s definitely better than Kristina is, maybe even average? But she wouldn’t consider herself as someone with a good/great singing voice.

- Shows her affection with actions rather than words. Doesn’t hug often, but she will give head pats (or ruffle someone’s hair) as signs of her love and adoration. Same thing goes for fist bumps and secret hand shakes n stuff. If she is more physical with someone, they better not mention it because she’ll most likely immediately pull away and brush them off out of embarrassment. If someone continuously teases her about it, she’d snap angrily and storm off.

- Monet will get into a physical fight with someone. She tends to lash out and sometimes it can get quite aggressive. She gets better at storming off and walking away the older she gets, but it’s definitely very hard for her to do so. Her anger isn’t a party trick. It’s serious. And it’s something she battles with every day.

- She also tends to rant/vent A LOT to those she’s closest to. (Noa is definitely one of em lol) she doesn’t like to express her feelings openly to most people but she will to a select few. And those select few better be prepared for an ear full.

- HATES being bossed around and controlled. Especially if it’s involving someone she doesn’t like, or if she’s forced to do something she doesn’t want to. If it’s an order, she will do it. She’ll just bitch about it while doing so.

- Door slams are very common with Monet. And because of her strength, she has broken waaay more than anyone would care to admit. There’s a jar labeled “Monet’s doors” filled with cash from Monet because she usually has to pay for a new one. Or at least, help pay for one. It’s like a swear jar but with doors. They’ve given up on her swearing long ago hehe.

- Monet can be described as being erratic emotionally. She is daring, brave, and free spirited but she can also be quite sardonic and sarcastic. And of course, a classic rebel. She is very athletically adept, and can be quite friendly/kind to her family and friends. However, Monet is also very willful, stubborn, incredibly rude and aggressive. She is also the most relentless out of her siblings. It is her relentless ferocity that makes her such a deadly fighter.

- Monet loves to fight, wrestle, and trash the place. If there’s a brawl, she would love to join in the fight. Because of her passion for fighting, she would fight first and reflect and ask questions later.

- She can also be very cocky and competitive. When she wins games and duels against her friends and family, she will rub it in their faces, much to their dismay.

- Monet can be unpredictable, and her ferocious temper can sometimes frighten enemies even her friends/family. She can be very aggressive when trying to solve problems, even with her family and allies. Sometimes during training, Monet can get hostile, and she would do anything she can to beat her family in sparring matches. When she feels misunderstood or irritated (which unfortunately happens a lot), she tends to storm out and go topside or roam the sewers on her own. Despite the fact that her parents don’t like this considering it can be very dangerous.

- Despite all of this, she is the most loyal friend anyone could ask for. She will do anything, literally just about anything to protect those she cares for. Even if she might not ever admit it, in order to stay “badass” and “hardcore” and to protect her pride. She will do everything in her power to protect her friends and family.

- Basically she’s Raphael 2.0 (more so the other iterations, but still—).

- Because of her anger, and rebellious nature I do not believe she would be chosen to be the next leader. Whoever would be picked, she’d feel a bit resentful towards. They’d definitely have a bit of a rocky relationship. Especially if it’s a certain someone (cough cough Milo cough). (Another of @rheawritesforfun ‘s ocs). Due to their relationship already being a bit rocky lol. It’d definitely be a classic Leo vs Raph thing. And she’d probably be like “of course you’d get the role, you’re the former leaders son. I call favouritism.” Or something like that lmao. She’d defy his orders a lot, that’s for sure. Honestly, she’d defy anyones orders. Except maaaybe Noa. Cuz they’re as thick as thieves.

- Her weapon of choice would be the tetsubo. And she’d also always carry brass knuckles with her wherever she goes. Specially made to fit her hands by her wonderful uncle Donnie. She’d probably have a whole collection of them in her room somewhere. All of which she got as gifts, most likely all made by Dee. Unless she somehow got her hands on some regular human ones, then they’d only be there for decoration. Since she can’t wield them for obvious reasons. Along with the other classic side weapons the ninja carry (I.e. throwing knives, smoke bombs, grappling hook, etc.)

- Has two male pet rats named Zeus and Poseidon. They are her babies and she will die for them. And they were a gift she received from her Granpapi Splinter, and yes it was an ironic gift and she loved it for that.

- Like her ma, she also thinks Greek and Egyptian mythology is super cool. It’s one of the few things she’ll totally geek over. Another good way to get on her good side, get her to talk about it or get her a gift involving it. Even if it’s simply watching a movie with her. She’ll adore it.

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sarah-bae-maas · 4 years ago

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Gwyn is Ready to Have More from Azriel

I’m trash for them, okay? And I will simply not apologise for it. Can we all agree that their ship name is Gywnriel?

Masterlist Ao3

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For months now, all that had been between them were tentative touches, kisses that would end before they could become too heated. Gwyn appreciated it deeply. The time Azriel had given to her, the steps they had taken together took her to places she thought she’d never reach. She still remembered the way she shook when he first held her hands, and now she was bedazzled with daily reminders of his feelings for her.

She smiled at him. He was seated next to Cassian, the two males shirtless and sprawled on the floor after training discussing how they might seduce Mor into taking on her own class of novices. They would’ve asked Rhys or Feyre, but between all their ruling duties, Feyre’s art classes and little Nyx, they barely had time to breath.

Az saw her look and smiled back, the shadows clinging to his hands disappearing as he looked at her. It made her cheeks go red to see it, and she couldn’t help but gaze down at his beautiful abdomen, the powerful muscles nothing short of wondrous. Being near him, and having him want her, made her feel powerful too. But the age-old fear always crept in before things went too far.

“Cassian and I are heading into Velaris for lunch, would you like to join?” Nesta asked her, her eyes glinting as she looked at Gwyn and knew exactly what she was thinking. “Az will likely come, and he’ll fly you down.”

“Thank you, but I’ll let you and Cassian enjoy yourselves.” Gwyn touched the pendent at her throat, the stained glass hidden beneath her leathers. “Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Of course. Morrigan will get Emerie in the afternoon, and Cassian is making himself scarce.”

“He doesn’t need to do that!” Gwyn didn’t want him thinking he couldn’t spend time with them when they all stayed together at the House. Gwyn trusted Cassian as much as she could any man, and loved that her dearest friend had found a male who loved and cared for her so very much. Seeing them together is what gave her the courage to approach Azriel after months of shy glances and quiet conversations.

“He wants to give us our privacy. He’ll have dinner with us, and then I think he plans on stealing Nyx.” Nesta smiled at the thought of her mate and a baby, and Gwyn couldn’t blame her. There was just something about a deadly warrior caring for something so vulnerable that set her evolutionary instincts on fire.

Before Gwyn had the chance to reply, the man of the hour approached them, holding out a hand to both of them to help them up. They stood, Nesta stepping into him and resting her chin on his chest, peering up at him with unbridled admiration.

Cassian said his goodbye to Gwyn, pressing a featherlight kiss to her cheek in farewell. She didn’t blush, used to it by now. One of the things she liked most was little kisses to her cheeks and forehead, the main perpetrators of the act being Emerie and Nesta. The kisses didn’t speak of the violence she’d endured, but rather of how much her friends loved her. Friendship was an intimacy she craved outside of anything else, and she’d nearly cried the first time Nesta had kissed the top of her head, her friend hugging her after a particularly bad scalding in the library.

Nesta and Cassian left, leaving Gwyn alone with Azriel. He grinned at her the moment they had peace. He walked over, his steps hurried as if he couldn’t wait to be near her. He placed his lovely hands on her cheeks and pressed their foreheads together.

“A veritable Valkyrie,” he said.

“You give me too much praise.”

“I could never say enough kind things about you.”

She kissed the tip of his nose, happy to be in his arms.

***

Gwyn laid alone in her room, the single bed not big enough for all that she was feeling. She had spent nearly her entire lunch break kissing Azriel, but it had gone no further. But she’d wanted more. Needed more. She couldn’t stop thinking of the way his lips had touched her neck, or how his hands were so steady on her waist. She was half tempted to beg him to clutch her harder, to grab her in other more sensitive areas, but she didn’t know how to ask. Az was respectful to a fault. Well, no, not a fault, she loved how patient and gentle he was with her. But it meant he would never ask for more, or take more, fearful that he might spook her.

She squeezed her thighs at the thought of him, her hand idly running up and down her stomach. There had been a few times, in her rare moments of privacy, that she had taken Nesta’s advice and explored herself before having another touch her. She had scarcely in her youth, but she’d been a fumbling teen who didn’t understand what to touch to make it feel good.

As always, her thoughts drifted to him, and as she inched up her dress…

The door opened, the two other acolytes she bunked with going to bed early. Gwyn managed to snatch her hand away, but it was painfully obvious what she was about to do.

She rolled to her side and tried to suppress a groan, her fellow acolytes giggling under their breath.

Wanting to clear her head, she got up and feigned going to the bathroom, instead going into the bowels of the library. Most people were still at dinner, and she made a wide berth from the hallways that led to their dining hall. She wasn’t sure where to go. She could keep studying, although it wasn’t an appealing thought, or maybe she could go to the heart of the House and let it sneak her treats and tea.

Instead, she found herself walking until she was in the training ring. She hadn’t bothered putting shoes on. She loved the way the cool stone felt beneath her feet – like it was centring her. She would have been content to stay here forever, pitch a tent and claim this spot as hers. This was the spot she found her sisters, Nesta and Emerie. This is where she became strong, where she started tackling the demons that haunted her at night. This is where the elusive man that saved her that fateful day at the temple became a friend, and then more. Yes, she could have stayed here forever with the breeze caressing her face and the stars winking in greeting.

She heard a creak to the left and turned, worrying an acolyte might have followed her out. Instead, she saw the usually locked entry to the House open, warm and welcoming light spilling from its threshold. One to take a hint, she walked inside. She couldn’t hear Nesta or Cassian, but they had long put silencing wards on each room. She looked around the entryway, and another door opened to her left, leading her down the grand staircase and into a hallway. Once again, all the doors were shut, but as her feet touched the landing one opened, Gwyn knowing it to be the study. Going where the House was prompting her, she caught Azriel curiously staring at the door, trying to make it shut when it wouldn’t budge.

“I don’t think you’ll have much luck. It seems the House wanted me here.”

She revelled in his small gilt of surprise, an honour that he let his composure down enough around her for her to see any sort of emotion.

“Gwyn, what are you doing here?” His tone, not accusatory in the slightest, sent a shock through her stomach.

He looked… different in the dark. Of course she’d seen him in the night, whether it be in the city or over a meal with Cassian and Nesta, but never alone in a room lit only by scattered candles. His beauty was different like this, his face a marble sculpture carved by the most brilliant artists, his hair silken black, his eyes the night sky between the spirits on Starfall.

“Is this your study?” She ignored his question, entering the room. The door closed behind her, and she felt a sudden absence in the room, as if the House had given them some privacy.

“It is, I forbade Nesta and Cassian from coming in here a year ago. I didn’t want them tarnishing my stuff,” he laughed.

She swallowed hard, her hands clasped in front of her.

He looked at her thoughtfully. “Are you okay?”

She paused before she answered, not quite knowing what to say. It’s not like she could go oh, Azriel, don’t mind me, I just think my horniness was so palpable the House wrapped you as a gift and planted you in my lap.

Instead, she took a step forward, close enough to place her hands on his chest.

“I’ve been having thoughts,” she murmured, not looking him in the eyes. His hands came to rest over hers, and she was embarrassed at the fluttering in them he must feel.

“What kind of thoughts?”

Her breath shuddered. She pressed her face into the space between their hands, not able to bear the look on his face. “We’ve been taking things so slowly, and I’m so grateful that the little I’ve been able to offer you has been enough.”

“Gwyn.” His voice trembled. “Whatever you can give, whether it’s an ounce or nothing, I would happily take.”

“But what if I wanted to take?” One of her hands snaked around his neck. “What if I wasn’t ready for everything, but couldn’t get the thought of you touching me out of my head?”

It was his turn to shudder, but he didn’t move an inch. He just let her explain. She pressed herself into him harder, her face reddening when she felt what her words were doing to him. She dared peek down, his arousal present and obvious. It made her mouth water.

“Whatever you want, you can have. Just tell me.” He hands left hers, moving until they were on her waist and he could draw her nearer again. When she was close enough, his index finger landed on her chin, titling her head until he could look into her eyes. She saw fire in them, practically glowing with want. She knew hers would look the same.

“What do you want, Gwyn?”

Him.

“I want you to take your shirt off.”

And it was done. He didn’t hesitate to do as she asked and didn’t speak as she gingerly ran her fingers up and down his bare chest, letting her feel and press. He was a sight to behold – years of training crafting him into something magnificent. His mind, his body-

She kissed him, letting her hands wander to their desire. She kissed his mouth, his neck, and then steeled herself up to kissing the muscled chest she’d admired for so long. All the while, he ran his hands down her back and up to cup her head, his hands tangling in her hair.

“What do you want, Gwyn?”

“I want to sit on that desk as you kiss me. I want the earth-shattering kisses I read about in books. I don’t want you to hold back. I want to know how everyone else feels.”

He nodded, and before she had a chance to say anything else, his hands were on her thighs and he was lifting her. She gasped as he wrapped her legs around his waist, their kiss not breaking as he used one hand to wipe away the paper and knives that littered his workspace. He sat her on his desk, but she tightened her legs around him, wanting him to know she didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.

Her mouth opened for him, and she groaned as his tongue swept in, unhindered by fear. By the Cauldron, she couldn’t believe how much he had been holding back if this was how he kissed her uninhibited. One hand was on her thigh, the other around her waist to keep them close. So close, she dared to move her hips, just a bit, just to see what it would be like to grind against him. He groaned, his lips moving away from her to savour the feeling of her clothed pussy against his concealed length.

He kissed her again, his passion palpable as he held her, and Gwyn thought she could never go back to before. How could she tolerate the sweet, closed mouth presses of his lips when she could have this? When she could have his mouth working hers so hard she could feel herself start to drip?

She ground her hips again, desperate for the friction.

Azriel pulled back, hip lips swollen and his hair in a mess from where she had unconsciously dragged her fingers through it.

“What do you want, Gwyn?”

Her already racing heart faltered. How far did she want to go? She certainly wasn’t ready for sex, but she thought she might die if she didn’t have more of him. She glanced down between them, swallowing hard when she realised truly what she wanted. Knew that the dreams she had in her mind when her hand was between her legs could be a reality if she just asked.

“I want – I want your mouth on me.”

He stood up straight, her shaking legs barely holding on.

“Do you want me to taste you, Gwyn?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I need you to tell me. I need to know you want this.”

“Yes, yes Azriel. Taste me. Devour me.”

He smirked, and he started to lift her dress.

A jolt went through her, a change in mood he felt instantly. He stopped and stepped back, his hands going to behind his back.

Her eyes widened; she didn’t want him to stop – didn’t mean to make him stop.

“You will lick me until I cry your name so loud the people of Velaris can hear me. But my dress stays on,” she ordered breathlessly.

His smile was serpentine, and she felt it like a pinch to the bundle of nerves he would soon head for.

“Yes ma’am.”

He guided her so she was leaning back, and she yelped as he pulled her hips so she was balanced on the edge of the desk. He ran his hands up her dress, up her legs, as he knelt before her like a knight bowing to his queen. Her dress, which would stay on but had ridden up, bunched at her thighs, giving Azriel ample time to explore.

She watched as he peppered kisses to her calves, her knees and then the soft skin of her inner thighs. Her breathing was hitched, and when Az lifted her legs so that they were over his shoulders she could have ascended.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he whispered, looking up at her.

Those eyes alone had her feeling a way she’s never experienced. She nodded, whispered her yes.

“If you want to stop, at any time, just tell me. Or kick me. Anything you want. But don’t do something you’re uncomfortable with just because I’m here.” He smoothed over her thighs and pressed a kiss to her wet panties, giving her a tease of what was to come. “Do you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll have it.”

He pulled her panties aside and made a wide swipe up her centre, leaving her gasping. His tongue was relentless, but so perfect on her. He had her moaning his name in seconds, and he returned them like the act of pleasuring her was enough for him to find his own. One of her hands stayed in his hair, pulling it with a ferocity that might have pained him, but when she tried to take it away, he snatched at her hand, growling that she can pull it all she wanted. Her other hand went to her breast, feeling like she had to touch the nipples now peeking through her thin dress. Her legs shook in time to his tongue flicking against her clit, and it made a deep ache built between her legs. She moved her hips, unable to stop herself from grinding against his tongue.

His rhythm was better than a royal orchestra – her moans a melody she didn’t think herself capable of. As he continued to feast, the deep ache spread through her stomach and down to her toes, and with one final press of his delicious mouth she screamed his name, gripped onto the desk for support as her back arched and toes curled. His tongue rode her through the orgasm, and it wasn’t until she was whimpering his name that he stopped.

He gently slid her legs off his shoulders. They tremored, the limbs limp jelly in his hands. He hummed in satisfaction, rising to his feet so he could brush the hair from her face. A bead of sweat ran down her cheek, and he leaned forward to kiss it away.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, voice low. He didn’t move away from her, his lips brushing her cheek as he spoke.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to walk back to my room.”

Azriel laughed softly, a hoisted her up so he was carrying her like a bride.

“You can stay here.”

“I can’t-”

“In a separate room from me.”

She loved that he knew what she would say before the words even had a chance to form. She may have let him do holy things to her, but she wasn’t ready to share his bed – even if there wasn’t touching involved.

As he carried her, she stared at his beautiful face, awestruck that she might’ve had even just the smallest part of him.

“Thank you, Az.”

“My pleasure.”

#gywnriel #acosf #acosf spoiler #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #feysand #azriel #fanfic #oneshot #smut

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magpie-to-the-morning · 3 years ago

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I spent years hearing that if you stay true to yourself and do your thing, you’ll find your people. This year, it actually happened. I published my first fics on New Year’s Eve 2020, at a time when I was feeling lost and alone like so many of us were. I thought I was shouting into the void. Instead, I found my people.

To my community:

@mugoi-usagi You helped give me the push I needed. Thank you for being my sister in thirst.

@keeper0fthestars My wife, mi media naranja. You’ve been there from practically the start, offering endless patience and encouragement- all while dealing with more than anyone should have to. I’m endlessly grateful to call you my friend.

@disgruntledspacedad You inspired me with your amazing stories and welcomed me into the fandom with open arms, giving this new writer a genuine boost and introducing me to so many of your amazing friends. Love you big.

@asta-lily Lils! Your light and warmth are matched only by your incredible writing AND gorgeous art (seriously how dare you). You launched yourself into my DMs when I was still shy and unsure of myself and made me feel like I belonged. Thank you.

@heartsofbeskar Jas you absolute sweetheart, you’re sweet and talented and a bright light in this fandom. I’m so happy to know you.

@radiowallet Cat! I can’t tell you how much I admire your enthusiasm and passion, not to mention your meticulously crafted stories that are so full of heart I can barely stand it. I ADORE you.

@jazzelsaur Jess with the mermaid hair. You have been the voice of reason when I needed it most, sometimes with little fandom questions but also with the bigger things in life. You reminded me that a career doesn’t have to be the only fulfilling thing in my life, and that freed me to embrace this new world with open arms. Thank you.

@gaiuswrites My fairy queen. I hope you’re well you ethereal goddess. I am in awe of your talent and grace always.

@the-ginger-hedge-witch Ren, you are my role model for fandom and writing. You watch out for us like a momma bear, wrapping your friends in honey-scented warmth while keeping one eye out for any danger. You are kind and generous and so talented it makes me tear up. I can’t wait to start buying your books.

@letterfromvienna V!! My esteemed colleague in *redacted* studies! I’m endlessly delighted that this fandom brought us together because you are lovely and fascinating and I just want to walk through old bookstores with you all day.

@acrossthesestars Alex, my corvid companion. I love you with all my magpie heart. Thank you for adding me to your collection- I’m just going to snuggle in next to the Tangoverse forever.

@shite-art Maia! Your art is truly gorgeous and watching you grow as an artist has been one of the joys of this largely dicey year. Thank you for doing some amazing commissions for me, but thank you more for being a friend.

@djarinsbeskar Rachel I am in awe of your talent. The worlds and characters you create are so vivid that they live in my mind rent-free. Thank you for sharing them with us.

@nolanell Ellie! You’re such a sweetheart and your encouragement means so much. One of these days we’ll run away to that cottage by the sea.

@leslie-lyman Les, the president of my heart. The instant you graced my dash I knew we were going to be friends. You make your namesakes proud and I’m so happy to know you (and your gorgeous writing).

@songsformonkeys Who knew such a lovely partnership could spring up from a few daemon tags? Your art makes my breath catch in my chest and I can’t wait to see what else you have in store for us. Bless you for sliding into my DMs.

@the-chocolate-bunny My cheerleader. My honey. You keep me so well-fed with inspo and it’s always a joy to thirst with you. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend.

And to everyone I didn’t think of immediately- I love you. I value you. I’m thrilled to see you on my dash and in my DMs. Just because I’m a space cadet still working on her first cup of coffee doesn’t mean I love you any less. 😘

Thank you all for an wonderful year. Wishing you all very happy, healthy, and safe holidays, and an amazing new year.

#Beloved mutuals #Me getting sappy bc I finished a series 🥲

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inkjackets · 3 years ago

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Love at First Sound

this is a piece i wrote way back for the @thedjwifizine, i just never got around to uploading it here until now! if you'd like to check out the full zine it can still be found HERE! Also check out this post to see the incredible art that goes with it done by @camilieroart. Enjoy ^^

‘No, no, no!’ Nino ripped his headphones off and turned off the audio. ‘None of these singers work.’ He put his head in his hands.

‘What about that Dominique girl?’ Adrien said, ‘Or Estelle! She was good.’

Nino ran his hands down his face and glanced at his friend. He loved Adrien, and would forever be grateful for his support. After all, if it hadn’t been for Adrien, Nino would never have shot to fame as he had. But the dude knew nothing about music.

‘Yeah, yeah, they’re all good,’ Nino said, slumping back in his chair. ‘But none of them are right .’

Adrien gave him an apologetic look. ‘Doesn’t your manager want this single done, like, by today?’

‘Ugh,’ Nino thumped his head on the desk and groaned. ‘Don’t remind me.’

Adrien patted him on the back. ‘I’m sure you’ll figure it out.’

Nino nodded and sat up. ‘Yeah.’ But when he took in all the various audio tapes that had been sent in he only felt overwhelmed and tired.

‘I’m gonna go for a walk,’ he said suddenly, ‘clear my head.’ He pushed his chair back and stood up in one swift motion, and ignored Adrien’s worried expression as he made his way out.

Nino stepped into the cool evening air and breathed. It was a beautiful night in Paris; the lights glistened on the Seine, tourists and Parisians alike laughed in the bars, and Nino smiled as he let his feet take him wherever, no direction in mind. Letting his thoughts drift amongst the lights and the stars.

Eventually he found himself on an unfamiliar street. It was quiet here, off the main road. The golden lights of the Eiffel Tower glimmered through the gaps in the buildings.

But a wave of heaviness swept over him when his phone started ringing. He stared dully at his manager’s name on the screen before looking up at the stars and slowly exhaling, bringing his gaze back down until it landed on a coffee shop. What he really needed was a good night’s sleep. But a coffee was the next best thing. He declined the phone call and headed in.

The door gave a welcoming tinkle as he stepped in, taking off his hat and headphones as he did so. It was a small café with a cute window seat and a couple of tables around the back. It was rustic and quaint. The sort of place that did proper coffee but wasn’t pretentious about it. It was empty but the atmosphere was warm, and the tension slowly leaked out of Nino as he made his way to the counter.

He went to ding the bell that had a little sign saying, ‘Ring for Service’ but a sound made him pause. A voice drifted from the back, low and sultry, singing a song he’d never heard but entranced him instantly.

Without thinking Nino slipped past the counter and went into the backroom, walking past fridges and shelves, following the siren’s melody to a little brightly lit staffroom at the side.

The first thing he saw when he peered through was a mass of dark red hair belonging to a girl cleaning the staffroom counters. She moved her hips and shoulders side to side in time with her words, and Nino stared as she sung, falling in love with her voice before he’d even seen her face, her hair glowing from the warm lights and her sound filling the space.

As her voice crescendoed, she gave her tea towel a flourish and spun on her heels. Her startled golden eyes met Nino’s. Her song cut off.

The girl recovered instantly, throwing the tea towel over her shoulder and placing her hands on her hips.

‘And how long have you been standing there, hmm?’

Nino stumbled back and blushed. ‘No, no, no,’ he stuttered, turning redder by the second. ‘I didn’t mean to—I just walked in!—I heard your voice and—’ He cut off as the girl threw her head back and laughed. ‘I, uh,’ he rubbed the back of his neck, ‘sorry.’

She snorted. ‘Apology accepted,’ she said in a way that made Nino question whether or not her words were sarcastic. But her grin was sincere, and Nino exhaled with relief. ‘I’m guessing you’d like a coffee?’ she then asked, striding past him. ‘Come on then,’ she gestured with a flick of her head. Nino sheepishly followed her back to the front.

‘What can I get you?’ she asked once Nino was on the correct side of the counter.

‘Uh, just a mocha, please.’

‘One mocha, coming right up.’

A companionable silence rose between them as she went about making his drink, the whirring of the machine was surprisingly soft, and the clinking of spoons was comforting. But as Nino watched her, all he could think of was her singing.

‘You have a lovely voice,’ he said before he could stop himself. The faintest of blushes rose on her cheeks. ‘Where did you learn to sing like that?’

‘Learn?’ The girl shook her head as she poured. ‘I just sing whatever calls to me and let loose.’

‘You’ve never had any formal training? But you’re incredible!’

She blinked. ‘Thank you.’ She glanced down at the finished mocha in her hands before handing it to Nino. ‘That’s big praise, coming from you.’ She met Nino’s gaze and held it.

The drink felt heavy in Nino’s hands. ‘What do you mean by…’ He trailed off. Her gaze remained unblinking. ‘Oh, you know who I am.’

‘My sister loves your music,’ she smiled, ‘plays you constantly. I’m not the biggest fan though,’ she said playfully and winked.

‘Oh really?’ Nino said, scoffing with mock offence. ‘Well, I’m not such a massive fan of your coffee.’

Her face lit up. ‘Hah! Oh I like you,’ she said. Heat rose in Nino’s cheeks. ‘There’s nothing worse than a celebrity who can’t take themselves seriously.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ he said, taking a sip. ‘Thank you by the way, uh…’ he peered at her name badge, ‘Marinette.’

‘Ah, that’s uh, not my real name,’ she said sheepishly. Nino raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t like strangers using my name like they know me! It feels weird.’

Nino grimaced and nodded. ‘That I can relate to, to be fair.’

The girl gave a soft smile. ‘My name’s Alya. Alya Césaire.’

Nino smiled back. He held out his hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Alya Césaire.’

‘Likewise, Nino Lahiffe.’

There was a beat of silence as they shook hands.

‘Please sing for me,’ Nino blurted out.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up. She pulled her hand back. ‘What?’

‘For my new single!’ he clarified. ‘I’ve got a new mix in the works and your voice would be perfect for it, honestly.’

‘Is that so?’ She thought about it a moment. ‘What do I get if I say yes?’

‘You’ll be paid, obviously. A flat rate session fee of about—’

‘A flat rate? Nah, nah, if this song makes it big I wanna reap the rewards. I want 80% of the royalties.’

Nino deadpanned. ‘You get ten. And that’s being generous!’

Alya laughed. ‘Fine, fine…fifteen?’

Nino rolled his eyes. ‘You drive a hard bargain Mademoiselle Césaire.’

‘Sweet.’ She grinned. ‘But that’s just the deal if I decide to sing for you,’ she said quickly, ‘I haven’t actually agreed to do that yet.’

Nino made an exasperated sound. Alya laughed.

‘Fine, fine. What will make you say yes?’ He looked around for inspiration. ‘What if I buy you a drink?’

Alya considered it a moment. ‘It wouldn’t hurt your prospects,’ she said.

‘Well go on then, make what you want and I’ll pay.’

Alya grinned. She set about making a drink.

‘All right,’ she said once she was finished. Nino pulled out his card. ‘Including your mocha, the total is thirteen euros forty-five.’

Nino froze. He looked Alya in the eye. ‘Thirteen… thirteen euros forty-five?’

Alya nodded. ‘Your mocha was three euros fifty, and mine,’ she gestured to her drink, ‘was nine euros ninety-five.’

Nino blinked and goggled at her drink; a giant monstrosity of cream and caramel and God knows what else. ‘TEN EUROS —?!’ he exclaimed.

‘Nine euros ninety-five.’

‘—THE HELL ARE YOU DRINKING?’

She grinned. ‘That’s for me to know, and you to pay for.’

Nino grumbled and placed his card on the chip reader. Alya’s smug grin widened as the machine gave a happy little ‘beep’ at the successful transaction.

‘You have to sing for me now,’ Nino muttered.

Alya took a giant slurp of her drink and put a finger to her chin in thought.

‘Please,’ Nino begged, ‘I’ve never heard anyone sing like you. I’ll do anything.’

Alya crossed her arms. ‘Anything, huh?’

Nino nodded. She quirked an eyebrow. And Nino regretted his words when she gave a jagged grin.

Thirty minutes later Nino had wiped down all the counters, cleaned the coffee machine, taken out the rubbish, and was currently mopping the floors, all while Alya lounged in a chair, her feet kicked up on a table, sipping away at her ridiculous coffee.

‘My manager didn’t even ask me to do a deep clean,’ she said as she scrolled through her phone, ‘but boy is she going to be happy with me in the morning.’

Nino stared at her. But then she winked at him and stuck out her tongue, and Nino’s heart pounded. Damn, this girl really had him wrapped around her finger. But then his phone buzzed in his pocket, bringing him back to reality.

Brodrien: Where are you?????

Nino slipped his phone back into his pocket with a long exhale and rested his head against the mop handle. He needed to go.

He stayed still for a moment, reluctant to move. And then just as he was about to pull himself upright, Alya started to sing.

She was still lounging back and scrolling in the same position as before, but the sound coming from her was indescribably beautiful; strong and moving, echoing off the tiles. Nino raised his head. She was singing one of his songs.

Alya’s gaze flicked to his as her song came to an end. She placed her phone and drink down, and swung herself upright.

‘You really do like my voice, huh.’ Nino nodded, speechless. Alya glanced away. ‘I knew I had a good voice, but hearing it from someone like you – an actual musician – makes it more real.’ She fell silent. ‘Thank you for the coffee and for helping me clean,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a fun evening. Can you give me twenty-four hours to think about your offer?’

Nino thought about the hounding messages he was gonna get from his manager.

‘You know what? Here.’ He pulled an audio tape and some lyrics from his pocket and shoved them in her hands. ‘Have a listen, see if you like the song, and— are you free tomorrow evening? Come to this address at seven pm.’ He whipped out a business card and handed it to her, holding her golden gaze. ‘I’ll be waiting.’

He slipped out the door before she could say another word.

~~~

Nino tapped away nervously as he waited, ignoring Adrien’s doubtful glances.

‘Are you sure she’s coming, bro?’ Adrien eventually asked.

Nino glanced at the clock. Twenty past seven.

‘She’ll be here,’ he said.

Adrien sighed. ‘I love you man, but you’ve really got to just pick—’

Nino shushed him with a wave of his hand and leapt to his feet as the door suddenly opened. Alya walked through with a friend in tow, and Nino forgot how to breathe. Dressed simply but stylishly with her hair down this time, Alya Césaire was gorgeous.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ she said. But Nino simply grinned. ‘I hope you don’t mind I brought my co-worker, Marinette, with me?’

‘Full disclosure, it’s completely my fault Alya’s late!’ Marinette said, waving her hands in distress. ‘I was restocking the coffee beans and the bag split on me and they went everywhere, ’ she wailed. ‘Into the drawers, under the cupboards, and I kept stepping on them…it took forever to clean up!’

There was a split second of silence. Adrien burst into laughter. Marinette turned bright red and chuckled.

‘Well, I’m glad you made it,’ Nino said, grinning.

Alya smiled back. ‘I listened to the song,’ she said, ‘It’s good, I like it.’

‘Really?’ Nino’s heart fluttered. ‘So, you’re sure you want to do this?’

‘Hmm, well…’ She posed in thought, and Nino slumped, exasperated. Alya threw her head back and laughed. ‘I’m just kidding, I’d love to sing it.’

Nino grinned.

It didn’t take long to show her the recording booth and how all the equipment worked. They played the audio though, and she had a quick practice. And when she was ready, they started to record; Alya started singing in earnest.

Adrien let out a low whistle.

‘Woah.’ Marinette’s eyes widened.

And Nino smiled. Each note she sung sent tingles running through him, and the way she felt the music filled him with warmth; her eyes were closed, head moving to the melody, hips swaying side to side. She opened her eyes and gazed at him, her golden eyes piercing. Nino’s heart pounded. God she was perfect.

The recording session ended too soon in Nino’s opinion. Alya had been the ideal candidate and it hadn’t taken long to get everything they needed.

‘Thank you again for agreeing to sing for me,’ Nino said as she picked up her bag.

‘Don’t thank me, just give me that fifteen percent and we’re good.’ She winked and Nino laughed.

They fell silent a moment. The tension built between them. Behind, Adrien and Marinette chatted into their silence.

‘Hey, would you be down for doing something together again?’ Nino said quickly. ‘You know, something like last night?’ He frowned. ‘But with maybe less cleaning.’

Alya laughed. ‘I’d love to,’ she said, and he flushed with warmth. ‘And I’ll buy the drinks this time,’ she said, grinning.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #djwifi #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #mlb #ml fic #ml au #ml fluff #this is me trying to get back into writing fanfics #starting by uploading my old pieces i never uploaded aha #but yeah i hope you liked it #let me know if you did ^^#thanks for reading #love at first sound #my writing

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gwynrielendgame · 4 years ago

Text

Gwyncien part 3

Idk if y’all will like this one as much. It’s kind of a filler but it took forever to write so I’m posting it anyways. I’ll tag people who have asked below.

Gwyn thought she might puke and it had nothing to do with Lucien's winnowing abilities. She never thought she would feel so nauseas especially after the blood rite. She supposes that the imminent fear of death had her more distracted from her typical anxieties. Now that she could focus on the fact that she was actually leaving Velaris, she felt sick. She grabbed onto Lucien harder and closed her eyes tightly. What felt like hours later, although it was truly only a minute or two, Lucien spoke.

"Welcome to the band of exiles." She opened her eyes to a surprisingly large castle. She was not sure what she expected, perhaps an abandoned cabin, but the building was spectacular and beautiful.

"Jurian and Vassa are excited to meet you." Lucien added as they continued to stand out front. It appeared that he would allow her to stand here for as long as she needed. She knew that if she demanded he take her right back he would. His words finally caught up with her brain that seemed to be running a mile a minute. Why would his closest friends be excited to meet her she thought. It made her anxious for the first time. Perhaps she mistook his friendly countenance for something less than it actually was. She would address it later. She began walking towards the door, mumbling under her breath.

"Let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit!" Lucien inserted much more enthusiasm than necessary into his tone. He grabbed her arm and laced it through his which had her feeling very grateful. Her knees were shaking as she walked and she knew he could tell. Gwyn felt the need to remind herself that he had a mate. She wondered if he would be desperate enough to make a move on her. A large, beautifully decorated foyer greeted them. Two very beautiful people stood in the middle of the white marble floor. Gwyn tightened her hold on Lucien when she saw the new male, stopping them mid-walk. She started her mind-stilling technique as the anxiety clawed at her chest and throat. She would eventually have to face men if she ever wanted to get her revenge. She could not allow a few measly physical reactions hold her back. She took one last deep breathe and then continued walking towards the couple. She spent less time analyzing the female, but from what she saw Gwyn knew she was beautiful. She also had red hair, however, Gwyn's hair was more of a copper/bronze red while Vassa had a deep maroon red. Gwyn kept her eye on Jurian though.

"You are making her nervous, standing there like two parents ready to scold their children." Lucien reprimanded his friends with a roll of his eyes. The female waved his comment off, completely ignoring him. Gwyn did not miss the look they shared, however.

"I am Vassa and this is Jurian." She gestured to the male next to her. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard so much about you." It unnerved Gwyn that the few interactions that she had with Lucien warranted Vassa knowing much about her. She did not think much on it as she continued to watch the beautiful male. He had hair cropped short to his head and a deep skin tone. His looks were not what had her distracted though. It was the weapons. Gwyn found it unnecessary for him to require weapons while meeting with her. Instead of exchanging pleasantries like socially integrated Fae would, she began her questioning.

"Why so many daggers?" She gave him a scathing look while cocking her head to the side. He would not manipulate her into believing anything but the truth and she wanted that to be conveyed in her facial expression. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as if he were surprised.

"I could ask you the same question." He threw back at her with a smirk. It only infuriated her more. He could not tell she had daggers on her. She was wearing a cloak over her priestess robes with silver majesty strapped to her thigh. There was no possible way he could see the outline through her clothes. She narrowed her eyes and waited for him to respond. The staring contest was only broken when Lucien cleared his throat and Vassa nudged him.

"Fine." Jurian conceded with a smile. "Vassa is woefully bad at handling anything sharp, so I have taken on the role of her protecter while soon-to-be high lord is out and about." Both Vassa and Lucien seemed annoyed by his explanation. The anxiety began to loosen in her chest though. He was not completely trusted, but in this moment he would not attack.

"Gwyn." Is all she managed for an introduction. It seemed good enough for Lucien because he began leading her off to the side of the room towards a grand staircase.

"I will be showing Gwyneth her room and then we can talk." He threw over his shoulder. She held onto his arm all the way up the long staircase and through an even longer hallway. She laughed internally at the size of the mansion considering only three people resided here. A thought occurred to her when they finally came to a stop at a door.

"How many people live here?" She finally let go of Lucien and took a step back.

"Just us three. And now you. Occasionally we have a guest or two, but I will give you ample warning before that time. This will be your bedroom here. Mine is right across the hall if you need anything. There is a lock on the inside, but if you would like I can show you how to set up some furniture to keep the door from opening at all." Lucien gave her a small smile. It made her soften towards him even more.

"Thank you. I appreciate that. I appreciate all that you have done for me. Truly. I cannot say thank you enough." She gave him a short hug to convey her gratefulness. He returned it, hesitantly. His touch was feather light. As though he did not want to touch her and make her uncomfortable. She stepped back towards the door once more and began to walk inside.

"I will come get you before dinner. You have a full wardrobe to pick from in there if you would like to change. If there is anything you require, just ask." Gwyn nodded and then he was gone.

The first thing Gwyn noticed was that the satchel she packed earlier before leaving was sitting on the bed. She had been so nervous about everything else that she had not even realized it was missing. Gwyn continued to survey the room. It was beautiful. The decorations reminded her of the night court. Lucien really did pay attention to the smallest details. Gwyn truly believed Elain was an idiot for not giving Lucien a chance. The bedding was all black and the drapes twinkled with specks of a shiny material. It almost made them look like stars. The bed was unnecessarily large and so was the desk that was off to the side of the room. It had been such a mentally exhausting day that Gwyn decided a nap was needed. She locked her door and stripped off her cloak. She knew the lock would do nothing against winnowing, but as far as she knew only Lucien could do that. She placed her desk chair under the doorknob anyways. She fell onto the bed without even removing her priestess robes. She did remove her dagger and place it under her pillow for protection. A small smile graced her face as she thought of a certain spymaster who also slept with a dagger under his pillow.

Soft footsteps woke Gwyn from her sleep. She had no idea how long she had slept, but knew that dinner must be approaching if it had not already passed. A light knock on the door made her jump.

"Gwyn? Dinner is almost ready if you would like to join us downstairs." Lucien yelled through the door. Gwyn's racing heart began to slow as she realized where she was and who was speaking to her.

"One moment." She decided this dinner was not worth changing her clothes so she grabbed her dagger, putting it back in its sheath, and flattened her hair down with her hands. She did not want to keep Lucien waiting after all. The second she stepped out of the room, a sly smile crossed the male's face.

"What?" Gwyn demanded a tad self-consciously. She flattened her hair once more.

"Enjoyed a nap I see?" He was teasing, but that did nothing to stop her from shoving him.

"Oh shut up and show me the dining room." A real smile graced his face as he put his arm out for her to grab. She was half tempted to shove his arm away for his teasing. Instead, she rolled her eyes and held onto his arm anyways.

"Your wish is my command."

The castle was truly beautiful. Gwyn knew she could spend hours looking at the art pieces- some of them looked familiar. She would guess those were done by Feyre. The marble flooring and intricate ceilings were only part of the beauty. It has clearly been decorated. Perhaps Vassa and Lucien bonded over similar tastes in rugs. The thought made Gwyn giggle internally. The castle was so large that it took them about five minutes before they reached the dining hall. Gwyn took her place next to Lucien across from Jurian and Vassa who were already pleasantly discussing Vassa’s doomed fate. They quickly stopped talking once she sat down and turned the conversation to her.

"So I have been dying to know," Jurian begins "is Rhysand as much of a prick as he pretends to be?" Lucien sent him a glare which only had Jurian shrugging with an innocent expression upon his face. Gwyn sighed.

"Depends on who you are. He is kind to me, but only out of pity from what he witnessed at Sangravah. I have seen him be cruel to those he purposefully does not want to understand. I am not here as your spy though. That is as much from me as you will get about Rhysand." Gwyn truly felt a level of gratefulness to the high lord, however, he often squandered any other positive feelings she had of him by constantly looking at her as if he was seeing that day in Sangravah all over again. It did nothing to help her forget. Jurian gave a contemplative look before turning his attention to his plate. Vassa decided to try her hand at conversation.

"How are the Archeron sisters? I know the death of their father was hard on all of them." Vassa took a sip of wine. Gwyn did not want to discuss this either though. Speaking of Nesta made her miss her sisters.

"They are as well as could be expected." It was generic and had the fiery red head pursing her lips in displeasure. Gwyn did not quite care.

“Gwyn is a beautiful singer.” Lucien finally changed the subject to something that she did not mind engaging in. “We will need you to sing for us sometime.” Gwyn nodded in agreement. The conversation continued on with Lucien boasting about Gwyn, talking about her training as a Valkyrie and winning the blood rite. She started feeling uncomfortable with all the compliments he was sending her way. It reminded her of a conversation she needed to have with him. Right now was as good of a time as any she supposed.

"It was extremely generous of you to offer your help, but I feel I should inform you that I am not interested in anything other than your friendship." Gwyn interrupted Lucien mid-speech to clarify. He looked startled by her statement. Jurian choked on his wine and Vassa cackled like there would be no tomorrow. It made Gwyn feel as though she was on the outside of some joke they all knew.

"Excuse me?" Lucien, for once, looked genuinely surprised. It was as if he could not quite believe she would say that and needed her to repeat it just in case he heard her wrong. Maybe Gwyn misinterpreted some of his advances.

"I know our coupling seems inevitable," Gwyn explained further a bit shyly, not quite sure of herself anymore. "But I am not interested in any one that is not Azriel." Vassa's cackles slowed down to more of a chuckle and Jurian kept sending amused looks to Lucien.

"Gwyn, I am your grandfather." Lucien approached the topic slowly. "I assumed your mother talked about me, but, and I really hope this is the case, you did not know this?" His tone lifted up at the end in questioning.

Oh, Gwyn thought. She was not easily surprised, but this topped the cake. She tried to think back to anytime her mother mentioned her grandparents, but the instances were few and far between. Gwyn realized she did not even know their names. Suddenly, every compliment and favor from Lucien no longer appeared odd. He was complimenting and bragging about his only living granddaughter. This took much longer to process than Gwyn would like to admit. Unexpectedly, she felt an unwarranted amount of anger towards Lucien.

"And you waited until this very moment to tell me? What the hell Lucien? Or should I say grandpa?" Her tone was more hostile than it had been with anyone else. The sarcastic comment at the end had the red-haired male cringing. Jurian and Vassa started laughing once more.

"I know this is not great timing to interrupt, but I, for one, will be referring to you as grandpa from here on out." Jurian inserted. Vassa gave an amused smirk, but said nothing. It earned him a glare from Gwyn and Lucien though.

"I apologize, Gwyneth, for the delayed reveal. I thought you knew that's why I offered to help you, though. I assumed your mother had spoken of Jesminda and I. She was rather young when we had to surrender her, I suppose." Lucien looked so genuine that Gwyn's anger diminished as fast as it had appeared. Gwyn's family history had always been a mystery to her. She might finally get some answers.

"Jesminda is my grandmother?" Gwyn inquired. Her own mother had never given details. This adventure was beginning to answer many questions she had always had.

"Yes." Lucien said. Gwyn was trying to understand his expression and tone. She spent another minute watching him. Their other table mates had gone quiet as well. It did not take a genius to understand the moment. Jesminda had never been mentioned before to her from anyone and she was not here right now. She was dead that much was clear. Lucien cleared his throat and for a brief second Gwyn could see the emotion he was so desperately trying to hide, guilt.

"Why did you give my mother to Sangravah?" Gwyn realized it probably had something to do with Jesminda's death. She truly wanted more details. Lucien sighed heavily, probably understanding that there were many questions in store for him.

"Beron just ordered for Jesminda to be tortured and executed in front of me. I am certain if he had known of your mother, he would have had the same future in store for her. I had kept the child a secret from everyone except a brother, who helped me hide her after Jesminda's death." It did not escape Gwyn's attention that Lucien neither referred to Beron as his high lord nor as his father. Lucien ran a hand through his hair roughly. Her hair was clearly from him, but it was his one russet eye that had her pausing. An eye that suddenly reminded her so much of Catrin.

"Why did he kill her?" She asked softly. Gwyn realized she would never be able to deny Lucien anything. One look from his russet eye and Gwyn would give in simply because of its similarity to her dead twin.

"Because he's a spiteful old man." Vassa spit out. Clearly, she was just as enraged by the situation. It made Gwyn wonder if Vassa and Lucien had ever been together. Lucien rolled his eyes at the fiery female. He seemed to roll his eyes constantly while he was here.

"Because he could," Lucien added. "Your mother, who was about six at the time, was extremely unsafe even under my brother and I's protection. Beron would put your mate to shame with all the torture tactics he uses. I dropped her off on the doorstep of that church in the middle of the night. I always planned to go back and visit, but I was nervous and I knew she was safe there. I felt it was selfish to visit her since it only put her in more danger." Gwyn felt sad for everyone involved. Sad for Lucien who watched his love be tortured and executed in front of him only for him to have to turn around and surrender his daughter to a church. Sad for Jesminda who died that day. Sad for her mother who must have lived every day wondering where her parents went and why they abandoned her. Sad for Catrin who never got to meet her grandfather.

"I had a sister." Gwyn felt the need to mention. She was unaware of how much Lucien knew, but it suddenly felt important to her that he knew of Catrin.

"I know." He responded with a sad smile. "This family is well versed in tragedy." Gwyn had so many more questions. She had time to ask though. Her questions were making Lucien relive memories that were better left untouched. Perhaps he had endured enough for one night. She looked down at her full plate. She had been so distracted that she had not touched a thing. She began to devour her food as the rest of the table engaged in a debate about seasonings and which was the best.

"Have you and Vassa..." Gwyn trailed off, leaving the innuendo open when Lucien walked her back to her room after dinner.

"She wishes." He chuckled.

"Would you be with Elain if you could?"

"I would not jump into a mating ceremony but I would like the chance to get to know her. She has not given me the opportunity." He answered practically with his arms folded behind his back. Gwyn felt the need to assure him that knowing Elain would not make any of this easier.

"Trust me, it's better this way." She did not want to leave the conversation on such a sore point. As they approached her door, Gwyn jokingly shoved him. "So this would make Elain my step-grandmother?" Lucien was quiet before speaking. It was not the reaction she hoped for.

"Elain does not know. No one knows. And no one can know, even Azriel. At least until Beron is dead. Make no mistakes if Beron were to discover you, he would torture you simply to spite my mother." His lips pursued together in displeasure.

"Azriel is very good with secrets." She felt the need to remind Lucien. He is a Shadowsinger after all.

"Not with his high lord. If Rhysand knew, he would tell Beron if he had too. If Nyx or Feyre's life were on the line, he would do anything to save them. That includes selling you out. This is very important, Gwyneth. You cannot tell anyone- promise me." His stare was so intense that she could not look away. He grabbed her hands in a tight grip to make sure she understood how serious he was. Gwyneth had never purposely kept a secret from Azriel before. Hopefully, Beron would die sooner rather than later.

"I promise."

+++

Two weeks later

"What do you mean she’s gone?" Azriel was shocked to discover that Gwyn had left two weeks ago. He thought she had been avoiding training because of the kiss they shared- not because she was gone. He had been eating dinner with Nesta and Cassian when he finally had the courage to mention the priestess and where she had gone. Now he was mad that he had not asked sooner.

“She left with Lucien on some adventure. I am not really sure. Her note was unclear.” Nesta responded solemnly. The House dropped a piece of chocolate cake in front of her which made a small smile curve at the brash female’s lips. Azriel’s stomach dropped at the mention of Lucien. Gwyn did not know him well enough to go on an adventure with him. Gwyn would not leave her sisters here and she would definitely not choose Lucien to be the first person she left Velaris with. He was certain of that. He also knew Lucien to be a spiteful person. Perhaps he was tired of watching Azriel and Elain parade their relationship around him, making a fool of the one-eyed male. He could have taken Gwyn as retribution.

“He must have kidnapped her. Gwyn would never willingly leave the House of Wind with anyone- let alone Lucien.” Azriel knew this had to be true. Gwyn would never just up and leave. Guilt started gnawing at his chest as he realize he could have prevented her from being taken. If only his shadows would work properly around her, he could have prevented Lucien’s nefarious plans from being completed. His siphons started glowing the longer he though about it. He had to clench his hands around his silverware to keep from winnowing straight to the Band of Exiles and demanding his mate be given back. Nesta gave Azriel an odd look before speaking.

“She left a note that said she was willingly leaving with him and as much as he annoys the shit out of me, I don’t think he would hurt Gwyn.” A frown marred her face now, though. As if she had not considered that her sister could be in trouble. It only annoyed Az further.

“He could have made her write the note.” He reminded in a quiet, harsh voice. Gwyn and Lucien were not friends. She would have no reason to leave with him. Cassian was cautiously glancing between his mate and Azriel. He did not know what to say that would not piss off Az, so he was choosing to let Nesta handle the situation instead.

“She is not in danger.” Nesta declared after peeking at her wrist. There was no possible way for her to know whether Gwyn was safe or not. Even Azriel could not find out given how stubborn his shadows were being. He could always take a trip to the Band of Exiles, but he had to assume Lucien would not be stupid enough to take Gwyn there.

“You do not know that.” His wings flexed in anger. The siphons atop his hands were glowing dangerously bright now. He needed to get his emotions under control.

“Yes I do.” Nesta insisted with a roll of her eyes that annoyed Azriel to no ends. “My bracelet is not glowing. They glow when any of us is in trouble. It’s how I found her in the blood rite. It has not glowed since then either.”

“Hers could have fell off.” Gwyn would not have left after the kiss they shared. It was too important of a moment between them for her to have left immediately after.

“Gwyn and Lucien are friends, Az. You know if you want someone to blame for her leaving, maybe you should look inward.” It was a sharp jab that hurt more than the Shadowsinger would ever admit.

Suddenly though, he could see the hurt on Nesta’s face. It was there for only a second, but he saw it. Nesta was just as hurt by Gwyn’s departure as he was. He finally unclenched his hands from around his silverware- his fight giving out. Nesta was right. Lucien would never kidnap Gwyn especially if he thought it might upset Elain. Azriel chose this time to leave, however. He would not stoop to Nesta’s level and trade jab after jab. He headed to the training arena. It was hours later when slight footsteps could be heard making their way over to him. He was sitting at the edge, his exhaustion forcing him to take a break. Nesta took a seat next to him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"I miss her too, Shadowsinger." He said nothing in return because there was nothing else he could say. "You are worse than I was with the mating bond." Nesta tried again with a joke this time to try and get Azriel talking. She knew he was not normally one to discuss his feelings though. He gave her a withering look at that comment. It was an ongoing joke within the inner circle that Nesta handled the mate situation particularly horrible.

“Shut up.” Was all he responded with and he only said it halfheartedly.

"I am just saying, if you ask me for advice I could save you some time and heartache." They both continued to look out at the Velaris skyline.

"And what precious advice would you bestow upon me?" The comment was dripping in sarcasm, but he decided to humor her.

"Anyone other than your mate will be a disappointment, especially to you. Just accept it and her and everything else will become background noise." She looked up at him for a second before setting her head back down. He was not one to seek out comfort through touch, but sitting here with Nesta made him feel a bit better. Maybe it was because they could both ruminate in their sadness at Gwyn’s departure.

"Ah so wise. I had not considered that." Again the sarcasm was heavy.

"Well if you have thought about it and have not done it then I would consider you an idiot. You do not strike me as an idiot, Az." She was frustrated now- throwing her arms up and crossing them over her chest. He chuckled lightly.

"I think I might be." He admitted. Everything was so confusing with Mor and Elain that he lost focus of what was truly important.

"Gwyn is the most compassionate and understanding person I know. If she can love me, she can love you too. Just be honest with her." Her voice was soft now in a way that it never was. She always seemed to push him even when it seemed the rest of his family refused. It was the thing he liked most about Nesta- she was never scared of him or his feelings.

"Thanks Nes." He settled his head on top of hers and they stayed like that for hours- reminiscing in all things Gwyn.

#gwyncien #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #lucien vanserra #azriel #acosf #fanfic

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gryffindors-weasley · 4 years ago

Text

Relighting A Flame

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: A routine day at work resurfaces unexpected feelings when you encounter the very person responsible for them.

Requested by @snitches-at-dawn : “can i get a ron fluff about bumping into him in diagon alley after years of having broken up”

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mentions of death, grieving, break ups, angst, fluff

A/N: This will be part one of two! Thank you for the request, Liz!

(not my gif, credits to the maker)

It was a busy day, a long shift ahead of you at Amanuensis Quills. Students, both new and experienced, had swarmed the old cobblestone walkways of Diagon Alley. The bustling commotion filtered in with no intentions of stopping any time soon; it was always the busiest time of year for obvious reasons. You had your work cut out for you with a seemingly endless amount of quills to stock up for the new school year, an equally daunting amount of ink to shelve as well. To make matters worse, you had been left to run the shop by yourself for the day.

Fortunately for you, quills hadn’t been on the top of the list of priorities for most students and their parents, it certainly was never on yours. They’d much prefer to get their brooms in preparation for quidditch and even more excitingly a wand carry with them through their years of magical endeavors. That was always your favorite part.

It was a nice place to work, one with a welcoming familiarity that was very much appreciated. A job outside of the wizarding word didn’t seem quite like a good fit for you, so this was your best option. You were happy though, Flourish and Blotts was right down the walkway for you to stop in on your lunch breaks. They always had something new to appeal to your taste in literature and that was enough to give you something to look forward to each day. It was a cozy place to be in with its winding pathways and perfectly imperfect buildings, and the lanterns dotting along every one had only added to its warmth.

For the most part, you were as happy as you could be given the circumstances of your personal life. You had been accepted into the best training program to become a healer at St. Mungo’s, something you’d always wanted and now it was finally coming together. The training was rather rigorous as one would expect, but you’d always had Madame Pomfrey to help you along when you attended Hogwarts. It felt as though you had a stable footing in your education and you were right where you wanted to be.

You had your own apartment not far away, furnished exactly how you could dream of and maybe even better than you imagined. It was quaint and it was warm and it was yours. No pesky neighbors and you were free to use however much magic you’d like given everyone around there had been witches and wizards. You couldn’t ask for anything better than what you have, though maybe you could think of a few things.

It was a fairly good life to live after the wizarding war, one that was more fortunate than you could have thought to have. Though the burdens of such a historic event still weighed heavy on your heart if thought on for too long.

The small brass bell on the countertop had rung out behind you once to signal a new customer, effectively pulling you from your thoughts and grabbing your attention. It was a perfect and much needed break from the task you’d been working on for the better part of two hours, and it was one you accepted without an ounce of hesitation. You set down the cardboard box in your hands, turning to greet the person who had been responsible for ringing it. Though in that moment, it seemed as though the words had been taken from you completely and pushed out of your mind. Familiar blue eyes had met your own, eyes that had always been obstructed by strands of near unruly red hair. They belonged to someone you hadn’t seen in the better part of six years.

Your mouth hung slightly agape, your heart stilling in your chest and your surroundings fading around you.

“Hey,” Ron managed, fighting a smile because he wasn’t entirely sure if it had been appropriate in that very moment.

You swallow thickly as you try to collect yourself in your flustered state, though the heat blossoming in your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Seconds of silence had ticked by unforgivingly, each one more agonizing than the last and you quickly began to realize you needed to say something soon or it’d just get worse.

“Hey.”

That was all you could manage, just one single word. But to be fair, how does one broach talking to someone they so desperately longed to see, someone that held so much meaning yet felt so far away?

He scratched the back of his neck as the quiet tension became increasingly more apparent, averting his gaze from you momentarily before the tips of his ears burned any hotter. It was as if he’d just met you, as if the years of endeavors at Hogwarts and countless late night kisses hadn’t ever existed. He felt ridiculous for being so timid around you, for you were not a stranger and you never will be.

“How...is there something I can help you with?”

Your question seemed to have baffled him, and he found himself scrambling to think of just what shop he had even been in currently. The mere sound of your voice had him forgetting all else and he hadn’t realized just how much he longed to hear it. Truthfully he’d been there for you; he’d plucked up the courage to do so after hearing this was where you’d been. George had told him after he had bumped into you on your way to work one morning. Of course he would tell his brother, he’d missed you too after all. But not as much as Ron had, and he would never tell you that.

Your patient but expectant look had pulled him from his daze, his cheeks flushing a pale scarlet as he stood a little straighter and smoothed his loosened tie. His grip on the strap of his bag had tightened as he cleared his throat.

“Y–Yeah…could I get a package of quills?”

The words tumbled out so pathetically as he stammered them, humiliation seeping into every fiber of his being. He knew this was a bad idea, to come and see you. He debated it for months and though maybe it’d be okay. But it was clear you didn’t want to see him; at least that’s what he’d been thinking.

You nod with a soft smile and disappear around a corner momentarily, leaving him to stand in his own regret and offering you an opportunity to release the jittery sigh you’d been holding. Every word you said had been one you over analyzed, and you felt maybe you had been too dismissive, too short with him. Maybe you had come off as though he was the very last person you wanted to see, when in reality he was the first. He’d been the first for years now and you felt you had yourself to blame for that.

Stuffing your feelings down, you reach up on your toes and snag a fresh box from its slightly dusty shelf, taking a breath before willing yourself to go back. He’s standing right where you left him, his gaze so focused on you that he looked away in an instant to pretend it’d just been coincidence. He was always so blatantly obvious. However, it was something you came to be grateful for when your arm snags the corner of the counter, sending the delicate quills flying from their box and fluttering to the ground. The tiny metallic clangs against the floor in the quiet shop were a deafening reminder of your clumsy blunder, and your cheeks burned fiercely when he had looked at you once more.

“I’m sorry, Ron,” You rush with a soft laugh, internally scolding yourself for acting so foolishly in front of him. You’d known him since you were twelve after all, so it shouldn’t have been so difficult.

Your hands shook as you gathered the soft feathers and you tried not to focus on the way you felt him staring. If you had, you just might make another mistake. He was too busy reveling at the sound of his name falling from your lips for the first time in what felt like forever, something he’d thought about more times than he could count. He was too busy dealing with the emotions cascading over him to care about your inherent clumsiness, for you’d always been that way.

You stood to your feet once everything was as it should be, your hair falling ungracefully in your face at the sudden action, and set the box down in front of him. He’d resorted to looking over every inch of the place in that moment in hopes it’d make you forget he’d been gawking.

“I’m sorry,” you say once more, much more meek than you had anticipated it to be.

“It’s okay, lo—” he cut himself short, nearly falling into old habits. He couldn’t call you that anymore. “It’s okay.”

You nod with a soft laugh, looking in his eyes for the first time since he had come in, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“What ever could you be doing with thirty quills?” You ask curiously, anything to stave off the tension, though you also wanted to know. Your smile had been returned at your teasing question.

“I’m a professor,” he says, breathing out a nervous laugh of his own. “I’ve uh…I’ve taken over for Lupin. It’s my first year teaching on my own.”

Your eyes widen a fraction at his explanation and you smile a bit brighter at him from your spot across the counter.

“That’s wonderful, Ron!” You exclaim, your hand reaching out to grab his arm in excited habit. Realization was quick to hit you, and it felt as though sparks of electricity had mingled between you, the contact leaving flushed skin in its wake. You quickly recoil your hand, the heat traveling from your cheeks down to your neck. “You’ve…you’ve always wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ever since Umbridge had taken over for a bit.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, nodding his head in agreement. “That was quite awful.”

The familiar silence was soon to settle over you again, his eyes meeting yours. You’d love to know just what he was thinking, though you were uncertain if your heart could take it if you knew. What you did know was that it was a near impossible feat to look away from him, however, no matter how much you told yourself to. But a rather annoyed throat clearing had sounded and you peered just over his shoulder at the source. A growing line had formed behind him and he reluctantly spared a glance too, dread pooling in his stomach.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you say, offering a small smile.

“I guess it is,” he laughs softly, digging around in his pocket for money. He paid in exchange for his quills, trying not to think about the way your fingertips brushed against his. Or the way he wasn’t quite ready to leave just yet.

“It was nice seeing you again, Ron.”

He looks up at you, a bittersweet smile on his lips as he nodded. “You too, Y/n.”

He brought himself to look away after several moments no matter how much he didn’t want to, but the series of huffs over his shoulder were hard to ignore. He turned around and walked past the very apparent line of customers giving him a sideways glance for holding them up. You watched after him for a moment until he left, disappearing around the corner and out of view as your smile fades. You found yourself rather disappointed at the brief interaction, you wanted more time and your heart squeezed in your chest at the thought. But your attention is quickly stolen by the next customer in line.

—

The rest of the day had gone by quite differently, and the weather had clouded up seemingly to reflect your mood. Every day had been routine; you wake up, you come to work, you go home, and you do it again the next day. Any bit of heartache is easily shoved down and forgotten should there be any that boil over. It’s not everyday that the very love of your life, your best friend, comes in and singlehandedly resurfaces every one of those feelings you fought to keep at bay. The good and the bad.

The brief interaction set back six years of progress you’d made with yourself, six years of trying to live a life without him in it. That small window of time had taken that progress and diminished it to nothing. You missed him, so much so you found yourself looking out of the display windows at the front of the store all day in hopes he’d come back. You missed him and you didn’t want to, you wanted to revert back to the time you didn’t feel as though seeing him completed your day. Now you had seen him, you had talked to him, you had looked in his eyes. You’d been happy to see him and sad all the same. Now the cycle would begin again.

It had been Ron’s decision to take a break from your relationship, just under a year after the war. He had been too overcome with grief over the loss of his brother that he’d withdrawn himself from you, from everyone really. It wasn’t unlike him, and you couldn’t blame him for it either. He loved his family very dearly, and he fought fiercely to protect them. You can’t say you hadn’t expected him to respond this way, you were quite sure you would too and you had been to an extent. But not like Ron. For that, he didn’t feel as though it was fair for you, he didn’t want you to feel responsible for mending his broken pieces. He didn’t want you to feel as though you’d been ignored. You deserved better in his eyes, someone who didn’t feel like a mere shell of the person they once were. Someone who didn’t sulk around and confine himself to his room.

So he broke up with you, regretfully at that. But he couldn’t and wouldn’t forgive himself if he allowed you to feel unloved or unwanted. Because that—that would never be true.

You’d like to think that you handled it very well when he told you, it was a reason that was more than justified. There was no animosity, there were no hard feelings or resentment, not even a little. But that didn’t stop the hurt that settled deep within you. It was a feeling you felt somewhat selfish for but it remained nonetheless. It stayed and it only got worse with each day that passed, with each unanswered letter, with each visit to the Burrow to check up on him only for him to avoid your gaze and tell you softly that he was fine. It was nothing personal, yet it very much felt like it.

In time, you’d wrote to him less and less. Your visits to the beloved family home became few and far between until they had stopped altogether. It wasn’t because you didn’t care, you don’t believe you could ever stop caring for him and his family. But that very feeling was what had been hurting you the most. And any wall you had built has since crumbled unceremoniously to the ground with the days events.

With a sigh, you stacked the last of the shipment of quills and fresh ink onto their respective shelves, brushing the dust on your hands off on your jeans. The chaos of the day had finally ceased now that the sign on the door was flipped to ‘closed’, a quiet settling over the shop. You loved the week before the new school year and hated it all the same; it was endearing to see excited new students frequent Diagon Alley for the first time like you had done years ago. But the frenzy of flustered customers that almost seemed never ending was very much something you could do without.

You gave the room a once over, each package neatly organized, the floor swept and the empty shelves dusted. Perhaps you went above and beyond to distract yourself and keep from going home to simmer in your thoughts, but the darkening clouds had urged you to reconsider. You didn’t have anything particularly exciting to do that evening save for reading the book you’d bought earlier that morning. Though you didn’t think you could concentrate on the story at this point. You were tired and you were replaying it over in your mind.

Reluctantly, you switched off each lamp that dotted around the small shop, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you step outside with a soft sigh. The smell of the rain had immediately hit you, and it was a breath of fresh air compared to the smell of cardboard and ink. Pulling down the shutter over the window on the door you close it and lock it behind you, stuffing the tarnished set of keys in your pocket.

It was significantly less busy at this hour but you made it all of three steps before spotting the ever familiar head of red hair, your heart skipping a beat once more. Your brows furrow as you look up at him, nearly bumping right into him as your head tilts to the side in curiosity.

“What are you doing here?” You ask softly, hoping it hadn’t sounded too expressive of how you’d been feeling.

Ron’s cheeks flush again as he laughs, fidgeting before you as his box of quills sat tucked under his arm. “I was…I was just visiting George,” he says, pointing in the general direction of his brothers shop just down the way from you. “That’s all.”

He could have kicked himself for stumbling over his own words, you had to have thought he sounded ridiculous. He really had gone to see George as he had very frequently, but that had been no less than two hours ago. You nod your head.

“Oh,” you say quietly, offering a small smile in response. “I see.”

He hums, and you look at the rain drops splashing against the cobblestone one after another. You wanted to apparate away, to shut out the world and be in the comfort of your own home so you could unpack the day. And yet you wanted to stay, no matter how much your heart ached upon seeing him you still enjoyed his presence and felt miserable when it was gone.

“I should be going home now,” you say, risking a final glance. He appeared as though he was about to say something before you had beat him to it, and you turned away from him to head to your apartment.

“Y/n wait,” he calls after you, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You look over your shoulder, turning around fully once you see the look on his face. Your brow raises as you await his words, watching as he struggles to find them for a few passing moments. “Would you…would you want to have tea on Thursday?”

Your breath hitches as you stand there, your heart beginning to pound in your chest. The rhythmic beat rang loudly in your ears, so much so that it had to have been heard over the rain. You were quite sure the rise and fall of your chest had been painfully obvious, not to mention the heat in your cheeks that was rapidly trickling down your neck. The numerous thoughts swirled around in your mind in a whirlpool in that moment; it should have been an easy decision, an immediate yes. But the wall you built wasn’t completely destroyed, and the reluctance to get your hopes up for something good was clouding your judgement.

You knew you looked like a fish out of water as you stood before him and each wordless second that passed you by hadn’t been helping your cause. Ron was beginning to worry he overstepped, but he hadn’t said anything either.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” you manage, exhaling a shaky breath before timidly meeting his gaze.

The look on his face is enough to make your heart burst in your chest but you bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes bouncing between his. He swallows thickly at the soft statement, nodding his head as he looks away from you. You mimic his actions and the grip on your bag tightens as you will away the tears that fought to spill.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding as if to convince himself that he believed you. “Yeah you’re probably right.”

His laugh is soft and humorless, more so to cover up the fact that his heart had dropped down to his stomach. Or the fact that he was embarrassed. He didn’t want to accept this kind of fate, he didn’t want to accept that you felt it best to be apart, even if you didn’t really. He hadn’t expected you to run into his arms, but he didn’t want you to leave.

You nod and clear your throat, the rumble of thunder providing you with an excuse to go your separate ways. With all the hesitation in the world, you lift your hand and give a half wave, unable to trust your own voice with a proper goodbye. You look at him once more, his gaze so full of what could only be longing that you couldn’t bear it.

Spinning on your heel, you try and make your leave again despite your heart cracking and the soft sigh behind you. He couldn’t see you like that. It felt wrong to leave, for the life of you, you couldn’t give yourself even a half decent reasoning for it other than to protect yourself from any more hurt. Spending the last six years without him paled in comparison to this.

“I miss you.”

You still completely at the shaky declaration, and it felt as though the breath had been stolen from your lungs. The words were gentle and you almost convinced yourself you hadn’t heard him correctly. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you peer over your shoulder. He stood there with hope, a feeling that could get him in a great deal of trouble but he can’t bring himself to care about the repercussions right now.

“What?”

His tongue swipes over his lips as he takes a deep breath, willing himself to keep talking. “You’re my best friend, and I miss you. Okay?”

He hadn’t meant to sound so aggressive and forward, but he felt he needed to say it before he didn’t have the chance to. He didn’t expect you to take him back, he didn’t even expect you to give him the time of day. But if there was one thing he could say, that would be it and he took full advantage. It was something he wanted to tell you for far too long. He watched the myriad of emotions wash over you as you face him wholly, and he braces himself for your response.

Your reasoning for leaving seemed to falter and break apart the more time that went by, the more he looked at you like that. The look that was reserved for you, though you were always unaware of that fact and Ron was far too bashful to admit it. Anyone and everyone knew that look had always just been for you. He wasn’t known for being discreet with his feelings.

One tea couldn’t hurt, it wouldn’t break you, right? Surely it would have been better than spending your day at home. His words made your heart flutter, and he spoke them with the utmost of sincerity. It would only be self sabotage to reject this offer.

“Thursday you said?”

He felt so overcome with relief that he’d laughed softly, clearing his throat to try and rid himself of the lump forming there. He almost felt as if he’d conjured up the thought, but the soft smile you were biting back was confirmation enough.

“Yeah,” he nods, his rain dampened hair flopping over his eyes. “Thursday.”

“Okay,” you say, looking up at him. Your heart was still beating wildly, the rain pelting over you softly. “And Ron?”

His brows raise as he holds your gaze. You were reluctant to say it and make yourself vulnerable again. You gulp and think better of it.

“I’ll—I’ll see you then.”

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @theweasleysredhair @loony-loopy-lupinn @lupinsclassroom @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

#ron weasley #ron weasley headcanon #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x you #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley angst #ron weasley fic #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley series

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Text

Afternoon tea

Summary: Before his first class as a professor, Minerva McGonagall invites Remus Lupin for tea - and a talk of old friends .

Note: This was inspired by @constancezin amazing artword and fic for Remus's birthday. Check her art - and thank you so much for sharing your talent with us, Zin!

Read on AO3 or below:

Remus checked the note for the fifth time that afternoon, though he knew it by heart now. It was a short note after all.

Remus,

When you feel better, come see me in my office for tea.

Minerva.

The note seemed to transport him to another time - a better time, many years ago. It was an illusion, of course. Back then, Professor McGonagall addressed him as Mr. Lupin and she would never sign any note for him with her first name. And though she was the Head of his House, they were never particularly close - she would deny it, but Minnie McGonagall had always favoured James and…

No, not Minnie. That was a nickname that he had crafted, and Remus refused to think about him, despite the fact that his face was in every newspaper these days.

He felt that sharp longing pain in his chest and wondered if he dared to skip the tea altogether. But he couldn’t, and not only because Remus didn’t have a good reason to justify his absence - there was still on him that respect for Professor McGonagall, as if he was still the fifteen-year-old prefect who couldn’t control his friends and accepted her reprimand in their names.

The halls were empty, for which Remus was grateful. Though the transformation had not been as bad as before, he knew his face was tired and pale; he didn’t want to look too frail even before his first class. It was bad enough he had missed the first week of classes because of the full moon.

He knocked on McGonagall’s office and the door opened. She was sitting on her desk, finishing some paperwork, and Remus smiled to himself; the first week of classes had barely finished and Professor McGonagall had already given homework.

‘Hello, Remus’, she greeted, indicating the chair in front of her desk. ‘I’m glad you came. Just one minute, please, I am finishing these grades’.

‘Hello, Professor McGonagall’, he greeted back, feeling awkward. Somehow sitting in that chair in front of her made him feel young again, instead of the professor he was now.

Well, he had the title, but he hadn’t even given his first class yet.

She paused her work to look at him; there was a familiar stern look on her face as she watched him from over her glasses.

‘We are colleagues now, Remus. I think you should call me Minerva’.

‘Okay, Mi… Minerva’.

It felt weird, especially because she didn’t look any more kind than she was during the years she had been his professor, but she didn’t comment on the way he had stumbled upon her name. Perhaps she was used to that awkwardness; most of the other professors had been her students too.

‘All done now’, Professor - Minerva said at least, laying down her quill. ‘I am sorry to make you wait, these are the essays for my Advanced Transfiguration Class’.

Remus nodded, in silence. James and… well, James had been in that class. He truly loved Transfiguration; it was easy for him like all classes seemed to be, but it was one that he dedicated more of his time, even doing extra work.

No wonder Minerva had adored him. No wonder they had managed to turn into animagus so early… But that was too painful to think about.

‘No problem’, he said easily, ignoring his remembrances and his guilt as always. ‘I guess I will be the one grading homework next week’.

‘When they offer you the job, they never mention how much of your time you will spend on homework’, she said, and before Remus could understand if she was joking with him - James wouldn’t believe it -, she raised. ‘Tea?’

Remus nodded, watching as Minerva prepared the tea for them both. She could do it by magic, he knew, but like him, she preferred to prepare it the old Muggle way; Remus enjoyed waiting for the water to boil - it was good for some reflection.

He wondered what Minerva McGonagall would reflect upon.

‘I was surprised by your invitation’. he admitted when she offered him a cup of tea.

‘I thought we could talk. I know how these last days were… arduous for you’.

Remus blinked, suppressing a grimace. Compared to the last years - losing his friends, living alone, then the news of his escape - transforming into a werewolf was easy.

‘It was not fun’, he said instead, keeping his voice amicably, ‘but Snape’s potion actually helped me’.

He couldn’t help but let a little of his surprise slip in his voice. Remus had had his doubts if Severus Snape would really prepare correctly the Wolfsbane Potion for him - he had once tried very hard to expose Remus’ secret to everyone after all - but it had worked as promised.

Perhaps Minerva could hear clearly his uncertainty, because he swore she was smirking as she sipped her tea.

‘I believe you should call him Severus now’, she noted.

Remus doubted Snape would be glad of this acknowledgement that they were colleagues now but he didn’t say anything. He thought of being on a first-name basis with Severus Snape - James would never forgive him for it. Those two had always hated each other…

‘I hope it doesn’t bother you’, Minerva added, a note of disapproval on her voice that made her sound more like the professor he had years ago. ‘You are all grown men now’.

‘No, of course not’, he said hastily. ‘I never had a particular grudge against Sna… Severus. And I am grateful for the help he is providing. I couldn’t be teaching without that potion’.

‘Good’, she took another sip, seeming to wonder if she should say more. ‘It seems some grudges run in the family, though’.

‘What -’, he blinked, an amused and unstoppable smile coming to his face. ‘Harry doesn’t like him too?’

She looked away, pretending to be busy opening a box of biscuits and offering him one.

‘Severus is a difficult professor, many don’t like him’, she said casually. ‘I believe the Longbottom boy is more afraid of him than of me’.

‘Longbottom… Alice and Frank’s son?’

Minerva nodded, exchanging a painful look at him. Remus remembered how bright Frank and Alice had been, how powerful they were together; and then the news of what happened to them. Sometimes Remus wondered how it would have been if his friends had fallen into that barely alive state; he couldn’t imagine looking in James’ hazel eyes and not seeing anything back.

Perhaps dying was less painful.

‘He is shy. A little bit lost. Sometimes…’, she paused, seeming more unsure than Remus had ever seen her. ‘Sometimes he reminds me of Peter’.

Remus didn’t need to ask what Peter she was talking about. He moved in the chair, feeling suddenly uncomfortable as always happened when someone mentioned his late friends.

‘Perhaps he just needs some guidance’, he said, in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice. ‘More encouragement’.

They weren’t very good to Peter in that sense, Remus knew now, but he could try with Longbottom. It was never too late.

Minerva sighed.

‘It would do him some good’, she agreed, thoughtful.

Remus accepted another biscuit she was offering. Minerva still seemed a little lost in her thoughts, and Remus took a longer time than he needed to finish his biscuit until he gathered the courage he needed to ask her what he really wanted to know.

The question he had been avoiding for years.

‘Minerva? How - how is Harry?’

She watched him, raising her eyebrows, and Remus wondered if she would make it easy for him. She didn’t.

‘He is good in classes. Talented, medium grades, reasonably well-behaved. I think he could be better but he seems to dislike standing out actually’.

‘No, I meant…’, he took a deep breath. ‘How is he, Minerva?’

There was a wistful smile on the corner of her lips.

‘He is good’, she said softly. ‘You will find him always with his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They are always together, thick as thieves. Loyal to each other to their heart’.

Like James was to you and his Marauder group, he could hear in her voice. Like you were to each other until mistrust and betrayal separated you forever.

‘He is kind, modest actually. A bit naive too. And he seems to have a certain… disregard for rules and a knack for finding himself in trouble’. She paused and Remus knew he was remembering the hundreds of detentions that James had got himself into. He never complained, insisting he was proud of each one. I had a good reason, Professor, James would say, though most of the time was just for the fun of it. James loved to laugh and he loved making others laugh. ‘But his troubles are actually… motivated’.

That is less like James, Remus thought. James enjoyed breaking rules for the pleasure of it.

‘I don’t know if Albus told you about his previous years’.

‘He mentioned’, Remus said curtly, thinking of the stories he heard about Harry and his two encounters with Voldemort. He was too young for such misfortunes.

At least James and Lily were of age before they were facing Voldemort; but then again, Harry had been targeted since he was born. He was no stranger to danger - and now more than ever, if he was really after him…

If he had once betrayed James, who had loved him as a brother, he would surely not care at all for the boy who was his godson...

‘Harry may feel a need to be a hero’, Minerva continued, oblivious to his thoughts. ‘With his background… but he is a good kid’. She paused, sipping her tea before adding, in a voice that Remus thought sounded too heavy: ‘James and Lily… would be proud of him’.

Remus didn’t doubt that for a second. He remembered how James’ eyes would shine madly whenever he would talk about his child and how he seemed happy beyond words when Harry was born; and Lily, beautiful compassionate Lily, would look at Harry with nothing but love in her eyes. James and Lily had cherished their son every day of their lives.

They should have had more time with Harry. Twelve years and Remus still didn’t understand the unfairness of it all - if he could trade places with them he would in a second.

He remembered waking up at the Hogwarts Express and forcing himself to look at Harry, really look at him, instead of at the ghosts he invoked. The boy seemed fine, but he lacked that air that James had, the one that spoke of being loved and well-cared. Harry deserved to have his parents and to have met them.

‘He looks so much like James’, he whispered. ‘But it’s Lily’s eyes staring back at me’.

‘He reminds me of James a lot’, she agreed, a touch of sadness on her voice. Then she forced a smile. ‘Wait until you see him fly. He has his father’s talent’.

‘Chaser?’

‘Seeker. Never lost a game - and last year there was a rogue bludger chasing him around the field’.

‘James would be sad his son isn’t a Chaser’, Remus joked, though he knew he was lying. James would love Harry no matter what.

‘He has been a Seeker since his First Year’, she noted, again with that hidden smirk on her lips. ‘Not even James got his position so early.

‘He would be jealous’, Remus teased again, thinking that above all James would be proud.

My son, Remus, look at him! Seeker on his First Year! Lily - we have to send him the best broom in the world.

He sighed, exchanging another smile with Minerva, one that spoke of lost friends and lost opportunities. Remus supposed it was hard for her too - she had seen James growing up, from that uncorrectable prankster to a nice young man whose heart was in the right place and then to a warrior that died too early.

And she had seen James’ friends losing their ways too.

‘Don’t favour him’, she added, sounding a bit stern again. Remus blinked.

‘I won’t. I know I am his professor only - I won’t get too involved’.

Remus knew he already was, but he could be impartial. More than he was when he was a prefect, anyway.

‘I am glad you are teaching here, Remus’, Minerva said, her voice softer now. ‘Especially… this year’.

Remus didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. It was not coincidence that Dumbledore had gone for him, neither was that he had accepted to leave his isolation.

If he was really after Harry… after everything he had already done…

But this wasn’t a subject that Remus ever discussed with anyone.

He could deal with the grief over losing James and Lily and Peter, he could deal with the loneliness of the last twelve years.

But he couldn’t deal with his betrayal and above all with the question that always haunted him.

Why?

He finished his tea.

‘I should be going, Minerva’, he said, trying to sound pleasant. ‘I still need to finish setting things for my first class tomorrow. Fourth Year. Thank you for the tea’.

She raised one eyebrow, not much convinced, but all Minerva said was: ‘Of course. I wish you good luck’.

‘Thank you, Minerva’.

‘Anytime you need, Remus, my office is open’.

He nodded, though his smile was more restrained now. It was not her fault, but he knew that she wanted answers too, and he couldn’t help her with that. It scared Remus to think that no one would ever understand what had really happened.

He remembered a barking laugh, an aristocratic elegance and a smile that drew people to him. Not of it was revealed in the picture that was exhibited daily in the newspapers. Remus would sometimes look at that photo for long minutes, his heart racing in his chest, each beating sending a familiar pain to his body.

Why, Sirius?, he would ask. There was never any answer.

Remus raised, nodding his head in salute one more time. He was closing the door when Minerva called him again.

‘Remus - James would be happy for you too’.

He closed his eyes for a second; it was easy to imagine the face of James Potter - frozen forever with twenty-years-old -, grinning down at him with the easiest smile Remus had ever seen on anyone’s face, nodding at him in approval. Professor Lupin, huh?, he would say with equal notes of pride and teasing in his voice, always told you could be anything you want, Moony.

‘He would’, he agreed, sighing, and closed the door behind him.

____________

Updated to add: If you enjoyed, read Padfoot & Minnie, about Minerva meeting Sirius after knowing he is innocent.

#missing moments #HP Fanfiction #Remus Lupin #Minerva McGonagall #friendship #marauders fanfiction #t: fanfiction

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jean-kayak · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 10

Summary: A relaxing summer at home after your second year of college sounds nice, until someone comes back and makes it anything but

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Warnings: eren being suggestive as usual, smut (18+!!), oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), unprotected sex

Word Count: 2940

A/N: The first half of this is plot the other half is smut 💀

Tags: @germfart3, @iwascrybaby, @styxtm, @bigdaddyzawa, @prxttyguardian, @erensblackgirlfriend, @kbbvbz, @pettyluxury, @protectpancakes

Chapter Summary: There's nothing wrong with indulging yourself for the summer, right?

Eren doesn't know how long you're supposed to think about something, but he wishes you would make your mind up. You haven't slept together since then, and you haven't even talked to him since then either. You've been hanging out with your friends, not really being home for long before you're going out again.

And the other thing that's bugging him is that he can't stop thinking about you. Usually, he can get over someone pretty easily, but he doesn't know if it's because he's known you for a while or what, but you seem to be completely unaffected by him at least to some extent, and he doesn't like that.

You probably wouldn't believe it if he told you, but he likes talking to you. All those times he took you to get ice cream, sure were to make you feel better, but whenever he felt like he needed someone to talk to you, he always went to you. But he was too full of himself back then to admit, and he's not saying that he's the same person he was in high school, but he still doesn't think he'd tell you that.

When he hears the front door open, he's not really proud to admit that he was quick to make his way downstairs to see if you were there. But to his disappointment, only Jean was walking into the living room. "You looking for something?" Jean asks him, and Eren shakes his head.

"No, I was just--it's nothing."

"Were you expecting Y/N?" Eren shoots his head up to look at him but calms himself down before he speaks. He thought he downplayed his disappointment pretty well.

"No. What makes you say that?" He changes his demeanor hoping to minimize any suspicion Jean might have.

"You just seemed pretty excited coming down the stairs." Eren doesn't say anything, but Jean keeps talking. "You guys back to talking now?" he asks, and Eren hears a little more aggression in his words this time. There's no way that he knows. He hasn't done anything obvious that shows that you two have slept together.

He shrugs. "I guess. Is that a problem?"

"No, no. No problems here." Jean has an edge to his voice, and Eren doesn't know where it's coming from, but he's afraid to argue in fear that Jean might catch on, and he remembers you mentioning that Jean didn't really like the fact that you both talked to each other in high school.

"Is there something wrong with me talking to her?" he asks. Now he's getting annoyed. What's so wrong with just talking to you?

"No," Jean replies nearly sarcastically, and Eren walks closer to him. "When did I ever mention having a problem with that?"

"Y/N mentioned it actually. You care to tell me why?" He doesn't like how Jean isn't okay with your relationship with him whether he knows or not, and Eren's starting to get irritated, but Jean is apparently feeling the same way because he steps into his space, and one thing he doesn't have over Jean anymore is size. Jean's practically taller than him now.

Jean scoffs. "Oh, forgive me for not wanting history to repeat itself." At that, Eren's frown deepens. What does that mean? Does it have to do with why you stopped talking to him?

The front door opens and both of them look at the door to see you standing there as you close the door behind you. Your eyebrows crease as you look between the both of them, clearly interrupting something. "What's wrong?" Jean asks, walking towards you, and you glance at Eren before you answer.

"Oh, it's nothing. It's just some of us were going out to get food, so I just wanted to ask if you wanted to come."

Jean smiles at you, masking whatever irritation was on his face as he nods. "Yeah, I'll tag along, just let me get changed." He turns around, both of the boys glaring at each other before he walks upstairs.

You quickly make your way over to Eren. "What was that all about? He doesn't know, does he?"

"No," Eren replies, firmly, but he's not entirely sure. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't. It was just a stupid argument," he dismisses, and you eye him.

"Okay then," you respond slowly, and he catches your wrist when you start to step away.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he says, and you roll your eyes as you smile.

"There's a reason for that."

"Don't tell me it was because the sex was bad." He surely hopes it isn't because having sex with you is probably the best he's ever had.

"Keep your voice down," you warn. "That's not the reason," you sigh like you don't want to admit it, and he steps closer to you.

"Then what is it?" You move away from him when you hear Jean's footsteps, making your way towards the door, and you follow Jean out without a word, only sparing him a glance, leaving him standing in the living room more than confused.

"Where do you think you're going?" you hear your dad asks as you're about to take your food upstairs.

"To my room?"

"You can't." You frown as you turn towards him. "Your mom wants to have dinner as a family."

"We don't even use the dining room," you argue as your mom comes into view.

"Well, there's no harm in starting now. Come on." Your shoulders slump as you walk into the dining room. You've eaten with your parents before, but it's just not something that you all do all of the time. Sometimes you would use it whenever Jean was over when you were kids, or whenever his family was over for dinner, but that was about it.

If you were eating with your parents and not in your room, it would mostly be in the living room in front of the TV. You sit down, digging into your food when the doorbell rings. You hear your mom at the door more than you hear whoever is at the door, and when you hear it close, you turn to her as you hear her walking into the dining room.

"Who was at the--" You stop talking and raising your fork to your mouth when your eyes land on who was at the door, who's now standing next to your mom.

"Eren's going to be joining us from dinner today," your mom says, and you blink dumbly at her.

"I thought this was supposed to be a family dinner?"

She waves you off with her hand and a scoff. "Don't be like that. He is more than welcome to join us." You're still frozen in position as she turns to him. "You can go have a seat next to Y/N. I'll go get you a plate."

"Thank you so much." He's using that voice that she only uses with your mom, and it makes you roll your eyes before you stick your fork in your mouth as he sits down next to you. "Hello to you too, princess."

"What do you think you're doing?" you question, squinting your eyes at him.

"I haven't had your mom's cooking in a while, so I thought I'd drop by." You don't buy it, your eyebrows raising as you look at him, but you go back to your food when your parents come in. Dinner goes by pretty well, but you're waiting for whatever Eren has planned because you know he didn't just come over for your mom's food, which is good, but there's something else.

"Food is amazing as always, Ms. L/N," Eren compliments, and fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"Thank you, Eren, I'm glad you're enjoying it." You feel like you could count down the seconds, but you don't know what he could do. "So, how have you been? Feels like we haven't seen in forever."

He huffs softly as he nods. "It does. But I've been good," he answers as you grab your drink. "I've been inside some new places."

You choke on your drink. Of course, he chose to drop something like that while you were fucking drinking. You cough violently as you punch your chest, your parents' eyes widening in concern, and you just know that Eren has a smug smirk on his face.

"Oh, my God," you wheeze, finally being able to catch your breath, waving off your parents when they ask if you're okay. "I'm fine," you sigh heavily. "It just went down wrong," you explain, sending a dark glare towards Eren.

When you're back to normal, your parents continue the conversation. "So, Eren, what are your plans now that you're done with college?" The question comes from your dad.

"I'm thinking about doing something with art, just don't know what yet." You remember when you started noticing him drawing, he always looked so focus, but he never showed you any of them. You think about the one time he had asked you if he could draw you, but you shake the head out of your memory. But you don't realize that you physically shook your head.

"Are you okay?" You raise your eyebrows at your dad's question when you realize that you just randomly shook your head.

"Oh, yeah. I was just trying to remember something."

"Oh! That reminds me, why don't you get Eren to help you with your room?" You start to shake your head again as your mom turns to Eren. "Y/N's been wanting to rearrange her room again."

You guess you could say that you've been thinking about interior design for most of your life. Your parents were grateful for the day that you were finally strong enough to move most of your furniture on your own. You couldn't go barely three months without wanting to change your room around again.

"Oh, no. That's okay, he's probably got stuff to do."

"I actually don't. I'd love to help you." You turn your head slowly to look at him, giving him a tight smile, hoping the look in your eyes is telling him what you really want to say. "We can start on it now if you're done eating."

You glance down at your empty plate. "Yeah, sounds good." That does not sound good, and you can't react the way you want to in front of your parents. Your mom says she'll handle the dishes, and Eren thanks her for the food before you both head upstairs to your room.

He has your back against the door as soon as it closes, his hands moving under your shirt and over your skin. "Nice stunt you pulled back there. Thanks for almost killing me," you jest, and he smiles at you as he shrugs his shoulders, his hands warming your skin with the smooth circles he making on your stomach.

"You're welcome. I mean I was telling the truth. I haven't been inside my favorite place in a while because a certain person won't let me in. For whatever reason," he tacks on.

"What? I can't have a reason?" He doesn't like that it looks like he isn't getting a reaction out of you, and he smirks in triumph when he hears your breath hitch as he ghosts his lips over your neck.

"Not if you're not gonna tell me," he whispers against your skin before he pulls away. "But I'll give you time to think about it," he adds before he drops to his knees in front of you.

Your eyes go wide when his hands lightly grip the top of your shorts, and you put your hands on his. "We can't. My parents are in the house," you tell him like he doesn't already know that, but you can already feel your resolve starting to break.

"Then you'll just have to stay quiet. If you can," he adds playfully, and he hesitantly pulls at your shorts. When you don't stop him, he works them down your legs, and you moan when he licks over your covered slit. He pulls away immediately. "If you can't keep quiet, I'll stop," he tells you firmly, and you nod quickly.

He thumbs at your clit through the thin fabric before moving the crotch out the way and licking through your folds. You slap a hand over your mouth to conceal your moans as he pulls your underwear down, hissing softly when the cold air hits your overheated flesh.

He puts one of your legs over your shoulder to give him more room, and he slides two fingers inside of you which are easily welcomed as his tongue swirls around your clit. Your other hand pulls at his hair, and he grunts softly before speeding up his fingers, and you ball your shirt in your mouth as you start to have more trouble holding in the noises you're making.

You jolt when he brushes your sweet spot, the stimulation sending a shiver up your spine as you feel your climax approaching. His name slips out, and he's pulling away, his fingers slowing down. "What did I say?" His voice is as dark as his eyes, and you bite your lip at how shiny the lower half of his face is.

He speeds his fingers back up, and you pull on his hair in surprise which makes him groan softly against your folds, the vibrations sending you higher. You're grinding against his fingers and his face, and he sucks your clit into his mouth as he works another finger inside, all three pads of his fingers massaging your spot, and you feel yourself cumming, tensing against the door as you let out a small whine, and Eren takes his fingers out of you, replacing them with his tongue to lap up every bit of your release.

You drop your head back against the door as your chest heaves up and down, and Eren rises to his feet, and you watch him lick around his mouth. He kisses you, his tongue moving into your mouth so that you can taste yourself making you moan softly.

"You did better than I thought you would," he tells you, and you huff, still winded. "It's only fair to reward you, right?" he breathes against your lips, and that's when you feel his dick straining in his shorts against you.

He pulls you to your bed, and you barely make it over there, your legs wobbling before he takes your shirt and bra off. He works his clothes off, and you feel another rush of wetness flowing out of you just from looking at him. "But you gotta be quiet, okay?" he warns quietly, and you nod, the only thing swirling in your head is lust. He smiles as he cups your chin, his thumb grazing over your lip. "Such a good girl."

You let out a quiet whimper before he pushes you down on the bed, moving you until your head is laying on the pillows. He lines himself up, and you bite down on your hand as he pushes in, the feeling of your walls stretching to fit him is still overwhelming.

"Fucking hell," he rasps, his hands clenching into fists as he feels your tight walls pulsing around him. He starts moving, and you try your hardest to muffle the squeak that comes out of your mouth when he hits your g-spot instantly.

He speeds his hips up as you both feel yourself reaching your climax, and you don't even realize the headboard is hitting the wall until you hear a knock on the door which makes him freeze, both of your eyes widening.

"Is everything okay in there?" your mom asks through the door, and glance at Eren before speaking.

"Yeah, we're fine just--" Eren snaps his hips, cutting you off, and you slap a hand over your mouth as you glare at him. "Just moving the bed!" you rush out because Eren keeps moving, careful to make sure the bed doesn't keep knocking against the wall.

"Okay, well just be careful," she cautions, and you don't even bother to respond as your eyes roll back in your head. You're biting your hand hard, but you don't even feel it as Eren whispers soft praises in your ear as he moves his hand to rub at your clit.

Your other hand digs into his back as you moan into your hand, your orgasm ripping through you, his following shortly after. He flops down on top of you, the room filling with the sounds of ragged breath. "You're awful," you chastise, and he lifts his head to look at you.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asks feigning ignorance, and you roll your eyes.

"Well, we still have to move the furniture or my lie won't add up," you say, and he stops you when you start moving.

"Are we still doing this?" he asks. "Because if you--"

"We can still sleep together," you cut him off, brushing some of the strands that are stuck to his forehead back into his hair. You decide, what's wrong with indulging yourself for just this summer? You're pretty sure that once it's over, you'll never see him again, so make the best of the moment, right?

"So, no more 'I'll think about it'? No more stopping cold turkey on me?" he questions, and you shake your head, and he leans down to kiss you, pulling away with a smile on his face. "So, one more round?"

"No! We're rearranging my room. Now get off of me."

|Chapter 9|Masterlist|Chapter 11|

#nothing changed #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #eren jaeger x black!reader #eren yaeger x black!reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger smut #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot smut #snk smut

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cherrybracelets · 4 years ago

Text

Heat Waves

weed dealer!mgg x reader

masterlist | requests

word count: 5.5k | warnings: 18+ content! drugs and alcohol mentions and usage. no smut but partying!

summary: your brother has a new roommate, and fuck, you might be in love with him?

song inspo : heat waves - glass animals

an: this gif is how i imagine him in this fic like w glasses but way less nerdy ahahha ok well whatever idk if im gonna continue this or just leave it as is lmk what yall think ok byeee

You stumbled up the steps of the subway, the heavy cardboard box you were holding slipping out of your hands as you made your way above ground. You tried to adjust your grip on it and almost fell backwards, shaking your head in frustration. The box was filled with all the random shit your brother had left at your place over the past few months as he was trying to find a place to live, sleeping on different couches of random friends. It was almost all useless stuff, which made the fact that you had to hand deliver it all to him even more frustrating.

You walked tirelessly down the street, gripping harshly on to the box. You pushed your way through people, not caring at all that you probably looked insane as you yelled for people to move so you could just get there and fucking put this box down. You finally came upon the building, sighing with relief as you set the box on the steps and rang the buzzer.

“I’m here,” you groaned into the speaker, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand.

“Hello!” A cheery voice responded over the intercom. A voice that was definitely not your brothers. “Who exactly is here?”

“Oh, sorry- I might have the wrong apartment. Is this 4B?”

“Yeah! You must be Danny’s sister. Come on up.” The door buzzed loudly as it unlocked, and you grabbed onto the handle quickly, lugging in the box behind you. You were extremely grateful when you saw the elevator, quietly thanking the universe that you didn’t have to walk up four flights of stairs with this thousand pound box.

You took the elevator up to the fourth floor, your body exhausted as you leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. You closed your eyes, hoping that maybe a five second nap could give you your energy back. But unfortunately, the elevator stopped and opened its doors, urging you to once again pick up the box and be on your way. You dropped your head to the floor and sighed, using the last of your energy to pick up the box and walk down the long hallway to apartment 4B.

Thankfully the apartment wasn’t too far from the elevator, and you only had a short walk until you came upon the door of his new place. You noticed a welcome mat on the floor that read ‘Bachelor Pad’, and you rolled your eyes at the pure douchiness of the thing. God, your brother was a prick. But, nevertheless, you loved him, he was family. Despite being one of the most annoying people you’d ever met.

You knocked slowly on the door, excited to throw the box into someone else’s arms and run home. It was your day off from work, and all you wanted was to throw on some sweats, eat frozen mac and cheese and watch Jeopardy until you fell asleep on the couch. The perfect day.

The door swung open, and the man who was definitely not your brother stood on the other side, a large smile plastered across his picture perfect face. His messy curls hung across his face, and he pushed them away before reaching out to you to grab the box.

“Let me get that for you,” he said quietly, literally lifting the weight off your shoulders as he grabbed it effortlessly. The muscles in his arms protruded as he set the box down on an old dining table they had set up in the kitchen, a cluster of mismatched chairs along with it.

“Thanks,” you said back, your eyes still trailing over his body, watching him closely. “Is, uh, is my brother here?” You stuttered to get your words out, your eyes still locked on the model-like man in front of you.

“No, he just ran out actually. Went to pick up a couch or something.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. He told me he would be here!” You shook your head in annoyance, crossing your arms over your chest, which pushed out your cleavage slightly. You caught the man glancing at your breasts, and felt your heart start beating a bit faster. He wasn’t even trying to the fact that he was staring at you. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. He really was supposed to be here to get this.”

“It’s not a problem at all. He told me you’d be stopping by. I’m Matt, by the way. I’m sure he’s told you about me.” He stuck out his hand, and you reached back and grabbed it. His hands were soft, but the tips of his fingers stained black, the familiar site of a smoker. The air hung the smell of stale pot smoke, so it was pretty easy to put together that he was a heavy weed guy.

“I’m (Y/N). And, uh, no, actually. He hasn’t told me, like anything about you. Just that he knows you from work and you’re a ‘pretty decent guy’,” you laughed, letting go of his hand but desperately wanting to hold on to it forever. You didn’t really understand why, but something about his touch was so comforting, it made you feel like coming home after a long day.

“Uh, I was just about to smoke a bowl actually, if you’d like to join. Your brother told me you smoke,” Matt said, motioning to the coffee table covered in various paraphernalia.

“I don’t make a habit of smoking with strangers,” you responded sharply, realizing immediately how bitchy you must’ve sounded and wishing you could take it back. You scrunched your face a bit, cringing as you replayed the sentence over and over in your head.

“But I’m not a stranger! I’m Matt! Besides, this is fantastic stuff- I just got it from my guy the other day, knocks your socks off,” he giggled, his eyes wide as he wanted to desperately for you to say yes.

“Well, I guess I really can’t say no to free weed,” you shrugged, following him over to the old couch they had set up in their under furnished living room. It was exactly how you pictured your brothers apartment to look- disappointing and not at all coordinated.

“Sorry about the place, we’re trying to make it look nice but we’re not exactly interior decorators.” He shook his head as he looked around the room, before picking up his freshly packed bowl and lighting it.

“Yeah, it looks pretty frat-housey in here. I would expect more from you, but not from my brother,” you giggled, taking the glass pipe from Matt’s hands and enjoying it yourself.

“Why me?”

“Well... I don’t know...” you stuttered, shaking your head and trying to pull together a sentence. “You just seem to have... more style, I guess. Seem more put together.”

“I appreciate that. I do try extremely hard to not look like a douche.” He smiled kindly at you, his eyes shining with the reflection of the lighter as the two of you continued to share the bowl.

You made small talk for a bit, feeling the calm of the marijuana taking over your body. The old couch suddenly became much more comfortable as you sunk back into it, staring at the patterns on the ceiling. Matt was talking quietly behind you, trying to tell some story about him and your brother; but you were only half listening, losing yourself in your own thoughts of him. Thinking about the softness of his lips as he inhaled and exhaled, watching his hands flex tireless to work the lighter, noticing how his body seemed to relax more and more with each hit.

He tilted his head towards you, flicking the lighter with his thumb and escaping in the flame. He had lost himself in it, a comfortable silence coming down over the room. You watched the flame, too, trying to see whatever beauty he saw in it- but you weren’t feeling anything, and getting pretty antsy. You turned away from him, staring into the kitchen and hoping to see something edible from this distance. You weren’t sure what kind of food two men like this would bring into their home, but you were sure it was nothing good. Your stomach grumbled at the thought of something to eat, and you fell back into the couch with a groan.

“You okay?” Matt whispered, turning his face towards you and staring at your eyes.

“Mhmm,” you responded, not having the energy to respond at the moment.

“You are extremely beautiful,” he mumbled, his eyes exploring your face, finding themselves locked on your lips no matter how hard he tried to look away.

“What?” You snickered, replaying the words in your head, feeling your heart pounding out of your chest.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be weird. It’s just shocking to me how beautiful you are. Like a piece of art; I can’t take my eyes away.”

“You’re joking.” You rolled your eyes at him and pushed his arm playfully, trying to hide the obvious delight in your face.

“Why do you think I’m joking?”

“I just don’t hear that very often.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.” He frowned, looking down at his hands and playing with his over bitten nails.

“Sorry, I mean, I appreciate it of course. Fuck, sorry, I get so awkward when I’m high. Not very good at holding conversations.”

“Well, now that we’re friends I’ll make sure to remind you how beautiful you are as often as I can.” Matt placed his hand on yours lightly, at first only as a friendly touch, but feeling a comfort in the embrace. His thumb moved slowly, the small movement between your flesh overwhelming you with desire. Your eyes were locked on his, an intoxicating silence overcoming the room. You opened your mouth to speak, not sure exactly what to say, but the sound of the door unlocking breaking you from your daze. You pulled your hand away from his quickly and jumped off the couch, watching as the door opened and your brother walked in.

“Heyo!” Danny, your brother yelled, greeting the two of you with a large smile. “I see you’ve met my sister!”

“Yes, uh, yeah. We were just chatting,” Matt said defensively, trying to avoid eye contact with you.

“I was just waiting for you to get back. That’s all.” You responded, nodding your head quickly.

“How sweet! Just in time to help me get the new couch up!”

“Absolutely not. I brought your box, that's all the free labor you are getting out of me.” You laughed awkwardly, looking back at Matt, who was still avoiding you.

“Alright, whatever, but don’t ever ask me for anything ever again.” Danny rolled his eyes, throwing his phone down on the counter and grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

“Well, I should get going. I’ll see you tomorrow night for my party?” You asked, heading towards the door.

“Oh, right! I almost forgot. Is it cool if I bring Matt?”

You looked at Matt, who finally looked back at you, and you nodded slowly.

“Of course. I’ll see you guys then.” You smiled at the two of them, gave a small wave and left, closing the door loudly behind you. Fuck. What the fuck was that? Was he flirting with you? Or was he just high? You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the wall, trying to compose yourself before heading home.

***************

There was nothing that stressed you out more than when your roommate threw her chaotic ‘get togethers’ every other Friday at your place. It was always an exhausting mess, and now you had to think about Matt coming along as well. You hadn’t stopped thinking about your weird intimate moment together, and the thought of seeing him again made your stomach do backflips.

There was something about him that made you feel so comfortable, so at home. But he’s friends with your brother... he has to be a scumbag. Right? And what kind of guy just walks around telling random girls they’re beautiful. He was definitely just trying to sleep with you. Which of course you wanted to sleep with him too, obviously. But he was the kind of guy that you could find yourself falling for, and getting hurt, badly. He was the kind of guy that would break your heart. You could tell. And you could not let him in, no matter how much you wanted to.

Tonight has to be all about ignoring him. You cannot let him be alone with you, because the moment he’s alone with you and starts calling you beautiful again with his pretty face and intoxicating voice and touching your hand... you were playing a dangerous game. You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh, trying to push the thoughts of him out of your head when you were interrupted.

“What are you doing? I told you to get the cups set out like 20 minutes ago!” Your roommate rolled her eyes, pushing you to the side and laying out the cups herself.

“Sorry, Callie. Just a bit distracted today.”

“I can tell. What’s going on with you? You were weird all night last night.”

“Just tired I guess. Don’t worry about it. I’ll go set the drinks out.” You walked away quickly, hoping she would be too focused on her party planning to ask any more questions. Whenever you told her about a new guy, she was stupidly optimistic. And you really didn’t need her telling you to go for it when your brain was giving you the exact opposite advice. She just shrugged, turned around and went back to mindlessly setting up. You felt relief wash over you as she looked away, and you could once again get lost in your own thoughts and anxieties.

You mindlessly laid cups and other dumb decorations out, Matt’s face continuously crossing your mind. You found yourself smiling every time you played his words over in your head. His voice like silk as it wrapped around your body, warmth flowing through you as his lips whispered ‘You are extremely beautiful’ over and over again. You felt your heart racing, and you took a deep breath as you were brought back into reality by the vibration of your phone in your pocket.

You grabbed it, only to see you had multiple missed calls from your brother. ‘Fuck’, you thought. He knew, he somehow knew about your little flirt session with Matt. You shook your head in distress, preparing for the oncoming conversation as you reluctantly pressed the answer button and brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You muttered, squeezing your eyes shut to bear the impending rage from your brother.

“Jesus, I've called you like 18 times? What’s your deal?” He laughed, his voice full of his normal light and cheery tone. You took a sigh of relief after you realized he didn’t know a thing.

“Sorry, uh, helping Callie set everything up. Must’ve put my phone down and forgot it somewhere.”

“Well I need to know what liquor and illegal substances you’d like me to bring tonight- I’ve only got like an hour!” He said urgently.

“Uh, honestly whatever you want. We’ve got a few bottles here but nothing you’d like, probably.”

“You sound distracted, you all good?” You could head the concern in his voice, and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

“Everyone keeps asking me that today and it’s pretty annoying. I’m just trying to set up a party I don’t really want to be involved in and everyone keeps bothering me!”

“Jesus, grumpy pants. Looks like someone needs a nap... or a blunt.” Danny laughed quietly, and you bit your tongue to stop yourself from yelling at him again.

“Sorry. On edge today. Don’t want to talk about it.”

“No worries. I’ll see you later, okay? Try and cheer up a bit by then, I’d like to make a good impression on Matt.” Danny hung up quickly after that, and the word ‘Matt” kept ringing in your head over and over like a church bell. You put your phone down on the table and looked up at Callie, who was adjusting your work on the cups table.

“I need a drink,” you groaned.

“A little pregame shot, I love it!” She squealed, prancing over to the bottles and pouring shots for the two of you. You downed yours quickly, letting the liquor burn through your insides. You were hoping, after enough of it, it would burn through any thoughts you had of him.

After another shot, the next hour before the guests arrived flew by. Callie put on some music and you danced your worries away, deciding which outfit to wear by rampaging through your closet. You kept fighting the urge to look as sexy as possible, one half of you wanting Matt’s jaw to drop as soon as he saw you, and the other half wanting him to ignore you all night. You couldn’t resist the temptation, though, and chose an extremely well fitting and low cut dress that accentuated all of your best features perfectly.

“God, you are literally the perfect specimen,” Callie giggled as you walked out of your room to show off. “Who the fuck are you trying to impress?”

“No one!” You responded, raising your eyes at her. “Can’t I just look good for myself?”

“Not that good. That is for someone. I know you.” You were saved by the ringing of your doorbell, and you smiled, relieved.

“Whatever you say. Go welcome your guests,” you motioned to the door. Callie just rolled her eyes and walked gleefully over to the entryway to welcome your first partygoers.

A few more groups of people rolled in, and you paid no attention as you were too busy making yourself another strong drink. You poured sloppily into the cup, giggling as splashes of soda and vodka spilled down the sides of your cup.

“You better watch out there, pretty girl. Making quite a mess.”

You turned around quickly, Matt’s voice making you jump in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled brightly, his perfect face begging to be touched, adored, kissed. You looked at every part of him, every beautiful part of him, stuttering to get words out.

“No... you’re... it’s okay. Sorry.” You put the bottle back down on the table and picked up your cup, taking a large swig, and nearly gagging on the taste of the strong liquor.

“Can I get in there and make a drink?” His eyes travelled up and down your body, his lips slightly pursing at the sight of you. You felt your heart pounding through your chest and he eyed you. His eyes finally locked on yours, his gaze paralyzing, your body refusing to move.

“Of course. We have lots of options. Anything you want,” you managed to squeak out, still unable to draw yourself away from his gaze. His eyes didn’t leave yours, and he smiled slightly, reaching his hand out to grab a bottle. For a split second you thought he was reaching out to touch you, and when you thought about the feeling of his skin on yours, you felt yourself melt. Desire and craving washed over your body in a wave that you couldn’t push away even if you tried.

“Thank you. I’ll see you around, (Y/N).” He finally looked away, and began walking back towards the small group of people who had gathered in your living room, including Callie and your brother. You felt relief as you were able to breath again, your body relaxing as he got farther and farther away. You waited a few moments before following him to join the rest of your friends.

“Ah, there you are, my sister!” Danny yelled, wrapping you in his arms so abruptly that you almost spilled your drink everywhere.

“Hey bud!” You hugged him back, grateful to have someone here to take your mind off of Matt.

“We were just about to play a fun little ice breaker game, since Matt is new to the group and all,” Danny motioned to Matt, who smiled and waved awkwardly as everyone stared at him.

“An ice breaker, really? What is this, college orientation?” You joked, taking another swig of your intensely strong drink.

“Shut up. Don’t be such an ass.” Danny rolled his eyes and pointed to an empty seat, and you realized it wasn’t worth fighting him. He loved to play stupid little games like this, that everyone else dreaded. But you have to admit, everyone always ended up having fun at the end of the day.

“What’s the game, Danny boy?” Callie cooed, getting comfy on the couch between a few of your other friends. She always had the biggest crush on him, although you forbid her from ever getting near him. It wasn’t her, you loved her and would love it even more if she was your sister. But he was such a dick, you knew he would break her heart, and you would not stand for that.

“Easy, everyone shares one surprising fact about themselves.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I have any,” someone moaned, and Danny just laughed.

“No worries, plenty of time to think. I can start. Uh.... I slept with my professors wife in college as revenge for him giving me a C- on my final.” Danny smiled proudly and took a long swig of beer. The group around you just groaned in disgust and laughed, but you knew the story. That wasn’t the entirety of it at all, in fact, Danny had fallen desperately in love with this woman and she crushed his heart by choosing her husband over him. But he would never tell all of that, because that doesn’t sound cool. Apparently you weren’t the only one who knew the truth, though, because Matt instinctively turned to you and looked at you in a way that read, ‘This guy is so full of shit.’ Apparently Matt and your brother were closer than you though, if he told him his biggest secret.

“Hmm, Matt, I think you should be next. Only fair since you’re the new guy.” Danny turned to Matt with an excited face, like a little kid on christmas.

“Oh man, alright. Well, I guess one thing that people have a hard time believing about me is that I am a bit of a hopeless romantic. I believe in soul mates, love at first sight. All of that bullshit. I’m a sucker for it.” Matt looked right at you as the words spilled out of his mouth, not even trying to hide the obviousness of what he was trying to say. You tried your best to look away from him, but you couldn’t pretend his words weren’t entrapping you.

“That’s super corny, bro,” Danny laughed, pushing Matt slightly. He just shrugged, and took a sip of vodka straight from the bottle. Danny bothered a few more people about their secrets, and you listened intently to stories about shoplifting and coke addictions, trying to avoid his obvious gaze. You knew he was staring at you, his eyes burning holes in your body as the liquor started to flow through him. He wanted you, he craved you, in a way he had never experienced before.

Love at first sight had always been a myth to you; something in books and movies. Fiction. Until you heard the words slip from his mouth. Love at first sight, soul mates. It was all impossible. But why couldn’t you stop thinking of him. Why did his state send shivers through your body? Why did it feel like you had been waiting for him your entire life, even though you just met?

“(Y/N)! It’s your turn!” You heard Danny yell, bringing you out of your thoughts once again.

“Uh... what’s going on again?” You murmured, the alcohol overcoming your brain as you tried to remember the dumb activity you were being forced to participate in.

“Alright, you might need to slow down on the drinks girl.” Callie laughed, pointing at the cup in your hand.

“I’m fine. Just lost my train of thought!”

“Tell us a surprising fact about yourself,” Matt chimed in, a flirtatious smile plastered across his face.

“Uh, right. Well... I have a really huge record collection. It’s kind of my hobby.” You shrugged, nodding your head slowly as the group around you seemed let down by the less than flashy secret.

“You’re kidding! I collect vinyls too. I have like a thousand,” Mattresponded, his eyes lighting up at the realization that he finally had a way to talk to you.

“You should show him your collection, (Y/N), it’s ridiculously impressive,” Callie said, nodding in excitement. Your heart stopped at her words, hoping that Matt would say ‘Another time!’ and you would forget about the entire interaction. But you knew he would take up any offer to be alone with you; and a part of you was hoping he would.

“I’d love to see it,” Matt said slowly, his voice now a serious tone as he waited nervously for your response.

“Uh... of course. Does anyone else want to see?” You asked, in one final last ditch effort to protect yourself from being alone with him. But the room had already moved on from you, and no one even heard you ask the question. You looked up at Matt, his perfect smile once again showing itself.

“Guess it’s just you and I, pretty girl.” He whispered to you, his hand on your shoulder. He leaned in as he spoke to you, as if to keep the nickname a secret. You looked around in hopes that someone noticed, someone would put a stop to it. But everyone had already moved on, started new conversations, brought themselves deeper into a state of inebriation. No one saw either of you, and you could easily slip away into the night with him.

You stood up slowly, and motioned for Matt to follow you into your room. He eagerly followed behind, not a single soul in the room even realizing you were leaving. You felt your heart pounding in anticipation and nervousness, not knowing how the next few minutes would play out. You took a few deep breaths to control yourself before opening the door to your room and letting Matt follow.

“Open or closed?” He asked, his hand gripped on the door handle as he awaited your response.

“Closed. I don’t like people seeing my personal space,” you said, moving over to the shelves that held your vinyls. Matt nodded and closed the door lightly, following you over to your collection.

You walked to the corner of your small, cluttered bedroom. Sat in the corner was multiple shelving units, all packed high and bending under the weight of your numerous records. Next to the shelves was a small desk, which your record player sat beautifully on top of. Your room was overwhelming to a stranger's eye, but every single thing in there had a purpose, to you. It was your sanctuary. And it wasn’t a place you regularly invited strangers. You barely ever let Callie or Danny in there. But seeing him stand there, gazing in fascination at your records, felt very comfortable. You knew that he would respect your space, and not question it. It was a nice feeling to be able to share something so private with someone.

“Wow... this is amazing (Y/N)... you have fantastic taste in music,” he whispered, running his hands up and down the records.

“Thank you. Some of them I don’t really listen to, they’ve just been collected from garage sales and thrift stores over the years.” You watched him in awe, every feature glowing in the low light of your room. He smiled at certain titles, pulling things out delicately to look at the covers. He was beautiful, perfect. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

“Do you wanna smoke a blunt?” He asked, turning to you in excitement as he pulled out a bag of weed from his pocket.

“Of course. Just crack the window,” you responded, your eyes still locked on him.

“Perfect! Let’s listen to something, too. Do you mind rolling so I can pick something out?” He asked, handing you the plastic bag. Your hand touched his as you grabbed it from him, and you felt time freeze as your skin made contact. He was warm, soft, angelic in his touch. You wanted more, you craved more. But you let go, pulling yourself away.

You watched him pull out various records and contemplate what to put on as you carefully rolled a blunt to smoke. His face was focused and concentrated, and the furrow in his brow made you smile. You couldn’t help but smile around him. He finally pulled out an album you immediately recognized as (Y/F/A).

“How did you know?” You asked, watching him as he delicately took the record out and placed it on your player.

“What?” He giggled, biting his lip as he looked up at you.

“That's my favorite album.”

“You’re joking. It’s mine, too.” He looked up at you, your eyes once again meeting. You didn’t need to speak to know what was going through his mind. The two of you were both thinking the same thing. He broke the stare first to start playing the music, his hands gently placing the needle on the record.

The music began quietly, but filled the room around you. You lit up the blunt and began to smoke, a wave of happiness coming over you as you took in your surroundings. A beautiful boy, your favorite music, some fantastic weed. It was paradise. It was pure bliss.

You smoked the blunt in silence, both of you taking in the beauty of the music, no need for words. You watched him, his movements, enthralled by his every move. The light from the blunt lit up his face in an almost angelic way, making your heart race every time he took a puff. The more high you got, the more you wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him, love him. Love at first sight, it’s bull shit, right? But what if it isn’t? What if it’s sitting right in front of you?

“Dance with me.” Matt said, standing up quickly and reaching out his hand.

“I... what?” You asked, giggling slightly at the man who was standing in front of you.

“Dance with me. You know you want to.” He raises his eyebrows at you, hand still stuck out waiting for you. You rolled your eyes, a small laugh escaping your lips as you grabbed his hand and stood up. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. The smell of smoke and mint immediately overtook you, the warmth of his body wrapping you in comfort. Being in his arms, it was the most calming feeling in the world. It was the best feeling in the world.

In that moment, nothing else mattered to you except being with him. You would do anything to hold on to that moment. You reached your hand up to his face and touched it gently, the softened of his skin flowing on your fingertips. You brushed the few stray wisps of hair away from his face before bringing your lips up to his.

There are many different types of kisses in the world. You first kiss, which is awkward and usually terrible. A sad kiss, one where you know it will be your last kiss for a while. A lustful kiss, where you can’t keep your hands off of each other and want nothing more than to rip clothes off. But this kiss... this was a kiss you had never experienced before. It was a kiss that filled your entire body; flooded you with light and calmness, made every bad thing you’ve ever felt disappear into thin air as your lips pressed against his. It was a kiss that you knew was saved especially between two people who were meant to be. A kiss between soul mates.

As your lips worked effortlessly with his, everything else in the world disappeared except for you and him. You melted into each other, two paints seamlessly coming together to create a beautiful piece of art. You never wanted to let go of him. You never would, if it was up to you. But you needed a second, a second to catch your breath, a second to ground yourself back to reality.

You pulled away from him, your hands still locked in his hair and his on your waist. “We should go back out there. We don’t want to look suspicious,” you whispered, suddenly remembering the circumstances that led you in here in the first place.

“Of course, that’s for the best. But I promise you this is not the end of us.” Matt kissed your cheek and winked flirtatiously before heading back out to your living room. You sat quietly for a moment, your heart racing and your breathing unsteady. In that moment, you knew that was it. That was the last first kiss of your life.

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader

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ladykissingfish · 4 years ago

Text

Under The Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Three //Sasori

Sasori

Why must he do this? Why must he comply with such an inane human “game”? Things sure have change since he was a child; it used to be that kisses were an expression of intimacy shared by people who loved each other, not public fodder for critique and criticism. Regardless, here he is, so he prepares himself for the inconvenience.

Kisame

Kisame is one of the taller members of the group, so he has to bend quite a ways to bestow his kiss on the minuscule redhead. He chooses to go with a kiss on the forehead, which slightly annoys Sasori; he’s NOT a damn child, for God’s sake. But perhaps it’s for the best, because even from this angle Sasori can see the shark-man’s incredibly sharp and pointed teeth. A kiss on the lips may have caused damage to Sasori’s wood (which was made from softwoods so as to present a more human look than the rest of his body). Kisame tells him he’s a good sport, to which Sasori nods and smiles. If he ate food, he’d join him and Itachi for tea later. As it is, he says that when his time here is done, they can enjoy a game of Shogi later, as both of them are avid, excellent players.

Itachi

This child always looks so timid before he has to do things like this. Itachi presents one of the most interesting case studies for Sasori within the Akatsuki; he’s unique even among this unique group. Itachi and Sasori have spoken in-depth before about the sharingan; it’s techniques, the different levels. One of Sasori’s ultimate goals is to find a way to replicate the sharingan into one of his puppets, thus making it the ultimate weapon. Itachi often says that when he “finally dies”, Sasori can just take one of his eyes and transplant it into one of his creations. A “joke”; but this kid sure jokes about death a lot. Anyway, Itachi leans down and lightly kisses Sasori’s cheek. Sasori is once again struck by that powerful feeling of chemical imbalance, of chakra that’s rotting and a body thats just barely holding on. This kid; Sasori is a talented medical jutsu user, and could surely help him in no time at all. But once again, this is the path Itachi has chosen. Even if Sasori doesn’t understand it, he will always respect Itachi and his choices.

Hidan

Expectedly loud and unpleasantly crude. “I’m probably gonna be picking fucking splinters outta my damn lips!” “He’s so goddamn short I’m gonna bust my back just bending down!” Eventually he shuts up, puckers up, and delivers a dry kiss to the redhead. Very dry. Dry even to the one made out of wood. When the kiss ends Sasori tells Hidan that he’s clearly dehydrated, and should make it a point to drink more water. “Ah? So you wanted a wet kiss, eh? Always knew you were gay!” Keeps berating Sasori until Kakuzu comes up and drags him away, much to Sasori’s (and everyone else’s) relief.

Pein

Although he and Sasori only have about a four year age difference between them, as with everyone else, he looks at the puppet master in a very fatherly way. However he hold’s Sasori’s maturity level to be a bit higher than most of the others, and their mutual respect for one another is in a different league. Pein asks if Sasori desires a kiss, and Sasori responds by saying that it’s unnecessary. Pein nods, and continues on to whatever tasks he was engaged in before.

Kakuzu

Is really starting to think that instead of playing childish games like this, the Akatsuki’s free time would be better spent trying to earn the organization some much-needed money. Still, the others are playing along, so he may as well. He goes to kiss Sasori’s forehead but, being without his glasses, misjudged the distance and ends up kissing the bridge of his nose instead. Sasori thinks to himself, Kakuzu may be a gruff S.O.B at times, but he’s really not such a bad person. He’s calm, smart, and conscientious. Sasori’s intention of turning himself into a puppet was so that he would live forever, and if Kakuzu truly was immortal, then Sasori would be in good company once everybody else died out. Well, IF they could find a way to do away with Hidan, anyways.

Konan

Konan always smells good. Incredibly good. Does she wear some sort of manufactured scent, or is that her natural odor? Sasori wants to ask, but is hesitant; he doesn’t have much experience with women, and therefore isn’t aware of what may or may not be deemed an offensive question to them. Konan gives him a very soft butterfly-touch of a kiss to the lips, but Sasori barely notices it, he’s so focused on her aroma. This actually presents an interesting chemist challenge for him; to try and replicate her smell using no data other than his olfactory senses. He’s always grateful for an opportunity to try something different, so he thanks her; the fact that she thinks he’s thanking her for the kiss is completely irrelevant, as she goes away smiling.

Tobi

This kid ... or is it man? How old is he, exactly? Sasori has no idea. Almost everything about Tobi is a complete mystery, and that bothers somebody like Sasori, who strives to find the truth in all things. Underneath the mask, past the voice and the continued ridiculous antics, Sasori often gets the impression that there’s more to this individual than meets the eye. Absurdly, something about him reminds him of Itachi, although the two act like compete polar opposites. For the kiss, Tobi doesn’t take off his mask; instead he just presses the object against Sasori’s left cheek, and then his right, telling him that this is how they kiss in other countries. An interesting tidbit, if true ... and how would this guy know something like that? How extensive were his travels, before joining this group? How much does he actually know? Well, regardless, Tobi’s turn has ended, so Sasori shelves his musings for another day.

Zetsu

Zetsu approaches Sasori and asks if he can kiss his neck. He explains that in humans, their strongest scent comes from that area, and he wants to see if it’s true for Sasori. Sasori consents, and Zetsu leans in and delivers a peck to the arc of Sasori’s throat. He stays there for a long time, sniffing, and when he emerges, he informs Sasori that he smells much like a tree, although the scent isn’t any stronger from that area than at any other point. An interesting observation, maybe, but not really one that Sasori has any use of.

Deidara

The young blonde artist is so crimson that he rivals the best tomatoes out in the garden. Sasori wonders if he’s seriously that angry that he has to kiss Sasori. After all, he doesn’t think that Deidara exactly likes him; he’s always complaining about the way Sasori leads their missions, and the arguments about what “true art” is were never-ending. But when Deidara gets close to him, Sasori can see a different reality; Deidara is scared. Sasori can see the throb of his temple as his heart pumps, he can hear the harsh breathing that Deidara is trying (but failing) to keep hidden. What in the world is this brat scared of? He’s not speaking (for once), but now Sasori is concerned that the kid might be nearing a stroke. He figures the only way to calm him is to take the initiative himself. So he steps out from under the mistletoe, cups Deidara’s cheeks, and pulls his face down into a kiss. Immediately, there’s a change. Deidara’s body temporarily goes completely limp in Sasori’s grasp, making the redhead think that he’d actually fainted. He goes to break the kiss to administer aid to him, but before he can move, Deidara suddenly grips Sasori’s face, and his lips are no longer bystanders but aggressors, exploring his older partner’s mouth. Sasori stands still, feeling a twinge of surprise. This kiss feels ... different, from the others. Are humans always this soft, this warm? He hasn’t noticed these things as strongly with the others as he is with Deidara, although that could be because the latter is much closer than the others were. After what seems like an eternity, Deidara breaks the kiss, and smiles. Another rarity; Sasori doesn’t often see an expression from him that isn’t a smirk or a sneer or a scowl. He smiles ... but then he promptly tells Sasori that he’s “a terrible kisser, hm!” and goes back to his room, leaving Sasori ((and everybody else)) staring after him in confusion.

#the akatsuki #under the mistletoe #kissing #sasori #deidara #hidan #zetsu #kakuzu #tobi #konan #pein #kisame #itachi

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

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Level Up, Chapter Eleven (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“I don’t think I could come up with anything negative about you.”

Brooke’s eyes are sincere as she says it, and Vanessa’s heart starts to beat just a little bit faster. Vanessa’s a person who’s always on the go, not one to slow down if she doesn’t have to but Brooke has the ability to make her world pause for just a second. Brooke changes Vanessa’s focus from what’s in front of her to solely her, and Vanessa almost wishes she could keep it there forever.

It’s never that hard for Vanessa to come up with words to reply with, especially not towards Brooke, but her brain feels like it has shuddered to a stop, pressing on the brakes because the small smile on Brooke’s face is more important to focus on. She could say something stupid, something funny, maybe return the sentiment but she doesn’t get a chance to decide on what to do before Yvie lets out a scoff.

“Except for your dislike of Chicken Little. That’s a negative if I’ve ever seen one.”

AN: Hi, I'm still alive, I promise. Popping back into this lovely fic nearly eight months later (a new job, a new apartment, a new city, and a new cat later too) and I love it just as much as I did in January. Eight months is good for plot to marinate and develop and I'm excited to get back to writing this fic again. If you're still around for this journey, thank you and know I'm so grateful for it. Please do tell me your thoughts if you read! Thank you writ for betaing ily <3

“So you have that interview with Glamour, I’ll set it up for some time this week, and Teen Vogue wants to do something on their Youtube channel. Who knew that was a thing? I’m working on Adidas’ rep to finagle a sponsorship outta them, and Under Armour on the backburner just in case-”

Vanessa bursts through the doors of the gym while Detox continues talking in her ear, not at all apologetic about the way that she has to interrupt her as she ambles towards Brooke’s office. “Just reached the gym. We’ll have to continue this later, ‘cause training waits for no one, right?”

“I see exactly what you’re doing, but I’m not mad at it. Go work on building those boxing skills that’ll keep lining your pockets for years. Toodles!”

Vanessa lets out a snort when Detox hangs up the phone. “Toodles? Who the hell says that?”

“Detox?” Brooke looks up from her book, an amused smile on her face. “I know that trick.”

“What trick?” Vanessa squints her eyes as she sits down, trying to read the cover of Brooke’s paperback. “Are you reading Chicken Soup for the Soul? ”

Brooke waves a hand. “Doesn’t matter. And the trick of dipping out of Detox’s phone calls. Why else would you get to the gym so early?”

“Oh, come on. I’m early sometimes. Occasionally,” Vanessa grins, and Brooke doesn’t buy it in the least from the way she raises an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not. I like Detox, I really do, don’t get me wrong. She’s hysterical and good at her job, real good at it, but damn.”

“Detox works hard,” Brooke nods, understanding in her eyes. “It’s a lot to handle sometimes.”

“She cranks up the exposure by a million and targets it in specific places and it works, ‘cause I have a lot of followers and deals now but…”

“But what?”

Brooke leans forward, pushing her book to the side as she looks earnestly at Vanessa. It’s striking, sometimes, how Brooke gives her full attention. How much she cares sometimes.

It’s nice.

“It feels real wild, y’know? Like all I did was become a meme, and now my face is going to be in a Spotify commercial. How does that jump happen?” Vanessa shifts in her chair, letting out a sigh. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

It’s as if Vanessa is riding in a car that’s only getting faster and faster, not quite in control of the steering wheel or knowing when she’s going to be able to stop. Sure, the ride is fun, but it also feels like she’s driving without a license, as if she’s skipped the learner’s permit stage and hit the highway instead.

“She wants to capitalize on it as much as possible. Keep you in the spotlight even after the next big meme rolls around,” Brooke shrugs, before pausing for a second, a look of concern in her eyes. “It’s not too much, is it? I can always talk to Detox with you if you feel like it’s overwhelming-”

“Nah, I’ll survive,” Vanessa shrugs, giving her best reassuring smile to Brooke. “Lush sent me some free shit the other day. I like goodie bags.”

Brooke snorts. “Fair enough. Bath bombs are a reason to keep going.”

“Want some? I got enough for a month's worth of spa days.” Vanessa makes a mental note to bring some of the freebies for Brooke on their next practice. She’s earned half of everything, at least.

“You have any of the sakura ones?” Brooke is tentative with her question, and Vanessa nods enthusiastically.

“You’re getting all of ‘em.”

“Now, hold on a second-”

“It’s six. Don’t we have practice to start?” Vanessa’s up and out of the office before Brooke can protest any further. “I’m gonna go change.”

Practice is nice. Practice feels familiar amongst all the new chaos in Vanessa’s life. It lets her turn her brain off and get away from the people that recognize her out in public, the way her Instagram is now solely for sponsored posts. The way she feels like a caricature of herself, almost, because others have an opinion of who she is based on a ten second video clip.

But practice isn’t like that. In the gym, Brooke is the same as ever, pushing and pushing her until sweat is drenching her back and her mind is spinning and she feels more alive than she ever has. When Brooke throws moves at Vanessa that she has to work in overdrive to block and counter with some of her own, it’s familiar. Even though she’s tired and gasping for breath, it’s what she knows how to do, and in an environment that isn’t unsettling or foreign.

The best part about it? Vanessa can still feel herself learning. Growing. Stepping up to the challenges that Brooke throws at her. Sure, she’s not aching to get back into the competition ring anytime soon, but the approving smiles from Brooke when she gets in a good hit or when she avoids a shot that would previously knock her on the ground gives her a thrill every time.

The end of practice leaves Vanessa with a new sense of longing that’s only been present the last few weeks, since this whole meme mess has started. Leaving the gym is hard, because it means Vanessa has to go outside again, pull her hat down when passerby on the sidewalk give her a second look. She has to unlock her phone and pretend to be busy, but then she’s faced with comments pouring in on every social media account that she opens. She can text one of her friends but it’s hard to continue a conversation, really, after it starts with a rousing Miss Vanjie, no matter how much in jest.

Being outside the gym means that she’s reminded of her new loss of normalcy.

She takes her time switching back into her sweats after she showers, dragging her feet as she leaves the change room with her gym bag slung over her shoulder. When she squints her eyes she can see Brooke at the far end of the gym, teetering on a stool as she repositions one of the crooked banners. Brooke turns around almost as if she can tell Vanessa is there, a good natured smile and an easy wave following immediately.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Need any help?” Vanessa’s stalling a bit by asking, but maybe Brooke really could use a hand with the banners, or at least an extra set of eyes to make sure that they’re nice and straight.

She’s just helpful, that’s all.

Brooke, to her credit, doesn’t call Vanessa out for it as she squints, admiring her handiwork. “I think they’re as aligned as they’re ever going to be. I’m going to get ready to leave for the night, too.”

“Oh,” Vanessa doesn’t mean to sound a little disappointed as Brooke jumps off the stool, fiddling with the jacket that’s slung across her arm. “Already?”

“It’s almost eight thirty,” Brooke points out, padding past Vanessa towards her office door and grabbing her coat off of the hook. “You’re not tired and ready to go home yet?”

“I just…”

Vanessa trails off, looking down at the ground. She’s not sure what to say, really. All that’s waiting for her is her apartment, but she can’t mindlessly scroll Twitter or Instagram before bed without seeing her face again. She needs to reply to her friends’ texts, but the notifications are piling up on top of one another like a mountain that she’s not really sure how she’s going to climb.

Vanessa just wants to avoid it all.

Brooke pauses, and each second that passes makes Vanessa’s heart constrict because maybe she should just try to explain, but she doesn’t know how to and it feels like too much-

“C’mon. My roommate and I are having a late dinner and rewatching Chicken Little. Are you in for a nacho night?”

Brooke’s looking at her expectantly and Vanessa wants to say yes, but what pops out of her mouth is what’s pressing on her even more. “Did you say rewatching Chicken Little?”

“It’s a good movie!” Brooke’s defensiveness makes Vanessa crack a smile despite how restless she feels, how much she’s fidgeting while standing in place. “Come over and you’ll see.”

“Y’know, we haven’t talked about movies before, but this recommendation is making me question what your taste is like,” Vanessa lets out a giggle, when Brooke’s mock offense takes over her face as she puts a hand to her heart.

“The disrespect. You’re not getting nachos with those kinds of statements,” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s gym bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she holds the door open. “Now c’mon.”

Brooke’s apartment is not what Vanessa expects - there are colours and tapestries lining the walls and even one on the ceiling, and she’s pretty sure she sees a bong on top of the refrigerator. It’s pretty, though, with the art splashed across every free surface and the shelves filled with books upon books, piles of even more on the actual floor. Vanessa has to resist the urge to go and sit down on the wicker chair in front of the television that’s suspended from the ceiling.

“Yvie’s the one behind the decor.” Brooke has a knowing smile on her face and Vanessa can feel her cheeks heat up, from how easily Brooke can read her mind. “Moved in a few years ago after she broke up with a long term partner. Never really got around to adding things of my own to the walls.”

Vanessa snickers before she can even get her joke out properly. “What would you add? A Chicken Little poster?”

Brooke, for her part, doesn’t miss a beat. “Nah. A poster of your meme.”

“Wow-”

“I know we were thinking nachos, but picture this. Chicken nuggets while we watch Chicken Little.” A girl with bright green hair pops her head out from behind a door, waving at the two of them.

Vanessa waves back, her eyebrows lifting higher and higher on her forehead when she realizes how tall the girl is as she walks closer. Even Brooke has to look up at her which is a strange sight on its own, considering how much Brooke towers over Vanessa.

Then again, Vanessa’s used to being the short one.

“Vanessa here is doubting the movie’s genius,” Brooke raises an eyebrow, and the girl lets out a fake gasp.

“Um, not a movie. Chicken Little is a film. An artistic masterpiece.”

“Are you two the presidents of the Chicken Little fan club?” Vanessa asks, as Brooke sticks her tongue out at her.

“Yes. And no, you can’t join.”

It’s interesting how Brooke’s work demeanor has dropped now that she’s in her own apartment, her normally squared shoulders a little more relaxed. It reminds Vanessa of when they went roller skating, seeing how much fun Brooke had while pulling her around the rink.

Vanessa wants to see more of it.

Brooke points at her roommate as the girl sticks out a hand. “Ness, this is Yvie. Yvie, Vanessa. I’m coaching her.”

“You’re introducing her as if I haven’t heard you talk about her every single day for the last however many months,” Yvie drawls and Brooke’s sputter is immediate, making Vanessa’s breath hitch a little in her throat.

Brooke talks about her?

Yvie pats Brooke on the back as if she’s choking on her water rather than on some words, sticking her other hand out for Vanessa to shake. “You’re Brooke’s favourite student. Also her only student, technically, but still a favourite nonetheless.”

Brooke’s cheeks are bright pink and Vanessa can’t deny that the sight is adorable, seeing her flustered for once. Still. Brooke probably recaps their training sessions and nothing more.

“As long as it’s mostly positive,” Vanessa shrugs, and the way Brooke emphatically nods makes her feel better than she wants to admit.

“I don’t think I could come up with anything negative about you.”

“Except for your dislike of Chicken Little. That’s a negative if I’ve ever seen one.”

The platter of chicken nuggets that Yvie places on the coffee table with a flourish is impressive, to say the least. There’s a little bowl of ketchup on the side, along with sweet and sour sauce and something that looks to be...ranch?

Whatever it is, Vanessa’s nose wrinkles at the sight. “Which one of you eats ranch with chicken nuggets? Is that legal?”

Yvie’s cackle and Brooke’s flushed cheeks tell Vanessa all she needs to know as she plops down beside Brooke on the couch, nudging her side. “Really?”

“The flavour combination is great!” Brooke mutters, grabbing a chicken nugget and dipping it in the ranch for posterity, holding it up close to Vanessa’s face. “Try it.”

Vanessa scooches herself towards the edge of the couch, away from the chicken nugget and the ranch that’s slowly dripping down like a melting ice cream. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s delicious-”

“It’s cursed-”

“More for me, then,” Brooke tosses the chicken nugget into her mouth, and Vanessa’s not sure, really, how she’s handling the flavours together without puking. “You’re missing out.”

“Very happy to miss out on that, thank you very much. I’ll take the ketchup.”

It turns out that Chicken Little isn’t so bad with Yvie and Brooke peppering in commentary as they watch, and Vanessa finds herself getting swept into the plot, as ridiculous as it is. The glass of cider that Yvie’s brought for each of them is making Vanessa feel a little more relaxed, her shoulders not as stiff anymore as she leans against the back of the couch. It’s fun to watch Brooke’s face, really, and the way she lights up while quoting the movie as it plays.

Vanessa makes a mental note to invite Brooke over to watch more movies. Better movies. Expand her palate. Chicken Little cannot be at the top of Brooke’s movie pyramid, not when there are better choices available, like Pretty Woman. Sure, Vanessa’s not exactly a film connoisseur herself, but still. Anything beats Chicken Little, right?

Maybe it’s just the cider settling in, maybe it’s the full stomach of chicken nuggets, but...it’s nice. Comfortable. Vanessa pulls her feet up behind her on the couch before grabbing a throw pillow to hug on her lap, and really, she could fall asleep right where she’s sitting, even to the dulcet tones of the main chicken character screaming about an alien invasion. Brooke looks over as Vanessa settles herself more into the couch, her expression unreadable but then she reaches over the back of the couch, grabbing the throw blanket behind them.

“Wanna share? It’s kinda cold.”

It’s not cold and Vanessa knows it, she knows that Brooke does too, but Brooke’s face is soft and tentative and adorable and sharing a blanket with her would make the couch situation even more cozy.

Plus, she can cuddle with Brooke, because Brooke is tall and thus is a tall, comfortable cushion to lean against.

Brooke throws the blanket across both of them and Vanessa scoots closer to her so that their laps are covered, the fabric fuzzy and warm. The side of Vanessa’s upper thigh leans against Brooke’s and she’s not sure why she’s so hyper aware of the fact, or why Brooke’s arm across the back of the couch makes her want to snuggle in even closer.

It’s just Brooke, after all. Brooke, who’s seen her when she’s all sweaty and about to collapse on the gym floor. Brooke, who had been there at her worst after the last tournament and still wants to coach her and spend time with her. Brooke, whose secret love for Twilight will never fail to make Vanessa laugh.

If it’s just Brooke, then why is Vanessa’s heart taking flight in her chest when Brooke starts to absentmindedly trace patterns on her palm? She doesn’t know why Brooke’s touch is lighting up a pattern of sparks on her skin either, or why Brooke’s side is so comfortable to lean against. Why Vanessa almost wishes that the movie could go on forever, so that she can stay warm and safe under Brooke’s arm that’s now draped across her shoulders.

Maybe Vanessa doesn’t need answers for all of those questions, not yet, not if finding out the answers would mean disrupting the delicate balance that hangs in the air between them. Brooke shuffles a little bit and when Vanessa’s head ends up against her chest, she can feel the way Brooke’s heart is beating, surely faster than any heart should. It’s a contrast from how seemingly relaxed the rest of Brooke’s body is, how her arms around Vanessa aren’t tense, restricting, but rather grounding, pulling her down.

Leaning back against Brooke is warm, familiar. It’s a feeling of home in a situation so novel, so different from how they usually are, like pulling on a sweater that Vanessa’s not sure how she’s ever lived without. Maybe, just maybe, Vanessa doesn’t ever have to take it off.

Vanessa doesn’t realize that the credits start rolling on the screen until Yvie rolls off of the lilac armchair, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. She lets out a yawn, stretching her arms up high before shutting off the TV. “I, for one, am exhausted. And as fun as this was, it’s my bedtime.”

Brooke snickers, and Vanessa can feel the way her chest reverberates underneath her. “You and I both know you’re about to go Facetime Scarlet.”

“That’s what bedtime means,” Yvie wiggles her eyebrows, and Brooke’s noise of disgust is immediate.

“Horrifying. You two better keep it down this time. My ears still haven’t recovered from overhearing you both last week,” Brooke shudders as Yvie cackles, shutting the door to her bedroom with a click.

Vanessa turns in Brooke’s grip, shooting a questioning look. Surely Yvie can’t be louder than the average person on Facetime. “Overhearing what?”

Brooke makes a face, the haunted look in her eyes almost comedic from the way that she sighs. “Let me put it this way. Yvie and her girlfriend are in a long distance relationship, which is hard on them for a multitude of reasons. One of them being their libidos.”

“Their libidos…” Vanessa trails off, her face falling when she realizes what Brooke means. “Oh no. Not that. Tell me not that.”

“Exactly that. They’re quieter over Facetime than they are when Scarlet visits, at least. That’s a blessing.”

Vanessa shudders. Sure, she’s not exactly quiet in bed either, but the thought of people on the other side of the wall being able to hear everything is horrifying, especially because of the fact that she lives with Alexis. Her sister does not need to know details about her sex life, that’s for sure.

Still, Vanessa wonders how loud Yvie must be. “How do they even make so much noise with phone sex, anyway? Yodel?”

“Mating calls that would fit in perfectly in a National Geographic documentary,” Brooke lets out a snicker, her hand clapping over her mouth when Yvie lets out an ‘I heard that!’ from behind her bedroom door. “Still, glad I’m not about to suffer through overhearing it alone. You’ve saved my evening.”

Vanessa snorts, pulling back from Brooke’s embrace to face her, leaning against the back of the couch. “Glad to be of service.”

Brooke is softness and kindness and contentment all at once, and the easy smile on her face is one that Vanessa feels so lucky to see the longer and longer that she knows her. It’s moments like these that Vanessa wants to hold on to forever - when Brooke’s guard is down, when her posture is relaxed and she’s looking over with eyes that Vanessa could drown in. She wants to package up this version of Brooke that isn’t tethered by reminders of her past, or with upholding a legacy that defines her whether she likes it or not. At times like this, Brooke isn’t a boxer with her father’s last name, or Vanessa’s coach responsible for facilitating her success. She’s just Brooke, a girl whose gaze is so mesmerizing that makes Vanessa’s breathing hitch in her throat without even realizing it.

Brooke holds out a hand and it’s almost second nature for Vanessa to link her fingers with hers, their hands fitting together in a way that doesn’t make sense, not when Vanessa’s hands are so much smaller. But Brooke’s grip is an anchor that keeps her from floating away, one that centers her and lets her focus on the upward curve of Brooke’s lips, the softness of her eyes when she smiles.

Except then Brooke’s brow is furrowing, a hint of concern in her eyes that Vanessa wants to brush away for her. “You okay? You’re quieter than usual.”

Vanessa can feel her face heating up as she stutters, pulling her eyes away from Brooke’s face to focus on the stitching along the couch cushions. “I’m fine. I...nothing.”

She can’t exactly go out and tell Brooke, someone who’s a coach and also a friend for that matter, that she’s just a little bit mesmerized by her face. Not something that’s likely to go over well.

Vanessa’s past relationships have been nothing short of peacocking, making herself known to those she’s had an interest in because they’d inevitably chase her right back. She knows her worth, knows how to go after what she wants, but…

What does she even want, now?

She doesn’t want Brooke, she can’t, not when Brooke is her coach and someone who’s becoming more and more important towards every aspect of her life, someone who she texts when she wakes up in the morning and who she’s messaging as she’s falling asleep.

Brooke’s not the type of person that Vanessa can parade around and go on a few dates with while drinking the cheapest wine on the menu for shits and giggles. She’s not someone that Vanessa can let go of easily, the way she’s had to with previous relationships that didn’t work out. Brooke is different from them.

She’s not disposable, not someone that Vanessa wants to let go of from her life. She isn’t someone that Vanessa can let go of at this point, because the thought of not seeing her amused expressions in the gym or the pride on her face while they’re training is too much to deal with. Vanessa’s only beginning to read through Brooke’s pages to learn more about her, and finding out little details that make her want to melt and pull Brooke just a little closer to her heart.

Brooke is too important.

Sure, Vanessa’s breath hitches in her chest whenever Brooke pulls her closer, and maybe Brooke’s smile is enough to drown out any background noise buzzing around them, but Vanessa also knows that she falls hard. And fast. She’s impulsive, following what her heart tells her to do and most of the time, she can deal with the consequences because she knows she’ll be able to get back up again.

But if this is a miscalculation? If saying something means that they’ll end up in pieces that neither of them will be able to put back together?

It’s too big of a risk. At least, for now.

Vanessa can’t be the one to take the jump off the cliff, not yet.

So she smiles, puts on the most reassuring expression that she can, hoping that it’s enough to soothe the concern that splays itself across Brooke’s features. “Really, I am. Just thinking about all the press shenanigans that Detox has lined up for me tomorrow.”

It’s enough for Brooke’s features to relax just a little bit, the smile on her face almost nostalgic. “I’m glad it’s you now, and not me, on Detox’s receiving end. She’s ruthless in the best way.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Vanessa’s chest by going for the cop out, but...she has no other choice. It’s not the way she normally handles situations like this, a fact made clear by how much she has to push down the butterflies in her stomach, and hide them behind a door so that they don’t escape and ruin stakes that feel too high, too much of a risk.

Still, Vanessa’s a bit of a sucker for punishment, and so when Brooke pulls her closer into a hug, it’s as easy as breathing to snuggle into her and rest her head against her chest, because Brooke’s arms are warm and safe and manage to slow her thinking down just a bit.

Part of Vanessa feels like she can handle it and hold herself back from doing anything stupid, if only to not mess everything up. She can be this close to Brooke and not have her chest split in two and maybe it’s a blessing, and something that she has to hold on to. Except that by leaning against Brooke, she can feel how fast Brooke’s heart is beating, threatening to escape from her chest before she can possibly stop it. It’s a contrast from the gentle way that Brooke’s fingers run through her hair, betraying the calmness on the outside that she’s trying so hard to convey.

Maybe Vanessa’s not the only one holding back. Maybe Brooke also feels it, maybe she’s also teetering on the bridge that Vanessa’s trying her best not to lose her footing on, and the thought gives Vanessa pause for a second, because maybe the risk is one they can manage, something they can work with...

No. No.

They can’t.

Not if it would lead to everything falling to pieces around them, not if it would mean no more training and no more Brooke in general. Because that’s how relationships always seem to end, don’t they?

As much as Vanessa has always wanted the romantic movie ending and a kiss in the rain, it hasn’t happened to her yet, much to her teenage self’s disappointment. There’s too much on the line to see if Brooke will be the one to veer her onto a different path and change the outcome.

So, Vanessa has to be happy with what she’s getting now, this friendship with Brooke and the coaching and accept it for all that it’s worth. Because Brooke’s important, maybe the most important person in Vanessa’s life and she has to take what she gets.

She’s lucky enough to have it in the first place, after all.

#rpdr fanfiction #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #branjie #lesbian au #boxing au #boxer au #level up #holtzmanns

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