#it is just a bunch of boys beating each other bloody in the name of ???? something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iggydabirdkid · 1 year ago

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Victorian Era AU

I can't think of a better title quite yet, but I will, at some point.

This is a Fallen Hero AU I've had planned, set in the mid 1800's. There's too much stuff going to to properly summarize but lets just say, I'm gonna have fun writing all of this out.

Enjoy!

Word Count: 10,452

+++++

Your feet pound against loose gravel as you distance yourself from the chaos behind you.

She’s shooting at you.

You can’t believe it.

Well, the shooting you can. But the fact that she thinks she’ll be able to hit you?

Ha!!

If this wretched family has taught you anything, it’s how to dodge a bullet.

You shout at her, hear her curse through the hail of gunfire but for all her bluster you know she won’t follow, nor send the dogs in her stead. You left behind a much more immediate problem then your current escape. And besides. You’re her little sister. Maybe she’s missing the shots on purpose. You wouldn’t put it past her, oh so protective she is.

Keeping you confined to her estate. You can’t call it a home. It never felt as such.

Claiming it was for your own good, own safety to keep you away from the plights of the world. Or to keep you unaware of her checkered past and unscrupulous dealings. Not that it did her much good. Her being absent for most of your adult life left you time to wander, time to read, to listen and to learn. And oh boy did you. Far more than you think she’d ever have wanted you to. Far more than she thinks you know. Well, maybe not now. Considering.

She shouts your name. Pleading? Angry? You can’t tell and the roaring of an inferno at your back drowns out all other cries as you sprint further away from the manor.

Go after her kin or save her empire. You left the choice in her bloodied hands.

You know which she will choose while fury envelopes her mind.

Even with what you’ve stolen.

She could get that back (you hope she won’t) but to rebuild lifetimes’ worth of information and records? You don’t think even she could pull that off. Plus. You don’t think she’d like sleeping in the wilds and you set up that blaze to burn fast and bright unless tamed quickly.

There’s a grin on your face as you haphazardly wrap and secure strips of cloth around your pulsing forearms. You hike up the skirt of your dress, bunching it up in a pale freckled fist as you readjust the strap of the hunting bag slug across your chest as it currently bounces off your hip, and shift the weight of the haversack settled heavy upon your back, hefty with your stolen treasures. Each frantic stride causes it to bounce against the plane of pain that’s set up residence in your spine, but the pain is worth it for what you now have in your possession. Enough incriminating evidence to put her away for the rest of her life. Only problem is, you have to find someone both in a position of power to do something with it, and not also be in her back pocket. Too many were. You knew most of their names thanks to your snooping, but you’ve been out of the loop for the last week. You think she knew what you were up to which begs the question. If she did indeed know, why didn’t she stop you?

Stop. You can’t think about that now. You hear the beating of hooves and feel your heart skip a beat, painful in your chest. Maybe you miscalculated, maybe she was coming after you. But the horses thunder ahead sans riders and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat. At least some part of her still holds a shred of empathy. And so you continue ahead with only the light of the moon for guidance as you don’t dare use anything else, lest you become a beacon in the night.

The closest town was a good while away on foot. A journey you certainly are not keen to take, but you knew this before you even planned your escape. You’ve prepared as well as you could have without having tipped anyone off, though it was still harrowing. You have never spent time out in the wilds for an extended period and you have to admit, you are worried. Worried that you’re even up to the task. But you didn’t really have a choice. Well, you did. But after what she had just done… You couldn’t have just stood by. Something had to be done. Someone had to stop her. And who better than someone who grew up with her? Who knew how she worked? Who had information that no one else would?

Your lungs burn and your limbs ache and you pull the makeshift shawl tighter around yourself as you draw near the edge of the property and that alone stokes the flame of hope in your heart. Like a second wind lifting your spirits your body feels lighter and your dare a glance over your shoulder. The flames are still visible from here of course, but less so now. Has the blaze been tended to? Or has it run out of fuel, dying against the dark of a charge-filled evening? It’s none of your concern now. All you have to do is focus on escaping, and hope that you can find the strength within yourself to keep on going until you find a haven.

Gravel turns to grass which then turns to mud and dirt as you finally enter the treeline and you let yourself smile. If she still decides to come after you at least you have the brush for cover. Though you do have to slow your pace a touch, only so that you do not trip on things you cannot see with the canopy above blocking the moonlight and rendering your path in shadows. You hardly hear the fire now but given the distance it’s not surprising. You can hear the sounds of the night though. Bugs chittering, the lonely sounds of the occasional nighttime bird song and the creaking of tree caused by sporadic bursts of winds.

Having rained only yesterday the ground beneath you is slippery and more than a few times you lose your footing before quickly righting yourself. Among all the sounds of the night the loudest right now has to be you, not caring for subtlety in preference to putting as much distance between you and her as you can. Distance is important, more so with her (hopefully) still dealing with the aftermath of your escape. If you’re lucky it will be a while before anyone can even have the time to come after you, especially with the only modes of transport out this far scattered in the woods and as skittish as you are.

Speaking of.

You hear something just ahead, the high-pitched whinny of a horse in distress that tugs at your heart. You slow yourself, not wanting to cause any more fright to the already panicked animal and soon enough through the wide-trunked trees you spy a familiar dappled grey flank as it struggles against something you are yet to see. The creature senses your presence and its panicked movements intensify, it squeals and pulls and you give it a wide birth as you position yourself where its eyes can see you. You speak out, voice low and calm and you keep it as such until the animal relaxes, yet its tail still swishes, its ears pulled back.

“Hey girl,” you smile, creeping closer and keeping your voice low as the mare stares at you. You see the problem now, the reins of its halter have somehow become twisted and tangled in the low branches of a young yet strong tree. You watch her watch you, her eyes are wide and she blows out hot breaths hard enough that you can feel the air upon your face, “You’re okay. You’re okay. It’s me.” It’s your voice that seems to do it, now that she’s quiet enough to hear it and you approach slowly with your arms outstretched and your heart hammering until you’re close enough to touch her, and so you do. You reach for her, fingers played and palm facing her and she watches you intently but doesn’t pull away, and so you rest your hand gently upon the length of her nose and she lets out an audible sigh, one that you echo. You stroke her gently and she pushes into your hand as she lets out a low nicker. It’s then that you get to work untangling the lead, tricky business in the dark but you’ve done it enough times in the light that’s its second nature to you. At last she is free and you move to stand back a touch to examine her in the dark. Interesting. Halter on but no saddle. Maybe she was being turned in for the night? But then why did she have reins attached but not a lead? You frown, staying silent for long enough that she shifts to face you, nudging your shoulder and causing you to stumble before letting out a soft laugh, “Alright then.” You give her another scratch and move to her side where you wince as you grab a fistful of her mane and step your right leg behind you before swinging yourself around and pulling up at the same time, landing with practiced care upon the sturdy horses back.

She doesn’t shift or startle beneath your weight and part of you is glad of your imposed isolation, as it gave you the time to spend with her in order to foster such a bond. You have always gotten along with animals better than people. You pat her neck gently and she lets out a rumble, shaking her head as you position yourself appropriately.

You have a couple of options now. Sneak through the trees on your rather large horse, or find your way back out onto a path and hope for the best. You sit still and listen, straining to hear any hint of a pursuit but apart from the chittering of the wildlife awake at this hour, the sound of hoofs squelching in concealed mud and the slowly quieting of your breathing, there is nothing to indicate that you have been followed. Yet. And you are one to take risks.

You grab the reins, sticky in your grip, and squeeze your legs either side of her warm shoulders as you urge her on. She moves without hesitation and you were not so panicked in your flight that you have forgotten the approximate direction of the pathway and so in no time at all brush and dirt changes back to gravel. Moonlight shines upon your back and your half-turn to look behind you at the plume of smoke curling up into the air and disappearing amongst the stars. Serves her right.

You open the bag at your hip to make sure nothing was lost during your escape, and you breathe a sigh of relief to see its contents all where they should be. Good. That’s the main thing. As to the bag on your back, now that you have a mode of transport its contents didn’t matter quiet as much, still, you made sure it was secured tight. And you’ve already spent too much time idle as it is. Time to go.

You grip the reins tight in your trembling fingers, marveling at the way the raw wounds upon your knuckles glisten in the moonlight, before you dig your heels into your horses soft flank until she’s trotting, then cantering, and then she is galloping as fast as she can down the path and into the unknown.

And when you fall into slumber later than evening as you wrap your shawl around your shivering frame, your sleep is plagued by not-so-distant memories.

+++++

There’s a booming voice out in the hall, accompanied by footsteps that have a chill running through you. You’re hidden well, you know that, you made sure of that. But still your heart leaps into your throat when the footfalls stop right outside the door. Keep going. Please keep going. She calls your name sounding worried and you tense up, as if you expect your own body to betray you. She’s still outside for a few moments longer, listening perhaps, but you do not move and soon enough she walks away. You breathe out through your nose, the noise sounding too loud to your ears but you can still hear her footsteps retreating down the hall. Good.

You unfurl yourself from where you had been crouched beneath her large oak desk, your body now cramped and aching. You place the bundle of cloth strips you had been gripping upon the polished surface as you glance towards the door. You don’t have much time. She’ll find you soon enough. You just hope it’s after your plan is in motion.

You carefully step around the desk and tiptoe towards her ornate wooden cabinet, one of the finer pieces of furniture in this office. Too bad you can’t admire the details in the dark, though you still can’t resist the urge to run your fingers along the twisting vines carved into its frame. Tracing a trail you have many times before as you stood in this exact spot, serving drinks to clients and those to be as such. Never speaking up, never intervening, but listening all the same. Watching with eyes like a hawk for anything to give away potential treachery. And you were good at it, you have to admit.

She trained you well.

+++++

You awake still feeling groggy and unsteady when you rise to your feet but your luck seems to be keeping. You have yet to be discovered and your first night under the stars went surprisingly well, if not a tad cold. You had wrapped your hands under the cover of moonlight before you laid your head to rest and through they now throbbed with discomfort at the tight bindings, they were covered and (hopefully) free of infection.

You have no way to know for sure how far you are from your intended destination, but you know that with your companion you’ll make good time.

The air is crisp when you finally set out. You’re sore and aching having slept on hard ground for the first time in your life, but you can bare the minor discomfort knowing the outcome of something sweeter. You decide to travel at a slower pace for the moment, the absence of any true danger having bolstered your spirits and courage alike. It’s a strange feeling. Having nothing but the beast beneath you and the sounds of the wild for company. It’s quiet, but not like the quiet of an empty house devoid of any love or life. It’s a comforting silence. It’s certainly one you could get used to.

When the sun is highest in the sky you reach a crossroads and a dilemma. Where before your path split in to many smaller ones you were smart enough to know where to head, you would not be misled that easily amongst the misdirection’s that had been set. But here? The road stops, and splits in two definite ways. There’s a post at the fork and you urge your horse closer. Perhaps the names upon the wooden marker will reveal your way- but ah. That would be too easy wouldn’t it? The wood is frustratingly clear. Whether weathered away by the elements or struck off by some outside interference, you see no names, and therefore you have no guidance. Shit.

You stare at the post for far too long as you brain runs away from you. Which way to go, which way to go? Choices, not many, but enough. Think. You need to think. You need to-

The rumbling of your stomach interrupts your train of thought. You need to eat, first, before anything else. You glance back over your shoulder towards the way you have come and you purse your lips. You don’t like stopping, but you’ve made good time. You deserve a break, if nothing else. With your decision made you guide your steed off the beaten path and into the shade of an old tree, dismounting with a thud and letting the reins hang loose. She won’t run from you. She has nowhere else to go. You’re both stuck with each other and you laugh as she nuzzles your neck. You have a feeling that it’s a predicament she doesn’t mind.

You sit yourself down in the dirt, long past caring for the state of your dress or the mud on your shoes. The only thing you care for are your supplies and treasures, and they’re plenty safe, strapped to your body as they are. Yet you long for a small comfort and so you remove your pack and place it at your side as you lean against the trunk of the towering tree. For a moment you just stare up at the green, at the dappled light filtering through the waving branches casting golden specks upon the ground. You reach into your pack for your food and grimace at the level of your supplies. You miss the food. More than many other things, you never lacked in choice of meals. Oh how you would kill for something nice and hearty right about now… You’d have to find somewhere to stock up in the next day or two unless you wanted to be in real trouble. But you can’t do much if you don’t keep yourself and your companion fed. So you let out a long sigh and take a bite of your rations, passing off some to your horse when she cranes her neck down towards you. She takes the morsel eagerly, shaking her head with a sigh of her own as it disappears into her mouth.

“I don’t think you even tasted that,” you chuckle, reaching up to pat the spotted gray of her neck. You lose yourself in thought as you run your hands over her, mind drifting to a not-so-distant past as memories spring forth unbidden.

Not all things had been bad, ‘trapped’ as you were. You longed for the times she would return home, full of tales and stories so fascinating that you hung on her every word. You had no frame of reference, no way to know that the stories she told you were not those meant to be shared with young children. You didn’t know any better. Until you did.

When your steed abruptly pulls away from your hands you snap back into reality just in time to hear the sound of hooves approaching on the road not far from your position. Your heart begins an all too familiar staccato rhythm inside your flesh. They’ve found you. She’s found you. Stupid. You were stupid to think you could relax.

You shoot to your feet and the sudden movement upturns the shape of your bag and its contents spill out upon the ground. You feel a heat rise to your face and a shaking in your hands and you curse yourself, falling to your knees as you try to shove everything back in before-

“Uh, hello?”

Your body freezes, heart stopping as you are stooped over, back facing your captor. An eerie chill like nothing you’ve ever felt before runs down your spine as your fiery orange hair spills down your back. There’s footsteps now and a sharp spike of fear has your body shaking as you rise to your feet.

You can’t believe you let anyone sneak up on you. You can’t believe it. She’s never going to let you live this down.

“Are you okay?” the voice asks and you frown, a realization coming to your that has you turning.

This can’t be one of her goons. You don’t recognize the voice, nor the face that greets you with warm brown eyes and a lopsided grin. Her features are lit up by the midday sun, making her eyes shine with a warmth you never thought possible form a single person. You stare wide-eyed and when she takes a step towards you, you take one back. You watch her smile droop and you feel almost naked as her eyes roam over your form. You wonder what she’s thinking about, the way her eyes linger a tad too long on your face before flitting away to the horse at your side. She doesn’t move any closer and you watch her equal parts curiosity and fear. She’s wearing on off-white button up top with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and long green-grey pants, which makes you snap your gaze back to her face as you watch her for any sign of movement. The only other woman you’ve known to wear pants is-

“Hey.” The softness of her tone has your body betray you as you feel yourself relax. She doesn’t mean to cause you harm. You don’t think, “What’s your name?” she asks you and you open your mouth to answer, pausing for a few moments before you find your words.

“Annie,” you lie, “Annie Kane.”

“Well Annie. Nice to meet you. I’m Julia Ortega.” She sticks her arm out, fingers splayed open and posture inviting. And there’s something about her…

You reach out and her eyes move down to the stained bandages that cover your hand. You halt and watch as her brows draw inwards. But you are no coward and grab her hand in yours with a firm grip, shaking once before withdrawing with a grimace.

“What happened?” she asks, nodding at your hands and of course she would ask. You’re an anomaly to her. A strange woman out in the forest, her dress singed and person in a state.

“I got burnt,” you reply. Not a lie. Not going to elaborate either.

“What?” She grins again at the expression sends a shiver of… something through you, “Did your mother never tell you not to play with fire?” her eyebrow quirks upwards in an expression of mischief. But you don’t smile, or laugh. In fact you even feel your eyes well up with tears (curse your stupid emotions) and your face grows warm as you clamp your lips shut. Through your blurred vision you see her eyes go wide, “Oh mierda,” she curses to herself.

“It’s fine,” you croak, rubbing your muck covered sleeve over your face to dry your eyes, “I’m fine.” Are you?

“Are you?” she mirrors how you think so well and the disbelief of hearing your own thoughts aloud shocks the tears into stopping, “I mean…” she continues, “You’re out here all alone, in the middle of, well nowhere really. At a crossroads with a horse that doesn’t even have a saddle…” she trails off as she leans to the side, trying to look past you at the haphazardly filled bag at your feet. You grip the straps of your satchel tightly, “What are you running from?” she poses it as a joke, you think, with the way a soft laugh leaves her mouth. A laugh that all but stops when she meets your eyes, and the raw fear you must be expressing through the twisting features of your face, “I was joking!” she spreads her arms out in one quick motion and you flinch away, almost tripping over your pack.

Your heart is thundering in your chest and you’d be amazed if she couldn’t hear it. Your vision begins to tunnel, your head feels light and your breaths feel wrong as they leave you. You turn around to face your horse and you want to run. More than anything you want to flee from this woman who found you with your back turned and your guard down. But your strength seems to fail you as you thread your fingers through the long mane of your companion. Where would you go? You don’t even truly know where you are. You can feel your mare’s warmth at your fingertips but you can’t hear anything by the beat of your heart so loud you feel as if yours eardrums will burst.

There’s a sound behind you and your mouth opens and closes like a fish you watched die up on the riverbank once a long time ago. It had fled from the water, running from some unseen predator and you had found it laying upon smooth water-polished rocks, flopping about as it gasped for life mere inches from the source. You feel like that fish right now. Gasping out and getting nothing in return. You’re lost. And you are very well aware of the timer that has been set on you. That you’ve set on yourself. You have to run. You have to go. But you won’t be able to outrun her or outsmart her. What happened back there? A fluke. Pure luck. And why do you feel so cold? You feel sweat running down your back making your skin sticky and gross and there’s a pressure in your head like it’s been stuffed with one of those feather-filled pillows you love so much.

There’s a darkness encroaching at the edges of your vision much like when the sun flees the sky to give way to night but you can still see the light shining down from up high. What’s wrong with you? No matter how much you blink the shadows keep coming. They won’t go away. You’re trapped, scared, sick? You’re running on luck and faith and your supplies are getting low and you’re stuck in the wilds and this was such a truly bad idea. Why did you ever think-

There’s a soft thud from somewhere you can’t place. Even if you had wanted to you couldn’t. You can’t even see through the fuzzy grey that seems to obscure your vision but it’s finally quiet and you sigh as you relax into whatever sculpted surface you’re laying upon.

Laying? When did you lay down?

“Annie?” That voice. The woman. Julia. She sounds close. Far too close.

You dare to crack an eye open to see a face full of concern staring down at you. She smiles though its wobbly at the edges and from this angle…

You blink and go to move away when you realize it’s her you’re lying on. But you move too fast and your head starts to swim once again.

“Hey don’t move so soon.” A hand on your arm and you yank the appendage away, almost throwing yourself to the ground again with your momentum.

“Don’t touch me,” you think you mumble but your words feel heavy on your tongue and you’re not sure what truly passes through your suddenly dry lips. You scoot away still, eyes closed and hands braced on the earth until you no longer feel her presence so close it could burn you. You’re not sure how long you sit there with the warmth of the sun upon your face but when you finally feel (mostly) like yourself again you open your eyes to see Julia crouched an arm’s length away in front of you.

You eye her with a squint as she holds out a glass bottle. You see what looks like it used to be a saddlebag attached to her belt, its flap unsecured. You look back to the bottle and at the clear liquid swimming about within.

“It’s water,” she tells you and she shakes the bottle for emphasis, “Please. Drink.” You know taking things from strangers is a big no, but you don’t really have much choice with your own supplies as low as they are. And so you reach out with a hand that you can see is shaking and take the offering, lifting the bottle to your lips and drinking down deep. You didn’t realize how thirsty you were and you almost drop the bottle as some of the cool water goes down the wrong way, causing a coughing fit which has you doubling over and almost retching onto the ground.

“Ay dios mío,” comes the exasperated sigh as the bottle is pried from your fingers and you’re finally able to take a full breath. Your horse nickers at your back and you feel her gently nudge you between your shoulder blades so you turn around from your seated position in the dirt to reach out and place a hand to her face. She’s warm, and familiar, solid beneath your fingers and it helps ground you even more than the present company. It’s a while before Julia speaks again, “What’s your mare called? she asks.

“Ophelia.”

“That’s a nice name.”

You smile to yourself.

“So.” You turn back and look at her as you wipe the spit from your lips and smooth down the tattered and fragile skirt of your dress, “Are you going to tell me why you’re out here?” She grins down at you from where she leans against a nearby tree and something about that expression has you wanting to smile back. A feeling which you push down deep as you simply stare at her without speaking, “Fine fine. Keep your secrets. But unless you know where you’re going, you may get lost out here fairly quickly.”

“And what makes you think I don’t know where I’m going?” you shoot back as you wobble to your feet, leaning against the hulk of your steed for support. She looks at you pointedly, gestures at your dress, then at your horse sans saddle.

“Looks to me like you were in a rush,” she tilts her head and the long dark braid which had previously been concealed behind her wide shouldered form peaks out from behind her back, “And it can be mighty dangerous out here for a woman. Especially one who is alone, and injured.”

“What are you?” you sneer, “A detective??” And to that she grins even wider, the expression lighting up her face as if you had just told the most hilarious joke in the world. And it infuriates you for a reason you can’t fathom. As if you’re being left out of a joke, purposefully being excluded, “What’s so funny?” you huff as you cross your arms and straighten up to your full height.

You’re taller than her. Not by much but the ground beneath your feet is slightly elevated, just enough for you to peer over her head and at her horse tied up to the post back out on the road. Splotched brown and white hide and you watch as its flicks its cream coloured tail to swat at something on its flank.

“Oh nothing,” she says in an airy tone, drawing your attention back to her and you know she’s lying, especially with the look she’s giving you, “So?” she asks.

“So what?”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

You don’t have much, but you have your pride and so you stare her down with a tight-lipped expression, “Yes,” you lie, for the second time to her.

“Good. That’s good then.” You watch her eye twitch slightly as she turns and starts to head back to her own steed. You think she’s finally going to leave you in peace as she steps up and rests herself in a worn leather saddle but instead she turns her head back to you, “Just in case!” she raises her voice and juts a thumb over her shoulder, “Closest town is a day and a half travel back that way.” You look the way she’s pointing and a sigh of relief leaves you as the tension floods from your shoulders, “Just in case.” You can see her smile still from here before she nudges her steed and heads off the way you had come.

Now why would she be going down there? Whatever. It’s none of your business. You wait and watch and it’s only when she’s out of your sight that you turn and bend and begin packing your bag anew. Now that you have the time.

A day and a half. You should be able to make it.

You sling your bag onto your back and readjust its weight, making sure the satchel at your hip is still secure before you haul yourself onto your horses back, “Come on girl,” you mutter as you pat her neck and get her going, “The sooner we get to a town. The sooner this can be over.”

+++++

That night you sink into a dream. Or more accurately, you slip and fall headfirst into a memory. And why wouldn’t you? It is a fresh one after all.

You’re standing in front of the drink cabinet as your fingers find a small wooden button and with the faintest of clicks the front door pops open. You lower it slowly into its resting position before you reach in and pull a few bottles forwards. You can hear movement downstairs but you ignore it in favour of twisting and pulling out corks, working as fast as you can as the shaking in your hands worsens. You reach behind you for the desk, your fingers closing around the pile of cloth as you grab a fistful of strips tightly (too tight) and upturn the bottle over your hand.

You feel the alcohol soak into the material and run between your fingers, the sleeves of your dress soaking up the liquor as readily as a drunkard having a good night but you couldn’t care less.

The bottle empties quickly (too quickly) and you know where you want the epicenter of the fire to be. That fucking desk. You stand before it, bottle and mind abandoned as you stare down at its solid form in the dark. Part of you wishes you had a better view of your work. Another part of you though, is grateful that you are bathed in shadows if only to obscure the blood stains upon its surface that no normal eye could see. They’re not there truly. Not now. Not anymore. You were always good at getting rid of evidence but you could never seem to scrub your mind as clean as you did her furniture. The images of bloodied faces, missing teeth and burst eyeballs will forever haunt you.

Like they are right now. Whispers at your back and the faintest of ghostly touches gracing your neck…

You take a deep breath to steady your nerves. You have to go through with this. You can’t be a part of this family anymore with all its secrets and plots and after this you will be on your own for the first time in your life. But it’ll be better that way. You don’t need her to take care of you and you don’t want to have to depend on her your whole life. Now that you’re grown you have a chance to run. A chance to start anew. A chance to find something better.

You shake your head and take a breath before you smear the soaked strips upon the surface of the desk, spreading them out as evenly as you can while still leaving some leftover in your grasp. You hear the braying of horses outside and you hope more than anything that it’s just the stable hands. You can’t care about that right now and you round to the other side of the desk as you pull the draws open one by one. These are where you deposit the rest of the fabric, the colourless in the dark liquid soaking into papers and books alike and you smile, a cruel expression that can’t sit right on your face but no one else is here to see it. No one else will be.

And then the doorbell rings.

You fumble with the last lot of strips, holding them close to your chest as your heart stutters behind your ribs.

There wasn’t supposed to be company tonight, you had checked her books. You stay frozen on the spot as you strain to listen, only inching forwards towards the door as you hear the entrance to the manor open. You hear her voice speak out.

“Nox! Jake! Not that it’s not great to see you,-” a brief pause, “-but come inside quickly. I need your help.”

“What’s wrong love?” you hear Nocturne ask.

“I can’t find her.” There’s another sound which you’re too far away to pick up on even as you press your ear right up again the door, but it sounds like… “I can’t find her,” her voice breaks, and part of you breaks with it as your heart drops into your stomach.

Shit. Shit! What the fuck were they doing here? Her alone you could take, maybe. No. Not take. If she wanted to she could floor you with a single punch. You’ve seen all too well what she is capable of. Though you know you’re faster than her and if it were just her you could flee easily enough. But her hounds were relentless.

And like an hourglass tracking the time of some unseen task, you feel the last grain of sand drop.

+++++

A sound rouses you from sleep, a rustle in the trees which has you sitting upright so fast that you fear you pull something in your back. You pull your shawl further around yourself and the tightness in your chest sends a spark of pain through your body that has you gasping. You push past the pain and peer around through the dark, for the source of the noise, but you can’t see or hear anything else.

You turn your head to check on Ophelia to find her munching away on something in the grass at her feet. You smile and reach out to stroke her neck, your fingers spasming as you stretch them and you grimace before returning your hand to your side.

You have no way of telling what the time is and the pull of sleep doesn’t feel as alluring as before, not with that dream you just had, emotions sitting heaving in your gut. And so you get out your tinderbox, your old faithful and clear out a patch out dirt, brushing aside twigs and leaves until the ground before you seems flat enough.

Its much harder to strike it then the last time with your fingers swaddled as they are but you are determined to shed some light and so you struggle for a long while, the firesteel constantly shifting in your addled grip but you are finally able to produce a spark. The light is minimal but it does wonders to calm your nerves and you release a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. You inspect your hands, your arms, wrapped up and safe and you can see the staining on the bandages but all you do is sigh. At least now you’re not regretting packing more medical supplies than food.

You know your own shortcomings.

It’s painful, when you start to unwind your wrappings and you know it wasn’t smart to bind your wounds without proper care first, but its better to forgo a few layers of skin then to loose the entire limb from an infection. You watch as skin peels away from your arm and you grit your teeth so hard you fear they’ll crack. You’re shaking again, feeling dizzy and nauseous and a pungent odor invades your senses that causes a spark of dread to form in your gut. You reach for your water and pour the cooling liquid over your arm. The temporary relief is a godsend and you close your eyes with a sigh as the blazing heat subsides, albeit briefly. It returns with a retribution soon enough and you can’t stifle the sob that escapes through your clamped lips.

Drawing your knees up to your chest as close as you dare you stare intently into the flames, leaving your arm held out at your side as you wait for it to drip dry in the cool night air. You do your best to ignore the throbbing pain that would have you curled into a ball were you any less weak of will but you can’t deny the facts that your situation presents you. You’re in pain (with the signs of infection clearly present), you’re alone (with an aching feeling gnawing away at your insides) and you can’t escape the feeling of being watched (eyes on you hidden in the night.)

Shudders run through you as you cry softly, hidden under the cover of darkness.

+++++

You’re off at first light. You didn’t dare go back to sleep and so you’re struggling to keep awake in the saddle as you head down the road at a light trot. Though you know you have made good time (thanks in part to the helpful direction), you still can’t get rid of the feeling that you’re being followed. More than a few times you look back over you shoulder, convinced you heard a sound in the trees or the echo of hoofbeats in the distance. But each time there is nothing and all you have to show for your vigilance are aching hands and pain behind your eyes.

If that woman had been telling the truth, you hope that you’ll reach a town just before nightfall. You have to be careful without knowing who you could trust. At least not until you had your bearings, which could take a while given your state. Accommodation was a first priority. You need a proper nights rest on a soft bed and you’re convinced half your problems could be solved by that alone. Wishful thinking. Funds weren’t an issue (something that your pilfering had seen to) and so the next step after that would be finding someplace for your horse. Someplace safe.

Safe…

You really had a chance now didn’t you? At being safe. At being free.

You feel a smile grow on your face and you laugh into the winds as you urge Ophelia faster. You could be safe.

Your hope is renewed and you thunder down the path without a care to who might hear you.

+++++

You reach the town while the sun is still up. ‘Devil Falls’ the large sign at the towns border reads.

Charming.

Looking as if it goes through the heart of the town, a wide street of mismatched cobblestone continues ahead before curving out of your view, lined either side by store fronts and buildings the likes of which you’ve never seen in person. It’s amazing. The road is full of life and bustle and you are regarded with curious but not distrustful eyes as you head along on your too tall horse. Still, the attention on you has a heat creeping under your skin and you tense atop Ophelia as you head deeper into the town.

There’s whispers that follow you as you go. People talking behind raised hands as they look in your direction but whenever you turn your head to meet them head on they pull apart as if they had not been speaking at all. Is it purely because you are a newcomer? Or is there something else at play here that you are unaware of? Suddenly all the eyes on you feel sinister. You need to get off the road.

You swallow down the nervous lump in your parched throat, a cool flush running up the back of your neck and you finally see your saving grace. A side street, out of the way yet wide enough for both you and Ophelia. You just need a moment. That’s all. Just a few seconds to catch your breath and collect your thoughts and then you’ll be right as rain.

Right?

Though as you turn into the alley, away from the crowds and the gazes feeling as if they are picking holes into the back of your skull you can still hear them. Whispers at the edges of your senses, curling around your ears and causing you to shudder. You feel faint and you slide off your Ophelia’s back, almost crumpling to the ground as your exhaustion wraps around your shoulders like a heavy blanket in the dead of winter.

Your eyelids feel so heavy and you lean against the faded brick wall as you tilt your head back to regard the stringy branches of a sickly tree overhead. You feel like that tree right now. Gaunt, lifeless, and like a gust of wind could blow you over at any moment.

You close your eyes.

Breath.

Just breath.

/////

“Breath with me now. In.”

You breath in through your nose.

“And out.”

You blow out a long breath through your small lips and when you look up you’re staring into eyes of emerald.

“Feeling better?” she smiles and you nod, “Good,” she chuckles, the expression softening her normally stern features as she ruffles your mop of orange waves with a freckled hand. She rises to her feet and rounds her desk to take a seat behind it, “You gotta learn to keep that temper under control kiddo,” she speaks pointedly to you as she leans backwards.

“But he called me a name!” you protest as you ball your chubby hands into fists and stomp your foot against the ground, the motion less satisfying against the thick rug beneath your feet than it would have been on the planked floor, “And you told me to stick up for myself!”

“I did,” she agrees with a slight nod and she leans forwards, resting her elbow upon the mostly cleared surface of her desk, “But I’m sure you misheard him. He never calls you names. Does he?”

“No,” you admit as you look down at your feet before pouting and turning your eyes to the young boy standing barely a few feet away, “But I heard you!” you shout and point to which he turns to face you completely.

“I didn’t say anything!” he protests.

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“DID TOO!!”

“DID NOT!!!”

“ENOUGH!!” she slams a fist down on the surface of her old wooden desk with enough force that the ink pot in which her quill sits tips over, the porous surface readily drinking up the dark ichor, “Fuck!” she spits and you take a small step back as you stare at her, wide eyed and unmoving as she rights the pot yet continues to stare at the stain growing larger with each second. She’s not looking at you, hasn’t looked at you since she shouted and you don’t like the feeling in the room any more. You never like it when she’s angry. It scares you.

“Sorry…” you mumble, voice quiet and head bowed and when you hear her chair scrape back you flinch.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” she speaks with a tone you know all too well. You see her polished boots as she draws to a stop in front of you, “I want you to be better.” She rests a hand on your shoulder and you flinch, “Alec. You can leave.”

“Yes Ma’am…” you hear the boy mumble before his rapid footsteps fade fast from your range of hearing. Then its just you two. And your heart is pounding wildly in your chest

/////

Your heart is still pounding when you come back to your senses to find that you are now sitting on the ground, legs to your chest and head buried in your knees. You’re trembling and you vision blurs with tears and you’re so so tired that you could just fall asleep as you are but you wouldn’t dare.

You have to get up. You have to.

And so, much like before, you unfurl and stumble to your feet, grabbing the reins for assistance. You don’t head back out onto the main street even with night already falling and with less people around. You don’t feel like yourself. And so you head the other way in hope that’ll you’ll find something better than whatever the (not quite) straight and narrow path may afford you.

You keep to yourself. One hand gripping Ophelia’s reins while the other keeps your shawl tight around you and you trudge through the quickly darkening settlement. Right when you think you’ll trip over your own feet from the lack of lumos the streets come alive with pops of flame igniting in the street lamps dotted through the town. You feel a tad safer yet no less tired.

When you come across a large building tucked away far from the main hubbub of the, you almost fold in on yourself with relief. A relief that is dashed when you round the front to find that this place, whatever it is, is closed. Your shoulders sag and you almost fall and you have to lean against your horse to make sure you don’t. You inspect the property with a critical eye as you search for any signs of life and upon spying no movement within you round to the back side of the building and that’s when you spy it.

An open window.

Jackpot.

Before you is a seemingly abandoned, cornered in yard. Perfect. The lack of any fenced boundary makes your life easier as you guide Ophelia into a sheltered corner before looping her reins around a trunk of a tree.

“Stay here girl,” you whisper to her as you tangle you hand in hair mane, “Hopefully I won’t see you till morning.” And then with a quick pat your turn and head towards the building.

It’s old and almost falling apart but you’ll take anything at this point. You’re desperate.

There’s a small porch area before you and the posts holding the ceiling up seem sturdy enough to climb, and so that’s what you start to do. Using the post to steady yourself you pull your body upwards as you lift a leg, place a foot firmly on the railing, before you place your other beneath you and lift yourself until you are standing upright. You stay still for a few beats but upon hearing no change from inside the house (that you now deem vacant) you turn and grab the poll with both hands, plant your feet at its base and pull yourself up. You don’t need to go far and it must be the adrenaline coursing through you at the prospect of breaking into an abode that keeps you from experiencing the pain you’re sure you’ll be feeling tomorrow. A few inches above the railing is all you need to reach the second landing and soon you are grabbing at the small railing posts there as you haul yourself upwards, your feet kicking uselessly in the air until you grab at the railing and your worn boots find purchase. And still no sign that you’ve been discovered. Your luck really is holding out for you.

You swing a leg over the railing in order to reach the landing proper but as you move to do so you realize too late that a part of your skirt is trapped between your leg and the post, and that when you twist to pull your other leg over you begin to fall. Any other time you could catch yourself, you’re sure of it. But you are far from your best and with the added weight upon your back you practically fling yourself into the wooden deck with a loud thud.

You do your best to stifle the cry of pain as a result of crushing your arm beneath you and instead you roll gingerly onto your side as you groan. Even the adrenaline isn’t enough to keep the pulsing pain in your limb at bay and you cradle the affected arm to your chest as you roll onto your feet. You shuffle towards the open window, your only salvation against the misfortunes of the evening, and grab the ledge, maneuvering yourself into the dark room as carefully as you can.

It's a decently sized space and with the moon now in the sky you have a slightly better view of the room you find yourself in. Some kind of office that’s nowhere near as fancy as hers had been. There’s a desk in front of you, not quite in the center of the room, not even at the head of the room. It’s situated to the side, facing a strangely ornate fireplace that’s at odds with the sparsely furnished and, if you’re being honest, rather untidy and mismatched room. There’s barely enough room between the desk and the wall to fit a chair but someone had managed anyways. The surface of said desk is covered in documents, newspaper clippings and a few bottles of ink, some open and unstoppered and you click your tongue at the sight. Whoever this place belonged to obviously didn’t take much pride in the conditions of their working space, and you must be almost delusional with exhaustion if that is what you’re thinking about.

The laughter that bubbles up from inside you is not a happy sound and when you turn within the room and spot a high-backed chair you stumble towards it, caring little about any sound you make, being past the point of simply being tired. You shrug the pack off and let it drop to the floor, barely registering the thump it makes as you turn and fall into the chair.

It’s so soft that you release a quiet moan as your body melts into the cushions at your back and you close your eyes as you prepare to settle in.

Until you hear movement coming from the floor below you.

You struggle to reopen your eyes, sleep so desperately wanting to claim you as its ward and now that your adrenaline has fled, the aches and pains descend upon you with a savage vengeance. You try to push yourself to your feet but your body won’t obey quite like it should. You feel yourself grab onto the arms of the chair and you watch as your fingers struggle to find purchase, grabbing weakly at the plush and when you try to rise, a blinding pain shoot through your arms. You fall back into the chair with a small cry of anguish now that you can clearly hear footsteps but you’re powerless. Your body failing when you need it the most and try as you might you simply cannot stay awake.

You eyes close without your permission and you feel yourself fall into a sleep deeper than any you’ve ever had.

+++++

You spin, hastily returning to the cabinet as you grab for more bottles and begin to pour the booze haphazardly about the room. On the floor, the rug, splashing it up the curtains, and most especially soaking the lounge right by the front of the room. The lounge that is currently blocking the doors. You return to the cabinet, a squelching sound reaching your ears when your boots make contact with the rug and you hastily open more bottles. You have to. You have to make sure that it’s enough to burn everything. Or at least create a big enough distraction for you to get away. It’s made all the harder by the shakes that have taken over your form and when you hear footsteps ascending the stairs, one such bottle slips from your grasp.

Its painstakingly slow yet you’re powerless to stop the events unfolding and can only watch in horror as the bottle smashes at your feet.

You freeze.

The advancement of steps on the stairs stop.

You are the first to move.

All pretense of stealth abandoned you grab as many bottles as you can hold and begin to throw them with all your strength at every part of the room not previously covered by your movements. You ignore the heavy pounding at the door even as it becomes all you can hear. It’s so loud and you’re so scared but you’ve started this now and you won’t (can’t) stop. Your hands and arms are soaked as is the bodice of your dress but you keep on going. Right up until the doors of the office begin to crack. It’s then that you retreat behind the desk, grabbing one more bottle for good measure as you back up against the window.

Light is shining through the fractures in the wood appearing one after the other as something slams against the door hard enough that the couch begins to shift. You take what you know to be your last moments alone to undo the latch of the lower window pane and lift it up before there’s a horrible screeching sound at your back that has you spinning around and almost loosing your balance amidst the dim and vapors. You watch with wide eyes as the couch is shoved along the floor, leaving enough room that when the doors fly open after it you can see the vague outline of three figures standing just outside in the hall.

You don’t even think.

You hurl the last bottle you have at the first figure that steps into the room but its not her. Too short. You can’t see who it is from where you are but you know you hit a target when the sound of shattering glass sounds like music to your ears, as do the curses that run into the dark.

You can’t see them.

But they can see you.

And you wonder what you look like.

She speaks your name sounding confused at first and angry the second time. You don’t give her the satisfaction of hearing your voice (you know your words would fail you). As you bring up the small box that you had long ago stashed on your person she speaks your name again but this time she’s scared. She’s scared of you.

“Don’t do this. Please. You’re not thinking straight,” she speaks in hushed tones that she so often uses with you but you can barely hear her over the rush in your ears and you understand then that she’s not scared of you.

But for you.

The almost deafening rush becomes a roaring torrent as you open the box, slip the fingers of one hand into the loop of firesteel and grab the rock of flint in your other.

“Hey. Hey. Easy now.” She holds her arms out, non-threatening, showing her intention and your eyes flick from where her face should be to the two people flanking her, “Come on. We can talk about this. You’re not-” She takes a single step towards you.

And that’s all it takes.

You don’t give her the chance to finish her sentence. You strike steel against flint.

And your world goes up in flames.

+++++

You wake abruptly, memories of an all-consuming fire making you feel as if your skin is still alight as you blink back against a blinding light that for a few moments makes you think you are still back there in that room. Though the warmth in your bones is not that of a raging fire, but of sunlight and sickness and when you turn your head this way and that your vision clears enough for you to see you are not where you remember falling unconscious.

For one, this room is a lot nicer. It’s furnished pleasantly with warm colours and personal touches and you are lying on an actual bed, meant to accommodate someone of your size which is… odd. What’s even stranger is that your arms have been redressed with care and precision and all you can do is frown and your head swims with unanswered questions.

With a startling awareness you realize your gear is gone and you throw back the patterned covers as you swing your legs out of the bed. Bare feet touch carpet and now your boots are gone and can this get any worse?

As it turns out, yes. Yes it can.

You hear a humming outside the room, a voice and a tune you do not recognize and your body locks up as the footsteps grow closer.

Keep going.

Keep going. Please.

You’re holding your breath as they stop outside the door but it seems as if your luck has come to an end. The doorknob begins to turn and in a panic you grab the closest thing to you, a ceramic water pitcher on the nightstand. You raise it above your head as the door begins to open and you spy a flash of curly orange hair that sets your nerves on fire all over again. But the height is all wrong. And the person who enters the room is someone you’ve never seen before.

A woman with a tangled braid of orange locks who’s carrying a round basin in her sturdy arms in which you can hear water sloshing about. The tune she was humming halts as soon as her green eyes meet yours and it’s a stalemate as neither of you move and the silence stretches into something stifling.

“You’re awake?”

Your hand, already injured and aching and shaking the longer you held the pitcher over you head releases its grip on the object. It hits the cover of the bed before bouncing off, and falling to the ground where it shatters at your feet.

Shattering at your feet.

Footsteps on stairs.

“Here let me-“ the woman places the basin on the ground and starts towards you and you pull your legs back as you throw yourself to the other end of the bed, scrambling to get away from this stranger who has you cornered in a room that now feels too small. You must have let out a cry as she stops and steps back, arms held up and palms facing you, “It’s okay! It’s okay!” she says but how can you trust a word she says when you are at her mercy? Maybe it’s the fear she sees in your eyes but the frown on her face seems like an expression ill-suited for her. She looks over her shoulder at the door half open before turning back to you, “Hold on. Wait right there. I’ll be back.” She goes to leave before stopping in the doorway, “I mean it. You are safe here. But you’re in no condition to travel.” Her words are softened by the smile she casts at you before she is gone, and rushing away.

You don’t know why you listen to her but you do. You stay in place with your legs tangled in the coverings with your heart hammering and your forehead slick with sweat that you can feel dripping into your eyes.

You don’t have to wait for long before you hear more footsteps. Someone different. A heavier and longer stride that draws closer and has your nerves coiling around your heart until the door is once more pushed open, and you are met by a familiar face. Your eyes go wide.

“Julia?”

#this took a while #but im super happy with it #Annie Kane #Julia Ortega

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thelightningbottler · 1 year ago

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Lightning Boltz - Villains

TRANSCRIPT

The Audacity

The intimacy

Of student accommodation Offers a lot

To the imagination

and proves to be above many stations the source of trials

and tribulations.

As you hear sounds of sex from the wall to your left

the passionate cries of every breath. And below you hear

that couple fighting angry tones and ragged breathing.

As they try to get out each word seething

and next to you they play the police or the beat or the jam,

(if you're lucky.) The Skints. And beyond the moans and the groans,

and the crying and the fighting,

beyond the dancehall the dub

and the reggae you hear him.

Three rooms down…

He moves at half a clip. He breathes when he sleeps,

Incomplete, he hiccups for air on every other beat.

He shuffles down the hallway Singing songs

He laughs and bleats and for some reason this is the last straw That You can keep

And so its not the lovers, The fighters

The stoners

The people who keep you from your slumber they’re not the ones you get your ire.

It’s that GUY

with his BREATHING. His DEFIANCE

Of ENTROPY

He KEEPS PUTTING OFF His ETERNAL SLUMBER.

But then again, in lighter climbs. In student bars

with pints in hand the same guy

looks at you and say, ‘You snore, big o, Something rotten’

And suddenly you know

your animosity

is equalled.

The scales are set

the message simple: You have to dive across the table and ring the life

from his fuckin nostrils.

Make believe

Inside the white walls

of the white cottage,

which was ringed by the white Picket fence,

a small girl named Betty

took white sheets

and cut out the image

of white Jesus

and glued him

to a cross made of popsicle sticks.

Close Acquaintance

John had great big waterproof boots on.

“Back in the day, I used to wear crocs.

But I found that the holes let the blood soak through.

And the blood can really fuck up your socks.

“Did you know about young Leafblower?

The fellow your height who tended the pigs?

And blew away the leaves in autumn

And in the summer picked the figs?

“Well he and I, young Leafblower, that is,

We were told of an important job.

Something small just by the coast

That could withstand a mighty storm.

“No, not the job, it's no metaphor:

It’s the shack that I speak well of

Sturdy foundations my dear boy

Nothing could have blown its top off.

“So me and Leafy, I called him Leafy sometimes,

If he let me. But he was insistent

‘Leafblower is my name,’ he’d say

But I called him Leafy and I was persistent.

“Anyway, Leafy and I, we share this moped

That we borrowed off his brother.

‘Be careful turning into benders,’ he said

As we headed sideways to Great Yarmouth

“Nows, this was before your new fangled “Aitch You Dees”,

We had to use a pen and paper,

The courier gave us a printed Google map,

- X marks the spot - he told us, as he drank his cider.

“So me and Leafy, we gets to Great Yarmouth,

I tell you now, it’s lost its glamour.

Just a bunch of boarded up storefronts

From those years of Tory power.

“Anyway, through Yarmouth me and Leafy go

On this moped from his brother

Up to the cabin on the cliff

That could withstand all kindsa weather.

“‘Bloody Cold,’ Leafy said,

Chattering, the poor lads teeth was

No problem there for me

I had my woolly socks and crocs on!

“‘Hush your whining,’ I said to Leafy,

‘All that piss’ll do you no good.

Find out where the fuckin lav is

And I’ll order in some Food.’

“So I get on the blower

As young Leafy goes for a slash

And I order like 3 pizzas,

And I tell em that I’ll pay in cash.

“Turns out the fella who delivered

Was a bit of an entrepreneur,

So not only did we acquire the pizza

But a bag of Whizz and some great green herbs!

“Leafblower, in his search for a bog,

Had found himself a different stench

In the basement of this cabin

There was in fact, a stillers bench.

“Oh the moonshine these lads had made

Stronger than a kicking mule,

Bitterer than Love’s last kiss

And tasted like you’re drinking stool.

“By fuck did we get wasted, lad,

By fuck did we get hammered.

By fuck, lad, did we get sozzled.

And paint the place with vomit after.

‘And on we partied many days,

Until all that was left was whizz and thinner

And Leafy looked over at me

And said, ‘Dear chap, what’s for dinner?’

“And I looked at Leafy in new light,

Like… what a handsome little brat

What strong pectoral muscles he had

But with this scintillating fat.

“And look, call it the drugs or whatever

But it was at that point that I knew

Young Leafblowers steak and kidneys,

Was gonna be my next meal.

“And yea, some conflict did ensue:

I chased him with a broken bottle,

He cried, and whined, and begged and pleaded,

Didn’t stop me slicing his wattle.

“And as he bled out he cried a lot

For his muther and his father

And I was like ‘Blah Blah Blah Blah’

And started to prepare my supper.

“Steak and kidney pie I made!

Ale soaked rump, and chipolatas

Braised ribs, and bourguignon,

And all the foods that I was after.

“And after that, I came straight home

The orgy of eating sucked it out of me and

the violence, of course, the violence...

Tuckers me out something rotten.

“Course the constabulary couldn’t leave well enough alone,

They came knocking at my door.

And when I say my door, I mean my door!

Cause I was back away from Great Yarmouth and all.

“Turned out they’d found a soggy sock!

Turned out it had a toenail clippin’!

Turned out their forensic investigations

Had me dead-to-rights at the scene!”

He (John) stared out over the landscape,

Rolling hills and setting sun.

I was about to ask another question

But turns out John just wasn’t done.

“So of course I served my time.

And I’m a model citizen now.”

And what, I asked, do you do for a living?

“Butcher.” he smiled, or maybe scowled.

I was out of questions now,

And so I paid him, tit for tat.

“Could never get the bugger out my teeth…”

And that (said John) ⁠is ⁠that.

#the lightning bottler #transcript #audio fiction #podcast #spotify #Spotify

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juantheashura · 2 years ago

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Update Info

Soooo, as I said in the previous post, the Chapter 5 update will be coming out in around two weeks. It's a shorter chapter than 4, only around 35k words or so, but when you combine it with the reworked prologue and some of the rewrites in Chapter 4 (nothing too serious), it should still be a fun time.

It's going to be full of fighting scenes and discussions and accusations and yelling and “holy shit you let Gloria's health get HOW low? The press isn’t gonna like that!” that I hope you will all enjoy (Just between us, but I'm starting to think Gloria might be a little sketchy...). In the meantime, I've already posted these on the forums, but I've got a bunch of out of game content that I hope you'll enjoy. In order, there is:

A bunch of snippets of content from Chapter 5, mainly dialogue and such.

One of my posts about the 'Seer's Musings', which are short snippets I write from the perspective of a character that you'll meet in Chapter 9 who knows everything that's going on.

Three articles. The first one is written from the perspective of the Cretan President during WW2, who met Seeker, the Broken King, and learned the truth (on his own!) about the history of the world. The second is from the perspective of Crete's first Treasurer, the man closest to the Blitz Queen and the Broken King. And the last one is from the Broken King himself, from the records he writes down to show the Queen, once she awakens.

Anyway, check below the cut if you'd like to read that! Oh, and before I forget, I'm planning to have Forlorn's portrait/commission alongside the Chapter 5 update. I'm not sure yet, since it's finals season and all, and Twitter is going through a... situation, to say the least, but even if not, the loneliest being in the whole world will not be too far behind.

'Hello, demons. It's me, ya boy!'

Seer's Bit:

“It would be impolite, I think, to lay the blame upon the dead. And yet I believe that it must be done regardless. It’d only hurt you, in the future, if I were to downplay the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“The world, as it exists today, is arguably due to a single existence. America, the whole of Europe, Africa itself, perhaps even Oceania, as distant as it is, would not even remotely resemble what they are now. It… I suppose it is ridiculous. For the world to seemingly only exist due to the whims of a poor, adopted child that lived in the Mediterranean more than a thousand years ago.”

“… You talk of the Queen?”

“Yes, I do. Of the woman that saved a whole island from extinction, that carved a kingdom of her own while tumbing her nose at an empire, and who has had that same kingdom outlive any and all that surrounded it, while becoming a bastion that even the might of half a dozen empires has yet to crack.”

“An exemplary leader, if everything we’ve learned is to be believed.”

“Ha, perhaps. But exemplary does not equal perfect. The Queen had her flaws, and nowhere else is it as keenly seen as with her chosen companion.”

“The King? But I thought they loved each other. It’s the whole reason he’s seeking her revival, isn’t it? How is he a flaw?”

“Hmm… I suppose calling it a flaw is too much. But it’s a lack of foresight, or a mark of overconfidence, at least.”

“I don’t follow.”

“The King is a beast. When the Queen first found him, he was an even wilder one. He didn’t know of morals, of laws, not even of how to eat anything except what he hunted and burned. He didn’t even have a name, so unaware of society that he only knew of the merchants he stole from, and the troops sent to put him down, all broken at the feet of a beast raised by the laws of the uncaring African deserts. It was the Queen that changed him from that to a monarch revered even a thousand years after his disappearance.”

“How?”

“By beating him bloody. Not that he took it quietly, of course. They both bear the marks of that fight. A sign, maybe, that they were each other’s from the day they met. Regardless, the Queen won in the end. For some reason, one not even I know, she didn’t put him to the sword. Instead, she had him join her, and together they saw the world. She taught him history, geography, arithmetics, what was right and wrong, and even the languages she so adored. It was by her side, and through her efforts, that the King became who he is.”

“Those all sounds like good things, though? I don’t see the problem.”

“The problem is that the Queen was a child. A more educated one than the King, perhaps, but she was as much of a child as him. A child, educating a child. Do you see the problem now? The Queen did not reform her King. She taught him her biases, her desires, and that the only wrongs that existed were the ones she disapproved, not the ones the rest of the world considered. The King’s morality is not one of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. It is one of ‘what the Queen likes’ and ‘what the Queen dislikes.’ The sole reason Constantinople was not turned into a crater, and Crete the capital of an Empire spanning from Lisbon to Vladivostok is that she never asked for it. The Queen did not vanquish the beast. She only tamed it, buried it beneath chains she forged. And now…”

“And now?”

“And now the Queen is dead. She has been dead for a thousand years. And though the King’s devotion is no less strong, the chains that bind the beast within have not survived intact. And unless you see the whole East Coast turned into a wasteland as a good thing, that is a problem.”

“You’re saying the King will revert to what he was like before?”

“I am saying the King is a beast. For a thousand years, that beast has been content to starve, content to see the world beat on it even though it only tries to regain its mate. The chains on its neck have made sure of that. But now? Now, centuries have passed since those chains were put down. Now, the ones who think themselves masters of the world prepare to march on the Queen’s dream. Now, an enemy he cannot see or understand makes the world think of him as an enemy. Now, that beast sees itself cornered, with its ward threatened, and only foes around it.”

“And threaten a beast enough…”

“And it won’t care where its teeth sink, only that it can rip off the limb.”

— The Musings of a Seer, a Warning on What’s to Come.

The three articles:

Hope this at least tides you over! Or at least, that it manages to entertain you a little bit. Don't worry, we'll get back to the badass heroics real soon!

#a tale of heroes #just a bit longer #update soon!#so much lore

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just-jordie-things · 3 years ago

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A Lover And A Fighter - Richie Tozier

word count: 3122 warnings: swearing, sight sexual harassment summary: Richie promised (y/n) that he wouldn’t get into fights anymore, but sometimes he just can’t help himself. Especially when it comes to protecting her.

___

It was an understatement to say that Richie was protective of you. The boy was downright insane about it. Everyone in Derry knew not to fuck with (y/n), not unless they wanted Richie Tozier tracking them down and beating them half to death.

You’d given him a talk numerous times. But not once did they work, it always went in one ear and out the other..

He’d beaten up three ex boyfriends, a couple guys that looked at you the wrong way, and Greta Keene. He was proud of that amount.

But he’d promised that he would try his best not to act out on your behalf anymore. And you made him pinky promise. That’s a big deal. And he didn’t want to break your trust or your promise.

However… once he walked past Henry Bowers and his dumbass friends, and heard your name being mentioned, he couldn’t stop himself from getting involved.

“What was that?” He spoke before he could think things through.

The boys turned to him, each bearing a scowl that wasn’t out of character.

“I said, (y/n’s) not fucking worth it,” Henry practically growled out. “Now why don’t you fuck off, Tozier?”

“Your damn fucking right it’s not worth it,” Richie spat back, turning away, doing the right thing. “I’d break your goddamn nose” He muttered under his breath.

“It’s not worth it to try and get in her pants,” Henry called out before Richie could walk far enough away.

He stopped in his tracks.

“Cause she’s such a slut anyways, it’s not a real victory to fuck-”

Richie had never whipped around so fast. And with the punch he delivered went all common sense, and all the promises and reassurances he’d given you to prove he was going to ‘mature’ as you’d begged him to do. ___

“Hey, Richie,” You held your phone between your ear and shoulder as you painted your toes. “This is like, my fifth message… so… call me back, I guess. Okay, bye”

You sighed as you set the phone back on it’s holster. Richie wasn’t the type of guy to stand you up, especially on taco tuesday. And even if something came up, he always always, called. But now he couldn’t even bother to return one of your calls, leaving you to assume that he was upset with you for some reason, and therefore ignoring you.

You weren’t sure what you did, and at this point, you also weren’t sure that he was going to tell you either.

When Richie didn’t want to talk to someone, he was the damn best at avoiding them.

But he’d never given you the cold shoulder. And there was a time that you’d thought he never would. Richie was your best friend, you trusted and confided in him more than anyone else, even the other Losers. And in the last seven years of being his best friend, he’d never treated you this way. In fact, he always treated you amazingly, like a princess, it was very surprising actually, the way he cared about you.

It was that care that always led him to picking fights where he shouldn’t be, though. It started with your ex boyfriend. He broke up with you once a ‘better, prettier’ girl showed interest (his words), and the next thing you knew, Richie was throwing him against the lockers.

When your next boyfriend straight up cheated on you, Richie took care of him too.

He broke the third one’s nose.

And then there was the Greta Keene incident… Beverly may have let it slip that Greta had been writing nasty rumors about you in the girls bathrooms. And Richie declared that he didn’t have a problem beating up a girl if it was justified (and if that girl had man arms). That was when you drew the line, and made Richie swear to try and control his anger. And he pinkie promised to work on it, and that he wouldn’t get into any more fights over you.

You weren’t sure why he got so enraged over these things. It was just drama, and you found it pointless that he tried to bring you justice, since he was so reckless about it.

It was getting late, and you knew that Richie wasn’t going to return your calls. So you finished painting your toenails blue, and decided to spend the night in your room, reading, alone.

Even though you should have been eating a bunch of tacos and gossiping with Richie.

Just as you got situated in bed, and had turned off the overhead light in exchange for the soft glow of your lamp on the bedside table, there was a knock on the window.

When you glanced over, you could tell it was Richie by his silhouette, and you frowned slightly.

Nonetheless, you got up and unlocked the window, before sliding it open.

“Where the hell have you been?” You asked.

He could tell that you couldn’t see his face very well.

“Busy, you gonna let me in?” He grinned.

“Richie, it’s-” You glanced over your shoulder to the alarm clock on your table, before glaring back at him. “-midnight. Are you kidding me? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“What? (y/n/n), no-”

“Then how come you were dodging all my calls? And you’re seven hours late?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest..

Richie crawled in through the window, even though you hadn’t invited him in yet. But he figured it was only a matter of time before you cave anyways.

Your distressed face disappeared as you caught sight of him now that he was in the light. His left eye was bruising, and so was his right cheekbone. Along with a split lip and a bloody nose, it was clear what had happened.

“Oh, Richie…” You mumbled, hand reaching up to cover your mouth as your eyes widened at the sight of him. “Tell me you didn’t-”

“Look it’s not what you think-” Richie tried to protest.

“Don’t give me that shit”

He knew he fucked up, because you weren’t yelling. Your voice was soft, and low. You were heartbroken.

He stared down at the ground, too anxious to look at you anymore. Not when you looked so disappointed in him.

“You promised- you-you pinky promised me-”

“I know-! I know and I’m sorry, really, I’m really fucking sorry” He told you, desperately hoping that you’d forgive him.

You shook your head at him, and gestured for him to sit before you left the room. Richie was the most frustratingly complicated person that you knew, and it drove you insane. Why he couldn’t just walk away and not beat the shit out of people… you weren’t sure. But it really hurt you that he didn’t even seem to try, and he broke his promise.

Richie was sitting on the side of your bed when you came back into the room. He chuckled as he eyed the first aid kit in your hands, the same one that you’ve used the last four or five times you dealt with the aftermath of his episodes of rages.

“You don’t have t-”

“Yes I do” You cut him off and unpacked what you’d need.

You were upset, you were fuming, actually. It angered you that Richie broke his promise, not even a month after making it. That promise was important to you, because he was important to you. And now here he was, waiting to be fixed up by you once again after he so stupidly, so recklessly got himself beaten to a pulp.

But no matter how angry you were, you remained silent. Dabbing at the excess blood under his nose, which at least wasn’t bleeding anymore. And when you were finished with his cheek, you moved on to rubbing cream over the bruise on his cheek. Richie’s eyes fell shut as he sighed in relief at the feeling of the cool lotion, and your gentle fingers.

He knew your silence wasn’t a good thing. In fact, it was the worst thing. It meant he messed up beyond redemption. And he’d never fucked up that bad before. Sure, he’d pissed you off and frustrated you on the daily, but that was just the hallmark of his friendship, and it was never anything serious. Just when he dragged you out in the middle of the night for slushies, or got you in trouble in class because he was running his mouth. He’d never made you this genuinely upset before.

“(y/n)-”

“Save it” You muttered before he could even start with the apologies.

That was another hallmark of his friendship. You knew what came next. The apologies, the excuses, the begging for your forgiveness, followed by a playful ‘you know you love me, you need me’ and puppy dog eyes that you couldn’t refuse. Except tonight, you might just be able to.

He took you by surprise when he didn’t protest, and snapped his mouth shut. Your eyes met his for a moment, before you started applying a smaller amount of lotion on the bruise surrounding his eye. It was going to look a lot worse in the morning, but this would help with the pain now.

You hated that your heart ached for him right now. You hated that you wanted to cry and hold him and make him feel better. Because you were so fucking mad-

“I don’t understand,” The words suddenly spilled out of your mouth, as if your mind just couldn’t take them swimming around in your head anymore. “I just- I- I don’t fucking get it”

He nodded, ducking his head down, only for you to lift it back up by his chin and continue with the lotion.

“I care about you, dumbass, and all I asked, which I thought was simple, all I asked was for you to stop with the fighting-”

“I know” He mumbled back.

You stared at him skeptically, wondering if he really did know, or if he’d show up again in a few weeks with the same battered face and guilty look in his eyes. Richie didn’t look back at you. He couldn’t.

“Who?” You asked, trying to soften your voice so he wouldn’t whither away from you like he was doing right now.

“You’re not gonna like it” Richie answered, fingers pinching at your bedsheets in an attempt to distract himself. From the pain that burned across his whole face, or from the intensity in your eyes, he wasn’t sure, but he needed the distraction.

He hadn’t had a smoke in months, but it sounded pretty damn good right now.

“Well, newsflash, I don’t like any of this,” You told him. “But I think I deserve to at least know what happened”

Of course you do, Richie hung his head in his hands. You deserve so, so much better.

You watched as he rubbed his palms over his eyes, and it took everything in your power not to take his hands and hold them in yours, to tell him it was okay and you forgave him.

“Bowers”

He muttered the single word without even looking at you. But he didn’t have to look at you to know exactly what you looked like in that moment. You probably had a dropped jaw and furrowed brows. Disappointment, disgust, anger, all displayed in one heartbreaking look.

“Richie…” You murmured without meaning to. “Why? Why would you-”

“I had to, okay?” He shot up suddenly. “I know that you hate it, and as soon as I swung I- I knew I fucked up, but I had to”

You wanted to argue it, argue that there’s always another option, that he can always walk away. But you bit your tongue. Something about the way he spoke told you that there was more to this than his stupidity.

“I’m sorry, (y/n/n), I am. But I… I don’t regret it”

Your heart sunk all the way down to your stomach. Richie had such a toll on your emotions and he didn’t even know it.

“Tell me what happened” You said quietly, and shifted closer to him.

You wanted him to know he had your undivided attention, and that he should have the chance to at least explain what happened. You pulled your leg up to rest on the mattress, and turned your body to face him.

Richie looked at you before looking back down at his hand, which was now fisted in your blankets.

“Richie,” You hummed, brows furrowing as you saw how reluctant he was to opening up. “Tell me” The words were so soft, it was almost inaudible.

You wondered what Henry could have done that Richie didn’t want to tell you about. He must have really outdone himself.

“He was just talking shit-”

“Richie,” You cut off his bullshit before he could even start. “Come on, the truth”

“It’s not-”

“I deserve to know, Tozier! Whatever it is, I don’t care, okay? Just tell me-”

“He said you weren’t worth sleeping with!”

Just like that, you’d gotten him to snap.

And you shut up instantly, shocked by the outburst. His words processed slowly in your head.

“He said it wasn’t worth trying because you’re- because you’re a slut, and it wasn’t fucking true!” Richie continued to yell. Not at you, he just couldn’t contain his own anger anymore.

And you thought you were pissed.

“Motherfucker had your name in his nasty fucking mouth and he was telling his buddies fucking lies and I couldn’t- fuck I couldn’t walk away. I should’ve fucking killed him”

You were staring at him, speechless. You should’ve known it was about you, Richie was always so fiercely protective of you. And Henry’s wouldn’t be the first nose that he’d broken protecting you. But this wasn’t like before. He’d beaten on your ex boyfriends after they broke your heart. Henry hadn’t said or done anything to you, he was just doing what boys do. (Make shit up because they think it makes them impressive when really they’re even shittier than they look)

“I didn’t mean to break your promise,” Richie huffed. His face was slightly flushed after his mini tantrum. His hands grabbed both of yours, holding them close to him. “I’m so sorry I put you through this again”

You were still silent, but he knew this wasn’t a bad silence. You were still processing, still trying to figure out how to forgive him while making sure this was the last time he crawls through your window looking like this.

“I hope you know that it came from a place of- of caring about you,” He added. “Caring about you too much, I guess” He mumbled as an afterthought.

Your stupid lovesick heart skipped a beat at the sweet words. Richie wasn’t one for words, at all, but he somehow managed to say the most loving things without even realizing it.

“I can’t promise it won’t happen again, that much is clear. And if Bowers says one more goddamn thing about your ass I’ll fucking string him up- I will- but I can promise I’ll try, okay? I will, I’ll really try”

He squeezed your hands a little bit, hoping you believed him, hoping you trusted him.

Your eyes flickered between his for a moment, and you could see in them that he was being sincere, and that he was broken up over hurting you.

“You…” He started to speak, but trailed off unsurely. “You deserve better” He finished.

His eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, before he turned away.

You shake your head, before you let go of one of his hands, and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, turning him to look back at you.

“(y/n/n)-”

You cut him off when you leaned in and gently kissed him, trying to be mindful of his split lip.

Richie’s eyes remained focused on your closed ones, too stunned to close them, or really kiss her back.

He wanted to kick himself when you pulled away. He managed to miss his fucking chance because he was too slow to do anything about it.

Your eyes fluttered open in such a beautiful way Richie swore you were holding his heart in your perfect little hands.

His brows were furrowed like you’d confused him, and you absolutely had. He hadn’t expected you to kiss him.

“Why’d you do that?” He asked breathlessly, and your cheeks burned pink.

Your shoulders raised a bit in a shrug, and you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling too much.

“I just… wanted to” You whispered.

A smile twitched on the corner of Richie’s lips before his hand cupped your cheek, and he pulled you in again, so he could kiss you right this time.

Your lips were just as soft, if not softer, than he’d imagined they’d be. And he’d imagined countless times what they’d feel like. Daydreaming in class, before he fell asleep, and being right by your side for the last seven years.

Kissing you was bliss.

He did it again, taking your face in both of his hands and pulling you impossibly closer. He could feel your lips smiling against his own, and once again, his heart was beating out of his chest trying to get to yours.

“I’m in love with you, (y/n/n)” He murmured when you parted, and you laughed softly.

“That makes sense,” You replied, reaching a hand up to play with the curls on the back of his neck. “And… I love you too”

Richie gave you a sunshine smile, which you couldn’t help but return.

“I’m still upset, by the way,” You told him, still playing with the curls. “But only cause I’m tired of seeing you covered in bruises, okay?”

He nodded, and you leaned your cheek further against the palm of his hand.

“I promise to try” He said, and then raised his pinky.

You looked from his hand and then back to him, a slight glare in your eyes.

“Come on, just do it,” He urged, you rolled your eyes, but he was persistent. “Just link fuckin’ pinkies with me”

With a giggle you hooked your pinky with his, and held it for a moment.

“You want to go get tacos now?” He asked, and you grinned, nodding your head.

“You read my mind” You answered, and followed him back out the window.

It dawned on you that Richie was both your lover and your fighter. And he held those titles proudly.

As he took your hand and walked alongside you down the street, he decided there were no other title he’d want to be labeled, besides yours. ___

taglist: @thegr8kush

xoxo ~ jordie

#it #it chapter one #it chapter two #it fanfiction #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier fanfiction #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader #bill hader #bill hader x reader

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

scarlet

“How long has it been? Five hundred years – a thousand?”

“Forever. It’s been forever.”

CONTENT/WARNINGS. vampire! megumi, reincarnation au, somnophilia, blood drinking, smut, murder, suicidal thoughts, angst, war, violence, all the dark themes you can expect from vampire!au such as biting, scratching, slight blood play, character death + UNEDITED. I’ll edit this tomorrow because I really want this to be of good quality but for now yeah, sorry for typos and awkward grammar

NOTE. thank you so much to vampire nonnie for requesting this, I absolutely LOVED writing this, I think this is my favorite ever work. It’s totally different and a lot more serious than what I usually write too, so thank you!

WC. 13k+

PLAYLIST: I Don’t Wanna Live Forever (Zayn, Taylor Swift) ; Fire on Fire (Sam Smith) ; Dusk Til Dawn (Zayn, Sia) ; My Nocturnal Serenade (Yohio)

“How long has it been? Five hundred years – a thousand?”

“Forever. It’s been forever.”

“Was it worth it? Was I worth the wait?”

“Of course you are. You always will be.”

BLUSH [001.]

The morning market bustled with people, the villagers bumping your shoulders left and right. You tried your best to squeeze through the crowd as you followed your mother. You’d recently come of age, and now you had to come with your mother to retrieve food and supplies while your father hunted and chopped wood for the upcoming winter.

Your mother pinched the apples of your cheeks whilst she smiled, reminding you that you could meet a nice young man at any moment and you had to look as presentable as ever.

The idea of living out the same fairytale your parents happily created for themselves had you gazing up at your mother in wonder.

You came from a happy family, with a doting mother and a supportive father who never stopped smiling through the hardships. While your mother was the fire that warmed the hearth of your humble home, your father was the sturdy wood that kept each and everyone steady and strong, and you? You were the light of their lives.

To be able to find a soulmate like that and have a family of your own, you wanted nothing more.

But your mind easily changed when people pushed past you, sending you scowls and profanities when you bunched your skirt up, your tattered boots hitting against the wet mud of the market. Your humble village wasn’t blessed with the warmest weather, but it was fine, since your family brought enough sunshine to your life that you never minded. Until now, that was.

Your boots were soiled and you were panting as you ran after your mother, her eyes crinkled as she chit-chatted with the vendors. Inside her basket were two fishes, five apples, and a few pinches of herbs that wouldn’t have really satisfied any of you.

In this side of the town, your village received the poorer suffrage of lack of food. Nevertheless, your mother’s smile and glee upon having her basket half-full reminded you that there would be better times. Not wanting to lose her again, you clutched your arm around her bicep, panting for air while she gazed back up at you worriedly.

“Child,” she cooed, cupping your face. “What ever is the matter? What could’ve had you gasping for air this way? Is there something you are running away from?”

“Mother, you are the one I am running after,” you informed her with a laugh, and your mother gasped in surprise.

“My, I am so sorry! I completely forgot that you were still new here! Oh, and your boots—”

“It is fine, mother,” you reassured, your hands coming up besides her cheek this time around to stop her from fretting over your shoes. It was beyond worn out, tattered and mouth almost opening. They had promised to get you a new one for your birthday, but a single pair cost more than a week’s worth of food that you didn’t have the heart to let them do that.

Both your parents were disheartened; they wanted to give you the best, of course, but it didn’t matter to you.

You understood the notion of wanting to look your absolute best in hopes of catching the eye of a future lover, but the idea didn’t sit entirely well with you if they had to base their attraction on mere physical appearance. Besides, it was called soulmate, was it not? There had to be a connection – a pull, of sorts – between two souls, and not from the perspective of the naked eye.

If you really were to meet your soulmate, they would see right through your skin and deeper than the depth into of your bones, their eyes looking directly onto where everything mattered most – the heart, the soul, the core.

Your mother’s gaze softened at the sight of you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as she cooed at how beautiful you were.

Endlessly, she reminded you that you were the most precious blessing of her life in par with your father, and when your mother doted on you like that, how could you not flush with appreciation, eyes bashful and chest swelling with love?

You were a firm believer people were their most beautiful when they radiated kindness and are capable of unconditional love. After all, what could be more beautiful than a compassionate soul? Undoubtedly, you wanted to love someone like that, a person capable of kindness and strength even in the darkest situations; one who could see beyond the weary boots and dirt-stained old clothing you wore.

It seemed that someone had the same idea in mind for you felt a burning sensation at your face. Eyes flitting over your mother’s head, your breath hitched when you were met with soft, blue eyes that put your village’s stormy sky a shame.

Midnight blue swirling with warmth like hot milk on a rainy day, the feeling of having your lover’s arms wrapped around you and their gentle breaths whispering against your ear – that’s what you felt like when you saw him for the first time.

He stood outside his father’s shop frozen, eyes wide and locked with yours, the amount of scrapped metal suddenly weighing a ton despite his growing muscles.

Unsure of what to do but appreciative of the wondered boy, you shyly ducked your head down, peering up at him under your lashes with the smallest of smiles visible on your face. You raised your hand to wave at him when your mother tugged you away, chattering about getting you a cheesecake despite not having much to afford it, only because she felt something good would happen today.

And your mother was right – she rarely wasn’t, in the first place.

Nearly stumbling over your steps, you turned back to the young man, no longer hesitating before you beamed at him, fingers flickering into a small, delicate wave perfected by young women your age.

His reaction was immediate – a mad blush to his cheeks, and his body growing rigid at being caught staring at you.

You didn’t mind though. If anything, you felt giddy, and there was an unmistakeable bounce in your steps all the way back home.

BLUSH [002.]

His name was Fushiguro Megumi. He was the son of your village’s infamous blacksmith, who everyone dubbed as ‘Scarface Toji.’

All kinds of rumours about his father spread around the village, ranging from how he used to be a bloody merchant who worked for the King and lived a life without regards for others. As long as he was given enough coins, Scarface Toji would do anything.

Your parents had pinched your waist the moment you mentioned it to them. Your father shook his head disapprovingly over a cup of fresh milk, reminding you again and again that you shouldn’t believe rumors. Apparently, Scarface Toji was just a widowed man left with a baby son before he could even say goodbye to his wife, and he migrated from another town to here in order to start all over again in hopes of giving a better life for his son than the one he previously lived.

It was hard to believe it at first. Toji was a huge man who always carried multiple weapons, but after learning that he just made them and never wielded them, you eventually believed that the man was harmless.

Your respect for him only increased when his son came mere days later, his hands trembling in his chest as he requested to have a presence with you, flowers clutched in his chest.

You were at your room that one dewy morning, fluffing and fixing your bed when your mother squealed from the doorway, followed by your father’s light hearted voice telling her to calm down. Not moments later, your mother had clipped ribbons in your hair and flattened down your housedress, the grin on her face unexplainable and slightly terrifying.

The burning question at the back of your head was soon answered when you were met by the same young man you’d smiled at the other day. Fushiguro Megumi, he introduced, and until now, you could still remember the way your heart skipped a beat as he said, May I court you?

Only that time around, your father answered for you.

You were actually flummoxed he didn’t take out his hunting gun – like how he always did when other males requested a presence with you – and patted Megumi’s shoulder instead, asking to accompany him at the back to go chop some wood.

It was unspoken tradition that suitors had to impress the lady’s father first. You were more surprised when Megumi happily agreed, rolling his shoulders back to prepare for the task.

The smile he sent your way was boyish, shy even, but determination and anticipation shone through them, somehow leaving you wanting more than before. You and your mother, too curious as ever, wouldn’t stop giggling as you watched both men chop wood in the back, talking about the most mundane things ever like how Megumi’s father was faring, or how his studies was doing.

Megumi felt at ease enough with your father, the sleeves of his shirt pushed all the way to his elbows while he raised the axe. He was effortless in splitting the wood in two, not a break of sweat evident on his translucent skin.

“My, he’s a strong one!” your mother praised, her body practically thrown all over your body as she watched Megumi do more work while your father chatted his ear off. “Handsome too!”

“Mother!” you scolded, though the embarrassed giggles let her know you weren’t really complaining. She was right, Megumi was strong and definitely handsome; with a chiselled jaw, a pointed nose, striking eyes and arm littered with veins and cuts that he got from early ages of hard work.

Once your mother noticed that they were finishing up, she hastily yanked you back into the kitchen. She fretted more than you did about teaching you how to make the perfect meal; that the best way to reward them for their hard work was through a nice, warm meal.

You were too shy to ever vocalize that you wanted to impress Megumi with your cooking skills. Thankfully, your mother pried no further when you quietly asked her to leave the meal to yourself, already preparing out the ingredients while she picked the best flowers from the front yard to decorate the table with.

When Megumi arrived, his eyes roamed around the humble walls of your home almost as if looking for something.

You stood there at the corner, teeth sunken into your lip while your toes curled inside your slippers. Soon, his gaze landed on yours, his lips breaking out into one of the sweetest smiles – one that was far sweeter than the nectar you sipped from the flowers in your youth.

There was no proper explanation to why you stepped forward, a dip in your brow as you wiped at the beads of sweat that had now accumulated beneath his eyes.

His hair stood up in spikes pointed in different directions. You chuckled when it wouldn’t tame down at each stroke of your finger, and Megumi mimicked the melodious sound pouring from your lips. Too lost in the sensation of having his soft strands running through your hands, you forgot that Megumi was technically still a stranger, and you froze when his touch wrapped around your wrist.

You looked up at him then, an apology right there at the tip of your tongue for invading his privacy when he murmured, “Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

If the sound of his laughter was harmonious before, then his voice could only be compared to honeydew and pastel splatters of the skies clashing in the horizon. Warm, gentle, soothing – you were right, he felt like the embrace of a kind soul in a stormy, cold day.

So you melted, unable to fight back your smile as you leaned closer into his touch.

“Hi.”

BLUSH [003.]

It was one of those rare days that the sun shone down brightly onto your village. The sun had stopped hiding behind the clouds, extending its fingertips down to graze at the greenery of your home, the light filtered through the thick branches of trees that you were currently hiding at.

You had to muffle your giggle with the back of your hand, eyes darting around to inspect if Megumi was anywhere close to you.

Half a year had passed ever since he courted you, winning not only your heart, but the approval and warm welcome of your parents into your home at the same time. It made sense that he had easily placated himself beside you at all times that Megumi eventually earned a seat at your dining table. Not only was he the loving, gentle soul you had always yearned for, but Megumi understood you in more ways than one.

In fact, it almost felt like you had lived your life with a missing piece of yourself.

Now that you had found him, the both of you showed no signs of wanting to pull away. Shy hand holding had transitioned into sneaky kisses, strong arms pulling you into a corner to kiss you goodbye before he retreated back home, your mind hotwiring as you reminisced his lips over your cheeks over and over again. Funnily enough, it became harder to sleep.

Why would you want to sleep and dream when every waking moment was magical enough?

Just as you tip-toed behind another tree to hide from your lover who hadn’t stopped attacking you with tickles, you stepped on a dry leaf, the crunching sound resonating onto the wide forest.

“Blast,” you muttered to yourself, eyes closed as you awaited the impact.

Just as you’d expected, Megumi came running behind you. Graceful in his movements as ever, you both laughed as Megumi flipped you both over before you could fall, your weight falling on top of his while his back hit the flowery fields.

“Found you, lover,” he teased, his hands curious as they ran up and down your sides. “It’s going to take a lot more than that if you want to run away from me, you know. No matter where you are, no matter how long it takes, I’ll do what it takes to find you and have you in my arms all over again.”

“Silly,” you teased as you leaned close to him, rubbing your noses together that pulled out a boyish laughter from him. “I would never run nor hide from you, my love. Where you are is where I wish to be?”

“Is that so?”

“No doubt it.”

“Then,” he interlaced his fingers with yours, gaze solemn as the sun shifted. The looming trees overhead provided you both privacy and shelter, nothing but small streaks of light caressing both your skins as Megumi’s lips padded over your knuckles, thumbs grazing at your wrists. Nothing could prepare you for what was to come next. You couldn’t tell what would happen, but he’d grown serious, voice low as he announced, “Marry me. I’ll take care and love you for the rest of my life. What else do we have to wait for?”

Your heart drummed in your chest loudly that you could no longer hear his next words.

Whether he said something or not, none of it mattered. For spending those six months with him already felt like a lifetime and you were greedy – you wanted to be with him more, to hold him tighter, and kiss him a little longer. He was right – there was no need to wait.

And you certainly didn’t wait as you yanked him by the collar, your lips meeting in a heated kiss. You could feel each other smile as your arms wrapped around his neck.

The kiss told him everything you couldn’t put into words. A hundred yes, a thousand I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and a million I love you’s. Megumi released all the love and passion he held for you when he pushed his lips against yours just as intensely, his scent blanketing over you like a veil of comfort.

There was no need to wait.

You and Megumi ran hand-in-hand all the way back to your home, the joyous laughter of the memories of youth and innocent summer romance the only music that era would ever know. Slamming the door open, both chests heaving with air and pinkies looped together, your smile fell off your face when an unfamiliar gentleman faced your way at the sudden intrusion.

He was tall, taller than Megumi and a lot broader. His long, dark hair was pulled back in a slick knot, ears pierced with black earrings that added to the darkness of his aura. His smile was nothing but eerie as his unwelcomed gaze travelled all the way down your form before his eyes darkened to the hand yours was connected with.

Sat behind him were your parents; even with their heads turned away from you, the grim looks painting their faces was evident.

“Mother? Father?” you stepped closer to Megumi, not missing the way the gentleman’s frown deepened. “May I ask what is the meaning of this? Had I heard we’d be having a visitor, I’d have stayed to welcome him,” turning to the gentleman, your back arched into a deep bow. “Forgive me, Sir, I was direly uninformed of your presence. I do not mean any rudeness. Please forgive me.”

“She is perfect, just as I’ve heard.”

Before any of you could react, the man had stood up. If he was tall before, his stance was terrifyingly imposing now as he looked down at both of you and Megumi. Your lover stiffened beside you before his arms encircled your waist, pressing you flush against him while your palms flattened on his chest.

His accelerated heartbeat matched yours, lips turning dry at the situation.

The man scoffed for a moment upon seeing your comfort for your lover, then he smirked, head lolled to the side as he announced the words that would soon end the ruin of your life.

“Ah, yes, young love. What a magical thing to experience,” In the blink of an eye, he pushed Megumi to the side, your body crashing into this man’s broad chest while he possessively placed a palm over your head. You couldn’t move, eyes wide and mouth dry as your mother began to cry, while your father simply kept his gaze to his feet. Megumi mirrored your stance, hands clenched into fists though he too, made no move.

There was no telling what would happen next.

“But that is all in the past now. Fortunately for you, my dear, you’ve wonderfully fulfilled your duty as a child to be your parents’ future. Now come with me, you’ve got some dolling up to do.”

BLUSH [004.]

They lied to you.

When your parents told you that poverty didn’t mean anything and a family was still a family no matter what happened, they didn’t mean it. It was all a lie.

Memories of being dragged outside your house and thrown into a carriage fancier and more expensive than anything your parents could ever afford even after a lifetime’s work remained burned in your head like a searing memory. You couldn’t remember how your parents reacted at your disposal; you couldn’t even look at them, the betrayal sitting hard and square right at your face.

But he remained at the back of your mind.

You had only been so young then, hopelessly in love, and you still are, you very much are. You closed your eyes as you fought back the tears that threatened to spill when you replayed the image of Megumi running after the carriage while you cried out for him, begging for him to save you. Your new husband had only snickered to himself then, well-aware your lover could never catch up.

Soon, Megumi grew tired, the dark patches of mud so familiar to you from your village transforming into wide greenery that led to bridges crossed to another town that would eventually lead you into the castle.

Suguro Geto, a man twice your age, barely had to lift a finger when he decided to buy you as his wife.

He was a higher ranking official under the King’s command himself. Wealth, power, luxury – he had them all, and he could and did provide everything you needed with just a simple request.

You supposed you should feel thankful. Days of sleeping with an empty stomach and a parched throat was nothing but a distant memory now, your skin soothed with only the finest silk and people bowing the moment you walked through the door. Gone was the poor girl from the countryside who wrestled with pigs once in her life when you’d accidentally dropped a slice of bread in the pig pen – only a refined, intelligent, and extremely obedient wife of Sir Geto was in place.

Or at least, that was how it was supposed to be.

Geto, despite his tyrannical personality and no hesitance when it came to abusing what he was capable of, was extremely disinterested in you. It was no secret – to both you and the servants – that he brought women around all the time. Even after years of marriage, not once had he laid a finger on you, opting to buy a bigger bed instead to keep the space between you both.

You were perfect for him; you were everything he wanted.

A woman who did everything he asked, a lady who smiled and chatted exuberantly when needed, both beauty, brain, and elegance combined into one, but most of all, you did not want him. And that was why Suguru treasured you above all, for you were the one who prevented him from being tied down to even worse women who were obsessive with him. In payment to your silence and submission, he provided you with all the comfort and luxury you could ever ask for.

Though you never did ask for anything.

Your only wish was to return home – but you dared not utter these desires for you knew it was as far away as a distant galaxy. Nothing but emptiness and dread accompanied you with each passing day, the image of Megumi soon faltering into your memories.

You’d lost count of the times you cried yourself to sleep while Geto laid beside you, his palms pressed into his ears while your sobs coated his velvet walls until the sun rose. If it were not for the cream spread all over your skin, people could easily see that you were a restless, broken wife instead of a happy one like you pretended to be; that your soul withered with each second.

There was no more hope, no light, no love present in the large, empty hallways of your manor.

Suguru was out for the night, probably lurking underground casinos fucking whoever whore was desperate enough to warm his cock for the night. Your servants had long retired to their quarters, and with nothing much else left to do, you left your room, the nightgown barely wrapped around your shoulders as you padded to the garden barefoot.

The grass was a lot softer here in his manor than it ever was back at home. Home – wherever that was. You couldn’t find your way back to it.

Everything here seemed tens of thousand times better than anything, and yet it felt so empty. Hollow. Dark. Meaningless. Even as you perched yourself upon the swing, feet kicking into the ground until you soared high enough that the moonlight caressed your skin, you found no beauty in everything.

Everything you once treasured faded into the night.

A rustling sound made you plant your heels flat on the ground, eyes narrowed at the source of the sound. The bushes behind you stilled, and you sat up from your seat, hands coming up to tug your gown back to your body as if it would protect you. “Who’s there?” you demanded, “You are not allowed to trespass the Geto Manor or else—”

Your words were swallowed right back when the figure appeared from behind the bushes. Even after years, you would still be able to recognize that face anywhere. The untamed hair, the flat lips, those eyes that had always reminded you of the skies you’ve grown tired staring at – your feet moved faster before your mind could comprehend it.

Megumi barely staggered as he caught you in his arms, your cries muffled by the collar of his shirt. Your heart tore into pieces and healed right back when Megumi buried his face into the crook of your neck, muttering I’m sorry over your skin over and over again.

“I’m sorry,” Megumi’s voice cracked, “I’m so sorry it took me so long to get here. I am sorry I couldn’t run after you. I am sorry I didn’t—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your hands trembling as you cupped his cheeks. Too long, it had been too long, and your hands were everywhere. On his hair, at the nape of his neck, grabbing at his shirt to pull him closer – you ravaged him with your lips and hands that a string of saliva threaded between your mouths when you gasped for air, only to kiss him harder the second time around.

Megumi’s hand came up to clutch at your bottoms, his body now firmer and bigger than the last time you remembered. He smelled like home, felt like heaven, tasted like bliss and the saltiness of your tears mixed in with his delectable self.

“I love you,” you declared, the sobs wracking through your chest before your head fell on his shoulder. Megumi doesn’t stop you when you fisted his shirt, his hands only patting your back as you hiccupped, the tears now drenching his shirt. “I love you, I love you, please, my love, run away with me, let’s live somewhere else, okay?” You cupped his cheeks, your thumbs swiping away at the tears that had also stained his pretty face.

Megumi nodded, not wasting another second when the both of you treaded through a very thin line by kissing you all over again, his lips flushed with yours.

There was no need for air. The only thing you needed at this moment was to have him beside you, and just as Megumi pulled away to tell you he’d do anything for you, blood spilled past his lips. You watched as the red liquid splattered from his lips and dripped down your chest, and that’s when you felt the piercing pain through your chest.

Megumi dropped you, your body colliding on the ground with a loud thud. Your chest bled from a shallow cut, though that was the last thing you paid attention to when Geto stood behind your lover, red eyes shining through the brilliant night and long fangs sinking down his chest.

Your screams were muffled with Geto’s palm as he showed up right in front of you in a flash, his cold touch sending shivers down your spine.

He forced you to watch as your lover fell in front of you, a sword poking through his chest. You struggled against your husband’s hold, but he was far stronger and bigger than you that you fell limp into his chest. Geto barely blinked an eye as your nails sank down to his skin hard enough to draw blood from his pale skin.

“Watch, darling,” he purred into your ear, “You wanted to be with your lover forever, right? Then let me grant you wish – I’ll give you the forever you always wanted.”

“Why are you doing this?!” you bit back through the palm covering your mouth, vision blurred as tears coated your face. “I did everything for you! I did everything you asked me too – you didn’t have to kill him, he was the only one that mattered to me, how dare you?!”

“No reason, darling,” Geto pushed you off his lap before tugging Megumi’s shirt, revealing his lifeless and bloodied face staring right at you. “I was simply…drunk, you could say. I was not pleased to find my wife locking lips with another man.”

“I was never yours,” you spat out, hands dug deep to the earth underneath you.

“No, you’re not. Your heart was always owned by another, was it not?” Geto tipped his head as he watched Megumi’s lifeless form crumble back to life, a guttural groan echoing through his throat. Your eyes widened when his head snapped upwards, striking blood red eyes that resembled Geto’s glowing under the moonlight. You crawled backwards until your back hit the three, unable to recognize the man in front of you. Geto stands to the side, his long and sharp tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “Young ones are always the most dangerous. I cannot wait to see how this one goes.”

“Megumi!”

“Thirsty, are you not?” Geto taunted. At the sound of his voice, Megumi leapt to him with dark claws extended. A scream ripped from your lips, one that was immediately silenced when Geto effortlessly wrapped a hand around Megumi’s neck, choking him until his limbs flailed helpessly in the air.

“Ah, ah, ah, I won’t suggest drinking my blood. You would find it repulsive,” A sickening snap resonated in your ears as Geto broke Megumi’s arm to turn him your way, fangs bared and animalistic growls making your lover seem unrecognizable. You sat there, frozen and panting. Why couldn’t you move? “Your human lover is right there, though. Go on, take a look,” he whispered in the younger man’s ear, his red eyes glinting with amusement. “See her luscious skin? Hear the rapid heartbeat pulsing at the juncture of her neck, begging you to ravish her? That is what you’ve always wanted, right? To claim your woman as yours?”

Megumi’s fierce growl was enough to make you bury yourself harder in the tree trunk, the tears streaming freely down your face before Geto released his hold on him. “If it makes you feel better, I never touched her. She is all yours for the taking. Now, drink.”

At his command, something snapped in Megumi.

All hell broke loose. The last thing you saw was a beam of crimson eyes paired with a red flush to his face maniacal with thirst. His name came out in a broken cry, Megumi’s claws ripping away at your clothes until his fangs sank down into your skin.

Your legs kicked out beneath you as you gasped for air. From behind Megumi, Geto crossed his arms to himself, soon disappearing into the night.

Megumi kept gasping and growling as he drank from you harder. The grip on his hair eventually faltered until your hand fell on the ground, his eager tongue lapping at what else dripped from the holes he’d punctured at your neck. He doesn’t let up once, hands coming up to crush your windpipe until your bones cracked at one clench of his muscles, merely a reminder of what he could now be capable of.

Was this death? you wondered before black completely clouded your vision, you were not ready for it.

ROSE [005.]

Megumi hunched over his seat, his hands making quick work of jotting down tiny details of the modern life in his notebook. It had been two hundred years since he last saw you, and the world had drastically changed ever since.

It wasn’t easy getting over your death – especially not when he snapped back into consciousness, the painful reminder that you had died from his hands haunting him in his sleep.

Not that he ever had much sleep to begin with since he was always tired and restless, his skin hollow and pale, with dark circles finding home under his metallic blue eyes that had lost their previous warmth. After years of trying to learn how to control himself through isolation in the mountains, Megumi eventually wandered back down to the city, surprised that time had flew by so fast and your old village was now unrecognizable.

People wore lavish clothing and had parasols made out of lace, making his throat dry up at the thought that lace back then cost way too much than he could ever afford.

Too much had changed indeed. So much time had passed that Megumi’s previous anger and hatred to himself had now been filled with nothing but a lingering, empty feeling that gnawed at him. No matter how much he tried to blend in with society and keep his true form a secret, nothing ever really took away the fact that he was a monster that could hurt anyone if he even lost the slightest best of control.

He didn’t even know the name of the man – no, the creature – who made him this way.

Megumi sighed as he snapped his notebook shut, conversing freely with this human friend he made. They were ‘of the same age’ as Megumi introduced. Itadori Yuuji wasn’t top of the food chain, per se, which is exactly just what Megumi wanted since the last thing he wanted was unnecessary attention. Right now, he accompanied his friend – the only person he could care about – as he got his suit fitted. Yuuji stared at his reflection endlessly, tapping at his bottoms with a thoughtful hum.

Just then, something familiar wafted into Megumi’s senses. At first, he thought it was the scent of the soap he used, but this was too…different – he was sure he’d caught whiff of it before, but he was beyond a hundred years old that it was impossible to pinpoint what it was.

His eyes fluttered outside the shop as he looked for the source of the smell. It was soft, leaving behind a lingering flutter of his chest, and before Megumi could realize it, he’d already shot up from his seat, captivated by the sound of laughter and giggles across the street. Then, he saw you. You were right there, head thrown back in laughter as you chatted with your friends, lips painted a flushed red that only broadened at something your friend had said.

“Fushiguro – where are you going?”

“My apologies, friend. I’m afraid there is somewhere I have to be,” Quickly, he stashed his notebook inside the front of his coat jacket, pushing past against the crowd and crossing the street. The closer he got, the more he recognized your laughter, your features sharpening into a crystal resemblance of the person he’d lost years ago.

He couldn’t believe it, could barely stop himself when you walked away, his hand naturally falling to grasp at your wrist.

“Excuse me, Miss. I—” Megumi was stunned when you turned to him, your smile polite and bright as ever, not the least bothered that he pulled you out of nowhere.

“Yes? Is there something I can help you with?”

“I…I just thought I’ve seen you somewhere before. I’m sorry if that came out weird,” not wanting to be rude (your friends were glaring suspiciously at him), Megumi retracted his hands by his sides, gaze planted to his feet as it was considered impolite to hold such eye contact with the opposite sex – especially to a stranger. He could feel himself grow warmer despite his lack of body heat inside his heat, your mere presence prompting his undead hear to beat once more. It made Megumi step backwards, throat falling dry. “Uhm, I suppose I should turn back—”

“Would it be odd if I said I felt the same way?”

His head whipped up to yours so fast that it looked comical, and he was blessed by your amused smile. “What?”

“You feel familiar, and I wish to understand why,” At this point, the sound of his heartbeat that had long been forgotten drummed loudly in his ears, so much so that he could barely hear your words anymore. He had to stare at the way your lips moved, hypnotized at the same time as he tried to fathom what you said. “Would you like to have lunch this Friday? Perhaps we could…familiarize ourselves with one another more.”

It had been a long and painful two hundred years – but you were here – that Megumi would be insane to say no.

ROSE [006.]

Megumi made sure to be silent as he slammed the door shut, not wanting to wake his lovely wife who’d long retired to bed after a long day of work. The eminent darkness in your home told stories of how late it was this time of the night, nothing but silence and the faint cricketing of insects heard in the dead night.

Upon seeing you on the bed, soft breaths spilling from those lips he could never get enough of ravishing, his shirt doing a terrible job at keeping you modest, Megumi’s jaw clenched.

Tugging his tie off and discarding his jacket to the ground, Megumi made quick work of spreading your legs open, his breath caught in his throat because his naught wife decided not to wear anything. His fangs bared on instinct, the tent in his pants growing.

You were always tempting him – and despite being a fearsome creature, Megumi was always weak to resist your teasing.

Glancing at your peaceful face, Megumi bunched your shirt up above your breasts, your nipples hardening at his cold touch. Megumi sighed, not wasting another minute before his tongue dove into your awaiting lips that had already bloomed open, always so ready to welcome your husband’s eager tongue even in your sleep. He groaned at your arousal mixing with the tangy taste of tonight’s dinner.

Soft sighs could be heard above from you when Megumi licked a flat line from your hole all the way up to your clit, his hands kneading at the soft flesh of your thighs before he sucked generously at the pearl hidden by your hood.

You quivered in response as Megumi’s tongue finally entered your drenched core, his tongue teasing and expertly licking at the bumpy ridges of your walls. It gave him great pleasure to see his not-so-innocent wife trembling upon his hold, that even in your sleep, you were so responsive to him. Your reactions stirred him to plunge his tongue deeper into your hole that would normally be so filled to the brim with his cock, not stopping until you fisted at the sheets, cumming on his tongue.

Megumi drank at your juices like it was a thirsty man, making him chuckle a bit because he was always thirsty – both for you and the life that throbbed in your veins.

Kissing the inside of your thighs, your head fell to the side, unaware that the sheets were now stained with your arousal. Megumi hoisted himself up to press a kiss on your lips, his other hand gripping at his hardness before he slid himself in, low groans emitting from his lips when your warmth finally engulfed him.

He was at home.

He had both arms planted beside your head as he kept panting at your ear, his thrusts slow and passionate in order not to rouse you from your sleep. He knows how tired you are and he wanted his pretty wife to get all the rest she needed, but it was getting harder with each passing moment when you clenched around him, pupils blown wide the moment his nails dug into your hips.

“I am sorry to wake you, my wife,” Megumi apologized while littering kisses all over your skin, your moans now uncontrolled and breathy now that you were completely aware to receive the pleasure he was eagerly giving you. “I couldn’t help it – not when you are so heavenly laid out for me like this.”

“Mmh, take me as you wish, my love,” you groaned around him, your arms finding home around his neck as you pulled him closer. One of your legs was placed around his waist, the other knee pinned flat on the ground so Megumi could fuck into you deeper, turning you into nothing but a whining mess. “You know you can always have me whenever and however you want. If it’s you, I would never mind,” Megumi pulled his head away from your neck to gaze into your eyes instead, glowing red orbs meeting yours while his hips snapped harder. You would’ve smiled had it not been for his dark circles turning at least two shades darker, his skin gray and a little flake.

“You are pale. Have you not been feeding properly again?” Megumi intentionally ignored you, and you knew he was trying to distract you by thrusting harder into you, having never liked you to remind him of what he was. It worked for a moment, nails scratching down his back, but you cupped his cheeks you’re your warm palms, holding him tense enough that he was forced to look at you. “Megumi. Megumi, look at me – have you not been drinking well?”

“You know I refuse to.”

“You need it. At this pace you’re going at, you’re going to – ah – you might get sick and weaken, my love.”

Megumi shook his head indignantly, “I would never sink my fangs down a breathing human’s body. I refuse to give in to the demon they have made out of me.”

Your eyes softened at how those blood red eyes faltered, his fears showing through the moment his thrusts grew slower, his touch gentle against your hip. It almost felt like he was making love to you, and you gasped when his cock hit your most sensitive spot, your walls clenching and gripping around him like a vice. “You are no monster,” you told him, “Your heart is warmer and kinder than any other beating hearts I’ve come across with. You are a good person, Megumi, giving into to your hunger does not make you a demon,” when hesitance still crossed his face, you pulled him in to see the sincerity in your gaze, passionate enough to make him stutter his hips inside you. “It would be a lie if you call yourself such an atrocity when you are nothing but tender and loving when it comes to someone as fragile as I am compared to your grace.”

“I do not want to hurt you.”

“You could never, my love,” you assured him, baring your neck to him. Megumi’s eyes zeroed in on the rapid pulse visible at your tender skin, the sight enough to make his cock twitch. “Now, drink.” At your words, Megumi froze. He’d heard that same phrase before – right before he killed you by drinking you dry, and Megumi scrambled away from your hold with fear written all over his face.

Not again, not again, no, he wouldn’t hurt you – Megumi never got the chance to leave when you shushed him with a kiss, ankle buried in his back to keep him inside you. “Please, my love, let me make you feel good. I no longer wish to see you this way. Drink my blood – do it for me.”

That was enough to push him over the edge. Sending one last questioning look your way, to which you responded with a nod, eyes hazy with desire, Megumi punctured your skin.

You cried out from the pain that added to the pleasure, and with Megumi rutting his hips fast and hard into your abused cunt that was still sensitive from your previous orgasm, your husband brought you over the edge. He came not long afterwards, spilling his seed deep inside you – one you were both not worried about since he could never impregnate you.

Megumi doesn’t stop from lapping at your wound, pulling his cock out before his lips swooped down to your breasts, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

You were both breathing hard, Megumi trying to calm down the tremors of your body from the orgasm while sucking your tits, his hand caressing the other one to not leave it unattended. Hands coming up to card through his fingers, you kissed the shell of his ear, your sweat bodies desperately clinging around one another. “Megumi,” you mumbled sleepily, “Turn me.”

Megumi stilled above you. In a split second, your husband was off you, standing at the edge of the bed with all his muscles rigid and tense, eyes blaringly red as he hissed, “What did you say?”

“Have you not thought about it?” you winced as you sat up, the discomfort apparent upon feeling both your cum drip down your ass to your cheeks. “How you will remain the same after all these years, and I will die and wither like a wilted flower? I do not wish to part from you, Megumi. That was the vow we took in our wedding – that you’d be with me my whole life.”

“Until death do us part,” he reminded you, pointing at the wedding band that adorned both your fingers. “That was the vow.”

“So you won’t turn me?” you scoffed in disbelief.

“No. You only say this because you are blinded with love, but you will soon come to regret it once you become like me. A creature of the night, fearful of the light, taking life from others to preserve yours and unable to provide warmth to my beloved – why would you ever want to be like me?”

“Because it’s the only way I can be with you.”

“Are we not enough the way we are now?” Megumi ran his hands through his hair as he sat back down, his extended claws hastily pointing at the both of you. Even through the dim lights, you could see how his face had darkened. “I am happy, you are happy. We both love each other – what else could you want?”

You gritted your teeth at his words, picking up the pillow beside you before throwing it at him. “Stop being selfish!” you exclaimed, your husband’s eyes flushing a deep shade of rose when he glared at you. “Think about me! A few years from now, my body and face will sag to the point I am unrecognizable. I will no longer be beautiful in your eyes and soon I’ll even lose the strength to cross from our chambers to the washroom. Soon, I’ll be nothing but a drained human because we are weak, and what do you do? You’re just going to watch it all. You will let me get sick and die just because you refuse to live longer with me?” you repeated his words with a scoff, tears stinging your eyes when your voice dropped a tone lower, your arms wrapped around your chest as you rocked side to side. “Do you even love me?”

“Do not dare assume I do not. I waited for you for two hundred years.”

“That is exactly my point, you no longer need to wait for me if you’d just turn me!” you bit back, full on crying at this point with little to no regard that you would wake the whole neighborhood with your discord. “I want to be with you, Megumi, forever. I’ve lost you once and you lost me too, why would you want to put us both through that pain again?”

“Because the pain of losing you will never amount to the misery you would feel once you see that this is not a glorified life,” his gaze softened, his claws retracting until his hands reverted back into its normal ones. From where you sat, you could see your husband falter little by little, his tone turning tender. “I would rather see you die and lose you again than hate yourself because of what I’ve done, even if it was to fulfill your wishes.”

Silence coated the room. Only your heartbeat and his raspy breaths were the only things audible, and when you spoke, the sound of your heart shattering followed. “You would rather see me die? You would rather watch me slip away from your grasp?”

“Yes.”

The fact that he held no hesitance in them just told you everything you needed to know. You turned away from your husband, laughing bitterly. “That makes everything clear then,” you stood up and walked past him, not bothering to cover yourself up as you trudged to the washroom. “I guess I will just continue to please you until my human days are over. Not that it would bother you though, am I correct? You could always satisfy yourself with another body while I slumber for a few more years.”

“You will hate yourself if I turn you.”

“You not need worry about that, husband,” you told him, coming out of the room with a fresh towel and cleaned legs. Megumi still hadn’t moved a muscle from where he stood, his eyes now a longing shade of blue when you burrowed under the covers, back turned away from him. “I already hate you a lot more than I could ever feel for myself.”

ROSE [007.]

Your human body was weak. You get sick and Megumi refuses to heal you, and you died in despair that he didn’t even care about you. A plague had hit your city, and you fell victim to it. After months of being isolated in your quarters until you could no longer taste food or have enough energy to even drink a sip of water, you knew you had to accept your fate.

Megumi stood beside your bed, your hand almost as cold as his when he held it tenderly, regret pooling in his eyes at his refusal to heal you. You were still so young, so fragile – yet he could never bring himself to do it, even if it was your dying wish.

“Will you really not let me live a few more years with you, my love?”

“I am sorry,” he cried out, finally breaking down despite his insistence to stay strong and stoic for the both of you. If you had enough strength, you would’ve cried too; it was the first time you’ve seen Megumi lose himself this way, and he kept sobbing into the crooks of your palm, breaths stuttered and words broken. “I truly am. I cannot do it. Forgive me – forgive me.”

“Don’t cry,” you soothed weakly, thumbs brushing his tears away. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to heal, my love. I’m sorry I can’t stay any longer.”

“I’m going to miss you,” he shook his head desperately, lips pressed against the weak heartbeat from your wrists as if that would magically heal you back to life. His words broke you a lot further because you both knew that maybe this is where you would end, and you couldn’t even spend that much time with him. A few months of marriage in comparison to the years he waited for you was simply unfair. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I will miss you too,” you rasped out, “I hope in the next life we meet, I’ll get to stay with you a little longer,” Your breath wracked as your chest tightened, the virus making its way all voer your body and depleting you of everything you once had.

Though young still, your cheeks had hollowed, the light leaving your eyes as your lips flattened into a thin line.

You were inherently frail next to Megumi’s unwavering health and strength, and your smile was weak – forlorn – as you gazed up at him for the last time, trying to print his features deep into your soul.

“It feels like the world is always against us, don’t you think? If so, then maybe you and I are not meant to be as we thought.”

Megumi kept kissing your hands, kissing your tears away until you said your final goodbyes, your hand falling from his onto his lap. You couldn’t stay long enough to hear him pour his love out for you the same way he stood under the pouring rain, watching as the rose placed upon your tomb he likened you with wilt and wither.

Why was it that he could never be good to you?

First, he had caused your death, and now, he couldn’t even give you a proper one. You lived an unfulfilled life. There were still so many things you wanted to do, a multitude of places you wanted to go, and you wanted nothing more than to spend a little longer with him. Even as he walked away from your grave with his dying for what seemed like the hundredth time, Megumi still couldn’t find an answer when he asked himself, should he have fulfilled your wish?

CRIMSON [008.]

Along with arising modern human civilization and technological advancements, war was bound to come. People clashed with one another until humanity was abandoned, moral beliefs thrown to the side in replacement of exerting dominance over one another.

In a way, it soothed Megumi to know maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d completely lost touch to everything he once cared about; a little comforting that people had turned to monsters as well. But this thought vanished into thin air the moment gun powder and explosions covered the once blue sky, smoke choking the fresh air people once breathed and the battlefield painted red.

Megumi watched his comrades die one by one. He’d grown tired of hearing their last wishes and he cursed at his nature, because why couldn’t he just die?

He’d taken a hundred bullets and a thousand more beatings, yet he remained his stance, pushing through the enemy’s front line like a beast. At least here, he could unleash the monster he’d tried so hard to conceal. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure what exactly he was fighting for, Megumi had enough anger to overwhelm the opponent with his presence alone.

Blood splattered to his mouth, fuelling him to keep fighting and running, slashing at everyone’s throats with a flick of his sword, the growl leaving his chest entirely animalistic.

He should’ve focused more on his task instead of being blinded by rage.

Too lost in wanting to avenge his comrades, Megumi’s sharp senses failed to hear the oncoming grenade thrown his way. His eyes widened a fraction before he was thrown away, his ribs breaking and his skin splitting apart from the impact. Megumi choked out blood; he should’ve fed properly before he got drafted in the military, but he refused, denied his needs and drank animal blood to tame himself instead.

His self-righteous need to rebuff his true nature backfired, biting him on the ass this time around. He was half unconscious when he was lifted by the rest of his commanders who’d thrown him in the medical tents before taking off to war once more.

Megumi’s vision blurred. Everyone around him paced back and forth to tend to the other soldiers lucky enough to have been brought here for a second chance at life, their voices muffled and turning into nonsense. Megumi chuckled bitterly, which he shouldn’t have done because it made him cough up a lot more blood, but could he help it? He didn’t want a second chance at life. He had never seen you again, not even a whiff of your scent, and his heart and soul had reached a point beyond decomposition that he wished to have died on the battlefield instead.

His attention was diverted when warm hands that smelled like rubbing alchohol patted his face, a harsh beam of light shone down his eyes. He winced at the light before the object was taken away, worried eyes peering down at him instead.

Megumi’s gasp was frail, too weak to manage a proper greeting because the sounds of gunshots, explosions, and final screams surrounded both of you and it was the worst setting to find you in but he was relieved – beyond relieved to see that you were there, fixing him up and muttering something he couldn’t understand. You were adorned in the healer’s uniform, your touch nothing but gentle despite the sting of ointments on his wound.

He couldn’t believe it.

“Y-you,” he managed through splatters of coughed out blood, “I found you again.”

“Soldier, focus on me! You cannot die us on now, we are relying on you to save the world, do you understand?” you snapped at him, moving back and forth at such speed that put his supernatural abilities to shame. “Do not forget your duty. Think of your family, your friends, everyone you cared about waiting for you back at home while you fight honorably in this war,” you declared, the cold scissors cutting through his uniform somewhat distracting him from the sound of your voice. “You must think of them.”

“I don’t have anyone else,” Slowly, his consciousness slipped away from his fingers no matter how hard he tried, and he sighed when your furrowed brows became a lot blurrier and unfocussed. At least you were here, he reminded himself, a small smile on his face as he did so. “Everyone I’ve ever cared about is in here in this room with me right now.”

“Live, soldier,” you commanded, teeth snapping the thread as you hastily sewed him back up. He didn’t need it, but you didn’t know that, and he actually quite liked you fretting over him like this. “Live for the future, fight to live – live for me.”

Megumi had fallen unconscious, but your words planted itself deep at the back of his head. Your words were enough to revive him back to life hours later, and he scrambled at the edge of his seat, calling for your name and searching for you with frantic eyes. Living for you was something he could fulfill, so where were you?

Before he could glance at you one more time, you had already disappeared, and Megumi was shoved back into the battlefield.

SCARLET [009.]

The forest was dark and eerie as you ran through it, the pads of your feet chafed from tireless running and hands still sore from the burn. Countless women were forcefully ripped away from homes in your village at the assumptions anyone who didn’t dare bow down to the aristocrats were devil worshippers, and you were only lucky enough to get away, though barely.

At the back of your mind, you were still screaming as you fought against the binds while they burned you, the ends of your dress tattered and burnt.

The woman that saved you, you didn’t know your name, much less get the opportunity to thank you before she’d freed you, pushing you in the direction of the mountain you were taught to fear. Although that fear vanished as you kept pushing tree by tree, completely unaware that the higher you trudged onto the fearsome land, the atmosphere grew suffocating and too dark.

It didn’t matter now, this was your only place and chance of escaping.

Too dazed in your need to survive, you failed to notice the strong stench of blood, the rotting flesh and bones scattered everywhere upon the steps that led up the abandoned castle. It had been forever since the war that led to the fall of mankind’s chance of modernization, resulting in the world falling back into the ruins that you all had suffered before.

You were panting for air just as you’d reached a few feet before the eerie, looming gate. You had to clutch on a nearby tree to catch your breath, completely aware that you were insane for going to this place as a last resort for a safe haven even if you knew that people had told countless stories to children that a blood drinking monster resided within; whether it was a story told to prevent children from roaming around at night or it was actually true, you would just have to find out soon.

But you’d grown weak, body battered and bruised, stomach deprived of its nutrients and lips cracked from dehydration.

Your legs gave out before you until your body crashed onto the ground, no longer hearing the slight creaking of the gate.

SCARLET [010.]

There was something…wet and warm grazing over your skin, the sensation tickling enough that it stirred you from your slumber. With a groan, you cracked an eye open, all the muscles in your body chilled when the man sat before you kept wiping at your wounds tenderly, his cold blue eyes sending shivers down your spine once he’d noticed you’ve woken up.

“You are free to stay here until you heal,” he announced, his voice deep yet gentle – nothing like the stories made him out to be. You opened your mouth to thank him – for the clothes that adorned you, the glass of water beside your bed, and for nursing you despite your apparent confusion – but the legendary vampire King himself had stood up, a bowl of water and a bloody towel clutched in his hand before he retreated to the door.

Then, he paused at the doorframe, head barely tilted your way as he warned, “Do not leave the grounds unless you wish to die. I cannot guarantee I can save you one more time.”

SCARLET [011.]

Megumi was a mysterious person. He never stayed around much, and the castle was far too big for you to ever run into him. No matter how hard you tried to meet him out of want to thank him for his unnecessary kindness, you couldn’t find him.

He mostly left you to your devices. Every morning, you’d find fresh meat, a glass of water – sometimes warm milk – and a pair of his clothes that you’d have to make do with.

You’ve lost count of time of how long you’d stayed under the castle, still terribly confused as to why he hadn’t killed you yet, much less help you. One thing was for sure, however: the infamous King who painted the skies red for years out of bloodlust was not the monster people made you believe he was. After all, what predator cared for his prey this way?

You were beyond determined to show him your gratitude, not having anyone care for you this much your whole life. Growing up in the slums and taken as a child into pleasure houses, this type of privacy and freedom was more than welcomed – a freedom you wouldn’t have ever had had it not been for him. So you stood at the edge of your window every night, a slight bounce in your steps as you waited for him to show up. You rarely ever saw him, but there was no harm in trying, right?

The clouds shifted away, giving way to the moonlight that illuminated the tall figure speeding through the gates. He’d come from hunting his dinner.

With an excited squeal, you rushed past your room with a small towel, running all the way to the lobby to greet him. Your speed put his to shame when you sprinted his way, your excited form rendering the vampire shock still under the dusty chandeliers for a moment, his muscles tensing harder when you smiled up at him.

Your gaze fell down on the blood stains at the edges of his lips. His eyebrows were pinched together, about to ask what you needed when you stood at the tips of your toes, wiping away the blood with a towel.

As he spoke, his voice was gruff and hoarse, almost as if he hadn’t made a squeak of noise for centuries. “Human,” he began, a slight irritation underlying his words, though he made no move to push you away. “Are you not afraid of me?”

“Why would I be?” you queried with a lilting tone, “You saved me, after all. The vicious monster they painted you out to be is far kinder than anyone has ever treated me.”

His eyes darkened at your implications, preventing you from completely wiping the blood away from his face as he gripped your wrists. His claws were long and dark, undoubtedly able to kill you should he wished, but you didn’t fear him, not when he still held you like you were a fragile being. “So just because a devil saved your life, suddenly they are an angel in your eyes?”

“I do not care what you are,” you told him honestly, staring him straight in his eyes swimming with emotions you couldn’t fathom. “I care not for what you’ve done or who you are supposed to be. All I know is that you are good to me – and why else should I care about anything else other than the fact I have never felt safer my whole life? Should this comfort be in the hands of a monster, I would not question it. I would only be grateful I met you.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, his grip only tightening a bit before one of his arms wound at the curve of your waist.

There was no telling who leaned in first. You were beyond lost in pleasure when he tugged you into his arms, his lips aggressively kissing yours. You groaned at tasting the animal blood still coated in his lips and tongue, but you didn’t care.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, mattered in this world anymore as you jumped into his frame, his arms strong and effortless as he carried you into his room.

The night faded with you tangled underneath him, your clothes ripped and torn, thrown at the other side of the room while he situated himself between you. His hands were no less than zealous as he cupped and touched every curve and dip of your body, his lips never leaving yours.

You moaned when he cupped your drenched core, legs opening further as his thumb grazed over your clit. Whining at his slow teasing that contrasted with his previous needs, you sat up to kiss him harder, pushing his back with your feet to press him closer to you. Both of you groaned when his cock teased along your wet slit, just enough to give a promise of what was to come, but he held onto your hips, his kisses faltering as he panted. “Human,” he growled, “Human, stop. If we go any further, I cannot guarantee I can control myself.”

“Do I make you lose control, Your Majesty?”

“It’s been a long time,” he pulled away from you, all traces of his darkened lust replaced with nothing but softness in his gaze now. He held you there underneath him, his gaze nothing but appreciative as he drunk in your bare features.

It made your chest swell with pride to see him with fussed up hair and bruised lips like that, knowing that you were the only one who had triggered his undoing. “I am only getting back in touch with the restraint I’ve abandoned centuries ago.”

You kissed him once more, this time a lot more gentle and sensual. “Then we shall stop, Your Majesty,” he fell beside you, pulling you closer until your cheek rested above his cold chest. He had worn you out with just simple touches, and sleepiness washed over you like a blanket, mindlessly murmuring things as you traced patterns on his skin. “I wish you would stop avoiding me from now on,” you mumbled, “Sometimes…sometimes I see you in my dreams, and they feel so real,” he stiffened at your words, knowing full well what they meant. “I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”

Before he could speak, you’d already fallen asleep, leaving him with no other choice but to sigh and pull a blanket over your naked bodies. Pressing a kiss at the crown of your head, he made a silent promise to show you another time.

SCARLET [012.]

You and the King have grown more comfortable after the not-so-subtle declaration of each of your affections to one another. In your eyes, he was your savior and the man you adored most. In his eyes, you were his precious human, his long-awaited lover, and he’d run to hell and back just to be with you all over again.

But…things were different now.

He found it hard to be explicitly pinning you down his bed to let him ravage you. Memories of your past lives, his mistakes, and all his regrets never left him once in his hellish lifetime. Funny, he found it, that the moment you were gone, the moon refused to show itself, but every time you came after a moment of forever, he feels alive all over again.

“Join me? The water is quite warm tonight.”

He merely raised his brow, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you paddle into the water. There was no proper water supply in his castle, resorting to both of you retreating to the lake deep into the forest every night. This night was no different, but as always, he refused to bathe the same time you did in fear he might not be able to hold himself back. “I have no concept of what is warm and cold, human.”

“Would you like a demonstration then?”

He scoffed, smirking at the way you wiggled your brows. He would say he missed the vulnerable, frail human that always submitted to him, but that would be a lie, since he thoroughly enjoyed how you never shy in expressing your desire for him. “If this is your plan of getting me to touch you,” the King began to discard his clothes, his cock swelling at the way your eyes darkened as he unbuttoned each button of his shirt. “I cannot say I have complaints about it.”

You smiled, triumphant in your goals.

It doesn’t take him long to dive into the water with you, his tongue slipping past your lips while he hoisted your body up, cold hands cupping your ass. Bare like this, your nipples brushed across his chest in a mind-numbing sensation, and he doesn’t stop kissing you until his cock is nestled between your ass cheeks, allowing you to feel that he could be warm in just one place only.

“Mhm – Your Majesty,” you tugged at his hair, neck naturally falling to the side as you let him suck at your skin, his fangs coming out to graze at the sensitive flesh every now and then.

“Megumi,” he squeezed the flesh of your ass, “My name is Megumi. Call me nothing but my name,” you nodded absentmindedly, unable to focus on anything else other than his hands roaming each and every skin of your body despite him having already memorized it after loving for thousands of years. He only stops when you shudder in his arms, pulling away from you with a string of saliva attached to your lips. “You are shivering. And you said the water is warm.”

“You are cold, my love,” the nickname slips effortlessly from your lips that Megumi doesn’t even get the chance to be surprised, “I cannot help it.”

Megumi groaned into your mouth, testing the waters by fingering you under the water for a moment. You clamp around his fingers, begging him to finally touch you, and when you were so good and needy for him like that, how could he resist?

He carried you both and ran back to the castle, wasting no moment as he slipped inside you, both uncaring that his bed had been soaked wet. After living an impossibly life, Megumi learned it the hard way that being immortal didn’t mean he could do whatever he pleased. Time was still precious and gold even after an abundant amount of it, and forgive him for being impatient with the way he snapped his hips to yours for it had been forever.

Watching you fall apart under him, lips parted to let out pretty moans and your cunt still taking him in so well even after so many lifetimes, Megumi only falls for you harder than the last.

He interlaced his hands with yours once he saw you desperately grabbing for something, breasts bouncing at the inhumane speed he started. Megumi’s hips were brutal as it snapped to yours, your hips bruised and blue from his strong grip, fangs bare and eyes a blood red while he fucked deep into your cunt. You gasped as you clutched onto his bicep, toes curled at the sensation he was drowning you with.

“Megumi,” you cried out, eyes shut tight from the overwhelming pleasure. “Please – mark me. I wish to be no one else’s but yours.”

Megumi growled at your words, taking both of your legs and locking them to your side. The sudden stretch exerted on your muscles made you whimper as Megumi sat back on his thighs, watching the way his cock was sucked in by your slippery walls. “I will make you mine. You have always been mine long before you were aware of it,” he stated, forcing louder moans from you when he leaned forwards, bending your legs harder before he bit your shoulder.

Your nails scratched down his back, eyes blown wide open when you saw it, saw him. Megumi kept fucking until you were crying, face flushed and damp with tears.

The ceiling of his castle disappeared as the marking he gave you brought you back to a thousand years ago, playing in your head from your first kiss, to how he had drank you dry, all the way until your marriage and from accidentally leaving him during the war.

You were crying – both from the pleasure and pain that beat down on your heart – and Megumi lapped at the blood flowing from the wound, his tongue searing against the open flesh.

“Do you remember me now?”

“Megumi. Megumi, I’m sorry. You’d been alone all this time and I was not there with you. I am so sorry.”

“You are here with me now. It is fine, my love.”

This timed, you pulled him close enough that space and distance became nothing but a myth, lips desperately moving against one another. Megumi groaned into your mouth when you clamped down on him, prompting him to fuck you harder to reach both your highs. His thrusts soon grew sloppy and your cunt was past spent by the time he came inside, painting your walls white with thick ropes of cum.

Megumi remained inside you even as his cock softened, too comfortable inside your heat to want to be anywhere else. You sighed and kissed his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, then his lips, almost worshipping his beauty and soul you’d fallen in love with over and over again.

“How long has it been? Five hundred years – a thousand?”

“Forever. It’s been forever.”

“Was it worth it? Was I worth the wait?”

“Of course you are. You always will be.”

You closed your eyes, the tears still salty on your cheeks when he kissed them away. The arms wrapped around him tightened for a moment, heart pounding in your chest as you relived your past life in that moment. “Megumi,” you whispered, “Grant me the wish you could never fulfill for me before. Please, I no longer want to live another lifetime without you.”

This time, Megumi no longer frowned upon your words, kissing you once more before he cradled your neck and jaw, those blue eyes softening like the cloudy skies you both danced under in your first lives.

“Forever, my love,” he promised, “I’ll be with you forever. Whatever it is you want, I would give it all to you.”

SCARLET [013.]

Your head rested on Megumi’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around you protectively. The halls of his castle were dark and the soft music was drowned by the screams of the angry mobs outside, their fists banging and guns blaring to tear the place down.

Time had passed and you came to understand why Megumi never wanted you to be like him. He was right – there was nothing to be glorified in becoming a monster despite the gift of immortality. This much you knew after slaughtering villages with him, feeding on parents and snatching away futures from children all to feed your thirst.

Both of you were painfully aware and burdened by the bane that was your existence, which is why you two kept dancing, not minding the fact that castle was slowly crumbling down.

You had accepted your fate. You had gotten your wish.

Megumi had lived millennia of forever’s with you that you were both satiated, happy, fulfilled. When the song hit a high note that the record broke and the chandelier fell, crashing a few feet away from you with its glass shards cutting both of your skins, you kissed Megumi one last time, his grip on your hips as gentle as ever.

The doors had opened.

Gasoline spilled from every corner of the castle, torches thrown and fire licking up everywhere. Gunshots were fired. Anger was vexed and thrown your way as you clutched onto your lover with salty tears on your cheeks, the roof falling completely open until the sun shone through. Both of you hissed through the kiss when it burned at your skin, hot and scorching enough that you just wanted to die in that moment. And you would, in just a few moments, you knew you would.

Megumi pulled away from you, his smile lopsided and sad as he pressed his forehead into yours, etching your features in his soul once more just in case he’d never see you again. “See you in the next forever, my love?”

“Only if you’ll keep waiting for me,” you grinned, and Megumi reached down to plant one last kiss onto your throne, reminding you that you were his lover, his soul mate, his Queen – his world and his everything else. Of course he’d wait for you. There was no need to ask him this – he would always wait for you.

“Of course I will,” he promised, “I will always wait for you.”

This time, you were wholeheartedly prepared for your death.

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itsallyscorner · 4 years ago

Note

okay so I love littlemix!reader x Tom holland??? the best pairing ever??? Anyways could you do something based of Holiday, like it’s obviously based off their lovers and maybe his reaction to the song & mv? Pls I’m in love with Baby Mix btw 😌❤️

Glad you’re enjoying the Little Mix member!reader x Tom Holland fics, I’m enjoying them too🥰 Thank you for the support on Baby Mix, btw, I appreciate it! Sorry for taking so long! Much love and happy reading💖

💌.

Holiday

I completely forgot when the girls dropped the video so I’m making up a time. Enjoy:)

Counting down the minutes to midnight, Tom continuously refreshed the YouTube app on your smart tv. The two of your were in his shared home with Harry, Harrison, and Tuwaine. You’ve been staying with the lot since the beginning of quarantine; London’s travel ban prevented you from catching a flight back home to your family, resulting in your boyfriend, Tom, begging you to stay with him and his mates. You didn’t have a problem with it in all honesty, the boys were great and respectful roommates. Though you were the only woman in the house, they provided you with entertainment and respected your alone time. They were a nice group of lads, letting you in on inside jokes and making you feel like you were part of the gang. By now, you probably were part of the gang. Harrison even considered on replacing Tom with you.

“Bubs, the video’s not gonna be up yet.” You glance at the screen that showed the previous videos the band’s channel posted. Tom huffed, nudging your arms apart so he can squeeze through them to lay on your chest. The two of you were currently in his room waiting for the release of Holiday’s music video. Tom had been anticipating the video all day, asking for hints about the music video’s concept and wondering how it looked.

With his body snuggled up against yours, he rested his head on your chest and wrapped his arm around your torso. His other hand reached towards the tv with the remote as he clicked the video for Break Up Song.

“I know it’s not gonna be up yet, but what if they accidentally uploaded it early? I wanna see the video already.” He whined. His fingers began to drum to the beat of Break Up Song on your stomach.

You laughed, fingers carding through his brown curls that have grown for the past months. He hums along to the song while you text the girls. He lets out a chuckle once he sees you on the screen doing the dance that he’s been helping you learn for the video. You had been struggling to get the choreography down and doing the moves on time. Noticing your desperate attempts at the moves, Tom offered to help you. Obviously in the end you perfected the choreography, seeing as it made the video, thanks to Tom.

“You are so cute.” He mused watching you dance around in the video. “Look at you dance, I don’t know what you were so worried about. You look so adorable when you dance and look at your face! Just wanna squish those cheeks together.” He began to tease you. You whine his name out as he reached up to squish your cheeks together with his hand. Your phone began to rang causing him to stop. He glances at the sceeen, “It’s my best friend, lemme answer it.”

“Go ahead.” You giggled handing him your phone. His head remains on your chest as he answers the FaceTime call. Jesy pops up on the screen with a giant smile but it drops once she sees Tom, changing into a playful scowl.

“Hi best friend!” Tom greets her loudly, a playful grin on his face. Jesy rolls her eyes at the boy.

“Hi Tom.” She greeted him sarcastically. “Give the phone to (y/n).”

“She’s right here, see,” Tom moved the phone further away so you were both in the frame. You waved at her, “Jess I miss you!” You cried.

“I miss you too darling—Tom give her the bloody phone!” Jesy scolded him through the phone. He let out a dramatic sigh before handing you your phone and snuggling into your stomach, mumbling something about “not being able to catch a break from the constant bullying of Jesy Nelson.”

“Right just a few minutes left, I’m trying to get the other girls on here.” Jesy explained as she tapped around her phone. Sooner or later. The two of you were joined by Perrie, Jade, and Leigh-Anne.

Perrie let out a squeal as she saw everyone on the screen, “You guys I miss you so much!”

“Didn’t we all see each other just a few weeks ago?” Jade asked sipping on a glass of wine as per usual.

“Yeah, on the set, but it’s a few weeks too long.” You pouted. You noticed that everyone was drinking except for you, “Wait, has everyone got a drink except for me?”

Leigh-Anne’s eyes scanned everyone on the screen, “You are, are you in bed already? It’s so early babe.”

“Leigh-Anne’s it’s literally about to be midnight, it’s late.” Jesy chimes. Jade makes a sound of disagreement, “I mean does time even matter anymore?”

“What day is it anyway? I’ve lost track.” Perrie thought out loud. You moved to get up from the bed but Tom stopped you. “Where are you going?” He whispered.

“I’m getting a drink, I’ll be back.” You patted his cheek before sitting up. He stops you once again and stands from the bed, “I’ll get you one.” He kisses your temple and leaves the room.

“Aww, was that Tom?” Jade asked leaning closer to her camera. You hummed, “Yup, being the amazing boyfriend he is and getting me a drink.”

Perrie smirked at you, “Gosh, there’s that smile again. She’s whipped for ‘im ladies!” The girls began “ooo-ing” like a bunch of elementary school girls. “Guys, stop.” You whine.

“Have you told him the part you wrote was inspired by him?” Leigh-Anne asked, chin in her palm.

“No, I’ll tell him while he’s watching. He’s been so excited the whole day, probably more than me.” You chuckle. As if on cue, Tom comes back in with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

“Tom’s going to be so nerdy about it, like a cute nerdy, you know what I mean? All mushy gushy. Like how he gets whenever (y/n) kisses his cheeks.” Jesy said as the girls cooed. Tom peeks from beside you.

“Did I hear that correctly? Did Jesy just compliment me?” He asked everyone, looking back at you for confirmation. You shrugged as you looked at Jesy. Jade stifled a laugh at Jesy’s annoyed expression.

“Oh fuck off you div. It’s an observation. You could barely compose yourself whenever you’re around (y/n).” Jesy playfully jabs at him. You adored their friendship, it was like a brother/sister bond. Jesy being the older sibling and Tom being the annoying little brother.

“Jes, leave the poor boy alone, he makes our baby happy.” Perrie defended Tom. Tom smiles thankfully at her, “Thank you Perrie, at least I know some of you like me.”

Tom pops open the champagne and takes one of the glasses to pour the beverage in, “But I’ll take it as a compliment Jes. Cheers to that.” He raises his glass and clinks it with your phone screen. You and the girls continue to talk until midnight. When the video was finally released you all celebrated and took some screenshots of each other to post later.

When your FaceTime call with the girls ended, you turned to Tom, who already had the video up on the screen. He made grabby hands at you and pulled you to sit in between his legs. With his back against the headboard he made sure the two of you were comfy before asking you, “Can I click play now?”

You chuckled at him as his leg bounced, “Yup.” He pressed play, placing the remote down and wrapping his arm around your front to pull you closer to him. The intro to the video starts, the title of the song appearing on the screen in a water type font. Jesy pops up on the screen singing her part, Tom cheers yelling “It’s my best friend!”

Tom hypes each of the girls up while they appear on the screen, cheering their names. When the chorus comes, his brows furrow as he looks down at you. “Wait where are you? Why—why didn’t they show you yet?” He questioned you, visibly upset. You were about to answer but instead pointed to the screen when you realized your part was coming up.

Boy, have I told ya?

You give it to me like no other guy

We got that heat, yeah, like the summer (summer)

And that's why I'm so glad I made you mine

You appeared on the screen, body cladded in a white bikini that had gold straps for both the bra and thong. You bursted out laughing when you saw Tom’s reaction. His eyes look like they were about to bulge out his head while his jaw was slacked.

“Holy...shit.” He mumbled eyes glued to the screen as you sang. The scene was you in that blue hallway type set. You looked at the camera, bedroom eyes fully activated as your back slid down the wall. You felt his grip around you tighten, his breathing getting deeper.

The scene changed to the one with the planets, sculptures, and lounging chairs. You were seen walking towards a Chaise lounge, giving the camera a perfect view of your bum. While you sat sideways on the couch in the video, Tom couldn’t help but think about how gorgeous you looked in the video. You looked like a goddess, confident as you strutted around in that little number of yours in the video.

You turned to look at him once your part was done and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You know my whole part was about you right?” His head snaps to look at you, “You wrote something about me in a song?”

“Tommy, I always do. Who else would I be singing about?” You asked him amused. He took a second to think before shaking his head, “I thought it was in general, like it was based on how you would feel if you were with someone that made you feel that way.”

You nod at his explanation, “Well yeah, the fans could see it that way. But when I sing it, it’s about you.”

A goofy grin made its way to his face before he giggled, “It’s about me.” He pulled you into a hug from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. He turned back to the tv to see you all dressed as mermaids while you sang your part in the chorus.

“Wait what—you’re mermaids?” The look of confusion appeared on his face again as he tried to figure out the video. He looked at you then back to the screen, repeating the action a few times.

“I never thought I’d say this, but if you were a mermaid, I’d still fuck you.” He confessed with a shrug. You bursted out laughing at his confession, “How do you even fuck a mermaid, Tom?”

His hands gripped your sides, voice going down an octave, “You tell me, (y/n). Get the mermaid tail back and we’ll find out.” You looked at him shocked, “Thomas!”

He laughed dropping the act and went back to watching the music video. “Wait, I’m still cofused. I thought you guys were in space cause of the planets and stuff. Why are you guys also underwater? And mermaids?” You tilted your head trying to come up with an answer for him.

“Um—it’s a spa, on a another planet, which also has an ocean I’m guessing, and that’s why we’re also mermaids?” You explained, also questioning yourself.

“I like the concept, probably the most random video you guys have had, but it’s sick.” He approved of the video with an impressed look on his face. When the video ended, he immediately pressed replay. Though when your part came up this time he let out a “GOD DAMN” before his eyes scanned you up and down. When he finally felt like he’s processed the music video, he let it play in the background and paid attention to you.

He leaned down to kiss your lips sweetly, “Love, that was amazing. I’m proud of you.” He was quick to add on, “And thank you for writing a part of the song about me, I never thought someone would write a song about me, not even a part. But thank you, I love you so much.”

You giggled shoving your face into his neck as you both moved to cuddling. Suddenly you remembered something you and the boys promised to do.

“Tom! We were supposed to watch the video with the other boys! Remember we promised to not watch it without them?” You leaned back to look at Tom who was already shaking his head.

“Oh they’re not allowed to watch the video.” He muttered. Your brows furrow at him. Tom motions to the tv, the part where your bum was facing the camera on the screen.

“Because of that, I don’t need them seeing that, that’s mine.” One of his hands trail down the length of your back to grip your ass. He rolled over so he was on top of you, dipping his head into your neck, his lips ghosted fluttery kisses along your skin. You let out a content sigh, running your hands through his soft hair. When his lips reached your ear, he whispered, “But seriously though, you should think about investing in a mermaid tail.”

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland drabble #tom holland headcanon #little mix #jesy nelson #jade thirlwall #perrie edwards #leigh anne pinnock #ally’s requests

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deliciousangelfestival · 4 years ago

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Wicked Romance

Chapter 1

Character: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve was hoping to meet the right one until he met her. But is he ready to be with her? He thought his life already dark because of his job. He wouldn’t able to find a woman that strong enough to face the hardship to stand beside him. Turn out his life is nothing compared to her.

Warning: Maybe bad writing? Hehehe forgive me. This is my first time write and posting my own fan fiction on tumblr.

############

If an outsider sees Steve, he got everything: looks, money, status. But for him, he lacks one thing; the right person to stand beside him.

But let’s talk about how Steve became the new mob leader.

Steve got raised by his mother Sarah Rogers, it was until he retired from the military he reconnected with his father again.

He thought his father, Joseph Rogers owns a security firm every time he visits him when he was a kid after his parents divorced. Until he reaches a certain age he realized his father actually is a mob boss. He found his childhood friend Bucky, they went to the army together, also working with his father after he got into an accident that cost his left arm.

He owes it to his father, but Joseph doesn’t need his son to pay his debt. He only wanted his son to stay with him. Joseph has everything, but he missing two things; his lovely wife and his son.

Joseph loves Sarah, but he forgot she doesn’t come from a mobster background. When they got married, she was overwhelmed. Looking at her husband coming home with blood on his hands or they need to stay at the safe house when she was 8 months pregnant and when Steve was baby the rival gang tried to hurt her and their son.

Sarah admitted to Joseph that she couldn’t live like this. In the end, she asks to separated but they never divorced. Joseph never sends the document to the court.

When Joseph retired, he decided to be honest. He went to chase his wife again. With a lot of effort the couple reunited again.

Their love story was so sweet that could make Steve’s teeth hurt. Joseph appointed Steve as the new leader while he enjoys his second honeymoon with his wife.

It’s been 5 years since Steve became the new mob boss, now he’s waiting for the one that could help him write a sweet story like his parents.

Right now around lunchtime at the fancy that owned by Rogers. Steve and others like Bucky and Sam are sitting at the bar. While Pietro is the bartender serving their drinks.

It's a usual day for them but it's a little bit different with Steve this time.

Steve head not looking at his food because notices someone seating near the window. She wearing a dress, not too sexy but he could see her legs. She is completely different from a woman who dressed less to get his attention. The reason is simple Steve is an attractive man, tall, broad shoulder, the expensive three-piece suit that wraps his muscles. He only sits for 3 minutes, few girls try to seduce him but he politely or in a sarcastic way to shoo them.

And the girl who he watched for a while won’t budge to turned around. It poked his ego a little bit. He quite used to with the flirt and attention.

“You still staring at her.”

Bucky’s words made Steve snap up from his trance.

Steve shook his head, he couldn’t help it because he wants to see the woman face who sitting alone.

“Pfft.”

Someone who holds his laughter. Three of them turn their gaze towards the bartender served their drink.

“Something funny Pietro?” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“I’m just surprised my boss lose his game before approaching Miss Lilly.”

Steve tilts his head “You knew her name?”

Pietro nodded while whipping the glass with cloth “Yup, the gorgeous lady that always left a big tip.”

“She has become a regular?” Sam asks surprised.

“Perhaps, it’s difficult to forget her since the first time she came here.” Pietro is a sucker for a beautiful woman.

He put the clean glass on the shelf “The day she came here also the first day Peter Peter start his job.”

The alpha male grunted when Parker’s name mentioned. That kid is troublesome. He always late for his job and clumsy, but he’s the best chef assistant according to Wanda who the head chef at the restaurant.

“So she’s been our customer for 5 months. How come we never notice her?” Sam whispered asking. They always come here every day for lunch and dinner.

Pietro raised his shoulder “Usually she only stays for 10 minutes after buying one drink. Then she left. This is the first time she asks for a table.”

After hearing the info from Pietro, Steve looking at her back once again.

“Steve, if you don’t talk to her I will,” Sam said while moving from his seat.

Steve stop Sam by grabbing his shoulder “I didn’t say I don’t want to.”

“Go get her punk.” Bucky raised his fist.

Steve nodded, he walks closer towards her table, he doesn’t understand why his heart beating so fast.

He already in his game, using his usual pick-up line and smile, but before his foot stops at her table, she turns her head towards him.

It felt like a slow-motion when he saw her looking at him.

The first moment he looked at her eyes, somehow the time stop and world in only both of them.

She looks at him with a friendly smile. ‘Her eyes,’ he couldn’t look away.

“Hi…” He couldn’t believe he almost squeaked his voice. Steve could feel his face turn red like tomatoes. How he wishes, the situation could change.

‘BANG’

The loud sound came from the gun sound. The door abruptly opened by a bunch of guys who wear suits, some of them holding guns, and baseball bat, and the one who leads them is Brock Rumlow.

Steve cursed, because of the annoying newcomer, he already lost the moment with her. But partly he blamed himself, earlier he wished to change the situation. Be careful what you wished for.

It must be his rival gang who crash his business again. This is the third time in one month. Since Brock became the new head after Pierce died.

“Damn it.” He saw Bucky and Sam already start kicking and punching.

He turned at her, he looks at her with puppy eyes “Forgive me for today’s distraction. You don’t have to pay. It’s free.”

Before she could reply, one guy holding a baseball bat, and swing at Steve but he able to stop it.

“Everyone leave this place !!!” He screamed his lungs out to alarm the guest who still shocked. All of them ran to save their lives.

Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Pietro busy fighting their rival.

No wonder why he had bad feelings, today seems nothing could go wrong. He knew something bad will happen. Turn out it’s Rumlow.

“What do you want Rumlow?” Steve hissed at the uninvited guest.

Brock shrugged his shoulder “Oh nothing, I just want to say hi to my rival, since I became the boss now.”

‘Because of that reason?’ Steve inwardly thought. But he knew why Rumlow did this, he want everyone to know his name since he recently got this position. And this bastard choose his place at the wrong time and the wrong place.

Both of them punches at each other and destroyed the furniture.

Brock always sneaky, he prepares a hidden knife under his sleeves aka phantom blade.

He succeeded stab Steve’s shoulder.

“Urgh.” But because of his muscles, it didn’t go that deep.

Brock brings Steve to his shoulder and throws him to the ground.

Steve landed on the ground while Brock put on a mocking smile looking down at him.

“Boys~”

The seductive voice made both of them turn to see who it was.

Steve widened his eyes when he saw the girl who took his breath away standing in front of them.

When she stood, he could see she’s wearing a skirt that has a high cut on her left thigh. Steve and Brock were taken aback because under the fabric there’s a belt dagger.

She slightly pouted which made Steve thought for a second she looks adorable. But what the hell is she doing here when he already told everyone to leave this place.

She put her right hand on her left chest “It breaks my heart seeing my favorite restaurant destroyed like this.”

Steve somehow felt happy when he knew she like his work.

She grabs the dagger and throws it to Steve.

“I’m lending it to you.” She winked at him, and turn around to grab her coat. She headed to the exit door, easily avoided the fight.

“That’s one hot lady right there.”

“Yeah, she is.”�� Steve took the chance to give a butthead towards Brock. He doesn’t want this jerk to look at his ‘future date’.

Brock screamed while holding his broken nose “That’s was low, I was distracted.”

“Let’s get this over with. I can’t do this all day.” Steve finally let out his rage towards Rumlow.

####

Their fight is done with the result Steve side who won.

“I’ll get you next time,” Brock screamed angrily, his fingers broken by Steve. He got carried by the paramedic.

Steve wiped his bloody nose with a cloth while Bruce pressing his shoulder “Yeah yeah, just not in this place again.” He answered lazily.

He sighed because he’s getting tired of Rumlow childish fight. After his wound got treated by Bruce, Steve went back into the restaurant.

What he saw is a broken window, table, the custom leather chair that imported from Italy also ruined. There will be one person who will be crazy over this, Natasha who also his accountant, and Bucky’s wife.

His shoes step on the broken glass, his eyes locking to the table where she sat.

When he arrived he saw the book she read. Steve notice there is a bookmark inside of it. He doesn’t want to touch her touch without permission but he eager wants to see what inside.

Steve put his hand on his mouth and gasped “Oh f**k!”

“Language you punk!” Bucky and Sam appear from behind. Their face and hands also bruised because of the short fight.

“What’s wrong?”

They got no answer from Steve. He look like a statue still looking at his hands.

Bucky and Sam glanced at the bookmark on Steve’s hand. Both of them smirked.

’When the restaurant re-open, text me: (646)-xxxxxxxx’

Steve’s mind went back to the first time he saw her face and that beautiful smile, then the way she’s not afraid of the craziness that happens today, and she lent him a dagger so he can win.

He didn’t think it wasn’t a thing, but it happened to him.

He fell in love at the first sight.

“We totally lose him.” Sam waves his hand in front of Steve’s eyes.

They could see Steve on cloud nine right now.

“Good for him, maybe he could move on this time,” Bucky murmured.

Sam pointed one critical point “But first of all, we need to tell your wife about today.”

Bucky sighed “That’s the difficult part.”

While his friends busy thinking about how to coaxing Natasha so she won’t stun them with the lecture that could last for the whole day and make their ear hurts, Steve is planning how to renovate the restaurant fast so he could text her.

>>>CHAPTER 2

Taglist:

@cloudystevie

#mob!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes #sam wilson #pietro maximov #peter parker #cs4kwritingchallenge #marvel au #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine

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sebstanseabass · 3 years ago

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 1

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Story Description:

❝It's like an afterglow.❞

❝Yes, like an afterglow. If seeing something so beautiful makes you feel good then the after of it all must be... more pleasurable.❞

❝A lot of people tend to miss that detail after sunset. But not you. You're a photographer, y/n. The details in nature, in people, are some things you can never miss.❞

But there's one little detail you had missed, that you both missed: that you've already met years earlier.

You're a 25-year old photographer and part-time bartender, and has heard countless stories about the adventures of your roommate's stepbrother, Bucky Barnes -- a clumsy, party-driven 38-year old businessman. One day, you stumble upon Bucky inside your apartment on a Saturday night that would change both of your lives forever as you both take pleasure in the afterglow.

A/N: I already have this on Wattpad but with a female OC. This is my first ever Bucky Barnes fan fic and I hope you guys like it :)

CHAPTER ONE

"Hey, y/n. I think Nick wants to ask you out on a date." Peter Parker, your roommate, brought his beer bottle towards his mouth. His eyes were fixated somewhere while you were wiping droplets of beer on the countertop. You looked at his face features illuminated by the light from his laptop. "You should really put coasters here, y'know." he added.

"Shut it, Parker," You rolled your eyes at him, "or no more free drinks for you."

"He's into you." He sang and averted his eyes somewhere. You followed his gaze which was on Nick Miller who was talking to some loud blondes on the booth, taking their orders.

"I'm not talking to you anymore." You put your hand up, blocking Peter's face and walked away. You greeted some customers approaching the bar counter. "Good evening, gentlemen, what would you like to drink?"

"Shots of tequila," one replied, "and keep 'em coming, doll!" The other three cheered which you knew annoyed Peter.

The bar was packed tonight. Saturdays were the only days New Yorkers were almost free for a chill drink hangout. College boys hang by the billiards table on the corner, office girls sip their margaritas on one of the booths, thirty-year old women shoot darts on the dartboard as if the board were their husbands, thirty-year old dads with their caps on drinking hard beer on one of the tables, kids who just turned twenty-one ordering their first drink legally, lonely people by the jukebox or on the bar counter telling their sad tales to the bartender and Peter Parker casually drinking beer with a laptop in front of him.

"You really should stop doing your work here on the bar." You approached Peter once more. "You're bumming people out."

Peter raised an eyebrow, his eyes glued on the laptop. "You're bumming me out."

"Seriously, do your business work elsewhere. Go to a coffee place or something. Starbucks isn't that far."

"You know I work better with beer"

"How can I forget?"

You and Peter go way back. You two had met in business school and had been roommates ever since. While you would pull an all-nighter in your shared apartment, Peter would struggle to open the front door, dance around in the living room like he had left feet and threw his final papers on the floor. He'd end up waking up your other roommates, Mickey and Pablo (who would usually join him by the way), leaving poor you cleaning up their mess the next morning. You'd put Peter to bed, seeing as the other morons were incapable of doing so. The next day, Peter's bed would reek of the pungent smell of beer and cigarettes. Though he didn't smoke ("and I never will!"), cigarette smoke disgustingly clung to his clothes and skin, which you found rather unpleasant. Even with all the alcohol in his system, Peter managed to pass all his exams and graduate with flying colors. You hated that.

"I don't get why you drink so much during exam week." You sighed, handing Peter a glass of water. He wasn't an alcoholic but he did turn into one right before midterms and finals start. It was somehow seasonal. According to Peter, it helped him focus. "You're not supposed to drink before a big exam, y'know."

"Hemingway drinks. He writes better when he drinks."

"You're a business major. Not a writer. You don't even read literature."

"Look at you now cleaning other people's messes." Peter chuckled, closing his laptop. You sighed and wiped the counter with much vigor. The four gentlemen from earlier left a pretty big mess toasting shots before they went towards the billiards table.

"Please, this is not the kind of bar you used to go to." You responded, making a gin and tonic. "This is a smoke-free, grope-free, friendly bar. No dancing, no loud stereo music -- just your regular bar where you can relax with your friends after a long day at work."

Peter turned around and tilted his head towards the jukebox. "There's someone dancing right now beside the jukebox."

"Not that kind of dancing." A 20-something year old man was breakdancing to some old beat you've never even heard of.

"Y'know it's really ironic you're working at a bar now. Oh, how you used to hate them."

"It's the only job I can do." You shrugged. "Besides photography, of course. And again, this is not that kind of bar. Think of it like a MacLaren's Pub from that tv show. Kind of funny how it's also just below our apartment building. If only we lived in this building in college, I would've enjoyed bars more."

You once went to one party at a crowded bar where Peter had surprisingly invited you. Writhing bodies pressed up against each other. Body shots from strangers. Toilets that reeked of beer vomit and pee. An "accidental" kiss between you and Peter in the bar that lead into a steamy makeout session as soon as you got in the apartment you both shared. Up to this day, neither of you spoke of that night and perhaps that day wouldn't come -- You really hoped it didn't. Wouldn't want to open a can of worms from the past.

"You're a boring old hag." Peter snorted.

"Hmm, I'd like to disagree. I can make drinks and you can't."

"Oh, you know who can make drinks, though? My stepbrother!"

Ah, yes. His stepbrother. The infamous Bucky Barnes. Born in the upper east side of New York and sadly, out of wedlock. Orphaned at a young age and adopted by a man named Tony Stark who then married Peter's mother. A successful hotel business owner (but not really famous), and the star of Peter's countless stories. Been arrested once for streaking. Got Peter out of detention in high school. Trespassed school premises. TP'd a house during Valentine's Day. Caught naked by a newly-wed in a hotel room. That was just the tip of the iceberg.

"I know. He makes the best bloody drinks of all time." You mimicked Peter the way he would -- insulting and proud -- which he didn't like as he shot dagger-like eyes at you. His expressions changed in a snap.

"Oh, that reminds me. He's in town!"

"I thought he was in Monaco?"

"Yeah, no. He travels a lot."

"Does that mean I now get to meet this famous stepbrother of yours?" You smirked, pulling out shot glasses from one of the cabinets.

"I'm not sure he would want to meet you. You're not exactly in his league."

"You mean snobby and rich?" You laughed while fixing the shot glasses on the counter. "I'm aware."

"I mean classy." He adjusted his tie.

You snickered. "Yeah, all those stories were real classy, Parker. Top-notch."

"You know what I mean, y/n - suits, money, stuff like that. Bucky's changed." One big sip of beer. "I think."

"Ya think?" You scoffed.

"Maybe, I don't know. Haven't spoken to him in a while. He's always traveling and stuff. Hard to keep track of him."

"Sounds to me like he's on a run from the bad guys." You joked which Peter didn't find funny.

"What do you mean?"

Peter idolized Bucky. He was the sole reason why he got into business in the first place -- no, they didn't spend late nights talking in their backyard basketball court about how fulfilling business is and all that crap like brothers would do. Peter just wanted to be like Bucky. To be in the world of money, booze, and then more money. That kind of crap. "It was a joke, Parker. This Bucky sounds like he may have done some stupid stuff but I doubt he's into something illegal or what."

"Yeah, he's a good guy." But even Peter didn't sound convinced of himself. He took a big gulp of his beer.

Nick approached the counter, avoiding your eyes but a smile landed on his lips as soon as he neared you. You could hear Peter chuckling. "Hey, Nick."

Nick acknowledged him by saying a small hello and started preparing a bunch of Bloody Marys for the blonde girls by the booth. Peter watched him, finishing his beer. You gave him a look before walking away to serve some drinks -- which he just mocked in return. With a tray of beer in your right hand, you approached the four gentlemen from before at the billiards table and gave them their drinks. Seeing a couple of girls slide out of one of the booths, you grabbed a washcloth and a bottle spray on the cleaning station and headed to clean the girls' mess. The table reeked of Gin and tonic, Margaritas, Grasshopper, a couple of beers and Long Island Iced Tea. Well, that's a weirdly wild group of friends.

While cleaning up the booth, you glanced up at the printed photographs on the walls which were yours. Black and white portraits of strangers. Flashes of red and blue lights on the streets. Giant buildings. Random people on Central Park and New York streets. Peter drinking beer at the booth with his co-workers. And the owner of the bar who was always cooped up inside his small office. Photos that didn't sell in your exhibit always went to the bar, in hopes that someone might find them somewhat good -- good enough to take home. But that wasn't the case. To them, the photos were just mere decorations at the bar; they just wanted to have a good time and couldn't be bothered to even take one shy glance at the bartender's photos. You wanted to think they just had zero taste when it comes to photography to make yourself feel better but you were wrong. It just made you feel worse.

Just when you were about to turn around, Peter slid into the booth. You almost dropped the things you were holding. "Jesus, Parker."

He looked up at the photos. "Told ya your photos won't sell here."

"That's not what I was thinking." Lie. You walked towards the bar counter with Peter on your tail. He sat once more on the high stool and immensely watched as you placed some glasses on the counter.

"Come work for our company. We could really use your skills for our products." He leaned in, trying to get your attention. It wasn't the first time he tried to convince you to go work for his company.

"For the nth time, I'm no corporate slave."

"You're working at a bar. You make drinks and serve people. Some of these fuckers have corporate jobs as well - like me! If you think about it," he crossed his arms, placing them on top of the counter, "it's kind of like serving these corporations you hate."

With a frown, you asked, "What kind of logic is that?"

"A businessman's logic."

"If that's the case, the corporate world is dead." You smirked, washing the glasses. Peter was no businessman. He was just a part of a sales team, making marketing pitch presentations every week or so. Honestly, you couldn't keep up with his presentations. "I'd be happy to join then."

"Come on, Aria. You can't be juggling two jobs for the rest of your life. You can get one big job at our company and you'll get paid big time. Plus," he leaned in further, almost getting up from the stool, "we'll be working together. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"I'm honestly getting tired of you." You chuckled, sprinkling some water on Peter's face. "And my answer is still no. I don't want to work for your company. I like freelancing and bartending." That wasn't a lie. Despite graduating from business school, you decided to pursue your passion in photography even if the pay couldn't cover your half of the rent. So, you decided to take a waitressing job at the bar just below your apartment, and then started bartending. Out of all the establishments you could've gone to, you chose this very bar because it was the most convenient option of all -- it was just below the apartment. Being a photographer and a part-time bartender weren't exactly the dream you had for yourself but you liked them; nothing gave you more pleasure than taking product photos for small businesses and making drinks for strangers who happen to stumble upon one of the best bars in the Upper West Side.

Peter sighed. "I'm never giving up on you. I'm not a quitter."

"Whatever you say, big guy." Peter had been at it for a few years.

"I hate you." Peter groaned.

"Aren't you the sweetest?"

Peter rolled his eyes and caught a quick glance at the wall clock. "Hey, your shift's almost over. Better hurry up."

"Right. Thanks, Parker." You began placing back the shot glasses on one of the cabinets then hurriedly walked into a small door on the back. You greeted your boss who was just doing some paperworks.

"Hey, Steve. I'm heading out."

"Right, right." Steve looked up from his laptop and removed his specs, placing them on the table.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you could even close the door, Steve called you.

"Yeah?"

"Nick's not gonna be here tomorrow afternoon and I'm gonna be in Long Island for some family reunion. Would you mind checking all the deliveries for tomorrow?"

"Well, what about the others?"

"Ah, they're no good." Steve sighed. "I only trust you and Nick."

You raised an eyebrow. "Nick? Really?" You wouldn't trust Nick with anything -- not even with some dumb, silly secret.

Steve shrugged. "He's a good kid. He and I get along. So, do I get a yes?"

"Yeah, sure. I got nothing going on tomorrow."

"No photography thingy?"

You pursed your lips. "Not unless you want me to take photos for your family reunion."

"No way in hell am I gonna let you meet my family."

"Aw, you said you trust me."

He chuckled and leaned back on his office chair. "Go home, y/n."

You sent him a smile before heading back to the counter to meet Peter who was mindlessly scrolling on his phone. "Let's go, Parker."

You two walked up the steps towards your apartment building, shoulders bumping from time to time. You and Peter lived on the fifth floor. You would've gotten your own place but your parents cut you off since you refused to work for the family supermarket your family owned in Hoboken, New Jersey. The last time you spoke to your parents was almost three years ago, when you threw a huge tantrum like a damn baby at your graduation party. "There's nothing for me here in New Jersey! It's as boring as these two old couples next door. (No offense). I hated business school. I want to pursue photography whether you like it or not. I'm not staying in this hellhole forever."

"You walk out that door, you're out of here forever."

And out you went with only a couple of clothes and some leftover college money. The only sliver of hope you had was Peter.

"Hey, y/n?" Peter asked as soon as you got inside the elevator. "Hypothetically, if Nick asked you out on a date, would you say yes?"

You gave him a weird look after the elevator doors closed before you. "I don't know, man. Never dip the pen in company ink, right?" You fished for your apartment key on your purse. "How are you so sure he's gonna ask me out?"

"He flat out told me that's how." He replied. "Yesterday night. So, if he does ask you..."

"Why are you so invested in my dating life?"

"You have no dating life." He retorted.

Peter was one to talk. He also didn't have one.

"You know what I mean, idiot."

He shrugged. "Just curious."

The elevator doors opened and you both headed towards your apartment unit, with Peter still yapping about Nick this and Nick that. You groaned, getting ultimately tired of hearing Nick's name and the possibility of you and him dating. "Maybe you should date him, Parker."

"You date him."

You gave him a confused look. "Shut up, Parker."

"Wait, you know what? Don't date him. I don't like him for you. He's weird and -- "

"No, I mean it. Shut. Up." You hissed, stopping on your tracks and grabbing Peter by his arm. You were right outside your apartment unit. There was a small gap between the door and the door frame. It seemed like someone broke in..

"What do we do? What do we do?" Peter half-yelled, half-whispered.

"Have the cops on speed dial. If it really is a robbery, call them. Got it?"

"What if they have guns?"

"I'll tell them to shoot you first."

"Gee, thanks for looking after me. Appreciate it."

You smirked, your hands already on the door. Slowly, you pushed it away from your body, failing to make it as quiet as possible as the door creaked against the floorboards. You gently looked around the dark living room, seeing no sign of someone inside -- until your eyes caught something moving on the couch. Your eyes went wide. You went back in the hallway where Peter was standing with his phone in his hand, ready to press the call button.

"Well?" He was waiting for an answer.

"I think someone's crashing on our couch?" Even you looked confused.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Either that or a large animal just broke into our apartment. Come on, let's go see." You whispered, trying not to wake up the uninvited guest.

"I'm not going in there!"

"Fine, I'll wake the bastard up." You groaned. "Pussy."

"Dick." He snickered but zipped his mouth shut as soon as you sent him a glare.

Without a noise, you managed to get closer, using the light from your phone as a guide. On the couch was a huge blanket sprawled across and under that was the rhythmic sound of someone breathing. Your hand lightly trembled, reaching for the blanket to unveil whoever was under it; but before you could even touch a single thread, the person jumped out of the couch, and so did your heart. You let out a scream, falling backwards and hitting your head on one of the small tables beside the couch. The unknown person stood on the couch, and awfully joined your screams. The lights suddenly turned on, with Peter standing by the door.

"Oh my god!" You yelped as soon as you realized the man in front of you was naked. No clothes, no nothing, just bare skin against the cold breeze. Your hands immediately flew to your eyes. "Who the hell are you?" Your screamed at him.

He urged you to remove your hand from your eyes, telling you he was wrapping the blanket around his waist. Thankfully, he wasn't lying.

"Bucky?" Peter breathed, approaching the scene.

"This is Bucky?" You asked in disbelief.

Bucky smiled and jumped off the couch, offering his hand. "Hi, I'm Bucky."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes story #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction

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wannabemobwife · 4 years ago

Text

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader Fanfic

-Pairings: mob! Tom Holland x reader

-Warnings: Language

-Words: 3.9K

Background Info- Tom Holland is boss of his mafia and Y/N Holland, his wife, is former mafia boss turned stay at home mom but still joined Tom on his business trips and meetings. They started dating at 19 and were married at the young age of 21, realizing they only needed each other. They have two kids together, both ages 16, Parker and Rosie Holland.

*Realistically to have two teenagers, Tom and Y/N are both in their mid/late thirties but they look like they are in their mid twenties/late twenties alright. What can I say, they have really good genes. I can guarantee that Tom will still definitely look as gorgeous as he does know in his 30’s.

Author note: I enjoy writing drama, so it’s hard to have constant fluff, mostly angst (I hope, at least what I consider angst). The more times where a character almost dies but doesn’t the better to me. This is my first fanfic, I wrote this story based on being married with kids because that is the part of my life I’m most looking forward to. Heads up but there is tons of dialogue, I find that the most fun to write.

Also I enjoy PDA and a personal goal of mine is to be married for 20 years and still want to jump my husband’s bones so there are a bunch of little hints like that through the fanfic. Sorry if your name is any of the characters, feel free to change them in your mind. I know it’s stupid of me to say that but whatever.

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Words: 3.9K

You and Tom were a power couple. The Hollands, the ones with the most power and the most dangerous. A king and queen to their empire. Lately you had been tackling married life together and had been raising two kids. A boy named Parker and a girl named Rosie both the same age. But nothing could prepare you for what every parent dreads, their teenage years. All the hormones, mood swings and relationship drama that comes with it.

When both the twins turned 16 it was big turning point in your family. Rights of passage as Tom would say. You and Tom threw a massive gala to celebrate their 16 years of being alive. Tom as the leader of his own mob, money was no object and you coming from the family you did and being a former mafia boss, you both had truly opulent wealth. It was the night of their kids’ sixteenth birthday and everyone was invited from family, friends, business associates and even enemies. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer they would say. Tom and tried to keep as much as possible from your kids, trying to give them a normal childhood. Failing over and over again at that. Some nights Tom would come home bloody from beating up someone who crossed him. Or there would always been strange, bulky, built men surrounding your mansion for protection. It was hard to explain everything to the kids, but it was something they just had to do for family.

The party was about to begin, 7:00 on the dot, and the house was decorated to fit a very elegant yet youthful look. Caterers dressed in white carrying bountiful trays of appetizers. Tom and you adored the luxury of their life, even though they knew if they didn’t have all the materials they did they would be even happier. Their family is what mattered most to them. You were dressed to the nines, in a lace gold gown, with sparkly stilettos on. Her Y/H/C hair gracefully laying one her back, without a strand out of the place. And her Y/E/C eyes were beaming, if looks could kill they would. Tom couldn’t help but admire you.

“You know, it’s rude to gawk,” you said and Tom chuckled.

“I’m sorry but you’re just too beautiful not to,” he responded and placing his hands on your hips.

Rolling your eyes and smirking you said “tonight’s the night.”

“I know, should we do it now?” he questioned as his half smile turned into a frown.

“No, let him have this one more night. Without any obligation,” you had been dreading this night for years.

“Alright, darling,” he said as he kissed softly, he just couldn’t contain himself he

found his other half. The person that makes him want to be a better man. His soulmate.

Like any family there are skeletons in their closets but, the Hollands were a whole another story. Tonight was the night, one they had been dreading for 16 years, to be exact. You and Tom’s son, Parker would be tasked with the most difficult decision of his life. One that will rewrite his story. Tom wishes he would just turn it down and do what he didn’t have the balls to do when he was his age.

The day Tom’s dad brought him into the office, he knew his life would never be the same. Dom, his father and former boss of the Holland empire, made it very clear that if he turned him down, he could forget about being in this family. Tom just knows he won’t give the same ultimatum. Parker being the oldest and only son of Tom and Y/N Holland is the future of their family empire. Parker was quite popular, a playboy actually and very dashing. Wearing a black suit with a black tie and a white shirt he look just like his dad with his brown hair slicked back. Being one of the guests of honor tonight he had to look the part. Slowly made his way to the bar before his mother could find him. Desperately needing some liquid courage, he quickly poured himself a shot of vodka and downed it even faster. However nothing gets past, you, Y/N Holland.

“Parker Jackson Holland!” you fumed, catching her 16 year old son drinking.

“Hey, what’s with the middle naming me, it’s my birthday,” he responded a little startled.

“You should not be drinking, ever. You got two years, mister,” you explained.

“Alright, mum,” Parker sounded annoyed.

“Where’s your sister by the way, party is supposed to start in 10 mins,” you said as she noticed all the guest starting to arrive. A line of people already waiting at the door but everyone knew the Hollands preferred people to arrive fashionably late.

“I don’t know. Having a fit probably. Last I heard was screaming coming from her closet.”

“I’ll go check on her. Your father and I need you sober later. Understood?” You exclaimed.

“Yes, mum.” Parker was a good boy on paper but, enjoyed breaking the rules.

Right as you turned away, Parker then started to pour another shot.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said still walking forward. Parker chuckled and set the shot down.

You went to go check on her daughter. You knocked on the door when she heard something shatter. Rosie may seem timid but she definitely inherited Tom’s anger issues.

“Honey? Is everything alright?” You questioned, startled by the outburst.

“Yeah, mum. I’m sorry,” Rosie muttered seeming frustrated.

“It’s ok, oh honey!” You exclaimed, noticing the tears on her daughter face

“I know, this is stupid,” Rosie whispered trying to hide her tear stained face.

“No, no it isn’t. What’s wrong?” you said, genuinely concerned for her daughter’s well-being.

“I don’t know everything, this dress, my hair, my makeup,” she exclaimed frantically.

“Baby, you look beautiful.”

“Pretty enough that someone would want to dance with me?” Rosie whispered. You were caught off guard that your daughter could ever have thoughts like that.

“Yes of course, you are always gorgeous.” You hated seeing your baby girl beat herself up based on her looks.

“Thanks mom, I have a question?” You just nodded in response.

How did you get dad to fall in love with you?” Rosie asked inquisitively.

“Um, I guess was just myself. I didn’t put on a facade and I was very honest and transparent with him,” you answered a little taken back from the question.

“You were yourself? I find that hard to believe. From stories I’ve heard you seemed to be bold, brave and beguiling” said Rosie with a hint of sarcasm.

“Am I not those things now?” You asked, cheekily.

“No you are, just in a different way.”

“Honey, whoever you are trying impress, will love for who you are, ok?” You couldn’t stand seeing her daughter like this.

“Alright. Can you help me with my makeup?” Rosie asked because her previous makeup had been ruined by her miniature breakdown

“Yes, of course.”

Back at the party Tom was making his way around saying hello to almost everyone. He desperately needed to find his son. Tom’s and Parker’s relationship was interesting to say the least. As babies and toddlers Tom was there. He loved his kids so much but as they grew older they only noticed the times he wasn’t there. Only the missed recitals and football games, never all times that had dinner as a family and he tucked them in to bed at night. Parker is closer to his mother and his twin sister. Never really having that man to man talk with his dad yet. The time when fathers stop seeing their sons as boys and look at them as men. Tom approached Parker sitting there with his a drink in his hand, he hoped was a watered down Pepsi.

“Hey Parker, did your mom talk to you already?” Tom asked, not trying to raise too many questions.

“No, she might have mentioned something,” Parker responded.

“Ok, well after cake meet me in my office.” Parker nodded in response and noticed how he tensed a little at the conversation.

Their chat quickly ended when Harrison and his 16 year old son Henry came to wish happy birthday. Harrison is Tom’s right hand man, his consigliere and his best friend. He was more than that, Harrison was family. Harrison’s son, Henry was best friends with Parker and Rosie, ever since birth.

“Hey mate,” Tom said to his best friend Harrison.

“Hey, just came to wish this guy “happy birthday”” he said patting Parker’s shoulder.

“Happy birthday, dude” Henry said to Parker and he returned with subtle “thank you’s.” Parker slightly nodded to his dad to see if he could leave the conversation and Tom let him know it was ok.

“Come on, let’s go,” Parker exclaimed making his way to den where his other friends were.

Harrison was the first to speak up, “Have you told him yet?”

“No, Y/N and I are going to do it tonight” Tom uttered with a low toned voice.

“Geez, do you need me there?” Harrison asked, afraid Tom might say yes. Harrison was there when Tom went through the same process with his dad. Tom’s anger issues didn’t help the outcome.

“I think I’m alright, just family. Not that I don’t consider you family but I don’t even know if Rosie should be there.” Tom justified.

“It’s alright mate, I get it.”

They were both enjoying their night, making their rounds, Tom and Harrison went to get drinks, not beer this time but a scotch on the rocks as this was a classy night. Everything was dandy up until one of Tom’s men, William, came up to him informing Tom of a problem.

“Sir we have a problem,” William whispered to Tom, Tom nodded for them to follow them to his office.

“William, what now? Can’t you see I’m enjoying the party?” Tom exclaimed, closing the doors to his office.

“Sir, Daniel, was found dead at his post outside, shot by a tranquilizer gun, with a note taped to his chest, it’s for you.” William announced and handed the paper to the most important and dangerous man of the mob, his boss.

“What the fuck?” A long silence stayed in the air while Tom processed the news. Awkwardness had filled the entire room as they all awaited Tom’s response.

“For fucks sake, you need at least 3 guards posted outside. NOW!” He screamed as his anger continued to rise as read the note.

“Yes, Sir.” William said promptly.

“God forbid anything else happen tonight, but my wife and kids are the first ones to be escorted to safe house. Understood?” Tom explained as he only was only thinking about his family in that moment.

“Yes, Sir.” William said and quickly ran out before he could get the brunt of Tom’s upcoming outburst. Right on cue, Tom threw a glass ashtray at the wall, it shattering into shards.

“Calm down mate, what did the note even say.” Harrison asked with a worrisome look on his face. Tom showed Harrison the joy and his smile faded immediately. Tom for the first time, in a while, felt fear because he knew he had everything to lose.

Not wanting to deal with the life long headache that is his life. He looked for solace in, you, his wife as he spotted her over by the fireplace and made his way over to you.

“Have told you look stunning tonight?” He said instantly falling in love with you over again.

“Several times actually,” you said.

“Well I can’t help what you do to me, gorgeous.” He said placing a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, have you had the talk with him yet?” You said pointing a finger at your son getting very intimate with some girl.

The girl was Charlotte Owens. Parker and her had been together for almost a year, but you and Tom hadn’t met her formally yet. Your son was very tight-lipped the it came to his private life. She was tall, fair and had platinum blonde hair along with piercing blue eyes. Rosie didn’t seem to like her very much, constantly annoyed by her popularity status and reputation, used to be known for being with a new guy every couple weeks and don’t put it past Rosie to not give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No, remember we’re going to do it tonight. Is something wrong?” He said with concern, worried why you would forget something so important.

“No, not that talk, silly, “The talk”,” you responded. His lips formed an “o” shaped as he realized he would have to teach his son about how to be safe during sex.

“Oh, no. I’ve been avoiding it for as long as possible.”

“Why baby, you’re so good at it. You could give him a few a pointers.” You said, winking at him.

“Wow, love, you surprise me everyday. Speaking of beautiful girls, where’s Rosie. I’ve haven’t seen her all night,” Tom quickly trying to change the subject as they were at a party.

“I saw her a few minutes ago,” you said as a puzzled look grew on her face.

“Come on, let’s go find her and maybe you and I can sneak off for awhile.” He said cheekily.

“Tommy,” you whispered but eventually agreed. Slowly making your way out of the main ballroom to the secret garden next to his office.

Walking very slyly, you both made your way to secret spot near Tom’s office. Where ivy had grown throughout the brick and purple and yellow tulips lined the fence along with giant trees. There was a little wishing fountain that Tom had installed when you moved in, this was their secret spot. One where they could forget about all the violence and responsibility that tainted their lives.

Their intimate moment was ruined when Rosie walked by with some random guy named Connor, not the person she’d hope to bring there. All throughout the night Rosie seemed to be jealous of the attention her crush was getting at the party as he didn’t pay attention to her. Thus, she went find a distraction of her own.

“Oh hey, shh, look two people getting it on over there,” he whispered to her as she dragged him outside.

“Please don’t be my brother.” She murmured but felt like she wanted to throw up when she saw who it was.

“Mom, dad?” Rosie screamed.

“Oh shit, we’ve been busted,” Tom muttered against your neck.

“Hey honey,” You said while Rosie was completely mortified. Rosie’s potential hookup stood there mouth wide open.

“That’s your mum, god, she’s a babe.” Connor said.

“Connor, not helping.” Rosie exclaimed sternly as she pinched his side.

Tom spoke up, “Why don’t you guys go back and enjoy the rest of the party.”

Rosie just nodded and left as fast as humanly possible. She never wants to be that embarrassed again.

“Oh my god, we were gonna get it later.” You said.

“I know, we really screwed up this time. But have you had “the talk” with her yet,” Tom asked.

“Nope, we should both really get on that. What would I’ve happened if they hadn’t caught us?” You asked jokingly.

“I don’t want to think about that Y/N! She’s our daughter.” Tom exclaimed.

“Neither do I.”

“Enough of this, where were we?” Tom interjected immediately changing the subject.

“Well you lips were on my neck and you hand was on my waist, but I think the moment has passed and we should get back to the party,” you said rather seductively.

“Fine, I know you’re right. But fuck, I just want to make out with my wife,” Tom muttered frustratingly.

“Well you can later... in bed.” Winking as you chuckled.

“Man, that kid was right, you are a babe.”he said as he slapped your ass as you walked in front of him chuckling.

“Is it time for cake?” Harrison asks as he came up to Tom and you.

“I think it is.” Tom said and you nodded. Walking towards Rosie, who was desperately trying to erase her self from existence because of the embarrassment she’d experienced a minute ago.

“Hi, honey. Can you please go find your brother? We are going to cut the cake.” You said trying not to accidentally bring up the elephant in the room.

“Alright, fine,” Rosie muttered still a little peeved finding you and Tom like that. Rosie searched high and low for Parker.

Needing some assistance she asked Henry. “Hey, have you seen my brother?”

“Last I saw he was taking Charlotte to the green house” Henry responded.

“Alright, come on, let’s go find them” Rosie said rolling her eyes. Her hand slipped into Henry’s as she led the way. Making their way through the vast yet gorgeous yard. Rosie and Henry found Parker and Charlottes lips entangled together and bodies in a compromising position in the green house

“For fucks sake, how many people am I going to find sucking face at this party.” Rosie yelled, startling Charlotte and Parker.

“What the fuck do you want, Rosie? Can’t you see I’m busy.” Parker quipped annoyingly.

“Mom and dad want to cut the cake” Rosie responded.

“Ugh fine. Give us 10 mins” knowing he will be finished in that time.

“No, you can fuck your bimbo of a girlfriend later.” Rosie said, receiving a grimace from Charlotte.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that! Fuck off!” Parker yelled as Henry and Rosie left. Both of the kids had inherited Tom’s angry side.

“Well, you can explain to mom and dad you were late because you were balls deep in in your whore,” Rosie said walking away.

The moments leading up to the end of Parker’s innocence were fleeting. In more ways than one. He wasn’t a virgin even before that evening but, Parker could imagine the task he was supposed to accomplish. The 3 tier chocolate raspberry ganache cake had been cut and distributed to the guests. Happy birthday had been sung to Rosie and Parker. Parker tried to go off with Charlotte again, but Harrison stopped him and brought him to the Tom’s office.

“They’re in there,” Harrison whispered.

“Who?” Parker asked Harrison who was like his uncle.

“Just go,” Parker opened the door to see his mother and his dad sat behind the desk. The door shut behind him.

“Mom? Dad? What’s going on here?” Parker hesitated.

“Son, sit down,” Tom said, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy.

“We have to talk to you.” You interjected.

“Parker, as part of this family, there are certain responsibilities you have to take. It is a tradition in our family that at the age of 16, the sons are brought to light about the dealings of our family and what is expected of you,” Tom said as Parker grew wary. Not really understanding what his parents were trying to convey.

Throughout his entire life, he had his suspicions about his family. Wondering why men followed them everywhere, even on trips to the store for eggs. Why his parents went to work but have never seen their office, only heard it referred to as “the warehouse.” Why everything was always so damm secretive. Scared if he accidentally let some enormous family secret slip with his big mouth there would be repercussions. Never not scared of the harm that could come to his family.

“Your father, is the leader of a very powerful mob. I am part of it too, not just as wife but as his partner. There will be day when he will longer be in position of boss and you will take over,” you asserted playing off of Tom’s words.

“Our family is not only the owners of one of the world’s richest exporting company, we also do business with casinos and own multiple hotel chains. Sometimes our work brings us above the law, but the connections we have are what keep us alive.” Tom explained trying to preserve his son’s innocence.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Parker stuttered.

“Because it is time. Time for you to step up and take your place in this family. You’ve had 16 years of juvenile fun and now this is what has to be done.” Tom concluded.

“What if I don’t want this life. You don’t think I don’t know what happens behind closed doors here. All the times dad has come home with a black eye or blood on his knuckles. Why fuck isn’t Rosie here? She is the same age as me, WE ARE TWINS! Why am I the only one who has to do this. I don’t want to kill for sport like you and mom!” Parker screamed. He couldn’t handle this anymore. There was too much information he had to process.

“Do not raise your voice at your mother! Tom screamed.

“Dad, I had dreams and hopes. I wanted to go to college and travel. Find a nice girl and marry her. Experience the kind of love you and mom have. What you are asking me to do, flushes all that away. You are asking me to give up on my life.

So that’s it, I don’t have a choice,” Parker begged.

“Baby, you have a choice. Nothing is set in stone,” you said rubbing his arm.

“Y/N, you damm well know what will happen if he turns this down,” Tom yelled.

“Maybe this life works for you two, but I don’t want this kind of life. My answer is no. Find someone else.”

“Parker, you know I can’t do that. Take a couple days and think about it” Tom answered trying to stay calm.

“NO DAD! My answer is final, I’m not going to be your apprentice to carry on this heinous family legacy!” Parker exploded. It was too much.

“If you aren’t willing to do what is asked of you, then you can forget about being in this family!” Tom screamed. He did exactly what he said he wouldn’t, he gave his son an ultimatum. Parker couldn’t handle it anymore and left. Needing to forget about the fact he no longer had a say. He was stuck.

It was just Tom and you sitting in the study. They couldn’t understand where the conversation had gone. All their hopes for tonight went out the window along with potted plant Tom threw when Parker stormed out.

“Tom, you can’t force him. You can’t do what your father did to you to him.” You tried to say in a loving tone but it came out as stern.

“IM NOT, Y/N!!!” Tom screamed. He had fucked up. The words spoken tonight have rewritten his relationship with his son.

“Alright.” You whispered trying to calm your fuming husband down.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice, baby.” Tom’s tone immediately changed once he heard the softness of your voice. You just nodded in response

“Tommy?” You asked hoping Tom was now ok.

“Yes, love” Tom said.

“He’ll come around. I can promise you that.”

“I know, darling. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?” a look of confusion grew on your face.

He handed you a paper, the same one that was found on Daniel’s body, saying “Eclipsing of the Hollands. Let the show begin. Better watch your back.”

It was threat. A play to eventually be made on his life or the life of his family and you all had no idea who was behind it.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Dad!Mob!Tom Holland #Mob!Tom #mobster #Mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x reader

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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

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countdown (f.w.)

prompt: a new year on the horizon. new plans, new start, new love? maybe for some, but fred weasley is absolutely hung up on the girl he’s fancied since he graduated from hogwarts years ago.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

warnings: drinking and just some cute fred fluff!

word count: 5.5k

a/n: honestly, the timeline of this is whenever fred and george graduated from hogwarts, but also the golden trio?? but also i don't know?? amuse me and pretend like you know what’s going on because i sure dont LMAOOOO anyway here’s wonderwall...

The Burrow was at max capacity, housing not only the majority of the Weasley family, but Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and you, of course. It was holiday break for Hogwarts and Molly insisted on having over all of Ronald’s friends as well as friends from Fred and George’s time at Hogwarts. The gesture was more than kind, but it did make for tight quarters having four more extra guests in the house. However, the Weasley’s always found a way to make things work; Hermione stayed with Ginny in her room, Harry in Ron’s room, while you delightfully stayed in Bill and Charlie’s vacant room. It was a full house to say the least. And a full house meant lots of hustle and bustle.

Today was a rather special day, more so to Hermione than anyone else. It was New Year’s Eve. The most exciting of all holidays according to the young witch Granger. The holiday was celebrated in the Weasley household, but Hermione insisted that there should be a large celebration this year. Lots of lights, fun games, and the suggestion of a fire works show peaked Fred and George’s interest a lot more...

You weren’t going to lie. It all sounded fun to you. The only thing that made your heart skip a beat was the proposal of the New Year’s kiss. “It’s a tradition that you have to kiss someone when the clock strikes midnight. It supposed to be for good luck and happiness in the new year,” Hermione beamed on the couch, a blushing Ronald Weasley next to her. “I mean, I’ve never had a new year’s kiss, but maybe this year things may change...” she trails off, side-eyeing Ron as he shifts in his seat, uncomfortable about all of the eyes on him.

A new year’s kiss. How was this supposed to play out? Ron would surely kiss Hermione, Harry would kiss Ginny, and you? You were friends with Fred and George. Simply friends. Nothing more, nothing less. You became fast friends when you were at Hogwarts and kept in touch after your graduation, but nothing ever blossomed romantically from those friendships (unfortunately).

Although you were mates, Fred Weasley always did something to you. You knew he had the reputation of being the boy who played around with girls until he was done and you knew he had a history of romance with your close friend, Alicia, but still your feelings for him remained no matter how many signs pointed to no. Fred was quite the catch; charming, funny, handsome, witty, and clever. He was nothing short of what you wanted. But you told yourself constantly whilst in school with him, “If he wanted to, he would have.” Since Fred never made a move on you in school, you decided for the both of you that a relationship or any kind of romance wasn’t in the cards for you. Your relationship was strictly platonic much to your dismay.

However, you weren’t going to let the thought of you not having someone to kiss on New Year’s get you down. The celebration would be fun. You had good company, good food, and you were certain the twins had something fun up their sleeves.

New Year’s Eve rolled around quickly and preparations for nightfall were beginning. Hermione hung up shimmery gold and silver garland around the house as Ron blew up balloons, face growing red from blowing up so many. Harry tied strings to the balloons, laughing as Ron went red in the face from blowing them up. Ginny helped her mother in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the occasion. Fred and George on the other hand....

“(Y/N)! Could you come out here and give me a hand?” George calls from outside the Burrow as you follow the sound of his voice.

Outside, he stands around a troff of trunks, bags, and suitcases. Most of them labelled fragile or dangerous. Your eyes widen, “Woah, Georgie, where did you get all of this stuff?” you laugh, looking around at the mess of things in front of you.

George beams, “Storage from the joke shoppe. A bunch of this stuff is from overstock that Fred and I have. Lots of fireworks, gizmos, noise makers, etcetera. Fred is back at the shoppe gathering more things. In the meantime, I need you to help me sort through what we are using and what we can get rid of.”

You nod, knowing that you would certainly have your work cut out for you. George flings a trunk open which spurts out bright blue smoke and stinks of something absolutely rotten. The two of you exclaim, blowing away the smoke, coughing at its smell. “George, what exactly are in these boxes? A dead animal? ‘Cause that’s what it smells like,” you cough.

The tall ginger slams the trunk closed and turns to you. “Maybe let’s just work on the fireworks, shall we? Sort them by color and type?” he asks as you nod. “Brilliant. First pile,” he grabs a sack and dumps it on the ground as you two sit on the cold grass, sorting through multiple colored tubes of fireworks, each labelled differently. “So,” George huffs. “You looking forward to tonight?”

“I guess so,” you speak as you create a pile of fireworks labelled Big Ones Be Careful. “A new year. A fresh start. All very exciting I guess.” George laughs at your comment as he sorts other fireworks. “What? What’s so funny? Did I say something?”

George looks at you from under his eyelashes before shaking his head. “(Y/N), dear, I love you so much. But you are quite daft, aren’t you?” His comment makes you fling a firework canister at him as he yelps. “Careful with those! Don’t you see they are labelled Be Careful! Godric, you are daft...”

You groan, “Why am I daft? What’s the name calling for, you fatheaded idiot.”

Your best friend looks up at you. “Okay, first of all that was rude,” he states as you giggle, him soon joining in. “Second of all, you can’t tell me that you’re not excited about the new year and not the new year’s kiss,” he explains. You furrow your brows, confused about what he could be talking about. “(Y/N)...come on, you can’t be that blind.”

“Blind about what? There’s someone in that house that wants to kiss me on New Year’s? You’re out of your bloody mind,” you scoff, standing up to move to another pile of fireworks labelled, Fred--Do Not Touch. You laugh at the label before you sort them into colors.

George mumbles, “Well, he isn’t in that house at the moment.” You flip your head to look at him, knowing he said something facetious. “Losersayswhat.”

“What?” you say.

George laughs, “Hah, works every time.” You groan as you continue to make your way through the pile of fireworks, not wanting to get distracted by George’s side comments. This news of someone wanting to be your new year’s kiss was getting on your nerves. Who else was there? Percy? And Merlin knows that you could not be paid enough galleons to kiss Percy Weasley. “I’m serious, though, (Y/N), you can’t be telling me that you don’t know that Fred hasn’t fancied you since forever ago.”

This comment makes you stop everything you are doing and turn towards George. You let the fireworks fall from your hands as you stare at him in disbelief. “Don’t play with me, George,” you warn him as he holds his hands up in defense. “We have been mates since we were eleven and all of a sudden you tell me that your twin brother, one of my best mates, fancies me?” you slowly encroach onto George.

He rises from his place on the grass and walks to you. “I’m just trying to say that good ol’ Freddie always thought you were cute and he might make a move tonight. That’s all. I’m being my brother’s wingman and your best friend. Can’t I just do that?” he explains calmly.

You grab his arms, shaking him. “You cannot just drop a bomb on me like that and expect me to have a perfectly fine reaction, George!” you exclaim. “Don’t you know that Fred and I are just friends? I told you this multiple times! I told you that my crush on him faded as soon as we graduated from Hogwarts! That’s behind me.”

As you look at George desperately, he grabs onto your shoulders. “And you mean to tell me that you don’t fancy him right now? If Fred Weasley, my brother, came up to you right now and kissed you and told you that he’s fancied you for years, you would reject him?” George asks. Your face softens as you give his comment some thought. George was right. You would kiss Fred back with all your might and confess that you really liked him too and you were waiting for this moment for a while. Your silence explains everything that George needs to know. “Exactly. So when the clock strikes midnight and you see Fred next to you, don’t be a coward,” George teases you before walking back to his station of organizing fireworks.

You are left standing there, still processing what was happening. Fred Weasley was going to kiss you when the clock struck midnight. It was happening. This was really happening. And how romantic it would all be. New Year’s Eve, your first kiss with Fred, in the moonlight underneath a fireworks show. And then it struck you, “Hey George?” He hums in response. “The fireworks show tonight. You and Fred are putting it on still, right?”

“Of course we are. Who else would? Ronald? Could you imagine the disaster that would be?” George laughs at the thought of his childish brother trying to set off fireworks all while balancing himself on his broomstick. “Why do you ask?”

Taking a seat next to George on the grass, you say, “Then how is he supposed to get back down from setting off the fireworks to kiss me at midnight exactly?”

George’s face twists in confusion for a second before thinking out the problem. “Huh,” he speaks. “I mean, I’m not sure, but I’m sure it’s going to happen,” he assures you. “Fred always finds a way. Come on, it’s Fred. When he likes a girl, he likes a girl. And you, (Y/N), my dearest, he likes. I wouldn’t worry yourself sick,” he nudges your arm as you exhale the breath you were holding. “Now come on, we still have much more sorting to do before Fred gets back with even more garbage.”

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

Hours later and you’re in Ginny’s room, getting ready for the party. Hermione brushed through Ginny’s hair as she coated her lashes in mascara. You on the other hand stood in front of multiple skirts, dresses, and tops, struggling to decide what to wear. You groan in frustration as you peel off a glittery gold top of Hermione’s and toss it on the bed gently. “Nothing looks right,” you huff as Hermione turns around.

“I thought that one was lovely on you!” she exclaims as you flop on Ginny’s bed, staring at the ceiling. It may have been lovely, but it was perfect. If tonight was going to go the way George had described, you needed to make sure that you looked outrageous in the best way possible. You wanted Fred counting down the minutes until midnight. “Something’s wrong, I can see it on your face,” Hermione points out as Ginny turns to look at you. “You can tell us if you’d like.”

You offer them both a small smile as you run your fingers over your face and through your hair. “It’s honestly stupid,” you chuckle. “George has, um...informed me...that I might be receiving a new year’s kiss this year...from Fred,” you confide to the girls in a hushed whisper.

You expected both of them to freak out with excitement or exclaim how exciting it was. Instead they looked at you, confused as to why you were just figuring this out now. “Well, yes, we all knew this. Fred’s had a massive crush on you for years,” Ginny simply states before sailing back into the mirror, reapplying her mascara.

Mouth agape, you exclaim, “Does everyone know about this and not me?!”

Hermione sadly shakes her head, “Even Ron knew about it. And that’s saying something.” You groan and flop backwards again on the bed in frustration. How come everyone knew about this and you didn’t? How come you had to surprise and hide your feelings for Fred for years when in reality he felt the same way about you all this time? “Well, we didn’t know for sure if you fancied him too since you were always so adamant that you two were just friends...so that’s good news!” Hermione tries to lighten the mood, unsuccessfully doing so as you still remain on the bed. “Alright, well, enough of that. It’s exciting, (Y/N)! You and Fred’s first kiss!” she sits on the bed next to you. “Now I see why you are so nervous about what to wear. Let’s raid the closet and luggage, shall we?”

You let out a light laugh and sit up, watching Hermione raid Ginny’s closet and your luggage, trying to find something for the occasion. “Hmmm,” she peels back hangers, pulling out pieces before putting them back, sorting through the clothes to find the perfect outfit. Suddenly, something catches her eye in your suitcase. “Oh!” she exclaims as she picks up a white and black plaid mini skirt. “What do we have here,” she laughs as you blush. You had bought that skirt on a whim on a shopping trip with Angelina. The skirt was a little short, but cute nonetheless.

Ginny takes a look at the skirt and chuckles, “Naughty, naughty.” You shake your head and roll your eyes. “I might have the top to go with it,” she speaks, rising from the chair and pulling a black, shimmery, long sleeve cropped shirt. She held it up to the skirt. Perfect match. “I’m not saying that you should dress up for Fred because that’s just gross,” Ginny states as you laugh with Hermione. “But...you’d look hot as hell with this on.”

You get up from the bed and huff, “You two are trouble.” The girls laugh as you begin to change, trying on the clothes to see how it looked.

As you straightened out the shirt and skirt, you looked in the mirror in front of you, Hermione and Ginny hovering over your shoulders. It was perfect. The top hugged your feminine figure perfectly and the skirt hung from your hips like a dream, falling just above mid thigh under your bum. The material of the top glittered in the light as you twirled in the mirror. It wasn’t too much, it wasn’t too little. It was simply perfect. “If you don’t wear that, I am,” Ginny speaks as you laugh. “You look incredible.”

“Breathtaking,” Hermione adds. “If Fred doesn’t kiss you tonight, damn it, we will.”

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

Another few hours pass before the sun sets and the music starts. It was 9pm and the festivities were just beginning. Everyone was dancing, drinking, and laughing in the living room, celebrating the holiday. Slowly, you, Hermione, and Ginny all joined the party, earning a few stares from the boys. “Nicely done, ladies!” Ron smiles as Hermione rolls her eyes. “You all look lovely,” he retaliates as he looks at his friends, eyes landing on Hermione. “You look lovely,” he repeats quietly to Hermione as she blushes, holding onto the skirt of her pale blue dress.

Ginny pays no attention to Harry’s gawking eyes as she passes him, wearing tight black jeans and a silver cowl neck top. Ginny had every intention of making Harry a murmuring mess. And it was working.

You on the other hand, poured yourself some punch (that the twins had most definitely spiked) and happily stood around your friends. But you couldn’t help yourself wanting to look at Fred. There he stood in the middle of the living room, blue jeans and a navy blue thermal t-shirt. He was dressed simply and plain, but Merlin, he looked good. You let yourself sneak a peak at him, but you catch his eyes. You stand there frozen as he smiles as you cheekily. “Nice skirt,” he compliment.

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. “Thanks,” you simply state as George just smiles and sips his punch. Clearing your throat, you start, “Alright, we got three hours to kill. What’s on the agenda?”

Hermione shoots up, “Yes! Okay, so I thought to start we could play Never Have I Ever that way it’ll loosen us all up and we can make it a drinking game if we want.”

“Hermione Granger suggesting a drinking game? New year, new Hermione,” Ron laughs as Hermione rolls her eyes. “Sounds good to me. Everyone circle up.”

Everyone sits on the floor in the living room around the small coffee table, drinks in hand. You were sandwiched between Ginny and Hermione, clutching onto your cup, mind racing a thousand miles a minute. You could feel Fred’s eyes on you but you didn’t want to look at him. It felt like you had a dirty secret when clearly his plans were not a secret to anyone except you.

Harry begins in the game, “Never have I ever broken someone’s arm in a game of quidditch.” Everyone laughs and looks at Ginny and Fred as they roll their eyes.

You remember during one of Fred’s games when Gryffindor played Slytherin, Fred knocked someone clear off their broom and they fell on their arm, a clean break. You remember Fred proudly walking the halls, knowing that he broke that poor bloke’s arm. Even though it got him suspended from the game, Gryffindor still won the match. Many people thought that Fred’s move was unfair or stupid of him, but when you watched it happen, you couldn’t help but think about how attractive Fred looked as he flexed his muscles and literally threw the Slytherin player off of his broom.

Ginny sips her drink and then says, “That was completely targeted, Harry.”

Harry shrugs, “No rules to the game. I say we can be as blunt as possible.”

Everyone looks around at the group as you just sip from your cup, needs the effects of the alcohol to give you a confidence boost. Was it hot in here? George claps his hands as Fred oooohs, making you sweat. “Alright, Potter, now he’s playing with the big boys,” George pats Harry’s back.

“It’s all fun and games now,” Ron laughs. “You’re up, George.”

George rubs his hands together, concocting a statement as your heart races. George was going to be ruthless you knew it. There was so much he could say right now that could make you embarrassed. George was your best friend, he had so much dirt on you. Especially after today. Finally, he was struck with an idea and your heart sank. “Never have I ever had an intricate plan to kiss a girl I’ve fancied since fourth year on New Year’s Eve,” George simply sates.

As soon as the words fall out of his mouth, Fred’s cheeks turn bright crimson red and you almost spit out your drink. You cough a little bit as Ginny and Ron laugh wildly at their older brother, George smugly sitting there, watching the mess he created unfold.

Fred glares at his brother and shakes his head. Slowly, Fred grabs the cup and takes a long sip from it as your heart races. This just got very real. “You’ve made a grave mistake, brother,” Fred states as George laughs. “Grave.”

You uncomfortably shift in your seat as Fred looks at you from across the table a little smirk on his face. Without anyone seeing, he drops his left eye into a wink and then goes back to the conversation. Your heart skips a beat and your face turns beet red. Tonight was going to be a night to remember for sure.

----------

Time flew by and it was a quarter to midnight. The twins had evacuated the house and ran to the backyard to get the fireworks ready. “We’ve got it all settled, not to worry!” Fred called out when Molly expressed her concern for the boys’ safety.

The twins darted into the backyard, laughing happily as they jumped on their brooms and set off into the sky. The rest of you made your way into the backyard slowly as your race was beating a mile a minute. The time was approaching. Fred was going to kiss you in ten minutes. It was all happening so fast, you couldn’t keep up.

“Ready?” you feel Hermione’s hands on your shoulders as you roll your eyes, running your fingers through your hair. “It’ll be great, I just know it.”

You give her a hopeful smile as you stand next to her the backyard, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep you warm from the brisk January air. “I still don’t understand how Fred’s going to pull it off. Going from the fireworks in time to come down here and kiss me? I don’t know,” you ponder.

Hermione smiles, “It’s Fred. He finds a way.”

You nodded your head, smiling. She was right. Fred would find a way. He always did.

Disrupting the silence, Ron speaks, “A minute and thirty seconds, everyone!”

Hermione gasps in excitement. “Already? Alright everyone! Get ready we’re going to start the countdown soon!”

Your heart is still racing as you look around you and up into the sky. No sight of Fred or George. Where were they and what were they doing? “Don’t over think it,” you whisper to yourself as you look around at your friends. Everyone stood around, looking up at the sky, waiting.

And then, “In 10! 9! 8!” Hermione starts counting down.

“7!”

Your heart is pounding against your chest, you feel like your heart is going to leap out.

“6!”

Your mind is reeling and racing with so many thoughts. You are in overdrive.

“5!”

Was Fred going to kiss you? Or was this some sort of sick prank that he and George were in on?

“4!”

Where in the bloody hell was Fred? He had four seconds!

“3!”

Your mouth goes dry.

“2!”

Ron looks at Hermione, Harry to Ginny. It was happening. And Fred was nowhere to be found.

“1!”

Times up.

“Happy New Year!”

And with that, bursts of multicolored lights erupted in the sky, popping and blasting off. It was so bright and colorful, starting off the new year in a decorative display. As you watched the fireworks, you turned around and saw the couples all in each others arms, sharing sweet kisses as the fireworks went off in the background. And you stood there, no Fred. No George. No one.

Your heart sank into your stomach as you realize what was happening. Fred wasn’t coming to kiss you. Not now. It was too late. You both missed your chance. Did George make this up? Was everyone in on it? Did Hermione lie to you? They wouldn’t dare toy with your emotions like that. Or would they?

Instead of dwelling on the questions, you just stared up at the sky, small tears welling in your eyes, but you quickly swallowed them away, feigning happiness. “Happy New Year to me,” you whisper to yourself.

The fireworks blast off in shades of red, blue, green, and orange, illuminating the sky with such joy. You had to admit, Fred and George knew what they were doing when it came to things like this. No matter how much you wanted to scream at the two of them, Fred especially, you kept it in. You were supposed to be happy right now.

As the couples pull away from their embraces, you feel eyes on you in excited anticipation, hoping to see Fred holding you and kissing you. But instead, they see you, looking up at the sky alone. “What?” Hermione whispers. She starts to walk over to you, but Ron stops her.

“Give her a second,” he speaks. “Maybe Fred will come down in a second.”

The couples return their gaze to the sky, but the fireworks don’t stop. They keep coming. Which meant Fred had no intention of coming down anytime soon.

You know that your friends are looking at you, but you refuse to look at them, far too embarrassed. Fred made a fool of you tonight. And that was something you weren’t going to forget.

Slowly, the fireworks stop as you sigh. “What a show,” you try to lighten the mood as Hermione stares at you sadly. You couldn’t look at her she just made you feel bad. “Happy New Year!” you smile to your friends.

Ron is the first one to embrace you, picking you up and spinning you around as you giggle. He always did know how to make you feel a bit better. You held onto him tight as he spun you around. Slowly, he placed you back on the ground. “Happy New Year,” Ron whispered in your ear as he squeezed you. “My brother has always been a moron, no need to worry.”

He pulls away and gives you a smile and a wink. You just shake your head knowingly and shrug. “It is what it is. My resolution is that I’m going into this year with no expectations at all. Even if someone tells me something, I’m not going to expect it. I’d rather be surprised,” you sigh as Hermione hugs you tight.

You walk inside, arm in arm with Hermione, small chatter entering the Burrow as you walk in together. “Are we going to stay up a bit more a play another game?” Ginny asks.

“You all can, but I’m actually quite tired. I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you tell the group as they all protest, wanting you to stay. “I know, I’m a party pooper, but I am. I’m usually not up this late,” you lie through your teeth, knowing damn well you were up until sunrise yesterday with Fred and George talking about the shoppe and the future for it. “Goodnight, everyone. Happy New Year.”

The group watches you as you ascend the steps to the room you were staying in before they all look at each other, disappointed in tonight’s events. Before anyone can say anything, Fred and George come bumbling through the door, laughing and holding onto each other. “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” George laughs. “The fireworks looked insane from up there! How did they look down here?”

Everyone just stares and doesn’t say a thing. “Geez, tough crowd,” Fred laughs before Ron slaps him upside the head. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

Ron scoffs, “Didn’t you forget something? You proper git!”

Fred looks at his younger brother confused. “I didn’t forget a thing! I mean I wished I could see what it looked like from down here, but oh well...anyway, whose up for a game?” Fred asks as everyone looks baffled. “What? You guys look like you saw a ghost. And where’s (Y/N)? She’s missing.”

And that’s when it hits him.

George is just as shocked as everyone else, covering his hand with his mouth.

“Oh, bloody hell...” Fred trails off. “I planned a whole fireworks show for the girl and I forgot to come back down to bloody kiss her.” Everyone just shakes their head and disperses throughout the house, Ginny and Hermione disappearing into Ginny’s room, Ron and Harry trudging up the stairs. “Wait, wait, where did she go? I need to explain what happened to her.”

Ginny groans, “If you had just stuck to your plan like before and not got distracted by the shiny lights, you wouldn’t have to explain anything to her!” This just makes Fred feel worse as he should. He made a promise and convinced everyone to tell his crush about it only to not follow through. “She’s back in her room. You better have a good explanation for all of this.”

Meanwhile, you stood in the bathroom, brushing your teeth in your pajamas shorts and jumper, getting ready for bed. Your glasses hung on the bridge of your nose as you stared at yourself, disappointed in how the night unfolded. Tonight was supposed to be special, but it ended up extremely ordinary. But this is what you should have expected.

You spat the toothpaste in the sink as you stared in the mirror. Huffing, you shake your head, “He’s just a boy.” That’s all Fred Weasley was. A dumb boy. A dumb idiot boy. A cute, funny, sensitive, witty, charming, flirtatious dumb idiot git moron boy. You groan, knowing that the feelings you have for Fred were stronger than ever at this point after the hype of today. “Why me, Fred Weasley?” you groan. “Why me.”

Swinging the bathroom door open, you step outside, unknowingly bumping into someone. “Oh,” you look up and there he was. The culprit. The man of the hour. Fred. “Oh.”

“Can we talk?” he asks as you just stare at him.

He looked at you with such guilt in his eyes, it was palpable. His face turned downward, feeling so stupid in this moment. He disappointed the girl he cared for most since they were children in school. It was embarrassing for him more so than you.

You snapped back into reality and simply said, “Talk about what, Fred?”

With that, you made your way down the hall to the room you were staying in as Fred followed you. “Oh, don’t play this game, (Y/N). We both know exactly what this is about and I just want to apologize,” Fred pleads as you enter the room quickly, attempting to shut the door on him, but he stick his foot in the doorway. “Not so fast, tiger. I need to talk to you.”

“And I need to go to bed. It’s late,” you reply, but Fred forces himself inside the room as you groan. “Fred, it’s not a big deal. All is forgiven. Blah, blah. I’ll see you in the morning. Go on,” you shoo him away.

Fred grabs your arms, “No, it’s not alright. (Y/N), what I did was wrong and no one should ever leave someone alone like that after I promised you, and everyone else did, that I would come down and kiss you. I got caught up being an idiot with my brother and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for the night to go like this for either of us. I wanted it to be special.”

Fred’s words make your heart flutter, but you don’t let your heart get in the way of this situation. “You made me look like a fool,” you cooly speak, maintaining direct eye contact with Fred.

“And I feel like a crap person because of it. I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” Fred grabs your hands as you huff. “I’m sure George already flapped his big mouth about it, but I’ve fancied you since we were in fourth year and you sneaked into George and I’s dormitory to tell ghost stories to Lee. I thought you were the coolest girl I had ever met. I still do. And when we graduated, you were so ready to help George and I start the joke shoppe and help us get on our feet. You have been so supportive and loving and kind to me. And I want you to know that I think you are the most incredible woman I have ever met. You’re smart, kind, generous, and good Godric, you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” he sighs as you blush gently. “I wanted tonight to be a memory that we could have forever. Because I care for you so much, (Y/N). I wanted to do it so badly. And I still do.”

Your heart is racing again and you feel your mouth run dry again. But you muster up enough confidence to say, “Do what, Weasley?”

A small smirk appears on your lips as Fred lightly chuckles, “Cheeky.”

He wastes no more time, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close and dipping his head down to connect your lips in a gentle kiss. His lips are warm and taste of cinnamon. You sigh into his touch and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Fred smiles into your kiss as he holds onto you tight, not wanting to let go. He missed his chance once tonight. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

Gently, you pull away and look at Fred who is smiling from ear to ear. “Worth the wait?” Fred jokes as you roll your eyes, him kissing your lips again swiftly.

“Well worth the wait. Only four years late,” you tease him as he laughs. “Happy New Year, Freddie.”

“Happy New Year, darling.”

#Fred and George #fred weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasley smut imagine #fred weasley fluff #Harry Potter #HP #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut

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jj-5656 · 4 years ago

Text

Insufferable

With; Newt

A/N: This is an addiction at this point. I seriously cry every other day abt this man. I just want to say thanks to anyone who likes or comments on my work. And those who reblog AND comment? You inspire me to keep writing so big thanks to you. Special s/o to @jenny33996 for yet another prompt idea. Enjoy!

You hum softly as you work, fingertips intricately pressing down on the soil of your newly-planted tomatoes. The sun beats down on you and the other track-hoes without mercy, and it’s taken some time to get accustomed to the humidity of the glade. Despite the muggy weather, you’re completely focused on the task at hand. Making sure to remain gentle with each plant you come across.

“Love, you know the plants can’t actually hear you?” You roll your eyes at Newts remark, shaking your head knowingly as you observe his rough workings against the greenery surrounding you.

“They can actually. Studies have shown the emissions of carbon dioxide and the vibrations from talking or singing can promote efficient growth in plants.”

“Is all your free time spent researching then?”

“Precisely, and it’s the only reason the rest of you shanks don’t get a scolding from Alby. I practically carry the track-hoes!” You argue dramatically, laughing when Zart nods in agreement.

“Good that.” Zart comments idly, not noticing Newts offended expression as he lets down his rake.

“Since you two shanks like to talk so much, maybe you won’t mind working an extra ten minutes on turning the soil?” It comes out as more of an order than a question, and the two of you give a silent nod and the keeper walks off with the rest of the track-hoes.

“You’re bloody humming’s got us an extra ten on the garden, shank.” Newt chucks a cherry tomato at you as he speaks, chuckling when you toss it back to him.

“It was actually your bloody jokes, that aren’t funny might I add.” You mock his accent dramatically, smirking when his eyebrows raise in bewilderment.

“Your accent is insufferable.”

“So is yours.” The two of you laugh harder at your lighthearted bickering, getting up from your kneeling positions to pick up the discarded tools in order to tend to the soil. As Newt takes a step towards you, he trips over a stray vine. Each of you letting out a Yelp in surprise when he practically tackles you to the ground. He’s smart enough to roll over to break your fall, but you still feel a sharp pain on the side of your head when it comes in contact with one of the shovels.

“Shuck, are you that clumsy slinthead?” You mutter in annoyance as you rub your temple.

“Sorry.” Newt can only get one word out before the two of you start giggling again, only ceasing when you realize his hands are still secured around your waist. Not to mention you’re practically sprawled out on top of him, and can even smell the combined scent of mint and some type of wood coming off of him. Suddenly, the eye contact and the heavy breathing aren’t as funny as they were before.

She’s close, really close. Close enough for Newt to feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, and her breath mingling with his. He could move his head just a few inches more, and actually kiss her. But he can’t, right? Not when she’s practically his best friend, and the one of the only people he can truly trust. She’s means too much to him for him to jeopardize their relationship. But she’s just so....impossibly close. Maybe if he just-

“Earth to Newt? My head, i-it really hurts.” She mutters softly, cringing in pain when she rises to get off of him. It’s only when he lifts her completely off of him that he realizes how sickly she suddenly looks. Sweat beading on her skin as she takes heavier breaths and-oh shuck

“What? What is it?” You question worriedly, realizing the sensation of hot water running down the side of your head. You go to rub it off, only to see your palm covered in thick red blood.

“Y-you’re bleeding.” Newt responds dumbly, eyes wide with concern and shock as he discards his shirt from his torso.

“No shuck.” Even with how lightheaded you are, you manage to make a snarky remark at the blonde in front of you. Wincing when he presses the bunched up fabric to your head. If your brain didn’t feel as if it were being stapled to your skull, you think you might’ve taken the opportunity to admire his muscled arms.

“You need to go to the med-jack, right now. Can you stand?” His demeanor is calm now, but you can tell laced within his tone is deep worry.

“Yeah, I think so.” You nod softly, cringing at the dizziness the action creates. Newt grabs at your arms to hoist you up, and you stumble with a groan at the sudden movements.

“Shuck, sorry.” Is all you hear before the ringing begins. And you know it can only get worse from there when little black dots begin to cloud your vision. Your legs feels as if they have no bone supporting the tissue, and it takes all your focus to attempt to stand. There’s shouting in the distance, or maybe from right beside you. It’s hard to tell with all this damn ringing...Did the world always feel this spinny? The last you see is the brilliant, shining sun before everything goes black.

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

When you come to, the ringing has finally stopped. It takes you a moment to recognize your surroundings, especially since the lighting is so dim in the room. There’s shouting, but you can’t seem to decipher the voices just yet. Still, you silently pray for the arguing to stop so the raging headache will cease.

“How could you let this happen? How careless could you possibly be Newt?”

“That’s enough Minho, it was an accident. He feels bad enough.”

“Yeah, and you know we can’t afford accidents Alby. Because you know what happens? People die!”

“I said that’s enough. I know damn well what goes on around here. Now slim it.” The voice is stern, but remains tranquil as anger laces each word. Alby

“Jesus shuck, stop talking.” You croak weakly, voice unbearably hoarse from however long you’ve been out. You try to swallow some saliva, and hum weakly when a cup of water meets your lips.

“If you guys are going to argue, I suggest you do it elsewhere. It’s bad enough she’s lost consciousness after a head injury. Right now, she needs as little stimulation as possible.” Clint informs strictly as he readjusts the bandage on your forehead. “If you’re going to stay in here, you all need to slim it.” You follow Clint with your eyes as he walks towards the supply stable, noticing Alby and Minho stood glaring at each other in the doorway. Newt sits in a chair beside Alby, hand rubbing over his mouth in thought as he studies you intently. Only averting his eyes when you meet his gaze.

“Do you know your name?” Clint speaks gently beside you, finger moving in front of your eyes in a silent order for them to follow it.

“Y/n.”

“What about where you are?”

“The med hut, in the glade.”

“Good, and who’s that over there?”

“Minho and Alby. The blonde shank is Newt.” You joke half halfheartedly, wanting more than anything than to see the boy smile. He doesn’t make a move or attempt to speak, just meets your eyes with an unreadable expression.

“Very good. Y’know how you got in here?” You nod, but Clint raises his brows to have you elaborate. “We were working in the garden, and I fell.” You look over when Minho lets out a huff before shaking his head.

“It seems to me like she fainted from the loss of blood. It could have been shock or anxiety, because I’m not noticing signs of significant head trauma. No memory loss, nausea, or lack of reflexes as of yet. Just to be sure though, I want her here for the next week so I can monitor her. I don’t want to take a head injury lightly.” Clint informs without looking up from his reflex-test on you. The boys look to each other briefly and nod in understanding.

“I need to cool off, you’ll be okay?” Minho asks abruptly, voice much quieter this time. He rubs his thumb gently over the bandage as you offer him a weak smile.

“Minho, I’ll be fine.” He gives a curt nod before attempting to back away to leave, but you grab his wrist and pull him to you once more. “Please don’t be so hard on him. He didn’t mean it.” Minho considers your words for a moment, before looking between you and Newt. He gives another nod before parting your hand and leaving the room, still a bit frustrated. As much as he hates to admit it, or to let the other boys see, he really cares about you. You smile to yourself at the thought, strong and sassy Minho worried sick over someone. It’s heartwarming, but Newt’s pale, solemn expression brings your focus back to the glum energy of the room.

“Hear that? Sounds like you’ll be alright, shank. I’ll let you get some rest for now. And you’re not moving from this bed for a week, you hear? Clint gives the orders in here.” Alby affirms sternly, deep brown eyes the dead giveaway he’s a lot more scared than angry. He squeezes your shoulder gently before making his way out of the med hut. Leaving you and Newt alone when Clint rambles on about needing to grab herbs from Frypan for tea.

“Newt.” Your voice is so soft, you’re not even sure the boy has heard you. “Please, come over here.”

“I-I have to go talk to Minho.” He fumbles lamely, obviously trying to come up with an excuse. It’s all his fault.

The overwhelming guilt and shame has been eating at him for the past hour, wondering whether or not he had just seriously injured the girl he’s head over heels for by tripping over a shucking vine. He let his guard down, something he really only tends to do around you. It’s too dangerous, to love you. Shuck, he loves you. He can only admit it to himself right then, and the the thought that your injury was with him to blame makes his stomach churn. He was so stupid, so careless to think he could even try to be carefree for one second in this shucking hell of a plac-”

“Newt? Hey, don’t spiral on me please.” Your voice is more sad now, pleading with him to come to you. Reluctantly, the blonde walks over to sit on the side of the bed. You grab his hand before he can refuse, and give him that beautiful smile as his thumb absentmindedly moves over your knuckles. “Look at me, you heard Clint. I’m gonna be just fine. It was an accident-”

“That could have gotten you bloody killed.” He interrupts almost instantly, running a hand over his face to contain his composure in order to not raise his voice. “You understand passing out meant you could have not woken up, yeah?” He inquires, looking to you with narrowed eyes as your own drift up to look at the ceiling rather than him.

“But I didn’t.”

“But you bloody could have, and it would have been my fault.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence, and your eyes dart over to meet his, not letting the moisture filling in the corner of them go unnoticed.

“Newt-”

“No. We have lost too many people to start getting stupid now. I-I can’t keep...I can’t keep doing whatever this is with you in good conscious, not after today.”

Your face contorts in confusion at his words, and if you weren’t so weak you’d hit him for being so vague.

“Wh-what? So, you’re just not gonna talk to me anymore because of a shucking mishap?”

“I can’t lose you!” He counters immediately. He doesn’t yell, but his tone is desperate when he tugs his hand from your own. Not understanding he’s doing more damage now than that stupid shovel ever could. “I can’t be sick with worry like that, n-not again. I couldn’t breath when I saw that blood on your face. And I could barely explain what happened to the others. I can’t-I wasn’t able to stay calm when I saw you like that. I wasn’t myself. So, I don’t know if it’s a good idea if we-”

“Slim it. You’re giving me more of a headache than I had before. You’re telling me you want to ignore me forever? Let...Whatever this is-whatever we are, just let it go because you’re scared? I’m scared all the shucking time Newt.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Only because you’re making this so complicated.” You’ve always been stubborn, but Newts still bewildered by your insistence despite your weakened state.

“I’m scared all the time!” He mutters sternly, staring into your eyes as if it’ll somehow translate to you. “I mean, every day I’m scared. But I let my guard down, and you got hurt. I love you too much to hold onto you, can’t you get that through your bloody skull?”

Your eyebrows raise at his words, wondering if he’s actually just admitted it as he rolls his eyes.

“There, you know now. I’m head over shucking heels or whatever. Doesn't bloody matter, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Oh, so just because you’re afraid we don’t get to be together? Believe it or not, this is a two way street. And it’s gonna take a lot more than a shucking shovel for me to stop loving you Newt. And to hate you? Well, that’s impossible.” You lock gazes as you speak, challenging him to look away or continue the argument before he sighs. There’s a long pause before he looks at his feet, shaking his head before replying.

“I’m sorry about what happened. But you need to get better before we can talk about this, alright?” He cups your check and runs his thumb over your jaw as you slightly nod, lips pulling up into a smile when he places a soft kiss to your temple before backing away.

“Will you come read to me later on? We don’t have to talk about...This. I just, I don’t want to be alone all day.” You trail off when you finish, expression brightening when he nods happily.

“Alright, any requests?”

“Maybe you should leave a request in the box for Botany For Dummies. Considering it was my squash vine your shank ass tripped over.”

“Again, you’re insufferable.”

“Don’t get all jacked because my singing actually works.”

“Tell that to my bleeding eardrums.”

“Tell that to the gash on my head!” Newt shoots you a stern look at your teasing, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway.

“Too soon?”

“Slim it already, will you? I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m counting on it.”

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imaginedxlan · 4 years ago

Text

Drivers License (Ron Weasley)

a/n: have y’all HEARD drivers license by olivia rodrigo? sis DRAGGED joshua bassett, as she should have. Any who, I did this type of song based imagine with New Years Day by Taylor Swift and its still one of my absolute favorites I’ve ever written, so here we go

Y/N has cared for her best friend, Ginny Weasley’s, older brother Ron for as long as she can remember, but every time it he shows any sort of affection back, its not long before he moves onto the next girl.

warning(s): I don’t think any, please let me know if I missed any

Part 2

_____________________

I got my driver’s license last week Just like we always talked about 'Cause you were so excited for me To finally drive up to your house

Being muggle born, you always knew one day you would eventually have to get your license. Without the ability to use magic outside of school, driving a car was the second best way to get around. Last week, on the exact day of your sixteenth birthday, you finally passed your drivers test. You were ecstatic, you had been talking about finally being able to drive a car with all your friends, both muggle and magic, for years now, especially with the Weasleys.

You and Ginny had become friends during second year, both being in Gryffindor and all, but it wasn’t until fourth year that you realized how unlucky you were to have a best friend with such handsome brothers. Bill, Charlie and the Twins were far too old for you, so was Percy but your issue with him wasn’t so much age, rather how much of a priss he was. Ron was like god in your eyes. Only a year older than you and Ginny, but somehow he seemed to much more mature.

To be clear, you never used your relationship with Ginny to become close with him, he was more and added bonus to being friends with a girl like Gin. When Ginny and Harry became closer, it only made sense for you to spend more time with Ron, now that both of your best friends were occupied. He loved to listen about your life as a muggle, he heard a lot from Hermione, but your stories were just as interesting. When he found out you were to get your license this Summer, he wouldn’t stop talking about how you could just drive to The Burrow and visit them for days on end. It made you happy when he would seem so excited to spend time with you.

“Ron you do realize this is no more exciting than when my parents would drive me to your house.” You laugh at his planning for all that you’ll be able to do now that you have your license. You were in the common room just after dinner, trying to distract him from the fact that his sister and Harry had just snuck off to the astronomy tower. He hadn’t asked about either of them just yet.

“I know, I know. But you’ll be able to come whenever you want now, no one has to drive you to us, it’s all you.” He laughed with you, but slowly began to stop, looking almost out of breath. His eyes kept switching between your eyes and your lips, which made your heart catch in your throat. “Bloody hell, when did you get so gorgeous.”

This made your cheeks heat up, the thought of Ronald Weasley thinking his kid sister’s friend is anything other than just that. You don’t respond, feeling as though all the words you could’ve said were stolen from your vocabulary. His right hand reached out to grab your cheek, his thumb moving across the soft skin that was turning more and more pink by the second. You couldn’t help yourself from turning your eyes toward his lips, his tongue running across his bottom one.

“Ron,” You finally croak out, the only thing you could manage to say in your flustered state.

He doesn’t respond, only ducks his head down until you’re just centimeters from each other. You can feel his breath, hot against your skin. You couldn’t take it anymore, closing the gap between your lips. The first time you ever kissed Ron Weasley. Your heart was doing gymnastics as your brain was trying to comprehend what in the hell was happening. His lips were soft compared to his calloused hands. You had kissed other boys, plenty actually, but this wasn’t like any of the other kisses you’d ever had.

He pulls away from you, steadying his breath. He presses his forehead to your, staying like that for a while. “After you get your license you can come ‘round my house and we can do that for a minute before anyone even knows you’re there.”

And you're probably with that blonde girl Who always made me doubt She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about

It wasn’t long after your kiss that Lavender Brown came into the picture. In the back of your head, you hoped that after what had ensued in the common room, he wouldn’t give the girl a second look. She’s beautiful, curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and more confident than you could ever dream of being. She started by complimenting Ron in the great hall, he didn’t think much of it until he realized just how much Lavender fawning over him boosted his ego.

The worst part is that she was his age. There was no chance of him thinking of her as just a child, just his sister’s friend. She was everything you wanted to be and more. It’s not that you didn’t think of him the way she did, you just didn’t have the nerve to say it to him. After you kissed in the common room, and in his room, and in your room, and in the random broom closet on your way back from class one day, you found yourself even more nervous around the ginger than before. You still felt the exact same way you did you years.

After Gryffindors win over Slytherin, all thanks to Weasley, the Gryffindor common room was absolutely buzzing. Screams and shouts about how Ron Weasley saved the day, chanting his name over and over. You and Ginny just watched from the side, letting him bask in his own glory before you went to say anything to him.

“You really like him don’t you?” Ginny asks, pulling you from your gaze. You looked at him with the biggest smile on your face, clapping along to all the chants. “And don’t lie to me, I know a face of a girl in love with one of my brothers when I see one.”

You could feel your cheeks turn red when she caught you, but still smiled as you couldn’t help yourself. “I guess I do. He’s different, you know? Never felt this way about anyone.”

Ginny just rolled her eyes, but you knew she was happy for you. She secretly had always wished you’d end up with one of her brothers so you could be sisters one day. Just as you’re about to make your way over to congratulate the boy, Lavender Brown, with all her confidence, pulls him down my his arm and plants her lips on his. You freeze in your place, heart dropping to your toes, hoping to every god there is that he doesn’t kiss her back. But he does. Just feet from where he first kissed you only months ago, he wrapped his arms around the blonde girl and you feel your chest burn. Ginny grabs your hand, forcing you to look away from the sight in front of you, and drags you down to your dorm. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make excuses for her brother, just strokes your hair as you stare at the wall in front of you. You don’t cry, you can’t bring yourself to do it. The beautiful things he would say to you over the past few months about how he felt when he held you or what you would do together when you could finally drive to the Burrow. The things that made you fall head over heels in love with him, all of it felt like a lie now. Because now he’s kissing that blonde girl in the place he kissed you for the first time as if you had been erased from his mind.

But today I drove through the suburbs Crying 'cause you weren't around

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs 'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

You couldn’t avoid the Burrow forever, Ginny is still your best friend after all. She had sent countless letters in the weeks leading up to your birthday, begging you to come and see her so you could drive around like a bunch of muggle teenagers.

Your heart couldn’t quite take the idea of driving up to that house, the one where he lived, the one that he gushed about you driving to and kissing in the back seat of your car, but that didn’t matter. You thought forcing yourself to face what you didn’t want to see was the only way you could heal.

He isn’t with Lavender anymore, you half expected after their breakup that he would come to you and apologize, tell you he meant all the things he said to you and that he never meant to be with her. But he moved on quicker than you expected, and not to you. To Hermione. That hurt worse that seeing him kiss Lavender. Even when he was with Lavender, you would catch him in the common room and he would smile at you, touch your leg and say things that made your heart burst.

“I still think about that night, you know? In here.”

It felt wrong for him to be saying those things to you, especially while he was spoken for, but you never stopped him. It wasn’t until he fell ill after being poisoned that you realized he never loved Lavender. You, Ginny, and Hermione sat by his bed while he was unconscious. When Lavender came in carrying on about her ‘Won-Won,’ he began whispering Hermione’s name in his sleep, and you knew it wasn’t Lavender you had to compete with, it was Hermione Granger.

Ginny grabbed your hand like she did at the Gryffindor party and led you out of the hospital wing where you spent hours next to him, just for him to say her name. You cried this time, knowing now you weren’t his second choice either.

Now here you are, driving up to the Burrow with tears in your eyes because all you could associate with this place was how your heart would beat out of control when Ron would speak about you visiting him. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate him though, how could you? You spent years caring for him before he showed you even the slightest bit of affection, you were used to being disappointed by Ronald Weasley, it never made you love him any less. He stopped saying the types of things he used to now that he was with Hermione, perhaps you were just a place holder for her. He didn’t ignore you, which was actually worse, you wish he would just pretend you didn’t exist. Instead, he pretended like you never meant anything more to him than being just his sister’s mate, like you never kissed him, like he never told you how much you meant to him.

The house buzzes with energy and you fix yourself before getting out of the car. The twins are batting in the yard while Molly yells for them from the kitchen. You’ve always loved the Burrow, how much noise there is compared to your house, but today you dread walking in.

“Y/n!” Molly greets you, patting her hands against her skirt before pulling you in for a hug. “How I’ve missed you sweet girl. Come, come! I have a little something for you, I know its a week late but I couldn’t let your birthday pass with nothing!”

She pulls you into the living room where a tiny wrapped box lies next to the couch, next to Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Ginny smiles as soon as she sees you, jumping up to pull you into a tight hug. Ron and Hermione don’t get up, just say hello from their spots on the couch before going back to whatever they’re talking about. Your heart aches.

Mrs. Weasley hands you the small back, urging you to open it. Inside is a necklace with a small red gem and a lion pendant. You gasp at its beauty and its thoughtfulness. “Oh Mrs. Weasley! You shouldn’t have!”

“Merlin, y/n, how many times must I tell you to call me Molly!” She scolds you with a laugh. “It’s nothing, really dear. You’ve meant so much to this family for so long, it would be like not giving a birthday gift to my own child.”

You smile for a moment before remembering that Ron had forgotten your birthday. You got letters from Ginny, other friends from school, even the twins and Harry had sent you a short message, but not Ron. “Oi, is it your birthday?”

“Last week.” You correct the boy, not wanting to speak with him any further.

“Ah, sorry mate, I forgot.” He says nonchalantly. “You got your license, right? You get a car too?”

You simply nod and look toward Ginny for help, she immediately intervenes by saying, “Well, y/n promised she’d take me for a ride. Want to feel like a muggle teenager for once. See you all later.”

“Be safe you two!” Molly yells after you as you make your way to your brand new car. The twins shout about you ‘sweet wheels’ before you take off with Ginny.

“I’m sorry about him, y/n.” She apologizes for her brother as you pull further from the house. “He’s a real git sometimes.”

“S’alright Gin, I’m here to see you anyway.” You assure her, trying to hide that your heart breaks every time you see her brother. “Now where to?”

I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay, now that I'm gone 'Cause you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

You truly thought he felt the same way you did about him. How could you not? The night after you kissed Ron Weasley for the first time, you found that you couldn’t escape him, not that you wanted to. You would see him in the great hall, in the common rooms, in the hallways, he was everywhere and gave you butterflies every time he looked your way.

He would pull you away from your friends to sneak a kiss in a broom closet or in his dorm, making you feel like you were in a movie. He said the most lovely things to you, telling you he wished he had fallen for you sooner, but he would never be so open around his friends. Around Hermione. You never minded, as long as you had him in some shape or form.You usually had higher standards when it came to liking a boy, but you’d never felt the way you felt about Ron with anyone you’d ever liked.

“I love the way your hair gets messy throughout the day,” He whispers to you after you had finished snogging in his dorm. “How do you look so beautiful, always.”

“I think you made it this messy you idiot,” You push his shoulder, trying to hide your blushing cheeks. “Now I have to fix it.”

“No, don’t!” He stops you, grabbing your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Lay with me for a minute. I want to hold you for a while.”

Your heart was beating out of his chest for him and only him. As his arms snaked around your body, lips pressing to the skin of your neck, you never felt more content. “I feel at home when I’m holding you like this.”

When he said those things to you, how could imagine him ever moving onto someone else so soon. How could he say those things to you and so quickly be okay with losing you like that. You couldn’t wrap your head around how he told you that you felt like home just before kissing Lavender Brown right in front of you, then completely erased you from his past to date Hermione Granger.

Whats worse is whenever you go to the Burrow, you can always hear Ron playing his guitar, even from Ginny’s room. You think he does it on purpose, just hoping you’ll cry yourself to sleep or something. It brings back memories of the nights you spent in the boys dorm, drunk off fire whiskey, as he sang made up songs to you as he strummed along with his guitar.

“I want to hold you close forever, ‘cause you’re the kind of girl I’ve only dreamt of. And my heart burns when we’re together, can’t help but smile with you my darling love.”

He sang, very poorly, but still sang. Your heart skipped a beat when he sang those words. “Ronald Weasley! Did you just call me your love?”

“Shut up,” He teases, throwing a pillow toward you. “You know I don’t think before I speak when I’m drunk.”

And now he was singing words just like that to Hermione Granger as you sat in Ginny’s room, tears silently spilling down your cheeks. He obviously didn’t mean those words he sang to you not even six months ago, if he did he wouldn’t be singing them to Hermione. You obviously have two different meaning of forever, because hiding your relationship from his friends, only to turn around love two other women, doesn’t sound like your version.

As you drive back up to the Burrow, Ginny in the passenger seat of your car, you can’t help but hurt over the thought that he should be there with you.

#ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #gryffindor #gryffindor imagines #weasley imagine

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