#not particularly proud of this one but its just meant to be a silly thing so its probably fine shrjfhf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hagfishviperfish · 1 year ago

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Weird ass dream. The kind that makes you nostalgic. I live in a small town, my high school was more closeknit than others — that is to say almost all of those kids were evil but i digress, everyone knew each other.

My dream initially was that I missed the busses after school. I called my mom and she was at work, so she could not pick me up until 6:00. Which meant I had to kill time until then. It gave me the opportunity to realize how lively my high school was after hours — kids congregating on the soccer fields, football field, track, parking lot, it was as if its own little fair. So strange to see people you know doing their little things. In my dream I saw the faces of people who I haven’t seen in a long time, nigh forgot about, people who I won’t see ever again. And the faces of people who look like the type of people to live in my town.

Most were playing sports; I discovered a law school campus that was apparently on the property of my school that I hadn’t known about; I met one of my friends and hung out with him for a bit, found a dude on Tinder that looked exactly like him and with the same name but was like visibly 22 and I was like lmaooo dude look at this.

There is an event where the high school band comes in, followed by the graduates of my class, they share what they’re majoring in in college, and a quarter of mean girls were studying graphic design and they hated it and I laughed at them. It was particularly nostalgic

There is a silly little rave party thrown a guy I knew, who was fairly popular. It’s in those net tents you see used for baseball practice. I go there and dance a little with my childhood friend who dated him in middle school.

I stumble across a boy I had little feelings for for years — from elementary school to senior year — he was standing in between chain link fences, in security guard armor but it was like football stuff, so I guessed that was his job here. He was enthusiastic to see me, which was much to my surprise since we hardly talked at all (in senior year he started interacting with me every so often, much to my surprise.)

The dream changes here. I am this sewer siren queen hunted by my high school, living several grotesque layers in the deepsea underground, and he is the one who is supposed to be hunting me the hardest. Except every action he makes is deliberately to divert my pursuers away from me in order to protect me. We are lovers in that way, the brief moments where he sees me to “kill” me, but rather it is a fond reunion where we look at each other with mischevious devotion and adoration and then he must leave, to not draw too much attention to me and our affiliation. Every hour and decision of his life is dedicated to making sure I stay alive. He stands proud over a toilet in the school bathroom with a deep, deep canal drilled into it, what the students call a “sewer portal”, knowing I used it to escape, announcing to his equals “she is not in this one; try another one.”

He climbs through my canals smiling, there are grotesque and strange strata underneath our school, pink wet stone, sandstone, marbled jade and stone, and the structure of the tunnel he recognizes as my digging, impressed that I managed to stomach such odd layers of soil

This story of a favorite siren and its best hunter is a reoccuring theme for the rest of the dream.

There are other notable moments, where my art teacher says I have an opportunity to spread my art, to become a genuine admired artist, because people have already expressed interest in my work for her class. I make sketches; one of them a pile of moldy rotten oranges, in which a rabid squirrel or fox is eating them out of wild desperation, and a healthy fox is walking in the foreground, observing its parallel

Another where I’m in walmart with a friend, at the side of another boy; saying “I’m like hahahaha I’m L from deathnote” for some reason, just to mess with him. He’s like yeah whatever, unamused, I show him a pretty collar necklace I found, knowing the implications, and he’s like perhaps, and he tightens it on my neck for me

Then I dig another hole and leave because I am a sewer siren now.

Flickers of standing in a deep sea realm, underground, occasionally visited by a certain playful divercaver… I pick what I want the fish version of my pets to look like, laugh at the way my cat looks when she floats down and turn to tell my mother only for her to yell at me because she’s stressed out and busy. Rain World shelter on our football bleachers, he swims to me to find Minecraft mods, but I am looking from his eyes this time, I notice him and pick my way over to him, and we enjoy our presence together eagerly, while he sips from the glass of this mod that implements strawberry juice in Minecraft— and it tastes wonderful.

Then he hides me in the shelter because there are centipedes — it is particularly deeper, with water, to compensate for me there, and comes along to be around me for the night

#acoustic brain dump

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prsfphone · 3 years ago

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𝘚𝘖𝘕𝘎𝘚 𝘛𝘖 𝘠𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘕 𝘛𝘖 - EDDIE MUNSON

part 2 of hot-wired love, which you can read here.

words: 4,115

warnings: eddie’s love language is gift-giving, Kiss shaming, slut-shaming eddie, pushing eddie off of furniture, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, light degradation, fingering, dirty talk, just so much talking, like can these two stfu already, Eddie the Gross Perv

a/n: i very strongly advise having i was made for lovin’ you by kiss on standby for this. just to get the full experience.

eddie was lazing half on his couch, half on the floor when you pushed open the door of his trailer. “did you bring a bag with you this time?” he asked, staring at you upside down.

you squinted at him in the dimness as you closed the door to block the scorching sun. “what?”

“oh, silly me—thought you were moving in ‘cause of how often you’re here.”

you thought about kicking him while he was down—literally—but opted instead for shoving him none too delicately entirely off the couch once you’d perched on the edge of the narrow thing.

eddie landed unceremoniously and gracelessly in a swearing heap of hair, hellfire shirt, and gangly legs.

when he managed to get to his feet, you were sitting innocently with your legs crossed and fingers knotted in your lap. “you could come to my place, but you’re a chicken shit.”

“i’m not chicken-shit, your uncle is fucking scary. you don’t see it because he’s like…goddamn gandalf to you.” he sat down next to you, seeming particularly proud of his comparison, and you reached over, gently fixing his out-of-place hair, straightening his wild bangs. you wanted to ask what he meant about gandalf but as you watched, and he looked back at you, the anger faded from his face. something else bloomed in its stead. you dropped your hands and glanced down to your beat-up sneakers, breaking the gaze first. maybe, just maybe, you were a hypocrite.

eddie jumped to his feet. “made you a tape,” he said and bounded off to his bedroom at the back.

you waited with raised brows. he clumsily shoved the cassette tape into the player and turned to stare at you with a barely contained grin. “this one better not be all blondie again,” you teased, trying to pretend like his staring didn’t make you want to fidget and blush.

“not a chance, princess,” he winked and you snorted, the momentary spell broken. “it’s actually only breakup songs with metal guitar riffs thrown in. for when you’re away from me.”

“for when i’m away from you,” you repeated dryly.

“so you can properly lament not being in the sunshine of my company.” he handed you the cassette’s case. “i even wrote on it, so you don’t forget.” songs to yearn for eddie to, he’d written in sloppy sharpie. he pressed play and you waited, attentive.

master of puppets blared, a little too loud to be heard properly—though that was how eddie insisted metal was best listened to—and as it played, eddie played air guitar, fingers moving rapidly up and down the invisible neck, holding notes and strumming. you couldn’t help but laugh when he began head-banging, tossing his messy curls every which way. you’d tried to do it with him once, in solidarity, but the jerky movements gave you a headache too quick that lasted too long.

metallica played out their last notes and the tape continued on. the songs were a thoughtful variety—you could tell eddie had really gone out of his music comfort zone in search of songs he thought you’d enjoy and it made you smile. they were mostly hard, upbeat songs so when the tone switched to a less guitar-heavy, almost lighter tone, you froze a little. “oh,” you perked up, brows high. “what is this?”

you were listening hard, trying to pick up the lyrics to figure out why eddie had gone so very far away from metal for you, and laughed when you figured out the song. shook your head; “you were going so strong, munson. closing with kiss?”

tonight, i want to give it all to you

in the darkness, there’s so much i want to do

and tonight, i want to lay it at your feet

‘cause girl, i was made for you

and girl, you were made for me

he put a hand to his chest—and he probably meant to put it over his heart, but he had it on the right side as opposed to the left—in hurt. always with the dramatics. “hey, you’re hurting my feelings, Y/N. i make you an incredible mix tape and you tell me it’s not good enough and you’re leaving with the kids and divorcing me? and what do you have against gene simmons?”

tonight, i want to see it in your eyes

feel the magic, there’s something that drives me wild

and tonight, we’re gonna make it all come true

‘cause girl, you were made for me

and girl, i was made for you

you side-eyed him, not bothering to dignify his divorce fantasies. “oh nothing. but i do have a righteous vendetta against ace frehley for stealing my virtue.” you batted your lashes at him. “you’ll avenge me, won’t you, eddie?”

his eyes went wide and pink dotted his cheeks. his voice was off in a way you couldn’t place as he spoke. “are you asking me to go back in time and defend your honour, princess?”

“no, i’m asking you to kill him for me and bring back his balls as proof that you’ve done the deed. avenged me. go all evil queen-huntsman on his ass.”

“evil queen-huntsman,” he repeated.

“come on, munson,” you threw your hands in the air. “haven’t you ever seen snow white?”

“no. you’re unhinged,” eddie breathed. “delightfully unhinged, but unhinged.”

you beamed. “i blame you. you’ve ruined me.”

it seemed to slip out of his mouth before he could stop it. “i haven’t ruined you yet.”

you burst out laughing. “i was being dramatic, eddie,” you rolled your eyes. “you couldn’t ruin me if you tried.”

his mood shifted. “how would you know? you’ve never had sex with me.”

you had to gape at him. it took you a moment to come up with something to say. “please, munson. if you fuck like you hot-wire, i don’t think i’m missing much.” you tried for flippant, breezy, but it was clear he’d caught you off guard, especially to him and you were suddenly aware of your body—aware of his, so close to you.

“i can hot-wire a car, and i can fuck you senseless.”

you were leaning into him. you hardly noticed.

he laughed, but there was no humour in it—well, only a little bit. “you’re acting like you want to find out.”

“i am not,” you breathed, but you were so close you could smell him; that cigarette, pot smell he always seemed to wear with cheap kmart cologne sprayed sparingly over the top. his hands had moved on to your thighs—they were warm and big, except for the cold bite of his rings that made you even more aware of him (you didn’t think that was possible), that stoked a growing heat in your belly.

“‘t’s too bad,” he answered lowly, sorrowfully, but you didn’t dwell. not when he swooped in and kissed you square on the mouth. it wasn’t suave and it wasn’t practiced—it was eddie through and through; his nose bumped yours and he only managed to peck half of your mouth at first. but your hands found the sides of his face and you leaned into it, tilting your head to slot against him better and opening your mouth to give him better access.

his hands kneaded at your thighs, playing with the doughy fat. he used his grip there to push your legs apart, an action that met with no resistance from you as you let him tug you by the hips into him. he didn’t argue, either, when you—hands on his face, his neck, spanning across his shoulder blades, tangling in his hair—pulled him down to lay over you.

“babe,” he said, and you preened at the new name, “y’have to stop doing that.”

you kissed at his jaw, hooked your left leg around his hip. “doing what?”

“grinding against me like that—”

“i wasn’t—!”

eddie laughed. “that’s cute, honey,” he pouted his lips. “want me so bad and you don’t even notice.” he could see the protest forming on your lips and thrust against you. it was effective. you clenched your thighs together, wanting more as that brief hit of bright, sharp pleasure spiked through you. he held himself up with one arm he used the other to trace the outline on your shape, his finger drawing patterns you didn’t have the brain space to decipher across your stomach, up between the valley of your breasts. “wasn’t so much grinding”—amusement shadowed his words—“as just these small little circles. just…moving your hips around.

“didn’t know you were such a needy little thing, Y/N.”

“shut up,” you said, lacking any real conviction. he kissed you again, an open-mouthed kiss that he drew out before pulling away, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor.

he was a patchwork of tattoos with dark hair all over his chest, trailing down into a line that lead into his pants. you wanted to see the rest of it, but when eddie felt your hands on his belt loops, he caught up your hands. “uh uh uh, babe. i show you mine, you show me yours.”

“eddie,” it was almost a whine as you tried to break his grip around your wrists. almost a whine, but not quite, but certainly enough to have his hand flexing around your wrist, his head falling forward and his eyes squeezing shut. he made a pained sound and you felt the hard press of his clothed erection against your cunt again. a breathy sound of pleasure fell out of you and he repeated his pained sound.

his eyes opened suddenly, boring into you. “jesus christ,” he cursed. “i’m gonna have to gag you before i come in my jeans.”

you were breathing harder. “eddie,” you repeated and he clenched his eyes for a long second.

“yeah?”

“need my hands to take my shirt off.”

“shit, yeah, oh yeah,” he let you go, pulled back, onto his knees, to watch you sit up slightly and awkwardly, one-handedly, peel off the striped t-shirt.

your bra was nothing special—white, a little stained, with lace lining the edges of the cups—but eddie descended on you like he’d never seen anything more exciting in his life. he kissed along the exposed tops of your tits, sliding his hands underneath you to work at the clasp. it came loose after a few attempts and you held up your arms for him to slide it off, laughing a little at the way his eyes lit up. his hands cupped your tits, forcing you to glance down to see how well you filled his hands.

you were writhing against him, ready for him to just get on with it—your boobs weren’t that special, jesus christ.

eventually, after winding you up with his mouth around your nipples and biting marks into the sides of your tits, eddie made his way lower, popping open the button fly of your shorts as he did, with an ease you felt oddly betrayed by. “slut,” you accused him.

his eyes flinched up to yours from where he was in the process of tugging the shorts down your legs. “i wouldn’t call you a slut.”

“you, munson.”

he flung the shorts merrily across the room. he wasn’t even looking at you—well not at your eyes. no, his attention was rapt on your bare cunt. “no underwear? are we sure i’m the slut in this room?”

“it’s laundry day.”

“mmm of course it is,” he brushed a light hand over the curls between your thighs. he glanced up to you as he grabbed at your calves and dragged you exactly where he wanted you, with your back against the couch’s back, legs hanging over the side. he picked up your legs and swung one over each shoulder, and like a rag doll, you let him. “so why am i a slut?”

you could hardly breathe, let alone think, with his face level with your pussy. when he ran a knuckle delicately across the slit of you, you couldn’t help the twitch that went through you; he laughed. you kicked your head back, with the absurd idea that if you couldn’t see him you might be able to form a coherent thought. but being able to feel him and not see him was almost worse. every touch was a surprise that had you tensing up and digging into him.

“princess?” eddie prompted and then gave you a lick.

it was your turn to make a pained noise. “name me one person that does this to a girl who isn’t a slut,” you shot back.

he sounded affronted. “christ, woman, i haven’t even done anything!”

“lies!”

apparently fully invested in the business of proving you wrong, eddie dove into your cunt with fervor. his tongue found your clit, drawing shapes there, while he stretched you out on his fingers. his free hand was a band around your right thigh and you gasped, thrusting against his face.

“okay,” you said. “okay okay okay! ‘t’s enough—too much!”

he stopped his ministrations, eyes searching yours. “what’s the matter, babe?”

“i…i’m too…full,” you flushed.

eddie’s eyes were soft. he smiled against the flesh of your inner thigh. “gotta stretch you out before i fuck you senseless.”

“oh,” you said, and it turned into a moan when he dove back into your cunt.

“i mean, really,” he said between licks, “shouldn’t ace frehley have taught you all this when he stole your virtue?”

you couldn’t manage a laugh. his fingers were moving around relentlessly inside you, curling, searching for something with each pump. it felt good, if not strange, and then, very suddenly, it felt so very, very good.

your hands wound tight in his hair, tugging and you’d feel bad when you thought back on it later, but something was happening and eddie was talking, sweet nothings were so incredibly not sweet and you had never come so hard in your life; had the thought that if this was an orgasm, you had never actually had one before this. “come on, babe, there you go—fuck—yeah…yeah, come for me. there’s a good girl. such a sweet little slut for me,” you couldn’t entirely tell if he was teasing. your legs kicked out beside his head, toes curling. your hips lifted off the couch.

the orgasm ebbed slowly and when it did, eddie had his head against your thigh, drawing light circles on your clit that made you twitch. he grinned. “didn’t think you’d be so sensitive,” he mused.

you were still half in the clouds. “you thought about it?”

his hand fell away from your clit only for him to bring it to his mouth, licking off his fingers decadently, like a lollipop. “i’ve been thinking about it since i saw you in a holey t-shirt and that pretty little pair of pink underwear with a bow on them—

you tried to pretend you weren’t beet red. “you mean when you tried to hot wire my—”

“don’t ruin the moment,” he chided lightly, conversational. “thought about how much it probably did look like we’d been fucking, and how much i wish that’s what i’d been doing instead.

“thought about—what if i just pulled those slutty little panties to the side and let you ride my face right there. i could’ve made you come so hard,” a secret, devious little smile, “imagined the noises you’d make when you came. imagined the sound that would come out of you when i filled you up.”

“what sound do you think i’d make?” your voice was low, nearly a whisper. like you were telling a secret.

eddie got up slowly, leaning over you, bracing his hands on the back of the couch at either side of your head. his lips ghosted across yours as he spoke and you couldn’t break his gaze. “i think you’d gasp, cry just a little, just for me—‘cause i’m so big, and you’re too full and it hurts.”

“and then what?”

“find out for yourself, Y/N.”

eddie pulled you to your feet, towing you to his bedroom wordlessly. he laid you out on the bed softly, hands splaying across every inch of flesh he could manage. he reached left you for a moment, digging around in one of his dresser drawers that never closed properly. he returned, victorious, with a foil packet in his hand. he held it out to you while his free hand began working on the fly of his pants. “hold it for me, honey?”

you grabbed it and propped yourself up on your forearms to watch as eddie undressed. you’d never thought it could be anything but awkward, these moments before intimacy. but something about the way he rushed, fingers clumsy and eyes flicking up to you—as if to check you hadn’t snuck out the window—was endearing.

eddie kicked his pants off impatiently and plucked the condom from your fingers, tearing it open with his teeth. it was bright red, almost the colour of a coke can, and you had the passing thought that of course eddie would pick the most obnoxious condoms.

he hadn’t been bluffing or merely talking himself up in the living room—no, he was big and you were almost a little afraid to have him inside of you. he rolled the condom on and before he lined his cock up with your entrance, he slid a hand between your legs, toying with the wetness there.

“are you ready, princess?”

“yeah.”

he slid in slowly, and still the stretch was almost too much. it burned like when you’d lost your virginity but you were so worked up that the burn of the stretch was secondary to the feeling of utter fullness and pleasure you imagined was right on the horizon. you lifted your hips, searching for more of him, wanting to get it over with, but eddie pinned them down. “don’t rush me, Y/N. ‘m gonna give you what you need.”

every time he talked, it had your stomach in knots and your heart beating harder. eddie pushed further and further until you were tearing up. he noticed. “almost there, yeah?”

you had your arm tossed over your eyes. “you were right,” you bemoaned. “it hurts. it’s too much. i give up.”

he snorted. “and you call me dramatic.”

“eddie,” you whined and he gave an involuntary thrust.

“almost there, honey. just a little bit more, yeah? for me?” you could only nod. how could you say no to him when he asked like that? with those big brown puppy dog eyes?

after another long minute, eddie seated himself fully in you and you couldn’t help the ragged breath you had to pull in. you twisted around a little, just to feel how full of him you were, and he reached up to hold each of your hands in both of his own before drawing back out slowly. his fingers tightened when you moaned and he bent down to swallow the sound in a kiss.

he went in faster this time and the burn of the stretch had almost faded entirely. gradually, eddie developed a rhythm; drawing out slowly before thrusting back in hard and fast because that’s what made you the loudest.

his hands fell from yours and he leaned away, blowing you a kiss as you leaned up to chase his mouth. his hair was falling in his face, though it didn’t seem to bother him overmuch as he slid those big hands under your hips and changed the angle. a louder sound spilled out of you and eddie was delighted; “better?”

“yes—oh my god, that’s so good. you feel so good eddie.”

“you think i feel good? christ, if only you knew how tight your pussy is.” he was picking up speed, ditching his previous rhythm. you unfurled before his eyes, stretching against him, writhing and moaning. his hips bumped against yours, pelvis brushing against your swollen clit while your tits bounced with every rough thrust. eddie’s eyes were trained on where he was driving in and out of your sopping hole. “you’re so fucking wet, babe. ruining my sheets. making a mess on my cock. you gonna clean me up after? gonna be a good girl and say ‘thank you for fucking my brains out, eddie’ while you lick my cock clean?”

“it’s your fault i’m so—i’m so—i’m making a mess. shouldn’t you cl-clean me up?”

“it’s my fault?” his expression suggested it was out of the realm of possibility he might even slightly be to blame for the wet spot you’re leaving on his bed. “can’t even be nice when i’m giving you the best fucking of your life?”

you shrugged helplessly, merely trying to figure out what to do with your hands—where to put them to keep you anchored here as he fucked you hard enough to make your head spin.

eddie leaned down, mouth next to your ear, whispering a secret: “it’s all right, babe. it makes me hard when you’re mean to me.”

“freak,” you muttered into the heat of his mouth.

“or maybe i’m not fucking you good enough?” he shifted your hips again, searching for some magical angle that would make different, perhaps nicer words come out of your mouth.

eddie grinned, all teeth, with hair in his eyes and bangs clinging to his sweaty forehead, when you let out a sound that might as well have been a sob. he’d found a spot inside you that he was abusing mercilessly now. every thrust had you clinging desperately to eddie, legs wrapped around his narrow hips and digging your nails into the skin of his back.

eddie reached down between your bodies, finding your clit. he circled the rough pad of his finger over it, the friction torturous. combined with his cock prodding relentlessly at your g-spot, you were dizzyingly close to the precipice. if it were a cliff, a light breeze could send you screaming to your death. “you want to come?” eddie cooed. you nodded desperately, brows furrowed, face pinched in pleasure, in desperation. his rhythm was beginning to stutter. “you want to come for me, pretty girl? come for me like a good little slut?”

“yes, yes—please, eddie, please—i need—”

he groaned. “i know what you need, honey. and i’ll give it to you—fuck—give it to you as soon as you say thank you.”

“oh my god—please—thank you—thank you, eddie—” he increased the pressure of his finger on your clit and the moment you fell apart at the seams in his arms, he was done for. you were holding onto him so tightly he could hardly move anymore, but it didn’t matter—with the way your pussy was clenching around him as your orgasm worked you over, it didn’t take much more until you felt something hot and warm, felt his cock throbbing and pulsing inside of you.

you felt more than saw eddie pull out of you, the same way you felt the dip in his mattress when he fell next to you. it stayed silent for the next several minutes, the only sound in the room your heavy breathing paralleled by eddie’s, and your heartbeat whooshing in your ears.

“jesus christ,” eddie said finally. “jesus h. christ.”

you turned onto your side to look at him. he had his forearm covering his eyes. you felt oddly empty between your thighs now, and it made you glance down to his cock, still with the cherry-red condom on. he’d been right though—you had made a mess. his pelvis was shiny with your slick and now that he wasn’t winding you up, you could feel the wet puddle under you; you cringed. “sorry,” you said. your voice sounded a little rough.

“sorry?” he burst out laughing. “jesus, what could you ever have to be sorry about?” he pulled off the condom and tied it off, tossing it in the already over-flowing trashcan next to his bed.

you gave him a look. “i did make a mess all over your bed.”

he turned to look at you, eyes intense. “take that sorry back right now and stick it up your ass. you think i’m actually upset you were so wet it soaked my mattress? i’m never going to wash these sheets.”

“oh my god, you’re gross.”

he leaned over, quick, and licked a stripe up your cheek and you swatted him away, squealing. “and yet, here you are, naked in my bed.”

XXX

read part one and let me know if you’d like a part 3 to this!

#stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #notsfw

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introvert--weeb · 4 years ago

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Hello! I hope ur doing okay don’t forget to drink water it’s important!!! Ohom can l request reader wearing their s/o’s jacket and acting like them in the mirror like “l’m the _____ do you wanna die?!” Smth like that and her s/o is watching them while this is happening if it’s okay can you add smiley, izana (you can add his earings too it’ll be cute!) and baji you can add others if you want or can ignore this ily!

This is adorable!! Of course I will! 💕 And thank you, you make sure you keep hydrated as well ❤️

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!! ❤️

Smiley, Izana, Baji with reader impersonating them

TW: mentions of playful threats, teasing, terrible impersonations, manga spoilers (Izana), author writes these while extremely tired, may have not been proofread entirely but author will look over at some point 😅

---

Nahoya 'Smiley'

It had all started out as the two of you were casually hanging out in his room, exchanging the odd affection here and there. Nahoya had asked you to come over so you, him and Souya could watch a new movie that he had bought earlier that week. However, this would require snacks, something you had to remind your boyfriend. And so, the twins had left you alone in Smiley's room to head to the shop and buy the required supplies. Not without your boyfriend teasing you over how you pouted at him due to his teasing over your sweet tooth.

Bored, you let your eyes wander around the room in search of something to keep you entertained. After all, being left alone is boring as hell. So when your eyes caught sight of Nahoya's Toman jacket, you felt a bubble of excitement rise in your chest. Before you could even think the plan through fully, you pulled the sleeves over your arms and fastened it. Nahoya's usual cologne filled your nose as the fabric hung loosely off your frame.

Making your way towards the full length mirror that resided in Nahoya's bedroom, you grinned at how good you looked. Maybe you should steal his jackets more often because you looked amazing! You could probably convince him to let you have a hoodie or two since you understood you couldn't take his Toman jacket. Maybe commissioning Mitsuya to make you one was a viable option? That thought was tucked away for now.

While admiring yourself in the reflection, an idea popped into your mind. Why not pretend to be Nahoya? After all, it was only you in the home and it was an entertaining idea. So this is how it all started.

Your lips pulled until you had the grin your boyfriend was known for as your mind reeled through all the phrases you knew he would say. It was entertaining trying to get his voice right (you never could) and you couldn't help thinking that it was a good impersonation of your beloved.

Nahoya was about to enter his room when he noticed what you were doing. He had arrived at the door as you had gotten to the 'I'll kill you' line that Smiley was known for, his hand slapping over his mouth to stop the laughter that threatened to expose his position. Wanting to enjoy the show more, the boy made himself comfortable leaning against the door frame as his face displayed just how amused he was. After all, who wouldn't be entertained by their partner trying their best to be like them?

You eventually caught sight of your boyfriend in the mirror's reflection, your cheeks flushing a deep red from the embarrassment. Greeting your boyfriend with an awkward wave, you watched as he came closer and flushed an even deeper red at the laughter that he let loose.

Smiley couldn't stop his laugh now. Not when you looked so cute in his jacket and the memory of you impersonating him still fresh in his mind. Once he was close enough, he brought you into his arms to place a soft kiss on your forehead with his smile never leaving his face.

"Ya really think I talk like that, huh?" Smiley would laugh more before deciding to give you some pointers. The movie would be forgotten about (much to Souya's confusion) as Nahoya and yourself would continue with the impersonation, your boyfriend laughing while you entertained him.

Izana

Izana had invited you around so you could both hang out. Really, you just think he wanted to be held because that's all the two of you had been doing since you had entered his room. However, you did notice that Izana was without his earrings, him explaining how they got uncomfortable when he was lazing around. Understandable.

Your boyfriend was close to falling asleep, the feeling of your fingers running through his hair soothing him. It was rare for him to get time to just relax, especially with the plans of the upcoming brawl with Tokyo Manji. He had already spent hours with his Heavenly Kings simply planning an attack strategy. For now, all he wanted was to think about how good you were for him and nap.

Just as his eyes had shut, sleep trying to take ahold of his body, his phone rang. Due to how quiet it was in his room, the ringtone caused you to jolt from the sudden noise. If it hadn't just ruined a perfect moment between the two of you, Izana would have teased you over your reaction. However, all he could think of was killing whoever dared call him and maybe hunt down their families too just to make a point. It was only as it was Kakucho that the boy answered, taking the call out of his room for more privacy.

It all happened too quickly for you to process it. One moment Izana's head was on your lap, the next he was out of the room on the phone to someone. However, you did understand that Izana was the leader of Tenjiku and had been spending a lot of his time with them. Maybe it was something to do with that.

However, you were getting bored. So bored in fact that your phone just wasn't going to cut it. Your eyes aimlessly wandered around the room until they landed on something that could entertain you. A full-length mirror, a pair of long earrings, and Izana's Tenjiku jacket. Yes, they could entertain you.

Thank God your ears were already pierced. Putting on the long red jacket and the earrings, you couldn't help but laugh a little at how you looked. The Tenjiku jacket was big on you (Izana was taller) and it made you look like a child trying on their parent's clothes.

Standing in front of the mirror and admiring your reflection, a silly idea popped into your mind. Why not try your hand at impressions? And you had the props for a perfect Izana. Without thinking about what you would do when your boyfriend came back, you started to impersonate the Tenjiku King.

You had gotten the head tilt and smile almost perfect. Now all that was left was the voice, which you were struggling with. However, it was more entertaining with how different it sounded. Just needed more lines to practice the voice with. So that's when your mind started coming up with things that Izana would never say but you wanted him to.

It was as you were midway through the "I'm the great Izana! Bow down to me, peasants" line when said male entered back into the room. Amusement at your actions danced in his eyes when he realised you still hadn't noticed his presence. Who was he to ruin the show after all. So he leaned against the wall, a soft smile on his features as he admired how his jacket and earrings looked on you.

Moments passed before you noticed the handsome sight of your boyfriend in the mirror's surface. Embarrassment filled your body but you simply smiled over at Izana, commenting that you couldn't resist the chance. Izana would just softly laugh before saying that you did look good in his things

Baji

It had become a routine in your relationship. You would come over to the Baji residence on a Saturday and the two of you would spend the day either playing videogames or reading manga together. If it was a particularly good day, the two of you might even go on his beloved bike and visit a cat café or simply drive. Saturday was quick to become one of your favourite days in the entire week.

This particular Saturday, the weather wasn't ideal for a bike ride and so this left both you and Keisuke with your usual options. You had found yourself relaxing in your boyfriend's arms as your latest manga read was in your hands. Keisuke was busy trying his hardest to read a textbook as a test was coming up in the week. It would be a lie to say that you weren't impressed with Keisuke studying to make his dear mother proud. Hell, you would study just to make the sweet Mother Baji proud!

Just as you had finished the volume of your manga and was about to help your boyfriend in studying, the sound of his ringtone echoed around the quiet room. Keisuke was quick to check who it was, a little happy that someone had interrupted his studying. After all, none of it was making much sense to him. It was as the name 'Chifuyu' flashed onto his screen that he decided he needed to take it. It could be some Toman business that he possibly forgot about and would need to know. And so, he apologised for cutting the cuddling short before leaving his room to answer the call.

Now what were you meant to do? You had finished the manga and hadn't brought any others. So, you were stuck. Feeling bored, your gaze travelled around the room until they landed on the Toman jacket and sash. That was when the idea came to your mind.

In no time, you were off the bed and already in the process of pulling the jacket on your smaller frame. The jacket itself dwarfed you under its size, falling to your mid-thigh. Of course it would though, Keisuke was taller than you and bigger due to his build. But it was cute how it fell and the scent of your boyfriend's usual cologne had seeped into the material, making it feel as though Keisuke was wrapping you into his arms. Although you could just be happy like this, you had a plan and so the sash was clumsily tied how it would be on Baji.

You walked over to the mirror, having to prevent yourself from laughing over the appearance. It was as if a child had borrowed their dad's favourite jacket when playing dress up. However, there was still the plan. So, feeling childish and thinking this was the best idea ever, you began trying to impersonate your beloved. Copying his speech pattern and actions, you actually thought your impersonation was pretty accurate.

Baji had finished up the call, thankful that Chifuyu had called him up to remind him that there was a Toman meeting tonight at Musashi Shrine. Mikey would kill him if he missed another one. As he neared his bedroom door though, he was surprised to hear you talking. Maybe you had gotten a call too? Keisuke opened his door only to find the funniest sight ever. You were in front of his full-length mirror, a beautiful smile on your face as the line 'I am the great Keisuke Baji, do you wanna die?' flowed out of your mouth. Your voice was purposefully deeper but did not sound like him.

He couldn't hold back his amusement or laughter and approached where you were standing. Although he loved the impressions you were doing, he couldn't help but give you pointers while sorting the sash that was skewed on your figure. You on the other hand, had a blush that covered your cheeks, ears and neck. Your boyfriend had just caught you trying to act like him and wearing his sacred gang uniform. However, Keisuke would make you practice some of the impressions, all while grinning at how cute you were.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #anime drabble #nahoya x reader #tokyo revengers nahoya #nahoya kawata #smiley x reader #izana kurokawa #izana x reader #tokyo revengers izana #keisuke baji x reader #baji keisuke #baji tokyo revengers #requested #laura writes for tokyo revengers

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mellowswriting · 4 years ago

Text

Nightmare

pairing || Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary || Bucky struggles to calm down after a particularly rough nightmare - it’s a good thing you’re there to lend him a hand.

word count || 1,799

warnings || hurt and comfort, love confessions

a/n || So I started writing this before the first episode of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier even came out (because I’m incorrigible) so if it’s a little off, that’s why. As someone who’s gone through all that fun trauma-based therapy, seeing Bucky working on himself is validating as fuck. I tried to emphasize that while a good relationship can help after trauma, it doesn’t complete the healing process or suddenly make a person whole. Anyway, enjoy!

Main Masterlist | Join the taglist!

“Bucky?” Your voice cracked, still thick with sleep. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I…” Bucky started but his words failed him. He couldn’t find a way to tell you about it without feeling like he was gutting himself, without bringing the images right back up to torment him all over again. The vulnerability left him trembling, dog tags clinking quietly against his bare chest with every heaving breath.

But he didn’t need to say it. You just nodded and sat down next to him on the blanket he had spread out on the hard floor. Remnants still prickled at the back of his neck, images and echoes of gunfire and that wide open emptiness that cracked his chest on every mission, but he got some small peace from your presence. He felt just a bit safer at the feeling of your knee pressed to his lightly. You didn’t probe him about it, didn’t try to weasel out details, and he was thankful. Instead you offered him your hand and in turn, offered your quiet support, and he gratefully slid his fingers up your palm to curl with your own.

The pressure of your fingers holding him was grounding, kept him in the reality of what was actually happening around him. He wasn’t in that building. He didn’t have a gun in his hand. He wasn’t trapped behind a wall in his own mind. He was at home, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor. He held your hand in his, the softness of your skin against his a sharp contrast to the imagined bite of gunmetal.

He was right there. So were you.

Your thumb slid up and down over his as you tentatively started speaking. “I used to click my tongue to keep myself grounded after nightmares.”

Bucky glanced at you, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know it seems silly, but it worked for me more often than not.” You said with a small chuckle. “Sometimes I would have to tap if the clicking thing wasn’t working. It drove Tony crazy. He always said he could hear it all throughout the compound, but I think he was bullshitting. And if the tapping didn’t work, I would do sprints until my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore.”

Bucky took a long, deep breath the way his therapist taught him during their first session. Your voice was so calming. “Keep talking?”

“Of course.” You murmured. “It’s cheesy as hell, but they do get easier to deal with. The nightmares, I mean. The more you work at it, the less… vivid they are. I still get pretty bad ones every now and then, but even those are a little easier to come down from.”

“I hope you’re right.” He said.

“Well, you’re in therapy - even if it’s mandatory, you’re still showing up. Still putting in the effort. You’re sleeping semi-regularly, eating somewhat healthy. Trust me, you’re doing better than you realize. It takes a minute for you to ease out of survival mode, so it can be hard to tell how far you’ve already come.” You squeezed his hand lightly. “I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

A breath caught in his chest as he turned to look at you where you leaned your head back against the wall. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Well, you did save me from getting shot that one time.” You teased and Bucky laughed quietly, a genuine one that seemed to surprise you. “But seriously. You’re a good person, that’s all you have to do.”

“No, I’m not.” The laugh turned self-deprecating. “I don’t have to tell you that, either. I know you’ve read the files.”

“That wasn’t you. That was Hydra.” Your free hand pressed against his bare chest, right over his heart. “This is you. You aren’t what they put in your head. You’re the person who went out and bought me a new coffeemaker in the middle of the night when mine broke so I wouldn’t have to go without caffeine the next morning. You’re the person who's mowed Mrs. Franklin’s yard twice a month since her husband passed. You’re the person who is working their ass off to get better.”

There weren’t words. He didn’t have them, the ones that could tell you how much he appreciated you, how much you meant to him. So he covered the hand you placed on his chest with his own, wishing he could actually feel you, but the prosthetic had its limitations with the enhancements given by the vibranium. You nodded at him, a quiet acknowledgement of his thanks.

Silence fell over you both. It was a comfortable one, not the heavy, oppressive silence that curled around him in the moments after waking. Your hand fell away from his chest, much to his disappointment. The skin against skin was comforting. A moment later you shifted onto your knees, ready to stand and seemingly leave him there, and Bucky tightened his grip on your hand instinctually.

“Please… don’t go.” His voice was small.

“I’m just going to get you some water. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And you did. You returned less than a minute later and handed him a glass of cool water, watching him take a few sips until you were satisfied, and then stole a sip for yourself. Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that found him at the sight as you settled back in next to him and offered him your hand once more. He took it, but didn’t interlock your fingers like before. Instead he lifted your hand to his face and pressed your palm against his cheek, eyes falling closed at your cool skin against his warmth. Your thumb rubbed small circles along his cheekbone and when he opened his eyes again, you were looking at him almost thoughtfully. Impulsively, Bucky tilted his head slightly and kissed the delicate skin of your wrist and he could hear your breath stutter in your chest.

“Bucky…” You whispered, worry suddenly played across your features.

“I talk about you in therapy, you know.” He whispered, his heart jumping in his chest at the prospect of telling you about it, admitting his vulnerability. “I told her about how you make me feel… seen. And safe. I told her about how I always think about you. About… kissing you. And making you laugh.”

You swallowed, the sound louder in the resounding silence of three a.m confessions. “And what did she say?”

“That she could tell I was in love with you before I would even admit it to myself.” He whispered the words as if breathing them to life would make the very earth crumble at his feet.

“I couldn't live with myself if I got in the way of your healing.” You said and his heart soared in his chest. You weren't rejecting him, weren't pulling away in disgust or fear. No, you were putting his needs first - or rather, what you perceived his needs to be.

“Part of my healing is supposed to be building relationships, you know.” There was a small smile on his face at the very thought of it - of falling asleep and waking next to you each morning, of finally getting to kiss and touch you like he craved for so long.

“So… we take it slow?” You said and Bucky watched your eyes flick down to his lips before meeting his gaze again, your body leaning closer as if drawn in by the very gravity that held you to the earth.

“Yeah, we take…” Bucky leaned in, meeting you halfway, your lips a hairsbreadth apart. “...it…” You brushed your nose against his gently and he sighed contentedly, eyes finally falling closed. “...slow…”

The first press of your lips to his was soft. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, the simple pleasure of a kiss, and the fact that it was you only made it all the better. He relaxed against you, pulling you closer by a hand on your waist and angling himself to deepen the kiss. Your gasp against his lips was addictive, something he could happily spend the rest of his life seeking out.

A shudder ran down Bucky’s spine at the feeling of your hand sliding up from his cheek to tangle in his hair, the short cropped style barely enough for you to grab onto. Fuck, you felt so good, he could lose himself in you without regret, could drown in the bliss that washed over him and -

He pulled away gently, offering one last peck against your lips as a parting gift, and pressed his forehead to yours to catch his breath, to calm himself down. He had to go slow and going slow decidedly was not dragging you onto his living room floor and finally letting his hands roam underneath your soft pajamas. You chuckled quietly and that was what got him to lean back and look at you again, dumbstruck by the dazed, happy look on your face.

“You’re good at that,” You whispered, earning you a bashful laugh.

“So are you.” Bucky sighed, the heavy weight of sleepiness gathering at his shoulders. “I need to try to go back to sleep… join me?”

“I think this floor would kill my back, sweetheart.” You teased and holy shit, his heart soared in his chest.

Sweetheart. He was your sweetheart.

“I was thinking we could share my bed, but if you’re gonna tease me -”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Barnes.” You surprised him with another kiss before climbing to your feet, your hand reaching out to pull him up with you.

He couldn’t help but feel amazed at the sight of you climbing into his bed, settling right into his rumpled sheets and looking up at him expectantly. He wasn’t going to leave you waiting, not when he finally got you right where he wanted you. You yawned as you brought him closer to lay his head against your chest and he melted right into you. Bucky curled his arm around your middle, effectively bringing your bodies completely flush against each other.

“You’re so warm, Buck.” You mumbled, sleepiness already warping your voice.

Bucky just hummed, his own exhaustion finally seeping back into his body now that the remnants of paranoid tension eased away at the steady sound of your heartbeat reverberating against his ear. Your hand rested against the top of his head to tease at his hair once more, and it was that gentle affection that had his eyes falling closed. At peace for the moment, his mind let him fall back into sleep, knowing that when the nightmares inevitably found him once more, he would have you there to help guide him back to where he belonged.

Right in your arms.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years ago

Text

LIFE-SAVING SHARPIE

Summary: Despite being a muggle, Y/n's mother was an expert in divination. She tried to teach Y/n, who saw it as a mere muggle game. But, oh, what a powerful weapon a muggle game can become in the hands of the right witch.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst (w/ a good ending)

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: injuries, death(ish)

A/N: I'm not saying I'm incapable of writing an angsty ending for a Fred Weasley story, but I'd rather not do that, so here comes a stupid story that occurred to me this morning, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Y/l/n!" I sighed. "Is it true?"

"Your mom is into divination?" George question made me throw my head back in desperation as both twins made their way through the Great Hall to meet me.

I knew that day would be a bumpy one the moment we entered in the Divination classroom. The fact that a muggleborn aced a new subject since class one was strange.

I knew I would have to give some explanation to my friends after. Ron was particularly shocked by the fact that my muggle mother had taught me —against my will, may I say— lots of Divination-related things. I knew Ron, being Ron, would surely tell every soul that would listen about his discovery, but I had hoped for him to wait until the third period at least.

"Secrets spread like wildfire here." I said.

"Are you secretly a soothsayer?"

"Yes, Fred. You see, I have the Sight." I ironically stated, and, seeing this as a perfect opportunity to get closer to the boy I fancied, I added "Want me to read your palm?"

They shared an amused look, fully aware that I was joking. Even in the Wizarding World, divination wasn't something to believe in.

There were supposed to be people able to see the future, such as professor Trelawney, but no student had seen her predict a thing, so she wasn't the best example.

George was the first one to sit down. "Predict my future, oh, you who were gifted with the Sight." I snorted as he laid his palm before my eyes.

I picked his hand on mines, "Hmm..." Fred hovering over my form from behind wasn't ideal for me to concentrate. "Okay so..." I felt one of his hands toying with the clasp of my necklace, brushing my nape. "Will you stop touching my necklace and sit down?" I demanded.

"Yeah Fred, sit down." George reprimanded his brother. "She's trying to see my future." I heard Fred chuntering before he plopped down on my other side, leaning on a tad too close for my liking. "Alright, fortuneteller, is there a love line?"

Of course he would ask about that. "Let's see..." I traced said line, unable to remember to the T what my mom had tried to teach me. "So, the heart line is arched... Which means..."

"That you can't tell a thing?" I slapped Fred's arm.

"Which means he's balanced." I corrected him. "You're able to realize when you need to take care of yourself, and when you should let a someone in." George seemed invested. "You'll have just one serious partner, but they'll be the right one."

"Well, that doesn't sound half bad, huh?" He looked at me with a content smile.

"My turn." Fred spoke, smacking his brother's hand away and replacing it with his left one. "The line of life or whatever." He scooted a bit closer and I felt my heartbeat pick up. "What's my fate?"

"Are you left-handed, Fred?" I questioned with an eyebrow raised, already knowing the answer. "I need your dominant hand." Oh well, that came out wrong.

"Straightforward, are we?" George snorted at his brother's remark as he exchanged hands, turning to straddle the bench to be more comfortable. "Alright, what do you see?" He had leaned on to the point where he only needed to tilt his head down a couple of inches to rest it on my shoulder.

"A hand." I deadpanned, which earned a playful push from him. "Okay, okay— I see..." A puzzled frown took over my gaze. "Wait—" I turned to George. "gimme your hand."

"What?" Fred questioned, shifting his position ever so slightly.

"Uhm..." The frown grew bigger, and I had to remind myself what I was doing was a joke. "You... don't have a lifeline?" I dubiously informed. "I mean�� it sorta... Starts? but then it fades away." I widened my eyes and froze, remembering what that meant.

I saw Fred tilting his head slightly. "Is it so bad that you won't tell me what it means?" He asked jokingly in order to lighten my distraught mood.

"It— well, it means that you'll die at a young age." My eyes met his and, despite the amused smile that always danced on his lips, fear slipped out of his orbs now, too.

"Wait what?" George propped himself on his forearms to see his brother's palm. "Can't be. Check mine?"

"I just did, you git." George wasn't even smiling. Maybe he did believe it. "Yours is fine."

The three of us stayed in silence for an instant. Even if none of us believed in divination, the fact that Fred had no lifeline was rather unsettling.

"It's fine." I cleared my throat, turning to my bag and leaving Fred's hand over the table on the process. "Apart from seeing the future, I can fix lifelines." They looked at each other when they saw me grab a sharpie. "Don't move." I demanded, holding down Fred's right hand before tracing a black line where the lifeline was supposed to be. "There. A long, healthy life."

When I looked back at the twins' faces, I saw them ready to laugh. Distress had already left them, and that helped my own evaporate.

"Merlin, Y/n!" Fred dramatically exclaimed. "You've just saved my life!"

"She sure did." George agreed, patting my back.

"Now go and tell Ron to shut up." I didn't want to imagine what would happen if people started to believe I could actually predict their future; the twins were sceptic and even they had somehow fallen for it.

I was so focused on George getting up that I didn't even notice Fred's hand flipping and wrapping around mine.

A soft kiss was placed on my cheek and I felt my face heating up even before meeting Fred's proud grin. "Figured I'd give my savior something in repay." His eyes seemed to flicker to my lips for a second; it's just my imagination, I thought, unaware of Fred's thumb caressing the back of my hand until he removed it in order to stand up.

Four Years Later

FRED'S P. O. V.

One second I was laughing at Percy's joke, and the next one everything was black; not only visually, everything was pitch black in every fucking sense.

I heard nothing, I couldn't touch anything, my voice was gone.

My mind was completely blank, until a thought slipped in my brain: 'you'll die at a young age'.

My head was spiralling now. I was dead. That's what death felt like? Nothing?

Y/n's words kept going on and on, frying my brain. How ironic it was that the voice I would have forever in my mind belonged to the girl I had been in love with since I was fourteen, and the words were what we thought to be her silly prediction.

I had no idea how long it had been, but suddenly I felt it; a tear running down my cheek. A flaming hot tear, burning its way off my face. Then I felt something else, some sort of rope wrapping tight around my right hand and wrist, so tight that it made my pulse speed up.

My pulse.

It dawned on me that my heart was beating fast against my chest. It was beating.

I needed to breathe.

"FRED!" Someone forced my eyes open; It was Percy. I couldn't see him right away because the lights were blinding to my eyes, but I recognised his voice. "FRED SAY SOMETHING!"

"Y/n..." I couldn't hear my own voice, but I felt her name going through my vocal cords.

"HE'S ALIVE!" Ron cried. "you're alive-" my sight was blurry but I could pick out my younger brother's crown in front of me as he sobbed over my chest.

"We gotta get him out of here right now!!" Of course it was Hermione who got everyone moving. As both my brothers managed to pick me up, I felt my eyes closing once more. Not even the fear of not waking up again stopped me from passing out.

READER'S P. O. V.

I had volunteered as Healer to help Madam Pomfrey during the Battle, that's why it was me who received two Weasleys practically dragging a third one into the improvised infirmary.

I recognised him from his jacket. "Fred..." At first I thought it was his corpse, that's how bad he looked.

"Y/N!!" It was only when Fred seemed to tilt his head up due to Ron's cry that I reacted, rushing to help them. "Keep him alive!" I only nodded, taking Ron's place as he took off.

With one of his arms over my shoulders and the other over his brother's, we managed to carry him to one of the stretchers; his painful weak groans went directly into my ear as we moved him, triggering the tears I was holding to fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

FRED'S P. O. V.

"—alive, somehow." Y/n's voice, though it sounded far away, let me know she was close. "No, don't wake him up."

"Listen, you gotta get him to St. Mungo." It seemed George the one talking, but his voice was too shaky to tell. "in an hour this is gonna get really ugly, I want him out."

"George, we're besieged." Her tone was hopeless.

"Look at him, You said it— It's a bloody miracle he's still breathing." my brother's voice shattered; all I wanted was to get up, hug him and say I was okay, but I felt my brain spinning once more. "Bill and I will escort you out of the castle so..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time I opened my eyes, terror inundated me; everything was dark again. I gasped for air and propped myself up, instantly regretting it. A stabbing pain attacked every part of my body, triggering a shocked cry out of me.

"What are you doing?!" Y/n whisper-shouted, before placing both her hands over my chest to push me back to the bed again. "Are you mental?" Her fingertips moved out of the way a bandage that covered my eyes. "Oi, listen," when she noticed my shaky hands desperately trying to reach my face, she took them in hers. "You're safe."

I tried to say something —anything—, but my throat was sore, and the only thing that was able to leave it was her name.

"Shhh." She hushed me, letting one of her hands travel to my face. "You have to rest." I would have sworn she was crying, but I couldn't tell. "Everything'll get better." Her thumb stroking my cheek was the most soothing thing I had ever felt, so it wasn't difficult for me to close my eyes, this time willingly, though I was equally scared. "I'll stay by your side." The reassuring squeeze her hand gave me, made me aware that she had noticed my fear.

Before drifting off, I felt Y/n's lips placing a chaste kiss on my forehead, making my heart hammer against my chest.

I was still alive.

A Month Later

READER'S P. O. V.

It was Ron who sent me an owl the moment Fred finally got out of the hospital. He informed me that, instead of going to the Burrow to rest a few days—as planned—, ha had gone straight to the shop.

That's how I found myself the next morning inside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which was not-so-surprisingly full of people again.

Due to the huge amount of customers, it was relatively difficult for me to spot the twins.

Apparently, I turned out to be easy to spot.

"Y/n!" I turned in the stairs' direction to be met with a very enthusiastic George who, before I could even greet him, engulfed me in a hug.

"I see you can't catch a break." I observed, pulling away with a big smile on my face. That place really made the trick to bring joy to everyone.

"You can't imagine." He replied, his gaze wandering around before pulling my hand. "Oi, Fred! Look who dropped by!" He shouted over the hubbub, leading me to the till counter, behind which I saw the reason why I had come in the first place.

Just as Fred's eyes noticed me, he attempted to rush out of the till. I left George's side as soon as I realized that he, in fact, couldn't really rush out.

"Merlin's beard!" Despite he had just had to grip the counter in order not to fall, he tried again. "Take it easy, will you?" I scolded him, steadying him by his forearms and helping him step back to rest against the till. "Do you want to go back to the hospital?"

"If you're the one taking care of me, I wouldn't complain." The first time his eyes fell on my lips, I missed it because I was still securing him. The second time it was impossible to miss. "You know? Your sharpie saved my life."

I snorted at his nonsensical words. "You're delirious, Weasley." My hands finally left his forearms, just to be picked up on his. "Still suffering from the concussion?" I joked, trying to deviate my own attention from my fast heartbeat.

Another glance at my lips.

"I should get going." George spoke behind me.

"I was going to visit you tomorrow." Fred stated, his gaze now focused on my eyes.

"Sorry to break it to you, love," I pointed out, motioning at him with our hands still held. "But you can barely walk."

"Yeah, but I needed to see you." He looked somehow sheepish; I doubted I had ever seen him like that before. "I'm gonna be as clear and concise as possible—" He cleared his throat and forced himself to look at me. "I'm pretty much in love with you." I didn't know my eye could go as wide as they went. "Thing's I've known for a good couple of years now." He shrugged. "Telling you scared me, but then this happened." He gestured at himself. "And now not being able to tell you scares me even more." His eyes scanned me before looking around. "This wasn't the ideal place to tell you, but I didn't want to wait any longer."

I gulped, trying to process it as fast as possible.

"For Godric's sake, Y/n," he gently tugged my hand. "Say something, please." Fear started to take over him, even if he tried to keep it at bay. "It's alright if you don't feel the same, we can still be friends, I promise—"

"How do I kiss you without hurting you?" I questioned, already feeling the heat on my cheeks.

I could tell by his face that, out of everything I could have said, he was not expecting the answer I had given him. "Ever the caring one." He let go of my hands to cup my cheeks. "Just kiss me," he sounded so happy, it was contagious. "I'll deal with the pain later."

I listened to him and, holding onto his blazer, stood on my tiptoes and crashed my lips against his— only because I had been wanting to kiss him for too fucking long.

I got lost in the kiss and my brain completely dismissed that an entire wall had collapsed over the boy before me just a month ago; my hands went up to his neck, pulling him closer and, consequently, earning a painful groan from him.

"Shit! sorry." I was quick to let go, suddenly very aware of our surroundings, too.

He just shook his head and pulled my back to him, this time by my hips. "I said I'll deal with it later." He spoke against my lips before going in for a second kiss.

I was more gentle now, careful not to cause him too much pain.

To our dismay, we were interrupted.

"You said love confession!" George snapped us out of it; this time the groan Fred let out was from annoyance. "not snogging session in front of our customers! Get to work!"

He huffed, unwillingly separating from me. "If you stick around until lunch time, we can resume this."

I pretended to think about it. "I guess I can find something to do until then." My smile was as wide as his, and it grew wider when he pulled my into a hug, placing a kiss on the crown of my head. "I love you too, by the way."

His laugh reverberated on his chest. "Good to know."

"Freddie! Now!" This time it was me who groaned at George's demands.

"Help me out, love." Fred requested, pulling away from me so I could help him move behind the till counter. "See you in a couple of hours?" I nodded, pecking his cheeks and walking away from the shop.

It was when I started to walk down the Diagon Alley that it clicked.

His lifeline.

The sharpie.

"OH MY FUCK—"

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred x you #fred x slytherin reader #fred x y/n #fred lives au #fred weasly x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley fluff #harry potter #battle of hogwarts

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constantlyunlightening · 5 years ago

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1000000 Times

Kinktober Day 6: Overstimulaion w/ Mirio Togata

Other kinks/Trigger warnings: praise kink, minor breeding kink

I say overstimulation but it was less of a focus than I would have liked. That being said, Mirio is a good boy and this fic is fluffy as hellllllllll. I actually ended up having a lot of fun with it, once I got in my groove.

Go and get your back blown out, bby

Disclaimers: Read/interact only if you’re 18+. Characters are all 20+

For clarification, you had been joking.

Dating Mirio meant an endless stream of joking and teasing and laughing. The man had always been an outstanding source of positivity for you and you wanted to be one back to him. He found strength in humor and you wanted to be another form of strength for him. It was perfect that way. You loved the dumb jokes and the silly chats you two had. You loved the way his smile lit up his entire face when you cracked a dumb pun. He loved your little giggles that turned into big belly laughs when he started cracking them back.

You two had a relationship that was, in part, built on humor.

So, when you had teasingly sent him a naughty message today, it was a joke.

“Maybe you should live up to your name and make me cum a million times 👀”

You thought his reply was a joke.

“Hah! Sounds like a challenge and I’m up for it!”

You had also thought he had been joking when he had brought home a wheelchair that very day and told you it was because you were going to have a real hard time walking tomorrow. An elaborate joke, but a joke nonetheless.

Now you weren’t so sure how much of a joke it actually was.

“That’s three!” In the wake of your third orgasm, your eyes managed to flutter down to the tuft of blonde that was between your legs and you soon met Mirio’s twinkling gaze as he smiled at you, lips left wet with your essence. “You’re handling those really well, princess! You sound so sweet when you moan out for me that I can’t really help myself.” His voice was as cheery and light as ever. It was almost hard to believe that such a sweet tone was coming from the same man who had been going down on you like a man starved and yet….

“Miri-” you almost whined out. Three orgasms on his tongue alone was leaving you a bit weak. Didn’t help the way he melted you with his words after each of them - telling you how cute you were shaking underneath him. “Y-you don’t actually have to count them.”

“That’s a good one! Impressive that your cracking jokes after you went all tremble-y on me like that. Just another thing for me to adore about you, huh?” He readjusted his grip on you. He was lying prone between your legs, both his arms having snaked underneath your thighs to prop them up and leave you open for him. However, one of his hands went from completely coiling around your thighs, to now moving to press down on your stomach, pinning your lower abdomen to the bed. Your last orgasm had left you back rounded off the bed and this was probably a measure to counter that. Easier to get you off when you were anchored in place. “If I don’t keep track, how am I going to know how many more I have to go, silly. I mean, you can try counting if you want but-” he trailed off and you could see that mischievous gleam in his eyes as he licked the taste of you off his lips, “-I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep up no matter how smart you are.”

His head dove back down, seeing the way your body finally started to melt a bit - muscles unwinding just so he could wind them right back up again. His tongue was circling at your velvety entrance and a warm breath fanned over you with his low chuckle. “You’re still quivering, princess. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to get enough of you when your body is this irresistible.” His tongue dove into you and the one arm that was still wrapped around your leg tugged. Your body dragged against the bed until his face was pressed right up against your cunt, the muscle inside you now digging in as deep as it could reach, lazily contracting and expanding to toy out your reactions. The low groan of his voice sent a vibration through your core that caused enough of a rush of pleasure that you hardly noticed how bruising of a grip he had on your leg, keeping you flushed against him as much as he could.

He had taken his time with the first three climaxes and this seemed to be the case with this one too. This man had the potential to be an absolute brute- but he was treating you as if you were a fragile gemstone. Caution was to be heeded but you were in need of plenty of admiring. His tongue fucked you slowly and sweetly, the tip of his nose brushing against your clit every once in a while just to leave you mewling with each graze. Your own energy seemed to be coming back to your body too, because a particularly good thrust of his tongue had you freed leg involuntary jerking and knocking the side of his head with more force than you’d like to admit. You were caught in your own euphoria but you did have enough sense to realize that might have hurt and you gasped out. “S-sorry!” Your squeal tampered into a whine as his tongue retreated from you, leaving you feeling more empty than you wanted. But you had just kicked him. It was understandable he pulled away but your body was already desperate for your fourth.

Luckily he didn’t seem hurt. In fact, he appeared rather amused as he let go of your stomach and let his thumb move down to gently circle your clit, refusing to let your pleasure die down. “You got real squirrely on me there, huh?” He asked, flashing you the same charmed smile that caught your heart in the first place. This man smiled at you as if he had the world just to give to you. “Did it feel that good?” Softer now, his voice carried as a loving whisper in the space around you. So tender. Your pussy was clenching but your heart fluttered. “Let me make it feel even better.”

His finger moved to push inside you. Like everything else about this boy, his fingers were big too. The single digit stretched you out enough to make you keen and he moved to let his mouth lathe attention back to your folds. “Kick me as much as you want, princess. I’ll take whatever you got. Just let me make my princess feel soooo good.” The rumble in his voice vibrated against your heat as his finger worked and trusted inside you. Each stroke had you clamping down on him tighter, clinging to the intrusion as your hands moved to thread through his hair. Pleasure was rippling through your nerves and he fed off your reactions - your moans, your quivers, the drip of your heat around his finger. He picked up the pace each time you got needier, letting your bliss build and build and build. The pressure was so close. And when it got just right - just about ready for him to push you off the edge - he let his tongue focus solely on that pretty button of yours, playing it like a master musician. Your crying of his name was his masterpiece.

You came again and as that molten heat flooded your system, you barely registered the cheeky “four!” that was called out from inside your thighs. You did regain your senses enough to hear his sweet coos as he dropped your legs and moved to a kneel. “That’s it. You’re doing so, so well for me. I’m really proud of you, ya know? You’ve been handling it all and coming undone for me every time. You’re so gorgeous. How am I ever supposed to take my eyes off of you?”

He was leaning over you, kissing your lips till they were swollen, big hands soothing over your shaking body. “You’re not starting to hurt yet, are you? I’m trying to go slowly for you, but a million? That’s going to get you real sensitive. I’ll try and drag you into the pleasant parts of it a little faster now, alright? Just keep on taking me in, okay, pretty girl?” His hand found its way to your hair, smoothing over the top of it only so he could cup your face, pressing his forehead against yours. “Just like you always do. Yeah, you got this.”

His tip was pressed to your entrance and he suddenly had his hands off your face and grabbing your legs was more, bending them up over his shoulders. Mirio talked sweet and then had the tendency to bend you like a pretzel. But the way he had your body worked up had created enough heat within you to give you the flexibility he needed to get you into position. It also had you positively dripping and Mirio used that to lube up his cock as it glided from your entrance to between your folds and back, getting a layer of your sticky coating. “Ready for more? Getting such a good taste of my pretty girl got me all excited. Feel it?” His head was brushing alongside your entrance and it tipped in slowly, your hole protesting with a squeeze against the girth of it. “I’m practically bursting and it’s all because of you and how amazing you are. I can hardly hold back.”

Mirio’s hands found your own and pinned them above your head, intertwining fingers and squeezing as he pressed each individual inch of cock into your needy cunt. The stretch burned. Even with four orgasms and the stretch of his own finger, it still didn’t completely accommodate for his size. It was painful, but that’s why he went slow, letting you adjust as he got deeper and deeper and… his tip kissed your cervix and you mewled out, hands tightening their grip around his. He let you settle over him, adjust and when he felt you relax is when he started to pull his hips back.

“Don’t hold back then.” Your voice was tiny- sweet and peacefully blissed out but he had heard. His hips stopped midway on the outwards and the groan he emitted was so deep that you almost mistook it for a growl..

“I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love you.” He slammed his hips back in. He didn’t mean to hurt you by any means but you got him so riled up some days he didn’t know how to handle himself. And with you having given him the go ahead, Mirio was finding his own pace, slamming heavy hips against your tight body. You could feel your vision blur with the force as the bed creaked underneath each motion. Mirio had a dick that could rearrange your guts if you weren’t careful. A mixture of pain and ecstasy dance over you, fighting for the spotlight with each snap of Mirio’s hips. But as he got faster, deeper, it was the euphoria that overcame and whimpering cries shifted to needy moans that only fueled your lovers movements.

The slam of the headboard bucking the wall now joined the chorus in the still-growing noise that had been created in the room. Tears pricked at your eyes but that didn’t dissuade you from calling out for more. “Miriii, pleaseeeee! Need ta’ cum-”

“How could I-” a grunt as he swung his hips down deeper still “- ever turn you down? Want me to cum with you? Cum inside you, princess?” You babbled out something that sounded like a yes and he groaned loudly. “Yessss. That’s a good girl. Gonna give you a kid, you want that? Your body sure does.” Another clench and Mirio managed out a strained laugh as he pressed your legs deeper to your chest. “Yeahhhhh, it does. Try not to spill a drop. But even if you do-” a slam of his hips “-ill just cum in you all over, okay? All for my-” slam! “-good-” slam! “-little-” he banged into you harder, harder, harder “-princess.”

You screamed, feeling like his dick was splitting you in half as your orgasm sprang up on you. The first four had been honey like - sweet and slow. This one was more like a bolt of lightning as it rocked through you all at once, leaving your body in spasms. Those spasms were enough to coax Mirio too. Through your mental haze, you could feel warmth gush through your core, spilling deep inside your body - spilling out of it Mirio leaned further against you. He stopped himself from fully collapsing on you, not wanting to crush you. Even in his orgasmic bliss, his priority was keeping you safe at all costs - especially now with how utterly vulnerable and wrecked you looked underneath him. Were your eyes going crossed? They certainly were teary.

Cute.

He let you course through the sensations, keeping his cock situated in your depths. Hero stamina was fantastic. Having his cum lodged deep within you, spreading through your body gave him a mental image that riled him back up again even as your eyelids got heavy. Refractory period, who?

He chuckled gently, watching you start to doze off underneath him. He released your hand, only so he could tap your cheek and then jolt you awake with another buck of his hips. “Sorry, but no falling asleep yet! We’re only on number five!”

#mirio togata #bnha smut #mirio x reader #kinktober #pretend this isnt a day late #im going to make it up by writing two fics a different day #but for now #this is fine

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alemoncakelife · 4 years ago

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AU: Jon Snow Meets Alayne Stone

“Remember my sweet, he cannot recognise you.”

“Of course, father, for we have never met.”

Petyr smirked at her as the pair approached the party of Northerners. Sansa gripped her reins and held her breath. She had always thought of how sweet it would be to see Jon Snow again. Yet the notion of this reunion taking place among so many people, particularly Littlefinger, simply filled her with dread. Lord Baelish had laid such a careful collection of plots. He intended to have her win the heart of Harry the Heir, along with the whole of the Eyrie and most importantly Winterfell. Home. It was a delicate and treacherous game, as it always was with him. They could not have her half brother reveal her true name before its time. Otherwise more things may be lost than a game.

But all she had to do was remind herself that Sansa was not here. It was only Alayne. And all Alayne had heard of Jon Snow was the whispers from the other lords and ladies of the Vale. And as she drew her horse to a halt, there he stood before her. The awkward boy who sparred with Robb and Theon had gone. Now in his place was a stranger. A man, with hair as black as the midnight sky and eyes that shone like dragonglass. He wore the furs of a lord that reminded her so much of her father. Her heart twinged. Winterfell was so far from here.

“Lord Snow,” Petyr Baelish declared as he dismounted, “I trust your journey was a safe one.” Lord Jon bowed his head before replying that it was, although the bitter winds indicated that winter truly was coming.

“It may be coming sooner than any man can tell.” Baelish continued. When he and Jon were face to face, he gave the lad a smile that barely spread past his cheeks. Lord Snow couldn’t seem to return the expression and his mouth twitched briefly instead.

He never was confident in courtesies, Sansa thought fondly. Then she prayed to the gods that she’d look as much a stranger to him as he did to her, before she slid from her saddle and joined her father.

“My lord may I introduce you to my daughter. Although her name is not all that dissimilar to your own.”

In that moment she knew she had to speak. But what if Jon recognised her voice? Sansa willed herself to meet his gaze and it was then that she was almost certain he knew. His hands had dropped by his sides and his lips were softly parted. It was as if her real name danced upon those very lips and longed to slip free. But she couldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t allow it! Sansa’s Tully eyes fluttered into a stonier stare. Her mouth curled into a smirk her Lord Father would be proud of. Her false one at least...

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Snow. My name is Alayne Stone.”

She curtsied. (Not as gracefully as Sansa would have.)

“Stone?” he said, piecing it together. His voice was lower and gruffer than she remembered. The longer she lingered on his face she realised just how many scars he bore. Sansa’s scars never reached her face. Each mark sparked a new question in her mind. It had been so long since he left. There was so much she wanted to know. What had he seen? What had he survived? In a way he was the only person of her past that remained to her. A part of her was desperate to know how big Ghost had gotten, but Alayne would have to firstly learn that Jon Snow even had a direwolf before finding that out. Yet all these thoughts vanished when she realised he was smiling at her. Smiling, truly. She knew it was true because his eyes shone brighter while the skin around them creased. He used to smile that way with Arya and her brothers.

“Alayne Stone. That’s a pretty name.”

What? Did she hear him correctly? Sansa had told him to say that. In another life when she was small and full of songs. She told him to give that exact praise to the ladies he’d meet. He remembered! After all this time he remembered! Half her head told her it was a foolish coincidence, but the other half screamed that Jon Snow remembered her lesson even after all this time! It was practically nothing and yet it felt like everything.She wanted so much to throw herself into his arms and weep and laugh and never let him go. Don’t be silly. Be Alayne. Instead she clasped her gloved hands together and tilted her head cooly.

“You are too kind, my lord. Perhaps once my father has shown you and your men to your rooms, you might tell me some tales of your time in the North. I hear it can be quite beautiful”

Jon’s expression darkened a little.

“It is, my lady. But sadly it is now in great danger. We all are. That is what’s brought us to you.”

The bluntness threw her a bit, but Alayne was not so swayed. She glanced at Petyr who was looking at her with what some might see to be pride or admiration, but she knew him better than that. He loved to watch her play.

“The world is indeed a dangerous place. But there is no need for such formalities with me. You may call me Alayne. Everyone does.”

“Thank you. You can call me Jon.”

“Jon.” It felt so nice to say his name. She wanted to say it again. But she really shouldn’t have.

First he blinked. As if he had misheard her. Then he opened his mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. It was a silence that felt longer than it likely was, and suddenly Sansa was all too aware of the Northern men and knights of the Vale that had been watching the three of them this whole time. What a stupid thing to do. She had no different voice. Saying his name must have done something. A wrong move on her part. If Sansa gave him enough time she was sure he’d find her in the woman before him. He made her feel like her brunette wash was fading from her hair with every second. Her cheeks burned. The little girl in her wanted Littlefinger to say something. To intervene. Surely he could see this unravelling like she did?

I must not be a Stark. Not now. Not yet.

What would Sansa Stark not do in this moment? Because whatever that was, Alayne Stone had to do it, and quickly. Then it came to her.

“Jon...Jon, Jon.” She played with his name before licking her lips and raising an eyebrow. This was confusing him. Good. Throw him off the scent. “I think not.”

With that she sauntered back to her horse and climbed up. She prayed nobody could see how her legs were shaking. Once she was mounted Alayne smiled triumphantly. “If it please my lord, I should like to call you Snow. I know so many Jons you see, but no Snows.”

“A-aye. You can call me that.” He tried to hide his fidgeting finger beneath his cloak. That red-haired girl from his childhood was falling out of his thoughts now. Let her disappear.

“Well then, dear father. Perhaps we should all head back to the Eyrie now. As you said yourself winter is approaching and these winds grow less forgiving.”

Petyr was beaming at her. Sansa couldn’t tell if it was that or the breeze that was causing the gooseflesh around her neck. Had there not been so many spectators, Lord Baelish might have tried to steal a fatherly kiss had his bastard daughter not retreated to her steed.

“Very wise, my sweet.” He turned to Jon. “You must forgive my girl. Her manners are not always what they ought.”

“It’s alright. We bastards are not known for our courtesies.” Littlefinger allowed himself a small chuckle. He’d never looked slimier to Sansa than now.

“Indeed. We shall show you and your men to your rooms. Then we may discuss the matters you conveyed to me in your raven. I am most keen to be of service in any way I can.”

Jon Snow thanked him with a nod and they both got onto their horses. Sansa watched him. He moved with such strength. He must be a magnificent fighter now. Petyr never told her why he invited Jon all this way or how he might fit into his plans. Perhaps he didn’t. There was danger in that.

“You did well.” He whispered, ensuring no-one else was listening to them. “When we return I will explain why he’s here, and of what value he may be to us.”

You will not make a pawn of him. Not if I can help it.

“Do you know what Jon meant, when he talked of us being in danger?”

“Yes, but do not fret my love. You and I both thrive in perils. Others may fall but we keep on climbing.” With that, Littlefinger galloped ahead, probably expecting her to follow like a good little bird.

But what does a mockingbird know of the winter? Be it wolves or bastards, Jon and I are a pack. If winter is coming, then I will protect him.

Sansa turned to look back at Jon Snow. They were the last of the Starks. She allowed herself to give him a small smile. Alayne Stone would be his friend. She would protect him in any way she could. And when the time came, she would tell Jon Snow the truth.

#jonsa #sansa stark #jon snow #alayne stone #got au #game of thrones #my writing #one shot #gotsansastark #jon x sansa #jon x alayne

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 4 years ago

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🕯Anon said: hi sweetheart 🕊 can you write about armin having a quiet night with the reader? something like wearing comfy pajamas, fairy lights, cute little candles, incense, soft songs and maybe some reading? and they just cuddling? 🥺 i think about that whenever i go to sleep and do all of the above, but i'm just by myself lmao anyways, thank you so much 🌸 (btw i'm the anon who asked you about the armin x painter!reader 🥺 hello 🥺 i just love how you write can we be friends please) 🕯

Quiet night with Armin

{ Armin x Reader | tw:none | sleep help, comfort, fluff | modern }

{ "Twilight, Valley of the Genesee" 1865 by Samuel Colman 1832 - 1920 }

Shimmering golden hues weaved across pastel blue walls in the form of strings, crossing the bookshelf before making a turn at the plants corner, illuminating the room with a soft warm glow.

Your head rested against the satin pillow, just right above Armin's shoulder, close enough that you can see the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. The ends of his hair ghosting over your cheek whenever he leaned to tell a particular clever line of the book he's been reading to you.

You can't exactly remember the name of it, but you can clearly recall his excited smile this morning when showing it to you.

"It's one of my favourites" he said, "the last time i got to reread it was in high-school, has it really been that long?" And that's all you can remember from the conversation before it got sidetracked by him asking if you had lunch yet.

There's definitely something to be said about rereading a book over and over again, a sense of familiarity, an attachment to the characters, plot and world setting. It's almost magic how quickly your comfort book, show or movie can turn a horrible day into a nice one, making it the silver lining.

Looking at the way Armin would pause for a second after some lines, or chuckle at random scenes, like it's an inside joke between him and his mind, you can tell he's definitely recalling some good memories.

Just like how he's adding to his list of comfort memories by sharing this experience with you, he wants you to be a part of this silly book he once picked up as a child and continued to revisit every few years.

You glance at the remaining pages, just as he flips another one to start anew. You've already finished a third of the book, only a quarter remaining.

It's not that you're getting impatient, but it's more that the soft blanket draped over you, the warmth of Armin's body pressed next to yours and the sound of his voice, are all luring you into a hazy cloudy state where your eyelids feel too heavy and turning your head to check the clock seems too exhausting.

How long has it been? since you curled up against him right after you went to put your empty hot chocolate mugs in the sink.

You don't have the heart to tell him that your brain stopped registering the words he's saying and instead listens to the tone of his soft-spoken voice and reacts accordingly. Stealing another glance at the remaining pages, you notice a few missing, okay good, just a few more. You can hold on right?

Right?

Forcing your eyes open, you suppress a yawn threatening to rise before curling even closer to his shoulder, face against his neck, hand over his chest.

Instead of focusing on his calming heartbeat, you try to focus your attention on different things, like the smell of snowdrops flowers filling the room from the scented incense sitting on the nightstand.

Snowdrops, the milky bell-like flowers who befriended the cold harsh snow herself.

An ancient German tale that Armin told you, on one early spring morning. When the universe was just in bloom, as the earth shaped its form and the plants dressed themselves, when the god in the heavens above just created snow, she was told to go seek her colours from the flowers below.

She came with her request, but the flowers turned their heads, refusing to acknowledge her for she is the reason for the harsh weather, deeming their life spans short, overzealous and jealous, protecting their colours from the merciless lady snow.

She was left all alone, friendliness, colourless with no love or sympathy from a soul.

Except for one, came knocking on her door, head bowed down and humbly offered to share. Snowdrops were the flowers that warmed the snow's heart, and so white was the colour in which snow was known.

Snow made a vow, to always protect her one and only friend, even from her own self. Under her watchful gaze, snowdrops were gifted with warmth that let them be the first flowers to bloom when winter bid her goodbyes as spring was arriving soon.

You've never seen snowdrops the same since, their delicate and shy nature standing out between all the proud flowers, you even suggested planting some to Armin.

"...but sweetheart" you remember him saying with a frown, " snowdrops are poisonous."

…

Yeah, and so getting their scented incense was the second best option available.

You hear the sound of another page being turned, fewer left to go, just hold on a bit longer.

Wondering the room with your eyes, your gaze fell on the straw sunhat hanging from the on the back of a chair. It's Armin's favourite, he'd always wear it when the sun was particularly bright that day.

you remember him saying it was a gift from his grandpa when he was a child.

His grandpa...didn't you visit his farm a few months ago?

...yeah you did, you can recall clearly, how you were:

Squinting your eyes to avoid the bright sun, you wiped the sweat collecting on your forehead before leaning your head back against the wooden wall. The occasional passing cool breeze distracting you from the dryness in your throat, even after moving to sit in the shade your skin still felt too hot.

The grassy fields in front stretched wide before ending in white pained fences, where the crops patches for vegetables started.

The sudden gentle waves of cool air against your skin made you glance to the side, where Armin was fanning you with his hat, while holding a tray with two ice filled lemonades in his other hand.

"Are you sure you don't want to go inside?" He said, sitting next to you before handing you the cold drink, "you've already done a lot, I'll do take care of the rest."

You've been helping Armin with the farm work since sunrise, feeding the animals together and watering the crops, saying you're exhausted from the scorching hot sun was an underestimation.

And yet, somehow Armin seems unaffected. Not a sign of being bothered as he sat there next to you with his rolled up sleeves and cuffed pants, the slight flushing to his face was the only thing he got from the sun.

"Yeah, I need to lay down a bit." You remember saying, after emptying your drink in one go.

"If that's the case then-" setting the tray aside, Armin patted his lap while looking at you, "Come here."

Too tired to protest, you layed your head on his thigh, feeling your back stretching and the cool air from his fanning was already making you feel better.

"You know, there's a story my grandpa used to tell me about the sun."

An Australian folklore, about a time when the earth was merged in absolute Darkness, when even the stars refused to light up the sky.

Eternal darkness was the fate of humanity, as people were spent their lives carrying torches to light up their way.

Gnowee was an alone mother in a forsaken world, left to fend for her little son. Each day while he slept safely, she'd venture into the the fields in search for plants or seeds. Knowing very well that's it's a matter of life and death if she couldn't come back with something edible.

Each day she'd come with whatever she could find, feeding it to her son even if it meant sleeping on an empty stomach.

But with food scarce and the abyss looming at every corner, things were harder each day.

One day after rocking her child to sleep, she quietly left with her torch to dig for yams she saw on her way last time. Retracting her footsteps, it was a long journey but she knew it'd be worth it.

And so she walked and walked till she reached the place, began digging the ground but dirt and mud was all that she could find. But she couldn't just go back to her son empty handed, and so she wandered far.

She wandered so far in fact that she reached the end, not the end of her journey but the end of the earth itself.

Somehow, in someway she managed to pass from under it, her will for her son to live another day far greater that anything, and so she emerged from the other side.

The void.

Where nothingness lived.

Looking at the vast empty space, she didn't know where she was, the line between the ground and walls was so blurred that she thought she's floating.

Panic and dread filled her mind as she raised her torch higher and higher, attempting to clear a path for her to see. For she had to go back to her son, all alone sleeping by himself.

Climbing the sky was her only solution, as she wondered the world, unknowingly lighting up a path with her as she went.

"And so the Sun Goddess wonders the sky above, in search for her son." Armin told you that day, before offering you his own lemonade to drink because he was still worried about you.

...

You can't recall how that day ended, you think you might have fell asleep on his lap right after.

The fairylights on the wall reminded you of the clear stars sky you've seen while on the farm, his grandfather was a really sweet guy too.

With your mind still coulded in drowsiness, your hearing was also delayed apparently, since you just noticed the book in Armin's hold was closed with him staring at you with a smile instead.

Moving so he could set the book on the nightstand, Armin turned towards you before pulling you closer to him, making sure the covers don't slip off of you. He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with love in his eyes.

"I'm sorry baby, did I take too long?" He said, glancing at the clock behind you answered his question.

You shook your head, murmuring a slurred "it's alright."

Posture visibly relaxing, he gave your cheek a small kiss before resting too on the pillow next to you, a yawn escaping him.

With half closed eyes, you saw him cuddling close to your chest, features softening as he bid you goodnight. Your hand moved to stroke his hair just like he always liked, lacing your fingers through the soft strands you closed your eyes too.

Warmth took over you, the feeling of his soft breath near your neck, the comfortable weight of his arms around you, the slow ticking of the clock, it all rocked you to sleep as you happily gave in.

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swan-of-sunrise · 4 years ago

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Taking Care of Business (Chapter Six)

Summary: The trio makes their way back to Mos Eisley, and Din begins to realize how much his new partner really means to him.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Kind of a filler/random chapter that I’m not too sure about, but I wanted to sprinkle in a bit of fluff before we get into the next big adventure lol I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Six The Medic (Previous Chapter)

After helping the Tuskens and the villagers gather up their weapons and supplies, Din and (Y/N) began preparing their speeder bike for the trip back to Mos Eisley. The Tuskens had gifted them a large chunk of the creature’s meat and while they continued harvesting the rest of its carcass, he and the captain wrestled the heavy meat onto the back of the bike; the child watched them work with widened eyes, and Din grinned in amusement when he realized how eager he was to eat it.

Din glanced up from their work as Cobb walked up to them, the Mandalorian armor packaged up in his arms. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to explain.”

“No need.” The marshal placed the bundle of armor onto the seat of the speeder before handing him the helmet, a smile of respect on his weathered face. “This was well-earned.”

“It was my pleasure.” He spoke truthfully, shaking Cobb’s outstretched hand; through their adventure together, he’d grown to admire the marshal and considered it an honor to have fought by his side. Well, mostly admire, he thought to himself, recalling how the charming man had flirted so easily with his partner.

Letting go of his hand, Cobb turned to (Y/N) with a lopsided grin. “Well, if you ever get tired of hangin’ ‘round this fella, princess, you know where to find me.”

Din felt a sudden surge of jealousy. The captain didn’t appear to be romantically interested in the ruggedly-handsome Marshal of Mos Pelgo, but it didn’t stop Din from envying the man for the effortless way he made her smile.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, but…” (Y/N) looked over at Din with a glimmer of admiration in her eyes that nearly made him blush. “I think I’m right where I’m meant to be.”

Cobb shrugged good-naturedly and shook her hand. “Princess, you sure are somethin’.” He winked at her before looking between her and Din. “Well, this was fun. I hope our paths cross again, you two.”

“As do I.”

The marshal turned to walk away but halted, gesturing over to the Mandalorian armor with a smirk. “Oh, and tell your people I wasn’t the one that broke that.”

Once Cobb made his way over to where his villagers stood, Din glanced over at (Y/N) as she wrapped her cowl around her shoulders. “Feel up to driving, alor’ad?”

“I always am.” With a grin, she pulled on her goggles and secured the child in his satchel before carefully climbing onto the packed speeder bike. “Ready to go, partner?”

With a nod, Din seated himself behind her and placed his hands on either side of her waist as she revved the speeder’s engine and shot forward, starting out back across the Dune Sea with the twin suns high above them. They had originally planned on traveling the entire way back to Mos Eisley without stopping but as the suns began to set, Din reconsidered the plan; his body was aching all over and he knew that (Y/N)’s leg was injured, so he ultimately decided that their best course of action was to camp out for the night and travel at first light.

The captain readily agreed to his new plan and stopped the speeder bike near a small outcropping of rocks, keeping an eye on the child as Din set up their camp. He watched the two of them out of the corner of his eye while he worked, biting back an amused chuckle whenever he caught a snippet of (Y/N)’s words; she spoke to the child as if he were an adult, perhaps because she wasn’t used to dealing with small children, but it was entertaining to listen to her partake in an almost one-sided conversation with the babbling child.

“How’s your leg?” Din asked later on that evening, after they’d put the child to sleep in his satchel; he and (Y/N) were sitting beside the campfire and he noticed that she’d been absentmindedly rubbing her calf as they talked. “I saw you limping back there.”

“Oh, yeah, I think I might’ve landed on it weird when Vanth and I fell out of the sky.” She stretched out her right leg and flexed it, trying and failing to mask her wince of pain behind a smile. “It feels…okay.”

Giving his head a small shake, Din gestured to her leg with a gloved hand. “May I?” With a small sigh of defeat, she nodded and leaned back on her elbows as he carefully rolled up her trouser leg. He could tell even through his helmet’s visor that the captain’s calf muscle was cramped, the theory only confirmed when he hovered a hand over the bulge and felt the slight warmth radiating off of it through the leather of his glove. “Yep, your muscle cramped up, probably due to the shock of the impact. There’s not much a person can do to speed up its healing, unfortunately, but…” He cleared his throat, his hands beginning to sweat nervously underneath his gloves. “But I can make it feel a little better…”

“O-okay. Thank you, Mando.” Her kind smile faltered a bit once he tentatively began rubbing his thumbs down on the spot. “I guess I should add ‘medic’ to your ever-growing list of impressive skills, right alongside ‘Tusken Translator’ and ‘Diplomat.’” Din scoffed and she lightly kicked his armored thigh with her other foot. “I’m serious! The way you got those two groups to set aside their differences and work together was amazing, Mando, and you should be proud of yourself.”

Din felt his face warm at (Y/N)’s praise, and he was thankful that she couldn’t see just how flustered her words made him; feeling overwhelmed, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You know, there’s no Mando’a word for ‘diplomat;’ ‘translator’ is miit’amyc and ‘medic’ is baar’ur, but there’s no word in that language that directly translates ‘diplomat.’ The closest would be naak, which means ‘peace.’” He looked up from his work to meet (Y/N)’s stunned expression, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her gaze. “I’m rambling, sorry-”

“No, no, it’s okay! You’re actually doing a great job at distracting me from the pain, baar’ur,” She joked, biting back a wince as he continued massaging the muscle. “How do you say ‘bounty hunter’ in Mando’a?”

“Beroya.”

“What about ‘smuggler’?”

He paused for a moment. “Mir'sheb.”

(Y/N) smiled. “So, you’re a beroya and I’m a mir’sheb.” At her statement Din burst into laughter, unable to hold it in any longer and she merely raised a confused brow. “What, did I pronounce it wrong?”

“Mir’sheb...mir’sheb means ‘smart-ass’...”

His chuckles continued as she threw him a withering glare and the corners of her lips curled into a reluctant grin. “Just for that, I’m gonna find a language you don’t know and learn to speak it just so I can call you names all the time.”

Their laughter died down and they sat in comfortable silence as Din massaged her cramped muscle. With one particularly hard rub, (Y/N)’s eyes squeezed shut in pain, she blurted out, “It’s kinda silly, isn’t it? You purposefully get swallowed by a kriffing krayt dragon yet I’m the one with the stupid injury.”

Din frowned in guilt, remembering the expression on the captain’s face when he’d flown out of the creature’s mouth; it had been an equal mixture of shock and anger, the latter nearly disguised by her trademark grin. “I’m sorry, alor’ad.”

“It’s okay, it’s already feeling a little bit better-”

“That’s not what I was talking about.” He interrupted. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about my plan; we’re partners now, and I didn’t treat you as my partner back there.”

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) looked at him with a patient expression on her face. “I understand, Mando, there wasn’t enough time. I was…I was just worried about you, that’s all.” Din stopped massaging the muscle and she gave her leg an experimental flex. “Oh, that feels great! Did you want to take first watch or should I?”

“I will,” He quickly answered, averting his gaze as she bent over to roll down her trouser leg. “You get some rest.”

(Y/N) bid him goodnight and crawled into the bedroll beside the child, her breathing evening out as she quickly fell asleep. Once Din was sure that the captain was unconscious, he began taking off pieces of his armor and tending to his many injuries; since they were only darkening bruises, he couldn’t really do anything except examine them and check for any broken skin before strapping his armor back on over them. He finished his work quickly, wincing in pain as he straightened his back and rolled his shoulders.

“Dinner time.” Din mumbled under his breath, reaching over and grabbing a ration pack from his bag. He made swift work of opening it up, since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, and just as he was about to lift the bottom of his helmet up over his mouth, he hesitated; glancing over at his partner and the child, he made the split-second decision of removing the entire helmet.

As the cool desert breeze blew over his warm skin, Din’s eyes widened in shock at his own recklessness, but his shock was soon replaced by wonder when his gaze drifted back to the captain. With his own eyes he was finally able to admire all those features he’d noticed the moment he met her, taking note of the softness of her skin and the way the corner of her lip curved up while she slept; the breeze had blown some of her hair onto her face and for the briefest of seconds, he’d been tempted to reach over and brush it behind her ear. Kandosii’la. But common sense finally returned and he gave his head a small shake before quickly eating his food and securing his helmet back on, purposefully looking anywhere but her as he continued his watch.

It wasn’t just (Y/N)’s beauty that had taken him aback that evening. Din wasn’t used to having someone around who worried for his safety; when she’d wished him luck before their first mission together, he figured she was only being polite, but now he knew that she genuinely cared about his well-being. Cobb Vanth was right back there, Din thought to himself as his face flushed, his partner really was something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Din allowed (Y/N) to drive the speeder bike, partly because his body was still sore from the previous day’s excitement and partly because he secretly enjoyed the feel of his gloved hands on the curve of her waist. As they sped across the Dune Sea, thoughts of their quest intruded on his mind and he inwardly sighed; they hadn’t found a Mandalorian on Tatooine, which meant that they were virtually back at square one.

Preoccupied with planning their next move, Din didn’t spot the trip wire until it was too late; they were instantly ejected off the speeder, the child crying out in shock as they flew through the air. Din twisted in midair, hastily bringing a hand up to his vambrace and igniting his jetpack so that he could land on his feet. He stumbled backwards and dodged the burning speeder as it flew past him and crashed onto the sand in the distance, turning to see where (Y/N) and the child had landed just as blaster bolts hit his shoulder and helmet. Grunting, Din stumbled back some more and heard a gruff voice call out, “Get the child!”

Another shot hit his shoulder and he quickly realized that he was being cornered by four figures, pulling out his blaster to shoot one of them but missing his mark when another attacker slammed down on his weapon with a sword. He dropped the blaster but was quick to defend himself, managing to disarm his attacker and hit him in the head; two attackers pinned him up against the rocks and he couldn’t do much but hold his arms up to defend against their blows until he spotted the fourth attacker beginning to aim a rifle blaster at him. He quickly fired his grappling hook and watched as it wrapped around the weapon, tugging it hard and ducking down to let the weapon hit both his attackers in the heads. They fell to the ground and he stood but froze when he saw that the fourth attacker was holding the child in one arm and a knife in the other.

“Wait!” Din held his hands up, his heart clenching as he took in the child’s widened eyes. “Don’t hurt the child. If you put one mark on him there’s no place you’ll be able to hide from me.” The attacker didn’t move, but he was suddenly aware of a familiar presence nearby; to distract the attacker, he gestured towards the speeder wreck in the distance. “We can strike a bargain. There’s a lot of value in this wreckage; take your pick. But leave him.”

The attacker suddenly gestured towards Din’s left with his knife, speaking angrily in his unknown language and pointing it back at the child in his arms. He turned his head a little to watch (Y/N) reluctantly lower her blaster and toss it off to the side, looking back at the attacker and sighing when he realized just what the attacker wanted.

“Okay.” Din slowly reached behind him and detached his jetpack, taking a step forward and placing it gently on the ground before backing away. “Here, it’s yours. Take it. It’s okay.” He heard (Y/N) make a sound of protest and he held a hand out to quiet her as the attacker set the child down; he grabbed the jetpack and immediately ran off with it, but all of Din’s attention was on the child as he hobbled towards him with a distressed cry; he bent down and picked the child up, examining him for any injuries. “You okay?” The child cooed and looked over at (Y/N) as she hurried over and Din turned his attention to the fleeing attacker; bringing his hand up to his vambrace, he launched the jetpack high up in the air and all three of them watched as the attacker plummeted to the ground.

The child let out a snort of amusement in his arms and Din could hear the smile in (Y/N)’s voice when she quipped, “I guess the rumors were true: ex-bounty hunters really do have a flair for dramatics.”

“Says the woman who’s from Naboo, probably the most theatrical planet in the galaxy.” Din joked, his eyes still on the jetpack as he piloted it to land on the ground before them. His smirk faded when he looked over at (Y/N), finally taking note of her split lip and bruised neck. “Dank farrik, what happened to you?”

“I got in the way of a Nikto and his target.” She winced a little as she tried and failed to grin. “He was going after you while you were dealing with that first guy and I tried stopping him, but…well, I told you that I wasn’t the greatest at hand-to-hand combat.”

“Then that settles it; I’ll start training you as soon as we get into hyperspace.” Din vowed, his heart clenching as the captain nodded and shot him a grateful look. “Looks like we’re gonna have to walk the rest of the way to Mos Eisley, though…”

After fashioning a makeshift yolk out of scraps and a small argument with (Y/N) about sharing the load, they began their long walk out of the Dune Sea; Din was carrying the Mandalorian armor and the krayt dragon meat, and (Y/N) had slung the child’s satchel over her shoulders and was carrying the rest of their supplies in an improvised backpack. Theirs was a completely equal partnership, she’d reminded him with a brow raised in challenge, leaving no room for further argument.

While Din admired her strength and determination, he also worried about her slight limp and the injuries she’d sustained in their skirmish with the bandits so to distract himself from their current situation, he began asking (Y/N) questions about herself. He kept their conversation light, asking about her favorite things and listening to her answers with interest; she was fairly easy to talk to, unlike most people he came across, and it was almost a little strange just how closely she listened to him talk about his own life. And he knew that it wasn’t because she was feigning interest; she seemed to genuinely care about what he had to say, and that was something he wasn’t really used to seeing in another person.

“Have you ever tried uj’alayi?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No, what’s that?”

“It’s a kind of cake, made with ground nuts, syrup and spices. It was my favorite food as a kid, and my…my mother would bake it once every month.” Din smiled a little at the memory before glancing over at the captain. “Don’t they have sweets on Naboo?”

“Yeah, but they’re really rich and filling; they definitely aren’t as tasty as how uj’alayi sounds.” They walked up a sandy dune and stopped at the top. Din was silently relieved when the city of Mos Eisley finally came into view, although a part of him wished their conversation could’ve gone on longer; I’m gonna find her some uj’alayi at the next market we visit, he silently vowed to himself as she exclaimed, “Maker, I’ve never been so happy to see a Tatooine city in all my life!”

“Really? As an ex-smuggler, I thought you’d love visiting shady dive-planets like Tatooine…”

“I’m gonna kick your ass for that…just as soon as I learn how to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain Miit’amyc-Translator Baar’ur-Medic Mir’sheb-Smart-ass Kandosii’la-Stunning, Amazing Uj’alayi-Uj Cake

Chapter Seven

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @zukoyonce @itsnottilly

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din x reader #mando x reader #grogu #the child #baby yoda #cobb vanth

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wolfling06 · 4 years ago

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The Bigger they are, The harder they fall

Writer’s note: Hey! this is my first ever fic, I have dabbled some in writing but I have never written a full on fic so I apologize if there is anything wrong with it. anyways, Enjoy! (yes this is my original fic, please do not take it as your own and if you are to reblog or repost it, please tag me. thank you!)

Summary; Skid and Pump had quickly become the most well known of the extended group of friends as the most teasy, mischievous, and energetic lers. They were definitely a force to be reckoned with. And they both had their eyes on the tallest, strongest of the group. A true challenge to bring down, and one they both wanted to hear laugh. Whitty. (Lee!Whitty and Ler!Pump&Skid)

Warning: Slight language

After the Lemon demon was defeated and all were saved, they began to hang out and visit one another more often, Pico, Keith, and occasionally even Carol would go with Whitty to the skate park or even do some graffiti with him, Gf would occasionally tag along but would also often spend more time with her parents. Skid and Pump were all over the place and visited everyone at the most random times, jumping in and occasionally even startling the others out of their previous activities.

The 2 were quickly known as the most mischievous and ones who would do anything to pull a good prank or 2. The only thing that could be matched with their love of pranks and adventure was their love of hearing their friends laugh.

And oh, how they tried, they did many things. From bad jokes, to silly stunts, to even tickling. And once they found out everyone in the gang was even a little ticklish they both wanted to exploit this new discovery to the fullest. And they did, whether they had reason or not.

Many times they would target Keith, Pico, or even each other from time to time. Mostly because they were around their size and easy to get to. Carol and Gf were also similar in height but they saw the boys more often. However, that didn’t mean the duo weren’t up for a challenge. Whitty for example;

Whitty was very tall, standing at only a single inch short of 9 feet, very tall and lanky with extreme strength and great self defense capabilities that his appearance would blind one from seeing at first sight. He was always calm and poker faced and he rarely smiled out of pure amusement. He was easily the tallest out of all of them. And, with Skid and Pump being the smallest of the whole group, that meant they were very much opposites. One would think it would be impossible for the 2 to take him down, especially long enough to successfully tickle him like they would the others.

And at first, yea, it was very difficult.

Until they discovered a new approach to it.

They first discovered this new technique while they had been visiting his place. They had stopped by on another one of their unexpected visits. At first, Whitty seemed a little bothered, but as it kept happening over and over and it seemed that no matter what he said or did, they always kept coming. He tried to keep polite about it but whenever he would win, he would get the kicked puppy look and they would slowly make their way out looking sad and dejected. Eventually, his guilt would take over and he would either let them stay or they would go and he wouldn’t even object to them the next time they came. Eventually, he just gave up trying all together and let them come and go as they please so long as they dont take or break anything.

However, this time when they came they seemed a little...different.

They were energetic and chatty as usual, but they seemed a little more giddy than usual, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched, a feeling he particularly hated. He let the 2 wander the living room a bit before they settled down on the couch, both shifting a little to get comfy. He made his way into the kitchen and pulled out a large bag of Dorito chips and poured it into a bowl, making his way into the living room once more and placing it on the coffee table before setting up the Nintendo Switch and popping in Mario Kart, offering the other 2 one of the controllers. Pump went first against Whitty, it was a loser trade where the person that lost had to give it to the next person that had yet to play. In this case it was Whitty against Pump, who paid more attention to the scenery of the game then that actual race. Skid shouted, clearly hyped up, and stood up on the couch and began waving his arms in the direction he wanted Pump to go. The pumpkin head only occasionally took his advice as Whitty sat to the other end of the couch watching the 2 out of the corner of his eye with a smirk, he was clearly much farther ahead then Pump with him being in 2nd place and Pump being in 8th. The only reason why he wasn’t in 1st already was because of the stupid Metal Mario character, who was practically cheating, and wouldn’t let him pass and it was starting to get slightly annoying.

They went through a couple rounds, Whitty never losing while Skid and Pump passed it back and forth repeatedly. Though he noticed that, thankfully, they were no longer watching him so intently, that was a relief. He began to relax a bit, reminding himself that they were just children and he was much bigger and stronger than them. ‘C’mon, relax! They’re just children, stop being so paranoid.’ he thought to himself as he tried to focus more on the game then his own thoughts, he turned a sharp corner and nearly cursed when his avatar, Bowser Jr., almost went flying off the track. He managed to catch himself at the last second and made a slick recovery. However, hearing a sudden bark of a laugh paired with a whoop from the Spooky Duo didn’t make him feel so confident. He glanced at their side of the screen and noticed they had a blue spiked shell in their avatar’s hand. “Oh shit..” he muttered upon seeing it. Quickly, he slammed the breaks and let Metal Mario, someone he had just managed to pass, go ahead of him just as the shell went blazing by. He sighed with relief, glad it hadn’t hit him.

“Aww, c’mon! That was reserved just for you!” Skid blurted, though there was no real agitation behind his words, allowing Whitty to give him a smug smirk and said “I have been playin’ this for a while, kid, I have seen all the stunts you ever even hope to pull.” He kept his eyes glued on the screen, unaware of the glint in their eyes and the small snicker the two exchanged. “You have seen all the stunts we hope to pull, you said?” Skid asked while Pump was still snickering slightly to himself. “Tch, yea, that's what I said.” He stated simply, not really paying attention to what they were trying to say. Until-

“Now!” “Wha- hey!” Thwump!

The 2 didn’t wait, the game unpaused and still running, they tackled Whitty against the couch, being careful not to hurt him. They had to act quick, they had to! Otherwise, they wouldn’t have any way of getting to him. Before he had time to utter a single syllable, they attacked. Pump and Skid quickly hopping onto his arms to keep them pinned to the couch, they were sill sitting up but he was stretched out enough he might as well have been laying down, and proceeded to quickly skitter their fingers everywhere they could reach; ribs, stomach, sides, neck, somehow under his arms, hips.

They moved quickly and held on for dear life, moving quickly and shifting their own body weight continuously, from sitting on his arms to his hips and at his side to just either side of him to both on one side-. They went everywhere they could, going all over the place so it would be harder for him to catch them or try to find a pattern and stop them. His laughter was loud, belly laughter. Though not unpleasant, he squirmed the best he could in an attempt to find some way to escape, but with them all over the place it was pretty difficult.

“BAHAHAhaha! Whahahat are yohou twoho dohoing?? Gehet off mehehe!”

“Its working! Keep going Pump!” Skid called excitedly. Their plan was working! They continued, unintentionally forming a bit of a pattern, but not enough for Whitty to keep up or be able to stop them. He pulled his arms in and attempted to hug himself to protect the majority of his torso from the brunt of it all. His legs kicked out behind the other 2, though he was consciously making sure he couldn’t risk their wellbeing, he had enough self control for that.

“Stahahahap geheht ohoff of mehehe!!” he laughed out, attempting to carefully push Pump away from his side while trying to fend off Skid from his stomach. The 2 only giggled with glee, proud in themselves that this was working, and ecstatic that they had finally managed to successfully find a way to tickle their Object headed friend silly.

Skid glanced down and an idea popped into his skull, lighting his eyes up with great glee and an idea. Glancing down he noticed that, during his squirming, Whitty’s hoodie had ridden up some, revealing the pitch black, quivering flesh beneath. This was perfect! Taking a deep breath, he wasted no time and plunged his face into that thin like of flesh, pulling his hoodie up a tad for more lee way, and blew.

And by God, the shriek that followed.

“SHAAAAAHAHAHA-! FAHAHACK OHOFF!!” he exclaimed, his laughter reaching a whole new pitch and in a newfound hysteria. Skid and Pump exchanged a look, man this was awesome!! No one had ever heard the bomb head laugh so hard! Skid proceeded to pepper more raspberries along his stomach, lifting his hoodie up some to spread around the love. Pump continued to tickle along Whitty’s ribs. Though, his curiosity got the best of him, he was aware that some people, like Keith for example, had ticklish hands, and other unusual places, maybe Whitty did too? It was a weird thought and definitely one only Pump would have had, but it was a thought nonetheless that he wanted to experiment on. He pressed a sweet spot into his ribs, earning a startled yelp and a hand planted into his chest in an attempt to push him away. Gently of course. But this gave Pump his window, dropping everything, he wrapped his legs around Whit’s arm for a better hold. Pulling his fingers back, gently of course, and fluttered his own fingers along the palm of his hand, from the ridge to the base.

“*snrk!* heheey! *snrk! *snrk!* Stahahap!!” Pump’s eyes widened, Whitty was snorting?? Oh my God, this child’s mind was blown. Skid had lessened the raspberries and had gone back to scribbling so that their bomb headed friend could go longer without reaching his limit, which explained why his laughter had calmed down some. Skid looked up in surprise and noticed what Pump was doing when an idea of his own came, he gestured for Pump to make a raspberry, The pumpkin headed kid was quick to catch on, before making his way further down the couch. Pump proceeded to bury his mouth into the center of Whitty’s palm. A sudden sort, slightly longer in duration that the previous, could be heard in response. Pump smiled and prepared to do it again when-

Quickly, it was soon followed by Whitty suddenly, bolting upright to emit an almost literal shriek before falling back clutching the couch in an attempt to not kick or struggle too much or hard, throwing his head back in absolute hysterics, his face a bright orange blush. Startled by the sudden reaction, he looked for Skid, finding him holding Whitty’s left ankle in a secure head lock, skittering his fingers along his sole. His other leg kicked out but, for the most part, hung off the side of the couch. There was a very evident struggle in the poor lee as he tried to keep from kicking anyone, or anything, out of reflex to the new found sensations. Pump smiled and, giving his hand one final raspberry, dove down to grab the other foot, giving it the same treatment as SKid was the left.

“FAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-!” Unable to form any coherent words or responses to this torment, Whitty was forced to just endure it, he tried to pull away, to break free somehow, but his strength had been dwindled down from earlier. Meaning, he was left to succumb to the maddening sensations at his feet. Throwing his head back as hysterical belly laughter poured from him as freely as a faucet.

“Coochie coochie coo~ Whitty! Heehee, your laugh is so loud!” Skid laughed, enjoying the reactions he was getting. “Heheh, yea! Especially when I do this!” Pump agreed, running his fingers under Whitty’s toes momentarily, earning a startled squeal before more peals of bellowing laughter followed. After what felt like an eternity, he felt their hands slow to a stop, releasing him and allowing him a breather. He had to admit, they were good at reading people, they must have noticed when he was beginning to reach his limit and had stopped just when he was really needing a break. He slumped into the couch, pulling his hood over his head, and pulling the laces so it closed around him, thus hiding the massive, practically glowing blush and face splitting smile there. Residual giggles and panting could, however, be easily heard. He pulled his feet away from them and bent his knees so as to tuck them underneath him best he could, his arms dropping onto the couch, going limp. The other 2 smile brightly. Yes, they had been keeping close watch. And both, the entire time in fact, had yet to hear him sound desperate or genuinely angry or upset. If anything, he almost sounded like he was enjoying himself. And the smile Skid could see through the small gap in his hood confirmed it.

“Heheh, that was fun! We should do that again some time!” Pump giggled with glee, clearly pleased. “Yea! That was fun! Be right back.” Skid said, getting up and making his way to the kitchen, coming back a few seconds later with a glass of cool water in hand, handing it to the exhausted object head that rested on the couch. Whitty sat up enough to be able to drink it, losing the rim of his hood so he could so.

“Hff hff.. Yohou both suhuck…” he panted, though both could tell there was no real malice in his voice. Upon being able to see his eyes, both smiled brightly. Why?

Because there was a glitter in them, one that reminded them of Keith, who was open about enjoying being tickled. Both could easily tell, seeing that glimmer alone, that he had enjoyed it. And Pump was the first to call it out.

“Heh, I can tell you liked it, Whits! You look so happy!”

He paused for a second and gulped down that last mouthful of water before correcting the pumpkin head.

“I did not like it!” he protested. Though, the deepening blush on his face told them otherwise.

Skid chuckled lightly, both still smiling brightly. “You go ahead and rest, Whitty, we’re gonna finish this round and make up all the lost time!”

As the 2 sat back down, recollecting the dropped controllers and continued playing, Whitty watched the screen closely as he grumbled to himself. That was humiliating! Taken down and rendered helpless by 2 measly children! Let alone taken down with only tickles! The ghostly after tickles were still there, but he ignored them, they weren’t as bad anymore and were tolerable. ‘But maybe….yea, maybe it… wasn’t so bad..’ he thought to himself, glancing down at the glass he had been given, now only half full.

…

Yea, he would never admit it. But yea, maybe it was a little fun.

But still, he wasn’t gonna show it. Not by a long shot.

He sat up, a new idea forming in his brain and a smirk with a whole new meaning to it forming on his lips. Slowly he edged his way towards the other 2, setting down his glass and cracking his knuckles as he did. Pump glanced up momentarily to notice this before freezing entirely, his eyes wide and a nervous smile forming on his face as he did. His avatar began to slow down and Skid noticed, “hey, what are you slowing down for, Pum-....oh….heh...h-hello...” Skid looked over and noticed the predatory grin on Whitty’s face as he now towered over them.

“U-um, heheh…..bye!” Skid squeaked, dropping his controller on the couch, grabbing Pump’s arm and attempted to get off the couch, to make a bolt for it. But was stopped when he felt an arm wrap around him, pulling both him and Pump into the awaiting lap of the Bomb head above. Pump let out a startled yelp upon the sudden and deft swoop. Both looking up with anticipation and nervousness in their eyes and smiles. And a devious one in Whitty’s.

“Heh, where do you 2 think you’re going? Oh no, you 2 aren’t going anywhere..” he curled his fingers to make faux claws, looming them over the 2 who now squirmed with anticipation. Oh, revenge was gonna be sweet! “Hope you two are ready, cuz you guys are gonna be stuck here for a long time.”

And he wasn’t joking. In fact, their squeals and laughter could be heard by pedestrians walking by for quite a while.

End!

Hope you enjoyed it! I am not sure of the quality of the end there. But still, hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you for reading!

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regrettablewritings · 4 years ago

Text

Cobb Vanth x Reader Ship Meme

Select prompts taken from this ship meme

Who is a morning person?: Cobb is, though it’s questionable if that’s by nature or a lack of nurture. As much as he’d prefer to not dwell on it, his past as a slave has left its marks in many more ways than what he can think of -- and it’s always popping up in the most surprising (and annoying) fashions. By the time he’d reached adulthood, waking up at the crack of dawn had been grilled into his circadian rhythm much the same way data is processed into a droid. And even long after his peoples’ liberation, the charge of waking up before either of Tatooine’s suns could breach the horizon compelled him. And for years, it plagued him. It wasn’t that he was necessarily incapable of sleeping in, either -- he could do it if the previous day’s events tuckered him out enough. But sometimes, even just the seconds of consciousness, greeted by a dawn sky, would be enough to make him sigh morosely. He was blessed to have even woken up this many days, he knew. But some part of him couldn’t help but wonder in just how many ways his past could still reach him. It took some time, but eventually there was a change in that thought process. Not necessarily because Cobb began to wake up early less and less but because even when he did, the thoughts often didn’t get a chance to wander as far. After all, now he had you. You, of course, would still be asleep (as anyone at this time ought to have been) and therefore couldn’t offer him so much as a delirious conversation or two. But you did offer him a distraction. And a reminder: Even as you lay there, gently breathing, chasing whatever dreams you’d wound up in, you were reminding Cobb that even though his past still had him in some ways, his present and hopefully his far future had you. And so long as he had those to think about, he could bare to cherish waking up just a little bit more. After all, it gave him time to think about you, and that was some mighty fine fuel for some sweet dreams . . .

Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon?: Being the protective sort he is, Cobb tends to veer more towards being the big spoon himself. He’s not against being the little spoon -- lord knows he enjoys that sort of comfort whenever he’s had a particularly rough day -- but it’s because he’s aware of the sort of power being a big spoon can hold that he more often than not takes it upon himself to be one. He’s witnessed so much loss and danger in his lifetime and even though things have surely changed for the better in more recent times, he still can’t help but be a little on edge. He doesn’t want you to get hurt or be lost; as the marshal of Mos Pelgo, it’s his job to keep you safe. And as your significant other, its his honor to be able to do so even in the form of simply hugging you from behind as the two of you drift off to sleep.

What is their favorite sleeping position?: As a whole, Cobb is content with just about any position he can get into where at least some part of him is in contact with you. But if he needs to narrow it down to a favorite, it would have to be one where he both asserts his dominance as a protective figure while also making you feel comfortable. The most recurring one, however, is when he gets to lay on his back while draping an arm about your waist, your head laying against his bare chest as you listen to his heart beating. It makes Cobb feel big and strong, and even though it also may leave him with a case of dead arm, he also knows that it helps you feel safe and warm.

Who steals all the blankets?: Being located on a desert planet, the nights on Mos Pelgo can get mighty chilly. Having grown up there all his life (and just naturally running hot), Cobb is quite used to it. You, on the other hand, never quite got accustomed to the occasional soft breeze that might whisper into your little abode. As a result, it’s not uncommon for Cobb to wake up in the middle of the night to find only small corners of the blanket covering himself with the rest of it cocooning around your unconscious form. He’s more than happy to remedy that with some good old-fashioned body heat, however, once he gingerly unravels you.

What they wear to bed: You thought he might’ve been trying to tease you when the first night you shared a bed had you seeing him stroll into the bedroom, donning only sleeping pants. While you certainly didn’t mind the view of his chest, you thought he was being a bit too cocky: Surely he already knew you adored him, there was just no need for him to try and further seal the deal by using his good looks. The fact of the matter was actually no, he really did naturally sleep without a shirt. The heat of the hut was more than enough to keep him warm in his humble opinion, and frankly he’d survived on less. Though, he’s certainly not above using his looks to sway you when it comes to the bedroom . . .

Who likes seeing the other in their shirt?: While he wouldn’t mind it if you joined him in being shirtless, it also drives Cobb insane in the best way when you enter the bedroom sporting one of his shirts. It's strange how something so simple could instill feelings so intense in a man, but he just can’t help it. It’s almost primal in a way, seeing you quietly marked as his and his alone, the way your body is essentially wrapped up in him without him even touching you. At the end of the night, you’ll smell like him, and his shirt will smell like you . . . (The shirt might also be off of you at the end of the night depending on how good he is at controlling himself but that’s a matter for another discussion.)

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares?: Over the years, Cobb has experienced fewer and fewer nightmares. But that doesn’t mean they don’t lurk in his psyche, rearing their ugly heads from time to time. Malformed versions of memories of his past, of traumas he thought he’d forgotten, of fears that thankfully didn’t get a chance to manifest but now lay in eternal incubation inside of his own mind . . . Of course he hates when these things happen -- nobody would like it, after all. Nightmares weren’t meant to be liked. But pouring more salt into the wound whenever he gasped himself awake, his body flinging itself upright into the night air before fully gaining consciousness, would be the impact it left you with. Of course, it was silly of him to be concerned with that (he was the one suffering after all), but he hated the look on your face whenever those moments occurred: You’d be so scared, of course. But then the fear would turn into worry. And sadness. You never had to ask him what was wrong, you already knew. You always knew. And he was thankful that you never pressed it, and that you also knew that the best way to console him was to coax him back into bed (and never let him argue otherwise; threaten to knock his block off if you have to) and to lie there in the quiet, the only sounds being your gentle humming of some distant tune and the sound of your fingers carding through his silvering hair. There was no shame in having fear; Cobb knew that. But that still didn’t change the fact that he felt some shame in still feeling it. He wanted to be the man the town could count on, the man you could count on. Logically there was nothing that said he couldn’t still be even with the occasional nightmare, but that didn’t stop the thoughts and worries from invading his already fragile mind -- “G’night, m’marshal...” you’d slur, your movements becoming sluggish as sleep began to take a hold of you once more. It’s quiet, groggy, and yet strong enough to break both the silence and your partner’s spiraling. It almost makes him want to laugh: That you’re so tired that you’re oblivious to just how much power you have when it comes to bringing him peace. Just one of the many ways you make falling asleep so much easier for him than it ever has been . . .

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep?: Oddly enough, in spite of everything, Cobb isn’t particularly active in his sleep. Mos Pelgo isn’t necessarily what one may call a hub of activity -- so he honestly has no idea where you’re getting all these punches and kicks from. At first, he thought it was cute to wake up to you wriggling around in your sleep. You always insisted after the fact that you weren’t having a nightmare, you’d just always been an active sleeper. But he just isn’t sure what kind of dreams you must be having where the situation isn’t terrible enough to frighten you, but enough to cause you to make a mean left hook where his kidney should be. On the one hand, he’s rather proud that you have that kind of strength going for you. But on the other, some days he heads to the tavern, hissing when whatever part you hit aches, and he has to lie to his buddies and play along like you both had a particularly kinky night together. That, and some part of him is convinced that eventually you’ll work your way up into snapping his neck in your sleep.

Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?: Neither of you can, but Cobb is especially guilty of it. While he’s not exactly touch-starved, he simply can’t help but have some part of himself touching you when the both of you go to sleep. It reminds him that you’re there, that he’s not alone, and it reminds you that he’s there and that you are therefore protected. So even if you two don’t wind up in your favorite position or spooning or what have you, one thing is for certain: There’s a good chance that when you wake up, you’ll at least be doing so to find his hand entwined with your own, or his leg between yours. Or his hand resting on your chest (which he will insist happened in his sleep but you dunno, his hand palm seemed to rest a little too cup-like on the swell of your breast).

#cobb vanth x reader #cobb vanth #cobb vanth imagine #cobb vanth imagines #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagines #regrettablewritings #i wanna write for this goon eventually but guh he stumped me when it wasn't about kinda tragic stuff #what does this say about me????

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greycappedjester · 4 years ago

Note

If it’s ok, could we get a small clip of the next chapter?

Sure!....which story?

Um, here’s one for all of them. It’s long (very, very long) so I’m putting it under “Read More”

(All story segments are not fully edited and may change)

Tooru Oikawa and the Triwizard Tournament

Yamaguchi squinted towards the other side of the Great Hall. “So have they….made up now?”

A few tables down, Kageyama and Hinata seemed to be in the middle of a very loud and very spirited argument on whether condiments could ever count as side dishes. Grievous insults to intelligence had been made and threats of murder were likewise issued.

“I think so.” Ennoshita didn’t sound confident.

Hinata attempted to tackle Kageyama off of his bench.

“But, they’re still not playing together for Quidditch,” Yamaguchi confirmed

Kageyama shoved an apple in Hinata’s face.

Asahi watched wide-eyed. “They said they couldn’t yet.”

A resulting debate over the term 'breakfast fruit’ emerged. It was somehow even more heated.

“But, they’re not fighting?” Yamaguchi had to confirm.

“Suga says they aren’t,” Daichi said.

They had now decided to share the apple. Yachi beamed from beside them. Lev booed.

Yamaguchi decided there and then. “I’m never going to understand their relationship.”

“They’re idiots,’ Tsukishima concluded.

And, thus, the most watched and highly contentious fight of the entire school year--Tournament included--finally came to its baffling end.

--------

After the Fall of Olympus

(Sorry, it’s a depressing one--partly because I can’t take out much from the chapter without giving away a really major spoiler that’s revealed in the first scene)

Dick and Donna have this thing they do.

It started maybe three years after the invasion, before Kory’s ship landed, and when everything was still raw but finally slowly trying to get better.

They’d been in the tower alone, both on monitor duty, when Donna had turned to him and out of the blue asked, “Dick, tell me about Wally West?”

“What,” Dick had asked, too surprised even to feel the pain that sharply.

“You and Roy mention him every now and then. He was your best friend, right? I want to know more about him.”

Dick had just stared. Stared until Donna had admitted in a too quiet voice. “I’m tired of not being able to talk about them.”

So Dick had talked. At the start, it wasn’t even about anything important. Just about what a huge chemistry nerd Wally was. How he flirted with girls non-stop. The time he’d tried to phase through a wall and got half way through before panicking. And then, slowly, Dick moved on to important things. When Dick first told him his secret identity. How Wally had wanted to grow up to be just like his uncle. What Dick had felt when he saw his body.

Donna talked, too. About her sister. About growing up with Diana, about the numb shock watching her death on the news, about wondering if her sister would be proud of her and the a million and one times she was scared of living up to the reputation.

It became a routine. Not every day. Not even every few months. But, now and again, one of them would seek the other out and Donna would talk about Diana or some of her other Amazonian teachers lost in the invasion and Dick would talk about Wally and M’gann and Artemis and Connor and Kaldur and….and Bruce. One time, Dick even talked about Superman.

They talked and the pain didn’t go away--not fully, not ever--but eased until they felt like they could breathe again, until they could remember a past that was colored by more than just the pain of their deaths.

-------

Walking With My Eyes Open

Gen wasn’t a kind man; he was pragmatic. And he’d long decided he’d do absolutely anything, sink to any kind of low, be however ruthless he needed if it meant saving Senkuu’s life.

So….

Decisions, decisions.

He shredded a petal under his nails and tossed it down.

“Gen?” A blonde head popped up beside him. “What are you doing?”

He smiled, making sure it was a soft one despite his mood. Because he absolutely believed in playing favorites and when it came to the village--to his entire life, actually--it wasn’t hard to guess the people that rested on top.

Suika smiled back, a glimpse of bright blue eyes shining through the shadows of her mask. Then, she tilted her head and lowered her voice. “Are you hiding from work?”

Gen laughed, pressing a finger to his lips. “Maybe a bit. Don’t tell on me, okay?” He winked. “Besides, I was considering some options. Thinking counts as work, too, doesn’t it?”

Suika nodded, glancing down at the growing pile of mangled petals then to the daisy Gen was still steadily demolishing. “And the flowers are helping you think?”

Actually, Gen had just been feeling murderous towards flowers lately. Call it enacting justice vicariously.

“Not particularly.” He picked up another flower from beside him and instead of shredding it, started to fold. “You’re right. I think there’s a better use for these.”

A few more quick movements and he wove a flower bracelet, just small enough to slip over Suika’s wrist.

Her grin brightened, looking at it like it was the next great marvel--so, at least Gen had accomplished one thing today.

“It’s so pretty,” Suika said, looking up to see it closer. “And the flowers are so close together. Can you teach me?”

“Sure, once we get some more flowers.” He picked up the last one, winding his fingers around the stem. “You know, now that you mention it. There is an old game about flowers and decisions. Want to hear it?”

Suika sat patiently in front of him, eyes fixed on the daisy because of course, she wanted to learn. What other village could this be?

“It’s very simple.” Gen counted off with one hand, flower in the other. “Two phrases, you pick a petal on each and the one you land on is your answer.” Gen picked a petal. “He loves me.” Another petal. “He loves me not….”

Suika gave a small gasp. “Flowers can tell you if someone’s in love?”

Gen didn’t laugh because he knew it would be bitter.

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s just a game. Back before--ah, before even me and Senkuu, that is--ladies would play it to see if their beloved would ever return their affections. It’s silly.”

“So…,” Suika thought a bit, “it’s like a wish, then?”

“I think I’m using it more as a hex,” Gen muttered as he got to the last petal and glared.

He loves me.

Well, fuck.

Gen supposed that’s what he deserved for trusting flowers.

He gave his largest, most theatrical sigh for Suika’s sake. “Ahhh, Suika-chan, look at that! It seems like I lost. More’s the pity for me!”

Suika grinned up at him, hopping to her feet and wrapping her arms around his hips. “It’s okay! I still love you.”

Gen patted her head, smiling despite himself.

“Maybe you were using the wrong flower,” Suika told him.

“Could be.”

“I’ll go get more,” Suika promised. “Then, you can find one that’ll work.”

“More flowers is a good idea,” Gen agreed. “But, I think I’m tired of this game. Why don’t I teach you how to make the best flower crowns in the entire stone world? Then, we’ll both have to be the most beloved people in the whole village, won’t we?”

Immediately, Suika ran off to the woods and Gen watched her go.

At least, flowers could do good somewhere.

He looked down at the mangled flowers. A daisy, purity and innocence.

With a shift of his heel, he ground them a little further into the ground..

Flowers were an awfully pointless thing to blame; but, Gen was petty and they were easier than the alternative.

Still. He taught Suika how to make flower crowns and when she pressed one last bloom into his hand, so excited to find the last one of the season, he took it like his heart hadn’t plunged to his feet.

It was hard to look at black nightshade and forget it was a poison.

-------

Call Me Your Home At Night

(Note: very, very subject to edit. Part of the reason this one has taken awhile is rewrites while I work on tone)

Atsumu was shouting--voice tinny over the phone speakers--and Hinata’s blender was doing its best impressions of death throes while Hinata frantically tried to keep both the chord at the one angle it worked and hold the blender’s lid down so the entire kitchen didn’t end up coated in a weird grey mix of protein shake and bananas. Again. For the fifth time.

In other words, it was a normal morning.

From the part of his mind that noticed these things, Hinata thought it was kinda funny that Atsumu had learned to time his complaining to coordinate with the aggressive disaster that was Hinata’s morning routine.

Like the world’s weirdest symphony, the opposite of harmonizing. A disharmony! That was it!

“Seriously, what the fuck is a ward court and how is it different than a family court? Why do we even need two courts for divorce? Huh? Why not just shove a paper at us and have it done!” Atsumu’s voice got increasingly petulant. “Shouyou, it’s like the entire country is trying to keep good, decent people married! Why does it hate us?”

It was a close call; but, in a competition between one aggravated setter on speaker phone and the relentless whirring of the cheapest blender Hinata could find on the internet, Atsumu still managed to fight his way through.

Hinata gave the phone a sympathetic look even if he knew Atsumu couldn’t see it. He turned off the defeated foe and mentally crowned Atsumu the winner of Disharmony 2016: Blender vs. Atsumu edition. Not that he had much doubt.

“Find anything you like with grounds for divorce?”

Atsumu grumbled which meant no.

Then, Atsumu huffed which meant no and the world wasn’t fair!

So, apparently, divorce was harder than it looked. Actually, a lot of things about this “being married” thing were more complicated than they thought and, in the month since they’d been technically married, Hinata had frequently and strongly fantasized about grabbing his past self by the shoulders and shaking him while screaming ‘WHY?!’ right at his face.

Like taxes!

Who knew how to do taxes? Who knew that taxes were apparently due this month? Including married people taxes which apparently were more complicated and had things like joint filing or separate and dependants and a bunch of other words that Hinata still didn’t understand completely. It wasn’t like he could ask his Mom for help after everything or even beg Yachi or Kenma like usual because that would bring up the whole marriage thing and, ugh, no, no, no, no.

Hinata was pretty sure he and Atsumu had figured it out. Enough, at least. Getting arrested for tax evasion seemed like something that only happened on the news so it was probably fine.

Uh, so, yeah, between the whole moving to Brazil thing and figuring out stuff like rent and utilities and meeting the indoor volleyball team he’d be working with plus some of the beach volleyball players and trying to get his new roommate Pedro to talk to him about things other than laundry and groceries and trying to remember the difference between bolo and bola and finding a job and Atsumu dealing with MSBY promotion stuff and interviews and getting ready for pro-volleyball next season and then them both having to deal with stuff like taxes and still being weirded out about all the accidental wedding stuff in general, they…..well, they hadn’t gotten much done about the whole divorce thing.

Okay, more like they’d gotten exactly one thing done and that was figuring out a time to freak out about all the things they hadn’t gotten done. The good news was that the exactly twelve hour time difference was sorta perfect since it meant Hinata got back from his morning jog about the same time Atsumu came home for dinner, which meant that quickly became their agreed time to call with updates.

….which usually tailed off into both of them talking about volleyball instead because volleyball was a whole lot more fun.

Hinata very carefully pushed aside the resulting mental montage of sand scraping along his arms on a missed receive and feet sinking into the ground and landing face first in burning sand that was happening way more than he’d expected.

Hinata shook his head, scraping the not-very-blended protein shake out of his blender. “I’ll try to look some stuff up this afternoon.”

“Isn’t your laptop still being screwy?”

“...Maybe.” It was more like Hinata’s ancient laptop had given a sudden death kneel--complete with hisses and the screen flashing--and Hinata was sorta scared he’d get electrocuted if he even touched it. “I’ll use my phone.”

“I could just buy you a laptop, you know,” Atsumu muttered. It wasn’t the first time; Hinata even knew his next line.

Hinata grinned. “That’s really sweet, Atsumu. Absolutely not, you’re already doing enough of the research anyway.”

“Shut up,” Atsumu grumbled. “I am not sweet, this is a trade. Your laptop’s a piece of crap, like actually the worst and I--like any normal human being--am doing my part in putting it out of its misery. Basic compassion right here.”

“But, I don’t need a new laptop,” Hinata insisted like he always did. “I’ve got my phone. That’ll work until I get a job.”

Which he was totally going to get. Soon, too. It was just a little harder than he thought when he didn’t really have a great grip on the language yet.

“Hinata, I’m begging you as a friend here, please don’t resort to selling your organs on the black market.”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “I would never do that. I need them for volleyball.”

“Is that seriously the only reason?”

“Think about how long surgery recovery would take,” Hinata teased. “I only have two years here.”

“I worry about you. Like fundamentally.”

Hinata tilted his head. “But what if I could get like super organs instead.”

“Like Terminator?”

“Yeah! I’m pretty sure I read a manga where that happened once.” He paused. “Oh my gosh, Atsumu, imagine how amazing volleyball would be with superpowers!”

“There’s no way the V.League would approve that.” Atsumu breathed in. “But, what if…”

“I’d get super speed,” Hinata broke in excitedly, “or maybe flying. Oh, or super strength! Imagine hitting a spike with super strength!”

“Awesome!” Atsumu’s voice was speeding up. “What if I had one of those specialty powers like super precision or something! It could get around so many blockers; Suna would be so pissed off! I could set the ball anywhere!”

Hinata huffed. “You already do that.”

Atsumu broke off, sounding pleased. “Really?”

“Of course,” Hinata said. “Hey, wait, how was practice? You got to meet the new libero, right?”

“Yeah, Inunaki--he’s pretty cool. He was mainly working with--” Atsumu cut off, “Fuck, Shou, I gotta tell you about this thing Barnes and I did!”

Atsumu started rambling--words choppy and quick as he got deeper into the retelling of practice in a way that had Hinata hanging off every word. In an abstract sense, Hinata knew that he himself was a people person; he’d always been good at making friends and deeply appreciated every single one he was able to hang onto.

He’d never had a friend like Atsumu.

-------

Shuffling the Deck

(Since it’s late, have an entire opening scene)

ooooooo- 30 Years Prior -ooooooo

Once there was a girl who grew up with her grandmother in a barely patched house, closed in by cliffs.

She was a quiet girl, a pretty face and delicate hands always kept clean despite the threadbare clothes that hung more like rags. The girl did not like to play with the other children which was fitting as they didn’t much like to play with her either.

Instead, she liked to read.

And, more than that, she liked to watch the garden.

Which is what she chose to do, one day at eight years old on the same morning a prominent merchant staggered in to see her grandmother--a terrible illness spreading through his veins and blood in his cough.

The girl was fine with blood but didn’t care for coughing so she stayed exactly where she was, laying on her stomach with head propped in hands while she took in the delicate threads of a spider web.

She always thought the webs were the prettiest part of the garden. They were so very thin and frail that one could barely notice them until they got up close. And, then, once they saw them, they could see the patterns and shapes so carefully woven as if by an artisan.

Sometimes, she even saw the spider.

Sometimes, she tried to get it to crawl to her hand.

It never did though. No matter what she did. The spider was too cautious, too scared of what it believed had power over it.

That was how spiders worked, really. They spun their masterpieces with so much care and precision and, then, they waited patiently for the art to be observed.

The girl was not the only one who found the spider web this morning.

A fly had come across the threads first--likely by accident but the girl liked to imagine that it was the beauty that had drawn the fly in the same as it had done her.

She wondered if the fly still appreciated the art of the web.

It was still alive.

She watched it struggle. Its wings beat uselessly, its many legs trapped in the delicate threads, and a buzzing cry sounding so frantic for such a small creature.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

But, that would mean tearing down the gorgeous web that she adored.

But, that would mean the spider may starve and there would be no new web tomorrow.

And, besides, why did she care about dirtying her hands for the sake of a dying fly.

The door of the cottage opened and the girl glanced up idly.

The merchant was stumbling out, gratitude and lavish promises on his breath and a healthy glow back in his cheeks. Her grandmother was smiling kindly, accepting the praise yet turning down the offers same as she always did until eventually the merchant went away.

The girl looked back to the web.

The fly was dead, quickly being wrapped up by the spider to save for later.

She turned back to her grandmother. “He was rich, you know? I heard the other kids talking about him in town. His shipping business goes all the way up to the wealthy islands in the north. If you let him do even half the things he offered, we could live in a mansion and you wouldn’t have to hurt your fingers so much mending clothes.” The tone wasn’t accusing, merely curious. “Why did you say no?”

“Oh, my dear,” Her grandmother leaned down to kiss her hair and the girl allowed it, “because our powers are a gift. They’re not meant to be hoarded and offered for a price. They’re meant to be shared. Besides,” the woman sighed as she watched the road, “what kind of price would that be? Who would I be to demand it? Those who are desperate--for their lives, for those they love--would pay anything. They’d do anything. Who could ever put a price on such a weight? It’s beyond human measure.”

She smiled down at her granddaughter. “Do you understand, my darling Mimi?”

Maemi frowned before nodding, looking down at the spider web.

“Yes, I understand.”

There was no way to know what would have happened if the old woman took up the merchant’s offer. Likely she never would have. She was not that type of person. All that there was to know is that the grandmother and the little girl remained at the patched up cottage, just like they had the girl’s whole life and her grandmother’s life before hers.

They were there six months later when the oceans swelled and brought the waves into shore.

They were not both there after.

Six months later, a man and a girl waded through water as they searched a broken down cottage for survivors.

Well, the man searched at least.

The girl had stopped beside a tree, tall and strong enough to survive a tsunami.

On the bottom branch, at the lowest hanging twig, was a spider’s web just barely managing not to be swept into the water.

The spider was still alive.

But, it wouldn’t be for long.

It struggled, trying to climb up faster even as the bottom of its beautiful web was destroyed by the current.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

So, she did.

She snapped a twig from another branch and held it out for the spider to crawl, too. It did willingly, anything to avoid the water below.

It had never crawled to her hand before.

Not like it did now when it was desperate for life.

Maemi watched her dear spider crawl into her open hand.

And, then, she plunged her hand into the water and watched her dear spider drown.

“Yes, grandmother, I understand completely.”

#hq at hogwarts #atfo #cards #walking with my eyes open #call me your home at night #shuffling the deck #triwizard tournament #hq #dcst #dc #atsuhina #wow #okay i think i'm finally done with tags

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rons-hermiones · 4 years ago

Text

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Two

Ginny slams the door to the sixth years boys dormitories, making Ron jump.

“Have you seen her? Hermione?” He questions, sounding a little broken hearted.

“Don’t do that,” she scathes, “don’t decide now to care.”

A look of hurt washes over him and for a moment the youngest Weasley wishes she could take it back.

“I’ve always cared! Don’t act like I haven’t!” His voice is growing angry.

“Alright then Ronald,” she sounds just like Molly, it makes him shiver, “if you care so much, then where were you when Lav-Lav called Hermione a fat cow last week!”

He didn’t know about that.

“Or that Hermione practically lives in the common room!”

Okay, that one he heard about. He thought it was a lie. Ron even asked Harry, who just shrugged, but in Harry’s defense, he asked while the black haired boy had been looking over the map. So in other words, Harry probably wasn’t even listening.

“Or when Cormac McLaggan groped her after Slughorn’s this weekend! Tore her dress and all!”

That one, he definitely did not know about.

Scrunching a fist, he began making a move for the door, until Ginny blocked his path.

“Move.” He spat.

“Where are you going?” She retorted.

“To kill McLaggen!” He exclaimed seriously.

She rolled her eyes, “don’t bother, Fred and George already helped out with that.”

He shrinks back, “they’re not even at Hogwarts, how’d they know?”

She scoffs, “goes to show how little you care, huh?” Ginny said nastily.

Feeling even more awful then before, if possible, Ron clambered to sit on the edge of his bed.

“I swear Gin, I didn’t know about that. If I did, I would’ve,” he began angrily

Sighing, she stepped over and sat next to him, “I know Ron. I know you care, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s alright, I suppose I deserved it. I didn’t even know about that stuff, so you’re right, says a lot about me.”

Guilt was beginning to seep its way into the back of Ginny’s head. Tears stung her eyes.

“I have to tell you something.” her voice shook.

Ron looked over to her worriedly, Ginny rarely cried.

“I lied to you, that day in the hallway with Dean. I lied.” She confessed.

“What?” He feels like a dementors trying to suck his soul.

“Hermione and Viktor Krum... they never snogged.” She clarified, though Ron could sense she already knew what was coming.

He stood up, clearly ready to yell, before she stopped him, “he kissed her, but Hermione didn’t want him to.” She began.

“Did he...” Ron asked, fists clenching.

“No,” she assured quickly, “nothing like that, he went in and pecked her and she was taken off guard. When he tried again she told him she couldn’t. That there was someone else.”

“Someone else.” He repeats a surge of hope growing inside him, “me?” He dares to question. Feeling a little full of himself for it after.

This was Viktor ruddy Krum they were talking about here. Anyone who picks him, Ron Weasley, over the Bulgarian seeker must be mental.

And just like that, Ginny’s annoyed with him again, “yes Ron, you. Blokes are daft but you give a whole new meaning to the word.”

“Did she tell you that? That it was me?” He knows he sounds pathetic.

“She didn’t have to,” Ginny starts quickly, like it meant nothing, even though to her brother, it was everything, “that’s beside the point. Look, I’m telling you I’m sorry, what I did was wrong, but what you did, what you’re doing, isn’t right either.” She throws his way.

He bows his head, “yeah, your right, I didn’t mean those things about you, you know, getting around and whatnot. It’s just you’re my little sister Gin, it’s kinda hard to see you grow up, makes me feel like I have to do the same.”

Ginny offers a tight lipped smile, “thanks Ron, really, but I wasn’t talking about that.” Her voice is a little softer, “you know what I was talking about.”

He groans. Of course he knew what she really met. Part of him wanted to apologize to his little sister, but another part was avoiding the inevitable.

“I’m not saying you’re not entitled to date anyone, but we both know how wrong it is. You did it just hurt Hermione and you liked hurting her!” Her voice was growing louder.

He stood a little taller, “Oi Ginny! Don’t you ever tell me something like that again! Ever!”

She stepped closer, “it’s true isn’t it? Admit it!” The girl demanded.

“At first it felt good, I felt wanted!” He yelled before he could help himself, a look of disgust coming over his sisters face “I’m not proud of it,” Ron’s tone dropped, “I swear I only felt it for a second. Only after that snog after the match, now, now I feel like the biggest arse on the planet. I swear Ginny, I didn’t know about all that stuff, about the common room, about Lavender, McLaggen.” He barely got out.

“I know you didn’t Ron,” her tone matches his, “but that’s the problem isn’t it? Even if you didn’t feel anything like that for Hermione, she’s still supposed to be your best mate.” Ginny reminds.

He flops back onto the bed. He knows he fucked up. He known it from the moment he saw Hermione’s face that night of the Slytherin match. It was just a lot to take in because someone finally called him out on it rather than dancing around it like Harry and his roommates had been.

“I’ve gotta break up with Lavender.” He states.

Ginny let’s out a humorless laugh.

“I’ve been trying for weeks Ginny, I swear, she makes it bloody hard, can never get a word in with her.” Ron groans.

“You better. If you don’t Fred and George will take the mickey out of you all holiday.” She decides to go easy on him.

At this statement Ron feels a chill run up his spine. He thinks if he’s the center of Lavender taunts for the next few weeks he’ll have to jump off his broom.

They’re silent for a few moment, each reflecting on what just transpired.

Ron speaks first, “I know it’s wrong,” he starts with a gulp, “but I do feel that you know. I do think I lo,”

He’s cut off when the door swings open, causing the pair of siblings to jump to their feet.

“Neville!” Ginny exclaims, she forgot all about Harry’s plan for them.

He keeps over, grasping his knees, “give me a minute.” He gasps.

The red head rolls her eyes, “just tell me where to go. I can’t have you passing out, now can I?”

The brunette smiles gratefully, stepping aside for Ginny to go.

“Where is she?” She asks halfway to the door.

They glance at Ron’s awaiting eyes. The youngest Weasley leans over to Neville, beckoning him to whisper in her ear.

Once he does, she steps back, “I know my way, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.” She tells lowly, a little worried whether if Neville will be able to contain her brother.

If either boy says anything, she doesn’t hear. Ginny’s running on the path to the potions stock closet, ducking behind a nearby tapestry she knows leads to that particular corridor.

Just as she approaches her destination, she notes the door cracked a little as voices float from it.

“I’ll just stay here. I can’t go.” She hears Hermione’s voice admit sadly.

“Can’t go where?” She asks before she can help herself, barging into the room.

The sight of Ginny makes Hermione sink further into Harry as the tears come again. It’s silly really, but part of her hoped it was Ron. The fact that he didn’t come solidifies how much has changed.

The curly haired witch doesn’t realize, but silently Harry passes over the piece of parchment as means to fill Ginny in.

She reads the letter with wide eyes. Once she takes in the last line, she can infer what Hermione meant when she first came in.

Ginny slouched to the other side of Hermione, “I’m so sorry about your grandma, you’re pretty close yeah?” She chooses to leave out the fact she knew this information from Ron.

Sadly, Hermione nods as she turns to rest her head on Ginny’s shoulder, welcoming the embrace.

After a few more minutes of crying, the brunette girls breathing slows and Ginny takes it as her opportunity to speak, “you can still come to the Burrow of course.”

“Ginny,” it’s Harry who scolds her.

Hermione lifts her head from the girls shoulder to look her in the eyes, expecting to see mischief behind them. Instead, she seems rather genuine.

“Harry,” she mocks his tone, “I am not letting Hermione stay at Hogwarts for holiday, alright?” The ginger turns back to her friend, “Hermione it seems as if everyone’s forgotten,” her eyes flick to Harry, “but the Burrow is just as much my house as it is Ron’s and you’re just as much my friend as you are his.”

Probably even more so as of late.

She sucks in a jittery breath and shakes her head, “I can’t impose really, they wouldn’t even be expecting me.” Hermione tries, not particularly wanting to bring him into it.

“I never told Mum you weren’t coming. It didn’t feel like my place, Merlin knows Ron doesn’t write home, so as far as they know you’re coming. They’re more excited to see you than Phlegm anyway.”

She manages a small chuckle at this before asking what everyone else is surely thinking, “but what about Ron?” She’s avoided speaking his name for weeks, it feels foreign on her tongue.

“I’ll talk to Ron.” They’re both surprised that it’s Harry who says it.

“I reckon he’ll be happy about it anyway. Maybe you two can finally talk.” Ginny comments what she hopes is casually. After her talk with her brother today, she knows not all hope is lost.

At this Hermione let’s out a small scoff in between hiccups.

“Just trust me Hermione,” The ginger says, “anyway, I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy being caught and accused of stealing something in here.” She says standing.

Holding out her hands, Hermione takes them as she helps her up, Harry doing the same with a hand firmly pressed to her back.

They all begin to leave, ushering Hermione as they go. Ginny still holds one of her hands, Harry’s resting between her shoulders.

Then she stops.

“Is,” she can’t even get it out, “is Lavender going to be there?”

Ginny looks horrified and makes a noise of disgust, “Merlin no! I’d rather spend Christmas with the Malfoy’s!” She exclaims making gagging noises.

This illicits a small laugh from both Harry and Hermione.

They all fall into pace again, “you can use Hedwig to owl your parents Hermione, I’ll talk to Ron and find you after. Common room, yeah?” He asks as they near the portrait hole.

She nods solemnly as they part ways.

...

“Is she alright? Is everything okay?” Ron jumps from where he was sitting on his bed as Harry swings the door open.

He looks startled, the chosen one didn’t even have a moment to breathe before being bombarded with questions.

“I reckon I have the same questions mate.” Neville calls from where he's reading on his bed.

“She’s not hurt I guess, not psychically.” Harry shrugs lamely.

Neville places his book down. Ron looks as if he’s about to explode.

“It’s her grandma she’s ill, Hermione’s parents have sent word they’re going to France to make sure she’s comfortable, you know if...” he starts sadly.

Neville’s chest tightens for Hermione. He can’t imagine if that was his Gran.

Ron’s heart also breaks a little. He knows how close the two of them are.

“They also told her they didn’t want her to come, to see her like that, so some arrangements have been made.” He begins, bracing himself for what’s to come.

“Arrangements?” Ron asks eagerly.

Harry nods, “yeah, she’s uh, well she’s going to spend holiday at the Burrow.” He says it quickly.

Neville let’s his book roll to the ground with a thud, as he scrambles from his bed. “I’m just gonna go check on Hermione.” He squeaks, hurrying from the room.

“Ron.” Harry turns to face him tentatively.

“Brilliant.” Ron says.

Harry’s shocked to find no sarcasm in his tone. Instead, he’s wearing a lopsided grin.

“What?” The Boy-Who-Lived asks confused.

Ron stands happily, “well it’s brilliant! We’re sure to get all sorted if we’re gonna be in the same house for weeks. No library to run to. No lessons to go to. And bonus, the stairs at the Burrow won’t move if I try to get into her room.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Harry says again, taking in this information

“I don’t really get what’s so confusing mate.”

Harry looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. Ron encourages him with a wave of his hand.

“It’s just that, look, I don’t wanna be the one to say it, but somebodies got to! I don’t think that, well, the thing is,” he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He’s been doing his best to not interfere with whatever Ron does for weeks, “Lavender!” He settles for out of breath.

Surprisingly, Ron let’s out a chuckle at his friends word vomit, “you’re a little late to that one mate. I’m gonna chuck Lavender before we leave.”

“We leave tomorrow.” Harry reminds.

He cringes, he forgot about that, “right, well, I’ve been trying to do it for weeks, honest, but Ginny’s really made me realize what an arse I’ve been.” Ron drops his voice down, tone turning serious, “why didn’t you tell me about McLaggen?” His tones hurt.

Harry sighs, fiddling uncomfortably with the end of his shirt, “she didn’t want anyone to know. Neville was the one who found her and Ginny, Luna, and I had already been looking.” He informed.

“Come on Harry, I had a right, didn’t I?” He needed the reassurance. Part of him was unsure whether he still had the right to know.

Harry shrugs, “McLaggen’s been dealt with, you should be more worried about Lavender. Hermione’s taken to sleeping in the common room, she’s been awful to her.”

Doing his best not get angry, he responds, “I asked you if that were true two weeks ago, you shrugged.”

The chosen one looks apologetic, “I’m sorry Ron, I don’t remember that, honest.”

Weasley nods, he knew Harry wasn’t paying attention when he asked, and Ron never bothered bringing it up again, “what has Lavender been saying?”

This is the second time someone’s brought it to his attention. Not to mention, before he was running away from the blonde, she’d often mercilessly tease Hermione, which he’d always got upset at her for.

“I don’t think it’s my place to say. I’ve heard a few of my own though, in the halls, in class, in the common room.” Potter says.

“Can you at least tell me what you’ve heard?” He hopes he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels.

“Hermione Stranger, that’s a favorite,” Ron cringes, he knows that’s a taunt she got before she came to Hogwarts, “it’s usually about how she looks, how she’s weird, or about,” he stops.

“About what?” He probes.

“About how you don’t want her. How you never would, Lavender tells her she’s too ugly, too strange.”

“Rubbish!” He exclaims.

“I know,” Harry soothes, “but it doesn’t really look that way, does it?” He points out.

Falling onto his bed in frustration for the umpteenth time that day, Ron groans.

“Ginny lied, did you know?” He started, “about Krum.”

Harry has witnessed the fight. He knew just how ugly the words and accusations were.

“What?” He asked shocked, he knew that row was what started this whole Lavender business. He wasn’t that daft.

“Yeah, turns out that git tried to kiss her at the ball, she told him there was someone else though.”

“Oh, wow.” Harry says, sounding winded. He knew as well as Ron that this changes everything.

“Right tosser aren’t I? Mione had some self control at the ripe age fourteen,” it felt nice to let the nickname slip after so long, “I’m gonna be seventeen soon and I can’t even break up with my,” the word girlfriend felt wrong at the moment, “with Lavender.”

“Ron,” Harry begins, a little unsure of what he’s gonna say, until like before, Neville intrudes on the moment.

“How is she?” Ron asks sitting up.

“She’s upset Ginny took her to Pomfrey. She’ll have a sleeping draught and a bed to sleep in. It’ll be a nice change from the couch,” he catches himself, “uh I mean, her couch bed, yeah, you know how she uh, talks about her bed, like a couch. Just an expression you know.”

“He knows Neville.” Harry interjects.

“Oh.”

Ron still feels horrible about it.

“Alright.” Is all Ron says, getting up to wipe his trousers and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Neville questions as Seamus and Dean saunter in.

“To break up with Lavender.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Someone finally realized they broke Granger’s heart.” Seamus comments.

Now that Ron’s mentioned it, it’s like the floodgates have opened.

Dean elbows him in the ribs, making the irish wizard yelp.

“No can do Ron, it’ll have to wait till tomorrow. It’s curfew.” Dean points out.

“I’m a prefect.” He retorts.

Dean shakes his head again, as much as he wanted Ron to break it off, he couldn’t right now, it wasn’t possible. “I don’t think the staircase cares that you’re a prefect.” He claps him on the shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

“Bloody effing stairs.” Ron curses. He’s also pissed he couldn’t go to the common room and at least apologize to Hermione about her grandma.

“Wait so he does care about something!” Seamus exclaims with mock excitement.

“Shut up Seamus.” Ron bites.

“Well everyone in here knows I’m right? You’ve been walking around for weeks caring less if dear old Hermione was miserable. And there’s no way you didn’t know! Even the Creevey’s picked up on it.” He bellowed.

Ron was getting annoyed, everyone kept insisting he could care less about Hermione when that was far from the truth.

He walked over to Seamus before Dean stood in between them, “let’s just all go to bed yeah?”

The ginger and the shorter brunette stared each other down for a few moments before both admitted defeat.

“Goodnight.” Neville called out as the lights dimmed, enveloping the room into black.

“Night.” Harry called, shoveling under his blankets to cast a ‘lumos’ and watch the map.

Ron and Dean chorused a goodnight, the latter sounding more cheery than the former.

“Goodnight boys,” he paused, “goodnight Hermione.” He said with a drawl.

Ron threw his sheets back before taking a deep breath and calming himself down. By tomorrow he would be on the right path to fix this.

By tomorrow him and Lavender would be done.

#romione #romione fanfic #ron x hermione #hermione granger #ron weasley #6th year #ron and hermione #rons hermiones come find me

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