#she will be getting up to all sorts of mischief

[biblical-chronicles]

The weight of waiting

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where Noel has always felt summat for the reader but she refused to acknowledge it, until potential competition arrived at the scene.

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You had always sort of known that Noel had feelings for you. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the little comments he’d make that made your heart skip a beat—those were all signs. But despite it all, you never acknowledged it.

Maybe it was fear. Fear of ruining the friendship, of making things awkward. Or maybe it was fear of rejection. After all, he was Noel Gallagher—famous, talented, and way out of your league. How could someone like him possibly want someone like you?

So, instead of confessing your feelings, you kept them hidden away, pretending that everything was fine, even though it tore you up inside. You spent countless hours with Noel, laughing, talking about everything under the sun, and yet you both remained just friends, both pretending there was nothing more than that.

The problem was, you had become so close to him that the line between friendship and summat more had blurred. His presence became something you longed for. His voice, his laugh, his teasing glances—they all felt like an embrace. But every time he was too close, you would pull away, scared that your feelings would betray you and he'd see the truth.

It wasn’t that you didn’t notice how much he cared. You did. It was just... you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it was real.

It was a Saturday night, and you were at a pub in Manchester with Liam, Noel, and a couple of friends. You all sat around a table, the noise of the pub buzzing around you, the clink of glasses and laughter in the air.

Noel was sitting across from you, leaning back in his chair with that familiar smirk on his face. He had his arm draped casually over the back of his chair, his eyes flicking between you and Liam.

Liam, of course, could not resist teasing Noel about some new song he’d written. "I don’t care what you say, it sounds like a bloody nursery rhyme, Noel,” Liam teased, shaking his head in disbelief.

Noel rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Liam. You wouldn’t know good music if it bit you in the arse."

"Oi, you two!" you called out, trying to stop the bickering before it escalated. "Let’s just have a good night, yeah?"

Noel’s eyes flicked to you, and for a split second, you saw a softness in them that made your heart race. You quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the drink in your hand.

But Noel wasn’t one to let things slide easily. He leaned forward, his eyes now focused on you with a mischievous glint. "What’s got you so shy, eh? You’ve been quiet tonight. You’ve got somethin’ to say, don’t you?"

Liam snorted, leaning back in his seat. "Yeah, she’s probably just tryin’ to avoid you, mate. You’ve been bloody insufferable all night."

You shot Liam a playful glare, trying to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "Not true," you muttered, glancing at Noel again. But the moment your eyes met, your stomach fluttered, and you quickly looked away.

Liam noticed the tension between you and Noel and raised an eyebrow. "Oi, I’m just sayin’… you two should just get on with it already. Everyone can bloody see it."

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You felt like a deer in headlights, caught in a moment where everything that had been left unsaid suddenly felt unbearably loud.

Liam didn’t stop, of course. He grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Come on, lovebirds. It’s obvious. Just kiss and get it over with." He winked at you, clearly enjoying how awkward he was making things.

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, you felt a warm hand on your arm. You looked up to see Noel, his expression a mix of confusion and something else you couldn’t place.

"Ignore him," Noel muttered, softly rubbing your arm to put you at ease, his voice softer than usual. "Liam’s a prick, but he’s not wrong about everything."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

Liam, still grinning like the cheeky bastard he was, leaned in, muttering under his breath. "See? It’s obvious. You two are like a bloody soap opera."

You wanted to yell at him, but before you could say anything, Noel stood up fully, his eyes flicking to you one last time. "I’ll be outside for a smoke," he said quietly. "You coming?"

You stared after him, your heart racing. You could feel the weight of his words pressing on you, and for the first time, you couldn’t ignore it anymore. You did want this. But fear held you back.

As you were about to follow him out you noticed a women approach him through the pub's window. She was seemingly asking him for a light but you could see the big eyes she was making at him, and how her hand got way too close for way too long to his when passing him the lighter back.

You were still at your table, seemingly frozen, the frustration building inside you. You had seen that look before—the way Noel got all quiet and reserved when a girl came on a bit strong. But this time, it was different. It was summat about her laughter, her hand on his arm, the way she kept leaning in a little too close. It made something stir inside you, something you weren’t prepared to face.

Liam had been watching too, his eyes flicking between you and the pair of them. He nudged your shoulder, his voice low and teasing, but there was an underlying edge you couldn’t ignore.

"Oi, love," he started, smirking at you, "You seeing this? Little Noel’s got himself a proper fan club now, hasn’t he?"

You didn’t respond right away, your focus still fixed on Noel trying to kill the woman with your stare. Liam watched you carefully, a little amused. He knew summat was off, and he knew he needed to give you a slight push.

"You’re not gonna let some bird come between you two, are you?" Liam prodded, his voice almost serious for once. "You know he likes you, yeah? You’re just too bloody stubborn to admit it."

His words hit you like a brick to the chest.The signs were there, and you knew it. You knew it, but you hadn’t acknowledged it. Fear of rejection, fear of messing everything up — it kept you quiet, kept you still.

But now, seeing Noel there, looking slightly uncomfortable, the woman leaning in again, it was like something snapped inside you. You couldn’t wait anymore. You couldn’t stand the thought of him slipping away without knowing. You stood up abruptly, pushing past Liam only hearing him scream a loud "go get him tiger!". If it weren't for your current state you'd surely nudge him between his ribs for that one.

As you stepped outside, the cool air hit your skin, but it did nothing to calm the heat in your chest. You could still see them, Noel and the 'angin little rat, standing just a few feet away. But you didn’t care anymore. This was it.

Without thinking, you rushed up to them, pushing between Noel and the girl, your heart hammering as you stood there, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. The girl looked at you, her eyes wide with surprise, but you barely noticed her as you locked eyes with Noel.

His face was a mix of confusion and something else — something soft and vulnerable that made your heart ache. You could feel the weight of your confession building, but you couldn’t find the words. Not yet.

You reached out, your hands trembling slightly, and cupped his face in your palms. Noel froze, his wide eyes watching you as you held him there, just inches away. For a moment, it was just the two of you, standing there in the quiet, the world seeming to pause.

"Noel," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, full of all the things you couldn’t say. "I can’t... I can’t let you walk away without telling you. I’m sorry. I... I should’ve said this a long time ago, but I—"

Before you could finish, you kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t hesitant. It was urgent, desperate, like you needed him to know right now that this was real, that this wasn’t just some fleeting feeling. Your lips pressed against his with all the emotion you’d been holding back, all the years of uncertainty, of watching him from the sidelines. Your hands gripped his face, pulling him closer, as if afraid he might slip away if you didn’t.

Noel didn’t pull away. At first, he seemed too stunned to respond, but then his hands moved, gently at first, to your sides, pulling you closer. And that was when you felt it — the warmth, the relief, the intensity of everything you had ever wanted. His lips softened against yours, his breath quickening as the kiss deepened. The sound of your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear, thudding in your chest, matching the frantic pace of your emotions.

Eventually, you pulled away, your breaths uneven, your face flushed with a mix of nerves and adrenaline. You looked at him, your hands still holding his face, your thumbs brushing against his skin.

"I... I’m sorry," you whispered, feeling tears start to well in your eyes. "I didn’t mean to... to wait so long. I was scared, alright? I was scared you didn’t feel the same way, and I didn’t want to mess this up, but I... I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t want to live in a world where we’re not together."

Noel was still looking at you, his eyes wide, his breath still heavy. His face was flushed, and you could tell he was processing everything. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He just stared at you, as if unsure if this was real.

He looked so shy now, the confident, laid-back Noel that you knew seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a man who was a little bit out of his depth. His lips parted and closed a few times, and you saw him take a breath, but he couldn’t seem to find the words.

You two didn't even notice the girl awkwardly fleeting the scene, too caught up in the moment.

Noel blinked a few times, as if waking from a dream, before his lips curled into a shy smile. His voice was low, a little shaky, as he said, "I... I didn’t think you felt that way. I didn’t think you’d..."

Before he could finish, you kissed him again, a softer kiss this time, but full of the same emotion, the same feeling of relief, of finally letting go.

When you pulled away, Noel was smiling at you, still blushing, but now his smile was full of warmth, of affection. And as he gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear, he teased, "Well, yer bloody mad, aren’t you?"

You laughed, wiping at your eyes, feeling a little silly but completely content. "Yeah, I know," you said, shaking your head. "If I’d known all it took was you getting jealous, I would’ve staged summat like that a long time ago." said Noel as he chuckled softly, his confidence returning, as he pulled you into a hug. His lips brushed the top of your head, and he whispered, "You’re my mad little idiot, you know that?"

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

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Another day, another request dragged out the drafts like me the morning after a bender. Hope it’s summat close to what you had in mind love !

And keep ‘em coming, yeah? Me inbox is always open xx

[yourcomputerr]

heehee im excited im getting in the zone to update my webpage

[rescuehumans-runtotherescue]

Nobody:

Me: what if child washed up on the island somehow and was amnesic and tests were done and the burns find out this person is related to them and woodrow is called to the island to do tests too and it’s found out he’s the father and had no clue he had a kid and child gains memories and their mother is awful and Charlie and Woodrow get legal rights to child and now Kade Dani Graham and Cody have a cousin to get to know

[inkskinned]

there are a lot of posts out there that are positive and healthy coping mechanisms for handling the holidays. this is not one of them :)

i think there's like. going to be times in your life you will be stuck in a social situation that you cannot escape from gracefully. i do not know why the internet doesn't believe these times exist. it's not always just that your physical safety is at risk - sometimes it's legit like "i just don't currently have the energy or time to put in the effort of responding to this." sometimes it's a coworker you hate so much. sometimes it's just like, fine, you know? like you know you can handle your aunt when she's cheerily horrible, but if you actually set a boundary around her, it's going to be weeks of fallout with your father.

i don't know why people think the answer is always just "cut them out!" or "don't let them get away with that!" because ... the real world is tricky and complicated. i think kind of a lot of us have an internal "radiation poisoning" meter for certain people. like - i'm talking about the ones who are absolutely giving you gradual ick damage. like, you can handle them, but you'll be exhausted.

and yes. you absolutely should listen to your therapist and the good posts about handling others and set good boundaries and take care of yourself. prioritize peace.

HOWEVER :) ...... since im often in a situation with a Gradual Sense of Ick person i cannot just "cut out" of my life (without losing someone else precious to me) - i have sort of developed the most. maladaptive form of mischief possible. because like, if i'm going to have to listen to this shit again, i like to have a little bit of private fun with it.

now! again, i am physically safe, just mentally drained by this man. you should only do this with people you are not in danger with. which leads me to my suggestions for when your Unfortunate Acquaintance shows up and says oh everyone pay attention to me.

my favorite word is "maybe!" said as brightly and happily as possible. whenever the Horrible Person starts in on a topic you do not want to go further with, particularly if they make a claim that you know to be inaccurate, do not respond to it. you and i have both tried to actually argue with this person, and it hasn't gone well, because this person just wants the drama of an argument. however, "maybe!" gives them literally nothing to go on. it is incredibly disarming. they are used to people having some response. they know they can't prove what they're saying, and maybe! treats them like the child they are. it dismisses them in the politest way possible.

i like to say maybe! and then, in their stunned silence, immediately change the subject. this is because i have adhd and i will have something unrelated to talk about, but if you can't think of topics fast enough, i recommend just pointing to something and saying, "isn't that lovely?" because fuck you let's bring in some positivity.

by the way. that second trick - of pointing to something and stating an opinion about it? - that just works on its own, like, 70% of the time. i picked it up from teaching preschoolers. it's an intentional "redirect". it stops children crying and it also stops grown adults from finishing their explanation on why women belong in kitchens. dual wielding!

keep it silly for yourself. i absolutely do not care if people think i'm fucking stupid (it's more fun if they do) and as a result i will purposefully misunderstand things just to see how long it takes them to realize i've completely removed them from the subject at hand. when they say "women aren't funny" i get to be like. "which women." "all women." "all women in america?" "no in the world." "like the mole people? the people in the world?" "what? no. like, alive." "oh are we not counting the mole people?" "what the fuck are you talking about." "you don't believe in the mole people?"

similarly, i play a personal game called "one up me." my Evil Acquaintance literally knows this game exists (my family & friends caught onto it and now also play it) and it always fucking gets him. i don't know why. you have to be willing to be a little free-spirited on this one, though. the trick is that when they make one of those horrible little bigoted or annoying comments they are always making, you need to go one unit weirder. not more intense, mind you - just more weird. "you don't look good in that dress." "yeah, actually, my other dress was covered in squid ink due to a mishap at the soup store." "you shouldn't wear such revealing clothes." "wait, what? oh shit. sorry, your son tears off strips when no one is looking and eats them. i swear it was longer before we left the building."

the point of "one up me" is to completely upend this person's narrative. we both know this person likes setting up situations where you cannot "win" and then they really like telling other people how badly you handled it. in a usual situation, if you respond "please don't say something that rude", you're a bitch. but if you let it happen, you're letting yourself be debased. they are not usually expecting door number three: unflappably odd. because what are they going to say when they're telling everyone how badly you behaved? "she said my son eats her dresses" ".... okay?"

if you can, form an allyship with someone whomst you can tagteam with. where they can pick up on your weird "soup store" story and run with it.

the following phrase is amazing and can be deployed for any situation: "oh, be nice :) it's the holidays!" i do not know why this works as often as it does. i'll say it for the most random shit. i think this is bc most of the time these people know they're being impolite, they just like to fight.

godbless. when in doubt, remember that you could always start stealing their pens.

the whole point of this is - if you can't escape. maybe see how long you can just be. like. a horrible little menace.

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do 2. ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!daemon’s daughter reader

⋆˚࿔ read part 1 here ˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

summary: blood and cheese, where daemon [the best dad (satire)] also orders for his daughter smuggled back to him, violent aftermath

an: there is no brothel Aemond subplot involved

word count: 5.2k

warnings: blood and cheese, canon violence, violence, daddy issues being mocked, arguments, once again blood and cheese

The war was afoot, degeneracies increasing, treacherous plans and endless councils. Amidst all of that y/n still found time to pay Haelena a visit as frequently as she could. Both of them had found impeccable friends in each other and the twins were always a delight. Striding through the halls of red keep, prodding her head inside with a soft knock on the queen's doors which were wide open as it is, "look!" y/n entered with a wide smile on her face. Twirling around she showed Haelena the dress she wore, it was a dress Haelena had embroidered for her with special spiders and other custom animals. Haelena had remarked on y/n's elegantly plain dresses, the edges could all use embroidery and y/n was more than glad to let Haelena design on her dress. "You made it so much better, the small bugs in blue thread it’s so beautifully assembled-" before she could comment more on the beauty of her queen sister's embroidery she was there to showcase, y/n was under attack of her niece and nephew, "why good morrow to you two!" she giggled as the two tugged at her dress for consecutive raise-me-ups. 

"I am very glad!" Haelena said offering her a smile as she scanned those designs, Haelena was warmly elated that y/n chose to wore the dress she had embroidered and the fact that she let her do it in the first place.

"You must teach me your ways" y/n commented whilst actively engaging with jaehaerys and jaehaera, she couldn't carry both the babies at the same time but she was trying to entertain them regardless, the two were latched to their auntie's knees like monkeys.

"I could always make you more, save you the time!" Haelena offered instead, she tried to distract whichever one of the children with a toy but both were way too smitten with their ever so busy aunt, now that she had the council she spent supposedly lesser time with the twins.

"That too would be so convenient!" Y/n said, Jaehaera was raised on her back, making mischief with her aunt as she tried to close her eyes with her tiny hands from behind. Both the twins laughing as she did so, regardless y/n laughed along trying to maintain her balance the best.

"That is enough..." Haelena trailed off in amusement as she helped Jaehaera off of y/n's back. The babe did not let go before whining about it, jaehaerys still tugging at his aunt's dress to get her to bend down so he could talk.

"It's alright" let out a small chuckle y/n's attention was caught down to the little heir pulling at her dress, for her to bend to his level. "Yes little prince?" She asked, attentive to her nephew's whims and demands.

"You said you were going to read to me" Jaeherys reminded her in a rather witty sense, having a sense of one upping her since she forgot about it.

"Oh did I now?" She paused for a second trying to remember when exactly was the reading session arranged for.

"Yes! The-the one with the fox and the-crows...where you do the voice!" The little prince was soon to remind her of which exact story they had left off from. He liked it better when his auntie read it to him than the wet nurses or his mum because she often did those giddy voices and the stories she read in were more entertaining than the ones with septa.

"Gods I must have forgotten" she said in a somewhat melodramatic tone to make the child think she took their reading session as a serious matter, "I have got some work on my hands at the moment but I assure you I will come continue the story-"

"When!" Jaeherys whined with a sort of tired expression given the delay in his story.

"Tonight." She answered genuinely, "Right after dinner!"

"Do you promise?" He asked wanting to take her aunty's word for proper surety.

"I promise." She said holding his tiny hands in hers giving them a gentle squeeze to assure him of her promise. Kissing both her niece and nephew on the forehead as she stood up, in attempt to take her peace Haelena stopped her.

"Are you not afraid?" Asked her sister in law with a tense look on her face, like those times when she would be out of it. As if she spoke another language and saw other things. "When the stones call you back?"

"What...what stones?" She asked, at first y/n thought Haelena was referring to some palace. Could this be in correlation to something with the council, is what y/n presumed.

"The stones. They will call you back!" Haelena gripped her elbows tighter, to emphasise the gravity of the situation she felt. "They'll take you away!"

"Nobody is taking anyone away..." y/n trailed off, shaking her head slightly as she ran her hand down Haelena's in a soothing way. "We are all safe here and there is nothing to be scared of. I promise you. I am not going anywhere." She assured her. Y/n assumed that it would worry Haelena to lose the best friend she had in herself if she were to go back because of the war waging. In her father's name perhaps, her worry was not unsolicited but y/n was sure her father's was a house not hers that is even before her marriage with Aemond.

Haelena could never seem to get her point across for some reason, she couldn't digest her wearies in a coherent way herself so she nodded with a small smile. The restlessness still consistent within her as y/n took her leave. Ever since the intimate moment with Aemond, their relationship had grown rather awkward. Aemond was closed off as always, unable to convey his infatuation. Awkward in this area, the young lovers found it difficult to navigate through a conversation. Bristling fingers through glasses, stealing glances, speaking out their love in small gestures.

That did not account for the fact that the council matters too seeped into the newlywed's marital bliss phase. Aemond too had a seat now, on the king's word. He would attend those meetings and at times the two would have drastically counter opinions. His lady wife, she would sit in the same line of seats after the hand and his mother. Speaking their minds against him, just as they had intended for her. A council within the council. "All you do is account for grand sire and mother, no such thoughts of your own. A mere puppet." Aemond scoffed as they were currently in a conversation in their chambers reflecting to that day's council meeting.

The day was at its end and as was y/n, end of her wits. His bickering was just what she needed, "And you?" she said in a tone more accusatory than his, rightfully so "all you add to the discussions is the warpath Ser Criston weaves."

"I stand for it, you just chew out what the council within the council spews" he scoffed, coming out harsher than intended but now this had become usual."I know you informed the hand of my meetings with Cole."

"Didn't do it as a snitch, had you asked me I would have told you I informed the hand." Y/n said trying to counter his condescending remarks. She wasn't a 'puppet' how he implied "Just because I do not agree with you doesn't make me a puppet to those with better judgment than yours."

"Better judgment than mine?" He let out a low huff finding it absurd that she believed Otto and his mother had a better judgment over the war than his, "you think writing to other castles, pleading, awaiting their help whilst we have three large dragons is a better judgement?"

"And what? What do you plan to do with the dragons? Burn all those against us?" She asked him growing agitated having this conversation again, "You are in favour of a lot of unnecessary bloodshed-"

"It is necessary. To make an example, to lay out a path." Aemond interrupted her, taking in a small breath "Raise your banners or watch them burn. This is what the blacks are already set to implement whilst we sit hand on hand sending out messengers!"

"You want to create a sense of fright! That is all you will accomplish with burning houses." She said in an assertive tone as she crossed her arms. This is what Ser Criston had told him too, the words struck him a small remembrance.

"Are you eavesdropping my meetings with Cole?" He questioned, as the reference resembled similar words to Cole's. Cole didn't exactly have the same notion as his wife but the words were vaguely same.

"You sit right across this room" she gestured to the adjoining room after their bedchamber. The small opening after their room led to the table against the wall where Cole and Aemond had their meetings, "The meetings you have after you assume I'm asleep, as it is too loud enough for me to not eavesdrop or be able to sleep."

"Of course" he couldn't help but roll his eyes, "You must have told the hand about it word for word yes? Like a parrot"

"Don't think of yourself too highly, your conversations are rather predictable even to those who aren't present" she replied. He wasn't wrong that she informed the hand about it but she took accountability for that.

"At least my conversations hold a spine" in two strides he reached the table she was leaning on to pour himself a glass of wine, "Unlike yours, but well that is what was intended for you" he shrugged.

For a moment, y/n sighed shutting her eyes "What are you implying?" She asked trying to maintain a calm composure because she was aware he would have words that would make antagonise her.

"You know, why you are in the council in the first place" he said in casual harshness. "Otto needed someone to voice his opinions like the righteous little lady that you are."

"I am on the council because of the seat I have inherited through my father." Y/n referred to the original conversation for her being on the council, he wasn't even part of that decision yet acted like he knew better than anyone. Smugly sipping his wine as he set his cup aside, the inherent smirk on his face irritated her to no end.

"You are claiming the father's seat who didn't even want to claim you?" He scoffed, Aemond could attest for the fact that he did not hate her in full surety. Rather fond of her too, but he was fond of his lady wife. The soft lover he did not knew he needed, big eyes that held love for everything they were laid upon. Tenderness and warmth seeping out the cracks of her which would mend the hollow cracks in him but it was the council member in her, otto's silent weapon which he could not stand.

In the process of wanting to get back at righteous council member he couldn't stand he truly hurt the daughter that begged for her world to sun, tears brimmed her eyes and she could not help it. She struck him across the face, the nerve of him. Shattered the home she thought she might finally have. He simply flinched at her action, his eyes widened a bit not at her gesture but at her tears. Registering her tears before the slap she landed her, at loss of words. "Leave." She spoke with a shuddered breath, couldn't even meet his eyes. Feeling stripped of the hope and pride she spent days building. Y/n had never raised a hand to anyone, that didn’t exactly harm Aemond in any way still the gesture in itself made her feel ugly after a moment’s silence marinated the interaction.

Without saying a word Aemond did leave, he didn't want to retaliate with her in any way. Because in that very moment both of them took a misstep and he did not want that moment to last longer. In a few strides he was out of their chambers. Y/n gripped the table to steady herself as the tears streamed down her face, a restlessness made home within her chest as she took heavy breaths.

The weight of all her despair was so heavy, at times she would just shut them in case and shove them deep inside her heart and inside her mind so she wouldn't have to face them in retrospect. It all just felt so inescapable, how she begged to be her father's daughter and how she was rejected the whole time. Now, farther away from him, bit by bit being at peace with the people she now surrounded herself with. Even in such state of distress she didn't feel alone any longer, she even felt loved. As far stretched as it sounded she even felt at ease with Aemond and he shattered all of it with just one sentence.

She lost the track of time since the moments of Aemond walking out as she just stood there falling apart, but when she felt some footsteps behind her she wiped her tears trying to compose herself. If there was anything she learned from her father it was that, nobody ever cared how much you fall apart so don't give them a reason to hold against you. Daemon always hated weeping children. Quickly she wiped her tears, she wouldn't want Aemond to think of her weak in these times. With a deep sigh she turned to face the footsteps she assumed was Aemond.

Apparently it wasn't. "Yes?" She asked with furrowed brows to the stranger who just walked into the room, not even a knock or an announcement like the guards or servants. The man wasn't even dressed like a guard or a servant. She stood alarmed taking a step further into the table as the man forwarded towards here without a word. "Guard-" she tried to yell as loud as she could but the man grabbed her head in a swift motion and shoved her into the table's edge. As if to knock her unconscious.

"Not another word or I kill you." Blood said with his hands around her neck, about to choke her as she struggled against him. Trying to grasp against his hands on her, trying to suffocate her she kicked her legs. Tried to scream regardless of his warning. With an extreme distaste for her, obviously, in blood's eyes the princess wasn't even worth so much and too much trouble to smuggle out. "Your daddy wants you back."

-

By the time the guards did find the princess, in the hallways, she was already half unconscious. Immediately rescued into the safest place in the keep, the council. Retrieved but not at all unharmed. The council was already set into course for the subject of the young prince when Larys walked in with y/n. He had previously informed her of what had happened with her nephew, his passing it hadn't really struck her yet given she could barely process all that had happened.

Queen alicent gasped as she stood up quickly running to y/n's side, all the bruises on her face, open cuts and bleeding out the torn sleeves in her dress. "Gods..." she exclaimed in horror as she helped her onto her seat. "What happened to her?" She asked Lord Larys.

"The guards found the intruder, trying to smuggle the princess out of the keep. A gold cloak known for his brutal nature, found with her, having inflicted his brutality upon her and...the prince's head, in a sack." He briefed the council as they all listened to him, everyone else but the king at loss of words. As Lord Larys left alicent was still tending to y/n, cooing at her, she seemed to be in a half conscious state.

"I am alright" she muttered to her mother in law as Alicent nodded but held her hand in hers to provide her whatever consolation she could. Just the sight of having suffered such assault sent the queen into a huge distress. Weakly holding her hand back as if to steady herself into this nightmare. When Lord Larys told her of Jahaerys's tragedy she did not believe it at all. She was confidently positive there must be some mistake in his information because that would not be possible at all.

If it wasn't for Aegon screeching in the background, y/n couldn't make out if she was actually awake in this very moment. The ringing in her ears still hadn't gone out and she wished that she would perish with that same ringing if it were to happen because living through this seemed so difficult. No way to navigate, circumstance so heavy she felt paralysed to meet anyone's face. Aegon was screeching as he wept for his son, blind with rage to kill the man found guilty for the crime. The member advised otherwise saying the king has a lot of enemies and they don't know for sure whose hand it could be.

"I suppose you are right..." Aegon trailed off slowly pacing down the table back to his seat, with an accusatory demeanour towards everyone else "it could be anyone of you, in this room."

A small silence fell, strengthening the tension and grief in the room as y/n just stared at the empty seat beside her. That very morning, just the day prior, where her nephew sat. Then Aemond after him, empty now. "It was Daemon." She declared of what she knew for sure, first time in her life she referred to Daemon with his first name instead of her father. After everything that he did, every misery she endured at the hands of her father, what happened now made her want to be distanced and foreign from him as much as she could. "His doing." She breathed and looked at the council, the drained colour on everyone's face she just registered-it was blinding her. "The man—the gold cloak" she continue, "trying to get a hold of me, h-he—he said 'your daddy wants you back.'" Repeating the words sent a chill down her spine as if she was in that very moment again, she still felt those hands on her, suffocating and heavy. A disgusting play in the mix. “That man came here, on Daemon’s order.”

The rest were comprehending that still, how a man could be so crude not only killing a child but having his own assaulted and kidnapped back home like this? " In one sense, as we determine what happened and...if we in the keep are still in peril. In another sense of course...it doesn't matter." Otto said and looked at Y/n. The princess surely did not seem to understand the hand's implication.

However Lord Tyland did so, "You mean to blame Rhaenyra." He said in a beat. "Tell the realm she had done this." Tyland spoke out Otto's implication.

"I'll have the realm told nothing! We were assaulted within our own walls, within our own beds!" Aegon spoke up almost immediately "Y/n, my brother's wife! The fucking princess almost beaten unconscious—being smuggled out?" He emphasised on the word brother, enraged even for his sister in law and the lack of his brother's presence when it must have mattered the most. "I will not be seen as weak!"

"You are already seen as weak aegon." Otto replied once again sending the king into a manic breakdown as he threw around more cups and vases. Otto theorised about how important it was to name Rhaenyra as a cruel person. Killer of infants, despite of whose direct orders those were. The narrative would be what they made.

"You would change, the blood that is on daemon's hand just to spite Rhaenyra." Y/n questioned, red eyes and characteristically on the verge of tears since she walked in here. Alicent found it so hard to look at her face, the cuts and bruises, poor thing. The heavy torment inside her head must be unimaginable, Alicent thought whilst holding y/n's hand a bit tighter. It felt like one of those moments when she was just a child, so many years ago. She would recall, the girl child was such a loner, always speaking in short words that is if spoken to. The shy little girl, who would just sit in a corner and colour or read. So much like her Aemond yet so different. When they would be in public settings, too many people, she would meekly hold Alicent's hand. Amongst all those unfamiliar faces. Little y/n just deemed Alicent familiar, comfortable. What was so wholesome years ago held such horror now. Alicent holding the lady's hand to provide her comfort her words won't be able to, the protection she could not. "Why won't you paint that man for the monster that he is?!" Y/n spoke as her voice broke, it felt unfair. Daemon not being held accountable yet again.

"Because, Daemon isn't the pretender to the throne. He would be the king consort. Banners are being declared for Rhaenyra, not in his name." Otto explained, to his preference narrative was just a useful toy. One name here or there did not make a difference.

"That is unfair." She said shaking her head, tears brimmed her eyes, taking in short breaths. In all these council meetings she did not speak up against Otto considering him respectable and more learned yet today, "how can you keep on accounting for him...again and again?!" Y/n asked but she was begging in agony. "Y-You were here. Always present. And you never did anything—all his heinous crimes! You always had the opportunity to hold him responsible and you did nothing!" She exclaimed, not being able to help herself as she thought back to a conversation at this very table. A conversation she must not have been there for, but the hand would have.

"It is perhaps your shock and grief speaking for you." Otto replied, not moved by the young lady's accusations at all. "I for one, do not understand your place of reference"

"When he murdered my mother!" Y/n said, growing more and more restless with her speech. Otto must be right, it was all the piled up grief inside of her speaking for her in this very moment but she could not let the monster that was her father be off the hook again, "You could've held a proper council, had him pay for what he did and we wouldn't be seeing this day today! We have that chance now and yet again you would rather Rhaenyra take the blame for his barbarism!"

Otto felt silent for a moment, the girl's rage was justified to the extent of him having no answer for her but he knew to trust his wit more, "I cannot undo...my regrets. I assure you I hold a lot of remorse in having a part in letting daemon go from daemon to the rogue prince and now this...monster. But if we don't do this, he would become king consort. The word consort is a feeble adjective." What he said was supposed to make sense to y/n but she could not see past the rage and need for vengeance she held against her father. Looking away, she wiped her tears. "A funeral progress. Let them see the child. Let them look upon the works of this pretender to the throne." Otto proposed once y/n was assuming-ly settled.

"Father" Alicent said with weary and concerned eyes, such tragedy being shouted out as a public funeral procession sounded so vain.

"My king..." Otto waited for Aegon's presumedly understood voice.

"No..." Aegon answered firmly "I will not have my little son's body dragged through the street like a dead dog." As he said that y/n felt nearly faint. To this very moment she did not accept that the child had passed.

"Not dragged, honoured." Otto corrected. "Escorted to the dragon pits to be burned as a Targaryen prince!" Otto went on and on about how he loved his grandson, his heart was in the right place with the grief yet the path he set was in accordance with the warpath. Just plots and schemes. Falling silent, paralysed y/n looked down to her lap. She refused to even register this conversation because it meant registering the fact that a darling child, Jahaerys...was gone.

Aegon couldn't stomach this proposal which came as an already arranged firm announcement either, looking around the room nobody said a word against the hand's plan. "You would say nothing?!" He demanded of y/n, why won't somebody help this mad notion. "Your dear nephew, have you nothing to add?" He was almost begging, hoping she would get the hand to change his mind for this funeral procession. She didn't, y/n just looked up at Aegon and then Alicent, tears in her eyes which just didn't seem to stop flowing. "Mother." Aegon called out when y/n couldn't speak up.

Leaving y/n's side Alicent walk's up to aegon, "the hand sets a difficult path, my darling. But it might be the right one." She told her inconsolable soul.

"Let the silent sisters ready the prince for his final journey." Otto said without waiting a moment for the king or anyone to come forth with opposition "And riding behind him, his mother the queen, the princess and the queen dowager."

"No, I do not wish to be spectacle." Alicent opposed instantly, the weariness and fright in y/n's eyes speaking the same "Especially y/n, not in this state. She can barely talk-stand, she has been terrorised. You can't simply—"

"The realm must see the sorrow of the crown. A sorrow best expressed through its gentle souls." Otto said followed by alicent sighing, then he looked at the side to y/n, "We need to display our heavily victimised as well" he said, the bleeding wounds on her face seemed like little trophies of sympathy to Otto. "I think you'll all agree the king himself must be spared."

-

A deafening silence lingered within Aemond, he had been out, sharpening out his swords, practising. Fucking practising on jute bags when he should've been there. Y/n was in Alicent's chambers because she could not walk into her own, couldn't even take in the sight of it. The thrashed furniture, from her struggling against the intruding gold cloak. The...the sack. In which he had stored the boy's head. Where the man had placed it in her chamber, at the entrance, it had created a circular stain of blood. Jahaerys's blood. She could not even think about the room within those four walls without picturing the insidious crime. She sat on the floor against the bed, windows open and soft white light of the day seeping in yet to y/n it still felt like a night of hailstorm. She didn't even look up to the footsteps of the stride coming inside the room, Aemond. He walked to her, kneeling down to the floor to her level.

Aemond was drenched with so much guilt in his heart, he felt pathetic to even breathe the same air as his lady wife. She had her face turned away from him, he could just see the small cuts on her face, the torn dress, still seeping out dried blood, her weary stature. It was all mortifying in the first place. He was so livid, with himself, with the intruder. Even with Larys, who informed him about the happenings at the last. By the time he rushed back inside the council was already done with. He had nothing he could say to y/n, no way of consoling her either.

It's not as if she would want to be consoled by him too, the emotional support he would want to offer her walked out with him when he walked out after their fight the previous night. With the disturbing things that had happened with her, she had almost forgotten the words he said. She couldn't even remember why she was crying before it all, that sick with grief. Aemond gently held her chin, hesitantly afraid she would turn him away. She had every right to do so. She didn't move him away, had no energy to do so. His heart sank as he saw the blood streaked stitches, poorly done and most of her wounds left untreated. "Why are these open?" He asked her softly, referring to her wounds, "Where are the maesters?"

"The hand, has asked for these to be left raw as they were planted." Y/n briefed him, her voice was so wavering, all that crying. "He means for them to be displayed for the funeral procession...so the realm can see" y/n scoffed softly as she repeated otto's exact words.

"You don't have to go." Aemond told her in a firm way, sure that he could get the hand to change his mind whether he liked it or not because y/n's comfort was his priority.

"No..." she trailed off, in agreement refraining to look at him her voice held no emotion. "But I do. I have to." She continued "Wouldn't want Haelena to be alone"

"Mother would be with her." Aemond added taking her hands in his softly, finally getting her to react to his presence as she looked down upon his gesture. Apparently to take her hands out of his grasp.

"But then I would be alone here..." She trailed off, a hint of frustration and fright in her tone. "I don't want to be alone."

"I would be with you, y/n." Aemond cooed softly fixing the loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear as he leant forward. “You won’t be alone.”

"I find myself unable to put faith in you, Aemond." She breathed looking down, she felt like a cornered animal, just so scared and full of distrust. "...in your assurance. I'd rather not."

Aemond had nothing he could say to that. She did not trust the integrity of his principles and rightfully so. He knew he had broken that trust of security within her. "My heart, I apologise for the distress I have caused you. I did not mean any of it" he told her but the heaviness in his heart told him his words would change nothing. She couldn't talk either, bursting into tears and her stitches seemed to hurt because her face moved but she was so much numbed to the physical pain in comparison to how she felt inside. Aemond could just offer her his embrace in this time and that is what he did. Enlacing her into her arms, rubbing her back in soothing circles her let her cry into his chest. "They will pay for this." He muttered softly as he continued to hold her. Even with the pain he made her feel, the distrust and hurt she felt just in seeing Aemond could not let her turn away the familiarity of his comfort. His was the only comfort she had ever known.

-

Once again clarifying that the brothel subplot is absolutely NON EXISTENT in this fic Aemond Targaryen is a lot of things but not a cheater <333

Pls let know what you think about this + added to the tg list🫧

-

🏷️ @love-is-a-dagger @daddzawa @1109002 @void21 @annedub @teapartydreams @batmans-love @ih8books @oopsdownloadedrumblragain-blog @aemondwhoresworld @unsweetenedpeatea @immyowndefender @aleemendoza2425-blog @vane282-blog @atargaryenlover @targaryenswhxre @sabii5 @vibescanner @darylandbethfanforever9

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: i caved and did an actual Ewan fic! Given that the lad is more of a public persona nowadays, I reckon it's fine (?) This is pure self-indulgence for all my Ewan loves. May have a continuation but idk for now, enjoy!!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan are paired for press interviews. Despite barely having any scenes together and only knowing each other in passing on set, the chemistry they share cannot be denied...

Your first round of press takes place in a primped up hotel suite in Paris, thanks to the team at HBO.

You are an up and coming actress, much like some of your costars in the show, but the pressure is heavier on you because you were entering in season two, whereas everyone was already well-acquainted with one another.

Your few scenes were mostly with Jace and Baela, so you grew close to Harry and Bethany.

However, the media team decided to pair you up with Ewan for the day. A little fun initiative was set by the team that a character from the Blacks would be do press with a counterpart from the Greens - hence, yourself and Ewan.

You're nervous as you walk down the hallway, unable to fully pay attention to the instructions your lovely assistant gives you.

She tells you about the different interviewers for the day, bloggers and magazine writers from all over the world. She reminds you that each one will only be for a maximum of 5 minutes, so it shouldn't be too complicated. She smiles and eagerly says, "Take a deep breath, you got this!", as you reach the suite doors.

But in your mind, all you can recall is your first interaction with Ewan, almost a year ago right after the table read. You had nervously blurted out to him that Aemond is your favourite character, after he just asked, "How are you?". He laughed, said thank you, before he was pulled away in conversation by Tom.

You pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that things will fare better today. That you won't get all tongue-tied when those steel blue eyes land on you.

Upon entering the room, the team is quick to fuss over you. Sometimes you forget that you're actually an actress now. A celebrity, some might say. It all feels surreal and you have a inkling it won't ever stop being this way.

Ewan is already seated in front of the camera, and he stands to give you a hug as you finally walk over.

"Hey there, how are you?" he smiles widely, smelling like cigarettes and something muskier as he wraps his arms around you.

Unroll your tongue. Rework your brain. Calm down.

"Hey, Ewan!" you respond. "I'm doing great, happy to see you again."

"Well, I only wish we could have had more time together on set." Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to take your seat before he does the same. "But next season perhaps? Who knows?"

"Oh, sure." You settle in, pleased by the fact that your chairs are only about a foot apart. "We can both look forward to my character giving Aemond the arse kicking he deserves."

He laughs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on now, I was thinking our characters are actually quite compatible, no?"

"Well, I sure wouldn't want to step on Alys' shoes. She'd probably curse my character all the way to Yi Ti."

"Hmm," he hums, biting his lip. You can't help but hear Aemond when he does that. "I say you can always count on Aemond and Vhagar to come to the rescue of a beautiful maiden such as yourself."

Well, you'll be damned. Ewan, while still an introvert of his own sort, is as charming as can be. If he's turning it on to get himself hyped for the press, it's working.

It's definitely working on you, to say the least.

The media manager gives the signal for the first interview to begin, and a reporter walks in, all ready with prepared script in hand.

"Here we go," you mutter, facing forward.

"Good luck," Ewan replies.

You both shake the reporter's hand, and he introduces himself as Jared.

"So guys," Jared begins. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about what we can expect from your characters this season?"

The question is easy, and it doesn't take long for you and Ewan to think it through. Jared asks a few more basic questions, before drawing the attention more to you.

"When you watched season one, did you have a favourite character?" he asks you.

You smile, "Oh, I mean, I have to say - and Ewan already knows this, by the way - that Aemond was my favourite character."

"Was?" Ewan says, feigning shock. "Unacceptable."

"Was... Is... " you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from Jared. "I think I might be more a Daemon girl now."

"Oh!" Jared exclaims happily. "Does Matt know about this?"

"I'll be sure to tell him - "

Ewan interjects, shaking his head at you, "There's no need to tell him, because I'll convert her back to Team Aemond in no time, trust me."

"Daemon is awesome, though," you say to him, smiling.

"Sure." Ewan makes a face like that fact doesn't matter. Wasn't he the one who said that Daemon would be the character he would most like to play if not Aemond?

"And Caraxes is my favourite dragon." You share a look with Jared, hoping he would agree.

"Yes!" Jared says. "Caraxes is the best dragon in the show, in my opinion."

"Ah, you're both wrong," Ewan says. "My Vhagar is the oldest and baddest dragon in all of the land."

"My Vhagar, he says," you joke. "Seems like someone still hasn't shed Aemond for this press tour."

"And I never will, darling." His gaze is intense when he turns to you, and you clear your throat to fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"Alright, they're giving me the wrap-up," Jared thankfully breaks the tension. "It was a pleasure talking to you guys, congratulations on the new season!"

One interview down, and your nerves have already considerably subsided. Ewan tapping your arm to start up a conversation once more surely helps in distracting you.

In the best damn way possible.

"How do you think we did? That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"I think we did quite well," you casually offer a high five, but your heart skips a beat when Ewan interlaces your suspended hands for just a moment.

"I'm glad they paired me with you," Ewan says, after releasing your hand. You hold on to the armrests to keep your fingers from twitching.

"I am, too," you admit. "I am a fan of you, after all, but I think you already know that."

He blushes, "Well, that's not a bad thing. I think you're a fantastic actress. I must have seen your first film a good ten times."

"You mean my first and only film," you add humbly. "But thank you."

"Only film for now," he affirms. "No doubt this is only the beginning for you, darling. With your talent and your charisma, I'm sure you have potential scripts piled up already."

"I could say the same for you! Have you seen what your fans say about you online? You're the internet's new boyfriend, Ewan Mitchell."

The media manager announces the next interview, but Ewan follows up with a response for you under his breath, "I have seen some things. But when I have a girlfriend, I'll make sure she won't have to share me at all."

Oh, so apparently he is single. But wait - why is he telling you this?

You don't get to mull over that thought. For the time being, the next interview starts and you make sure you do a good job at what you're paid to do - promoting the series.

Not daydreaming about getting with a costar, for heaven's sake. Stay professional.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You feel lightheaded after finishing the seventh - or had it been the eighth? - interview.

Your assistant delivers a coffee to you during the twenty-minute break. Ewan had stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He certainly is everything you expected him to be, and so much more. Insightful, cheeky, dedicated. An artist, through and through. He was in the business for all the right reasons, passion and respect for the craft.

If he had any flaws, you weren't privy to them yet. If there are any reasons for you not to be attracted to him, you didn't know what those were yet.

And with every flirtatious remark and pointed smile, you can't deny the hope blooming in you.

"Hey," he reappears, pulling you out of your musings. "I hope you don't mind that I smell of smoke."

No, you didn't, not when it's him.

"Don't worry about it," you reassure him. You tilt your head forward to take a sip of your coffee, but a lock of your hair falls in front of your face. Annoyed, you think to reach for it, but Ewan beats you to it, tucking it back in place.

"There you go, darling," he croons, gesturing for you to proceed in drinking.

"Th-thanks." His eyes don't leave yours as you take a slow sip.

"So," you say, desperate to break the silence, "which interview did you enjoy the most so far?"

"How can I possibly choose? I mean, I really liked the one with ComicSociety, the guy that said our characters have a lot of chemistry and should get together next season. He's right, I already told you!"

"Ohhh, sure, that will go down really well with the Blacks and Greens."

He smirks, "I don't see why not?"

"For one, Aemond is ensnared by Alys, and my character will never give up fighting for Rhaenyra. I just don't see it happening, Ewan."

"Right," he mutters thoughtfully, "there is still Alys in the picture."

"Still in the picture? With the amount of steamy scenes you two have lined up for season three, I'd say she will be Aemond's entire picture in and of herself."

"Hmm," he glances at you once, then looks down. Dare you think it, does he look disappointed?

"But hey," you add lightly, "maybe we can talk to Ryan and he can flip the entire script just for our characters."

"Yeah," his cheeky smile resurfaces, "maybe you can take Alys' place."

Take the place of Alys? Of Alys. Is he insinuating...

"Next round of interviews, guys!" The media manager announces to the room.

"Here we go again, darling," Ewan squeezes your hand once, before putting on his professional face once more.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

By the end of it all, not even caffeine can perk you up. You were exhausted, you and Ewan having finished four full hours of press.

Your assistant comes to your aid, ready to direct you back to your own hotel room.

"This has been such a pleasure, Ewan, really." You stand, this time initiating the hug.

He squeezes you gently, humming in your ear. When you pull apart, he says, "I honestly wouldn't mind trudging through hours and hours of press with you."

That's sweet of him. You're too tired to mask the warmth that rises to your cheeks. "And I feel the same. Today couldn't have gone any better."

"Truly, and listen, maybe we could - "

"Ewan!" The manager approaches. "I'm so sorry to rush with this, but we need to film just a quick soundbite with you for Aemond. Just two to three questions for the Max Tiktok account?"

"Oh, okay - " Ewan is reluctant to turn away from you.

"Perfect! If you could just stand there by the windows please..." The manager already has him by the arm, directing where he has to go.

"We have to go," your assistant says. "Still have to prep for tomorrow."

"I'll see you soon, Ewan!" you call out to him. "Thanks again."

He gives a half-hearted wave, dejected as he watches you walk out of the room.

"That wasn't too bad," you share with your assistant as you enter the elevators. "Not bad at all, actually."

"Oh, you did so well," she compliments. "It definitely helps with the press that you and Mr. Mitchell have such insane natural chemistry."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

In the calm of your hotel room, you get ready for bed.

Just when you're about to finish with your nightly routine, your phone rings from your bedside table. You're quick to rush over, thinking it could be your assistant or your manager, with an urgent update about work.

But no - it's an unknown number. A UK number, as it appears.

Confused, you click answer anyway, putting it to your ear with a tentative, "Hello, who is this?"

"Hi, darling."

"Ewan?"

"Yeah, uhm, I hope I didn't disturb you - "

"Not at all," your answer comes out in a rushed breath.

"I also hope you don't mind that I got my assistant to ask your assistant to give me your number? It's what I wanted to ask you before you left today."

"Oh." You feel fully awake now, by some miracle, butterflies finding home in your stomach. "I don't mind. I... I should have given you my number, anyway. I have most of the cast's, in case I need to get a hold of you guys."

"Hmm, right," he says from the other end. You hear him calmly breathing, the sound strangely comforting, and wonder if he can hear the same from you.

He says, "I just wanted to keep hearing your voice. Didn't get enough of it today," and your heart just about stops.

"Oh. Okay," is all you are able to respond with.

"What are you doing?"

"Just... just getting ready for bed." Phone pressed to your ear, you shuffle around the room, putting some things back in place.

He says nothing for a few seconds, but you still hear his breathing, and some shuffling in the background. It occurs to you that he might just be as nervous as you are now.

Maybe.

"Listen," he finally says, "do you want to hear my pitch to Ryan about why our characters should get together next season?"

A genuine laugh escapes you. He sure is persistent. Playful, sure, but you're definitely willing to play along.

"Let's hear it."

"First," he says, "you have to renounce Daemon as your favourite character - "

"Not a chance."

" - and swear your love for Aemond."

"Keep dreaming."

He laughs, and you can only picture the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Aww darling," he teases, "don't you love me?"

💌 part two - part three

The OGs will know that the final line is a nod to my first ever Aemond fic! 🖤

Did this slightly delay my series works? Yes, yes it did. Do I regret it? For Ewan frickin Mitchell, I would never ~

[msgexymunson]

The Ink Shop Part 2

Description: After your encounter with Eddie, things are beginning to get a bit more complicated; especially when you ask him for another little favour. But, will Eddie go for it? 

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI this ain't for you, angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut, fem oral receiving, male masturbation.

A/N: OK when I said this will be in 3 parts I lied, it's totally going to be at least 4, maybe 5! Thank you for the love you've shown the first part, it's incredible! You're superstars. 

❤️ If you like it please comment and reblog, it really makes my day!❤️

7k words 

Masterlist Part 1

For some reason, the shop seems more welcoming today than ever. It might be the fact that the sun is shining, it might be the radio seemingly playing all your favourite songs, or it might be last night. Either way, you feel loose and free, laughing at jokes, smiling at everyone, and genuinely just happier. 

Eddie saunters in thirty minutes late and you barely notice, apart from flashing him a bashful smile. 

“Well hello there sweetheart, you seem chipper today.”

You roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation, but your smile is warm. “I had a good night's sleep, that's all.” 

“Bet you did,” he grins, “you look real pretty.” 

Looking down, you consider your outfit; you'd decided enough of the corporate clothes, this is a tattoo shop after all. So, you'd paired a roll neck sweater with a short jean skirt and sneakers. A more relaxed outfit to go with a more relaxed attitude. Before you can say anything in reply he strolls over to his station. 

Right, so a few jabs, but he's being nonchalant. So put it out of your mind.

The morning moves quickly, a messy blur of clients and phone calls. After a fast lunch, the shop finally calms down a little. When you're focusing on sorting the mess of the heavy bookings tome in front of you, Eddie approaches, mischief glinting in his eyes. 

“I see London, I see France…” 

You follow his bowed head and cross your legs in sheer embarrassment, realising a sliver of your panties must be on display. 

“Eddie!” 

He simply laughs, throwing his head back far enough that your gaze drifts to his Adam's apple. 

“Sorry, I couldn't resist, I'm a big fan of this skirt,” he says, drinking you in with his eyes, “anyway I wanted to ask-” 

His sentence is stopped however by the loud ringing of the old corded phone. You and Eddie share a look, yours begging and his smug. Before you can grab it, he picks up the phone, putting on a ridiculous British accent. 

“Good Afternoon, London Underground Airways, this is your captain speaking- Oh shit Mac- Yeah she's- I know I'm not supposed to answer- Sorry I- Fine, here.” He brandishes the phone at you. 

“Hello? Oh, of course I'll let them know- I understand- It'd be my pleasure- see you soon.” replacing the receiver, you make a note on the pad at your side. 

“What'd he say?” Eddie asks, hovering over you. 

Not giving him the satisfaction of a look, you continue to make your note, however perfunctory it may be. “Mac's going to be a little late, he told me to tell his next client.” 

“He said my name, I heard it. What'd he say?” 

Placing your pen down with a loud click, you turn to him. 

You tell him as you smile smugly. “He told me to hit you for answering the phone.”

If anything, his grin grows broader. “Oh? Go on then princess, I'd hate for you to break the rules.” He turns his face, no doubt expecting a cuff to the back of the head.

Spinning on your stool, you slap him right across the cheek; not with all your strength, but certainly hard enough to remember. Eddie's face is a picture of shock, pink handprint already flushing his cheek. 

But that just makes his smile wider. 

“Harder.” He asks, eyes flashing arousal at you. 

“Eddie!” you shout, pushing him away, but his laugh echoes through the shop. Before he has a chance to continue, a burly biker type walks right in the door. 

“Good afternoon, can I help you?” 

“Yeah, It's Jimmy, I'm here for Mac?” 

“He's running a little late, but he'll be with you as soon as possible. Can I get you a coffee or something while you wait?” 

You can't help but hear a huff from Eddie, but before you can question it he's drawing in his book, entirely oblivious to the outside world. 

At the end of the day, you're tired, but still in fairly high spirits. It's the first time you've seen everyone in the shop at once. There's an edge to the air though, as if an expectation hangs over everyone. 

So… bar?” Mac asks in a defeated tone, although he's smiling. Everyone reacts; Eddie woops, pumping his fist, even the usually reserved Miranda is clapping quietly. You smile and nod, finally understanding what the atmosphere was about. 

As you all enter the dimly lit bar, chatting and laughing, you hear a low huff. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” John is standing behind the bar. An imposing figure, his arms crossed and face surly, but there's a kindness in his eyes. Mac leans straight over and hands him a card.  

“Easy John, I got this,” he chuckles. The card is accepted gratefully, the gruff demeanour lessening with the promise of payment. 

You accept a bottle of beer and slide into a nearby booth, the rest of the group filtering in. Mac walks over, eyes the space next to you, then grabs a stool to sit at the head of the table. It throws you for a minute; surely he knows he can sit there? Before you can tell him so, Eddie waltzes across the room with a tray of tequila shots and all the fixings with a cheeky look in his eyes. He slides right in next to you, tray and all, and places it on the table with exaggerated care. 

“Ladies, gentlemen.” He says, gesturing to the tiny glasses like an old timey butler. There's a succession of groans from the party, but despite this they all grab a shot. All except you. 

“I don't think I-” you begin, but he's waving a hand in the air. 

“Come on, you drink. It's a shot. Never had tequila before?” 

Fixing him with a sharp look, your cheeks begin to redden of their own accord. Eddie smirks and tosses his head back, hiding his eyes with one hand. 

“Shit princess, what did you do at college?” 

“Study.” You say primly, but take a glass tentatively and place it in front of you. 

“Right, so for the new guys…“ Eddie smiles right at you and licks his hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That hint of silver mesmerises you, the ball of his tongue piercing catching the light. It's almost sensual the way he does it, your eyes automatically following the movement of his tongue. “salt right here…” he sprinkles some on the spot he moistened, “then, lick, shoot, suck.” 

In a few fluid movements he licks the salt from his hand, downs the shot, and sticks a wedge of lime in his mouth. As your brain finally engages after that display, the little show that shouldn't have heated your insides up, you follow along, and take your shot with everyone else. It's easier than you would have thought, the lime easing the burn somewhat. 

Eddie squeezes your thigh under the table and whispers low enough for you to hear. 

“Good girl.” 

Shooting daggers with a simple look, he just smirks, leaving his hand on your bare leg as if challenging you. Dimly, you hear the echoes of a conversation in front of you; it's Julio, arguing about good tequila not needing salt and lime, but you're lost in the deep pools of Eddie's chocolate eyes.

For a moment, your body flashes red hot and you regret your choice of the high necked sweater. Tearing your eyes away you look at something, anything, but Eddie. 

The conversation drifts between all manner of subjects and you start to relax, the beer and tequila swimming in your belly loosening your tongue. It's nice, having a chance to chat and giggle with your coworkers in a setting not interrupted by the constant buzzing of tattoo machines. 

Julio and Chloe end up in a full scale argument about the karaoke machine in the corner. Before you're subjected to the horror of having to sing in public, you get up to grab another beer. Perching on a stool by the bar with your purse in hand, you're waiting patiently to be served. 

Eddie strolls over. You see him in your periphery; that confident walk as if he owns the very ground he walks on. Casually he hops up on the stool next to you, making no effort to hide the way he undresses you with his eyes. 

“Quit staring Eddie,” you say testily as you knock the bar with your bank card. 

“Now I can't look at you?” He asks with an amused grin. 

“I said quit staring, not quit looking,” you huff out. 

“What's the difference?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his nose at you.

You groan, turning on your stool to face him. “You are impossible,” 

He sticks his long tongue out childishly, flashing his piercing at you. 

Thankfully, John's voice cuts through the squabble. “What can I get you?”

“May I have a beer, please?” 

“You certainly may.” John cocks his thumb in your direction, addressing Eddie, “I like this one, she's polite. Don't scare her off.” 

Eddie dramatically holds his chest. “You wound me, sir!” 

Two beers are placed on the bar and John waves your card away. “Don't worry about it, Mac's treating you guys tonight.” 

As you swig your beer, you contemplate for a moment, trying to work out something.

“You're staring, sweetheart.” Eddie grins, as he gulps his drink. 

“I wasn't staring, I was thinking! I know that's a foreign concept to you.” It's catty, you know that, but he just seems to bring it out in you. No one else has annoyed you so much in your life just by… being. 

“That was rude. I thought we were playing nice?” he pouts playfully. 

“Sorry. I- Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, shoot.” 

Turning to him, you speak what's on your mind. “Why do people get their tongues pierced? No one really sees it. I get like, nose and eyebrow piercings and stuff, but the tongue one I don't understand.” 

Eddie's grin is wide as he bites his bottom lip and stares at you. Well, you couldn't call it a grin. It's a flash of teeth, almost wolfish in its delivery. 

“Oh princess, you are too cute.” 

Staring at him with your brow furrowed, you try to work out what he means, but the longer you take, the more amused he looks. 

“What? What is it?” 

Sighing, he leans closer, the scent of aftershave, cigarettes and man clouding around you. “It's got a purpose, sweetheart.” 

“What, like, kissing?” 

Shaking his head, he looks you up and down. “Kinda. Kissing somewhere… specific.” 

Realisation breaks across your face, followed by a fierce blush that you can feel to the roots of your hair. Laughing, Eddie pulls away a little and takes a mouthful of beer. 

Voice an airy whisper, you lean over to him as you speak. “And girls like that?” 

His laugh is so loud it reverberates around the bar. 

“Yeah, a lot, in my experience.” 

“Oh.”

Well, the thought is there now, and you're pretty sure it won't ever go away, not without some sort of mind bleach. Eddie's head between your legs, his long tongue exploring your sex. The image is burned into the back of your brain, playing on a loop.

“You're looking a little hot there,” he says, as if he can read your thoughts. It's fair to say it wouldn't take a psychic to know what's rattling around your head right now. 

“I'm fine, this sweater is too warm,” you shake out, pressing your thighs together. 

“Liar.” 

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, you finally snap it shut with a crunch. Curiosity is eating away at you, and it's too easy to say what's on your mind after a couple of drinks. 

“Eddie, could you… tell me, what- what it's like?” 

He chuckles lightly and scoots closer to you. “you know I can't, I've not exactly had the pleasure.” 

“I know that, I mean…” 

For a second he just gapes at you. 

“Wait, princess, are you asking me to tell you or… show you?” 

Flustered, you turn away a little. “Sorry that's- that's too much isn't it. It's just you… did such a good job with the, you know, the other thing, I was just curious.” 

Eddie bites his lip, puffing out a little breath. “You know, flattery works with me. I did a good job, huh?” 

“Well, yeah. I can imagine you'd be really good at… that too. I could, owe you a favour?” It's bold, especially from you, but the way he's looking at you, the slight flush to his cheeks, you'd put money on him agreeing. 

Eddie stares at you incredulously. “Wait, you're saying you want me to stick my tongue in the holiest of holes and then you owe me a favour?” 

“Yeah? Like a little… arrangement.” 

He rubs his face with his hand, his voice muffled as he speaks. “I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you.” 

That confuses you for a moment. Surely you were the one who asked him? Hesitantly you reach out and touch soft fingertips to the back of his hand. 

“Please?” 

“Fuck.” He looks around, and turns to you, gazing into your eyes for a moment. 

“Fine. Right now.” 

“Oh I didn't-” 

“Listen, before I change my mind. Meet me out back. I'll tell the guys you're not feeling well and I'm taking you home.” 

Wordlessly, you grab your purse and head to the back door, heart hammering in your ears. It's a little dank out here, with the sound of a dripping pipe and moss covering the cement. Eddie comes out a moment later looking more serious than you've ever seen him. 

“You sure about this?” He asks, searching your eyes. 

‘Yeah, but…” you look around the small yard, gesturing vaguely. 

“Oh. Oh! You thought- oh Christ no, not here. I'm not a complete asshole. Come with me.”

Letting out a relieved breath, you follow him. He walks over to a gate in the fence and opens it, which leads down a narrow alleyway, a little shortcut between yards. That eventually opens up to another road with a couple of apartment blocks. The one he moves towards looks mostly clean, if a bit lifeless, with a creepy looking van parked out the front.

“This way sweetheart,” he says, leading you through the courtyard and to the stairs. 

For a second you stop in sheer surprise. 

“Wait, you live this close and you still manage to be late for work?” 

He chuckles, looking at you over his shoulder. “I have a condition, you know. Chronic tardiness; I'm afraid there's no cure.” 

You bat him on the arm playfully and he grasps your wrist, stopping on the stairs briefly, giving you a look that is wickedness personified. 

“If you're gonna hit me, do it properly.” 

“Eddie!” 

He laughs loud and grabs your hand, holding it in his until he reaches his door. That alone is enough to shut you up. It's warm and rough, and the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how tiny, sends bolts of sensation through you. 

“Right, here is my castle,” he says as he opens the door and lets you inside. 

Chaos. That's the first word that crosses your mind. It doesn't look dirty, there's just things everywhere. A bookshelf stuffed with books and weird little trinkets placed any which way dominates one wall, and another on the other side with a huge music collection. There's a poky little kitchen with a couple of pots still in the sink, and a big couch with mismatched cushions takes up the remaining space. A tower of board games is precariously leaning next to it, and on the wall over the TV is an honest to goodness sword.

“It's nice,” you say as you walk in, as if you're not mentally organising it in your head. 

“You hate it.” He scoffs, pulling his boots off and dumping them by the door. 

“No, no, it's very… you.” 

“I stand by my previous statement.” He grins at you, clearly indicating he wasn't being entirely serious. 

“This is the bedroom.” He walks over and nudges the door open with his foot. Surprisingly, apart from an open clothes rail, an overflowing laundry hamper, and an enormous bed, there's not much in it. The wallpaper is a pretty purple colour, and looks oddly familiar. 

“Eddie isn't that the same wallpaper-” 

“-As the shop? Yeah. Mac let me have the leftovers. I was broke and this room was fucking pink.” 

You snort out a laugh; the thought of Eddie with a pretty pink bedroom was rather unbelievable.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I can live with purple.” He roots around and grabs a pair of sweats. “Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna change real quick.” 

Then he walks out into another doorway, you assume the bathroom. The urge to snoop is real, but you resist. It looks like he spends less time here anyway. 

The question is, how comfortable are you supposed to make yourself? Nerves start settling in, the thought of what you've asked him to do is finally sinking its way into your mind and down your jangling spine. What if he doesn't like the underwear you're wearing? God, you've been at work all day, what if you smell bad? Or taste bad? What if- 

“You can sit down, princess.” 

Eddie saunters back in, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you see his cut groin. A little squeak hiccups out of your throat at the sight. You stay standing, ready to make your excuses and leave, but the signal hasn't reached your legs just yet. 

“What's wrong?” his eyes are brimming with concern as he steps toward you. 

“No I- I was- maybe this-” 

“Hey, look at me,” he says, grabbing both of your hands. You stare up at him, his face gentle. 

“Whatever you're worried about, I'm sure it's nothing.” 

“But i haven't showered-” 

“When did you last?” 

“Well… this morning.” 

“You're fine. Trust me.” 

He backs you up onto the bed, your knees folding as you flop down. The air around you feels full, humid with anticipation. He's so close, your bodies almost pressed together. 

“I wanna kiss you.” He says softly, stroking a lock of your hair out of your face. Heart leaping into your throat, you try to suppress the urge to lean forward. The last thing you need is to fall for this man. Chloe's words echo in your head; he's not boyfriend material.

He'll break your heart. 

“That's not part of our deal, Eddie.” 

A frown flickers across his face. It's just for a second, a flash of vulnerability, before his usual cocky smile returns. 

“That's not where I wanna kiss you.” He winks and tugs at your top, “can I take this off?” 

Nodding wordlessly, you help him and wriggle it up and over your head. 

“God damn.” Eddie props up on an elbow, running a finger between your breasts, before following the edge of your black cotton bra. 

He looks up at your face, grinning wide, and points at your neck; little purple marks adorn it. “That why you wore that sweater today?” 

Flushing crimson, you run fingers across your neck. 

“Yeah, you marked me Eddie. Not exactly discreet.” 

He chuckles, stroking the side of your neck. “Sorry sweetheart, I won't do it again. Well, not anywhere that anyone can see.” 

Heat floods your stomach, the stark realisation that you want him to mark you clings to your insides. If he notices your reaction he doesn't say, instead he leans toward you pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. 

“You're really pretty. I don't know if I said that before.” 

Awash with a new heat in your cheeks, you smile bashfully. “Thanks, I don't get told that very much.” 

Staring at you, he shakes his head.

“You should. You should be told every fucking day.” 

You open your mouth, but before you can reply he kisses your jaw, running his tongue down your neck, before he presses his mouth to the top of your breast, sucking roughly. A gasp flies out, and your hand makes a decision entirely on its own to grab his hair. 

It seems it was the right thing to do, judging by the deep groan that comes from him. It seems to spur him on, and he yanks the cup of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. His tongue teases it, rubbing his piercing over the pebbled nub.

“Oh Holy fuck!” Back arching with the foreign sensation, you revel in it, wriggling underneath him. He smirks against your skin, and takes your nipple between his teeth. Moaning loudly, you pull his hair. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He looks up at you, pupils blown to black, “can’t hold back if you do that.” 

It's not a dare, but it tastes like one, and before you can think you're tugging at it again. Eddie's eyes roll back, and a hard look crosses underneath his eyes. 

His actions turn a little feral, pulling you up so he can unhook your bra, practically ripping it off you before his mouth is all over your chest, firm fingers digging into the flesh of your hip. 

“Fuck, Eddie” you stutter it out, voice laced with need. 

“Yeah?” He whispers out breathlessly between urgent kisses, making his way down your stomach. Suddenly he takes the flesh of your hip in his mouth and bites down little before sucking a bruise as you writhe under him. 

He reaches your skirt, hooking fingers into the waistband as he looks up at you, his tone urgent. “Can I?” 

As you nod frantically, he reacts immediately, yanking it down along with your underwear. 

“Fuck, look at you.” 

The urge to close your legs is real, embarrassed at the way he's ogling you right between your thighs. They quiver with tension, but Eddie forces them open with his large palms. 

“Don't hide from me. You still want this?” 

You nod, and his head snaps up to look at you. His voice is hard, swirling around your insides with an intensity you're not used to from him. 

“Say it. You need to say it.” 

‘Yes, please Eddie.” 

That satisfies him. He leans forward, breath ghosting over your clit. You're waiting for his mouth, his tongue, but that's not what happens. He inhales you, nose so close it's almost touching your sex. 

“Jesus Christ, you smell so fucking good.” 

“Eddie!” you cry it out, cringing at his words as you bury your face in your hands. 

“Relax princess, it's a compliment.” 

Before you can retort that it's not a compliment, it's weird, and he's a freak for saying it, it no longer matters. He's licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy, long tongue pushing against you hard in an animal-like gesture. 

The noise that expels from your chest is inhuman, a choked, guttural breath that belongs in a cave somewhere, not a bedroom. 

He doesn't relent, his mouth exploring every inch of you with a ferality that has you tingling all the way to your toes. His fierce movements, accentuated by the bump of his piercing, have you nearly leaving the mattress. You're not sure if you're trying to get more, or move away. Not that it matters. His hands are holding you so firmly that all you can do is wriggle helplessly like a fish on a line. 

Fingers trace the outside of your entrance before they slide in, beckoning your release. Whimpering, you grasp the bedsheets in a need to keep contact with something real. 

“Talk to me,” he says between mind numbing messy kisses to your clit, “good, yeah?” 

“Eddie, f-fuck, its incredible, please, oh God, k-keep going!” 

You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he dives back in, suckling at your clit with an unmatched fervour, his tongue piercing flicking expertly as he does so. Suddenly, you're not creeping toward your release, you're being hurtled toward it, thrown into the depths of absolute pleasure. 

Hands finding their way into Eddie's hair again, you hold on tight, buckling up for the ride. It's almost violent the way he pulls your climax from you, and you scream loudly, almost folding in half before you fall back onto the bed. 

Eddie sits up, hands placed on your thighs, as he grins proudly, face shining with your slick. 

“You OK princess?” 

OK doesn't seem to cover it. You're panting wildly, each breath shallow and ragged, brain melted into soup. 

“Think you can go again?” 

That gets your attention. You sit up, gaping at him. “Again?” 

Chuckling, he runs a finger up your slit and circles your clit in a teasing manner. The slight touch has your thighs trembling. 

“I think you've got at least one more in you.” 

Without a further word he presses his tongue against you. On instinct you grip his hair once more, bucking your hips up. 

“Fuck, that's it sweetheart, ride my face.” 

This time he slips his tongue inside as his nose nudges at your clit, the thick muscle curling and writhing. Holding on tight, your hips know what to do, your body reacting and rolling to meet him. 

You're yanking his hair hard as you grind against his face, pulling deep grunts and moans from him which vibrate inside of you. It feels primal, sheer need clouding your mind, a fog that rolls into every limb and leaves no part untouched. 

“Eddie, fuck!” You moan loudly as your walls clench around his tongue, another climax bubbling its way to the surface. He doubles down with his efforts almost as if he needs this as much as you do. 

With one final thrust of his tongue you whine out your orgasm, back finally touching the bed once more. There are no thoughts, only your heavy breath and beating heart keeping you in the moment. 

After a few seconds that seem to stretch on for a year, he hovers over your face. He's wiped off your release, but nothing could wipe that smug grin. 

“So? Good?” 

It's not like he doesn't know. You pat blindly at his arm, words stuck in a puddle on your tongue. In an unexpected tender gesture, he swipes his thumb over your chin, his gaze pensive. You stare back, fingers reaching out to gently touch his cheek. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You whisper, the words pooling from you unbidden. 

For a split second you think he's going to lean in and close the gap, but he flashes his teeth at you and flicks the tip of your nose. 

“That's not part of the deal.” 

Disappointment leaks into your stomach. Which is entirely unfair. He's using your words after all. Fighting the feeling, you force a smile. 

“I think I'll need a wheelchair to get home.” You chuckle, indicating to your still twitching legs. 

“Stay here. I'll take the couch.” 

“Oh, no, Eddie, I couldn't kick you out of your own bed thats-” 

“Hey, it's fine, honestly. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it.” He shrugs and rolls off the bed and onto his feet in one quick movement like a cat. “Here. If you want something to sleep in.” He hands you a faded t-shirt. Hesitating for a moment, your hand hovers over it, but he stuffs it into your grip. 

“Honestly, it's fine. I can drop you home before work so you can get changed and stuff. No big deal.” 

“What about your chronic tardiness?” You joke, smiling softly at him. 

“You're here, I'm sure you'll whip me into shape.” 

“You'd probably like that,” you tease. 

“More than you know.” He winks again, and walks to the doorway. “Night, princess.” 

“Night Eddie.” 

When he's gone you shrug the shirt on. It's clean, but there's an undercurrent of pure Eddie still there that's more comforting than you'll care to admit. Then, you lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

Well. You certainly weren't expecting to end up in Eddie's room, in his bed, but here you are. You're not sure what this all means just yet and processing it is just hurting your brain. A part of you is saying that you should get out now whilst you can. Another, louder part is telling you this is where you should be. The only problem: is this message coming from your heart, or much lower down? 

Chloe drifts into your mind whilst you lay there. Did they hook up in this bed? Are you in the same place she was? And how did that end? Clearly it was on good terms, considering how friendly they are, but how many girls have been where you are right now? A few? A dozen? A hundred?

After a while your thoughts just start to ache, leaving a migraine behind your eyes. Shifting on the bed, you try to get comfortable, but it's no use. You wonder if Eddie is still awake. After all, he's the only one that can answer your questions. 

Sitting up a little, you listen intently for any signs of life from the next room, but no matter how hard you strain your ears, you can't hear anything. 

As you quietly get up and creep to the door, you press your ear to it. Maybe that was a word you heard, a loud breath, or the signs of an overactive imagination. Turning the doorknob like a safecracker, you inch the door open ever so slightly to peek beyond. 

There he is, laying on the couch, eyes tight shut and face contorted in concentration. Odd. You slowly guide the door open a little more and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. 

Eddie's laying there, hand down his sweats, tugging at himself like there's no tomorrow.

You almost cry out in shock but manage to swallow the noise just in time. For what feels like a full minute you stand and stare, mouth gaping open. It's like you're hypnotised, unable to tear away from his urgent movements. 

A particularly good stroke has him bucking into his hand, and he lets out this strained whimper that shoots directly between your legs. 

Right, stop. This is wrong. How would you feel if he caught you? …OK, bad example. 

Reluctantly, you close the door again as quietly as you can before climbing back into his bed to stare at the ceiling once more. 

It looks like it's going to be a long night. 

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

“You look really great,” Chloe says as she strolls into the shop, handing you a coffee, “like, happier, more relaxed.” 

It's a few days after your impromptu sleepover at Eddie's place, and she's absolutely right. You do look more relaxed, even you've noticed the change. There's more confidence in you, and a smile that was once a little forced is warm and genuine. 

“Thanks, I think I'm getting more comfortable here.” It's not a lie, exactly, but it's certainly not the whole truth. 

“Good, glad to hear it!” She beams at you and heads to her table. 

The bell over the door chimes once again startling you. Miranda and Mac are already here and it couldn't possibly be Eddie this early. 

“Um… Hi.” A gangly youth walks in, all arms and legs and bright blonde hair. He shuffles over to the counter awkwardly. 

“Morning, can I help you?” 

“Y-yeah, you do walk-ins today, right?” He asks, brandishing a crumpled flyer at you. 

Face lighting up, you fix your best smile. 

“Why yes we do, it's walk-in Wednesday. It's a little early though. Can I see some ID? 

He hands it over. The guy's freshly 21 and knows it, puffing out his little pigeon chest with pride. 

“Excellent. It's about 10 minutes until we open, but Miranda will be with you. Miranda, you got a book for this guy?” 

Confusion paints Mirandas's face, but then she smiles. 

“A walk in? Wow.” She strolls over and hands him her portfolio of designs, introducing herself. 

When Eddie finally turns up, there's another guy waiting. 

“You're not my 10:30.” 

The poor boy looks at him nervously like he did something wrong. 

“Eddie, he's a walk-in.” Mac says, calling over his shoulder. 

Eddie smirks at you and leans over the counter. 

“Well well, bet you're happy. Atta girl.” 

Blushing profusely, you move to tap him on the arm in warning, but he grabs your hand and kisses it. Heat flies straight to your belly at the gesture.

“Let me know when my 10:30 is here, alright sweetheart?” 

He's still holding your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. Weakly you nod, gazing at him as your toes curl in your shoes. 

Shooting you a wink, he ambles over to his station as you watch him, eyes drawn to the way he moves. 

There's three more clients asking about Wednesdays; granted, one didn't have an ID, but the other two were seen and inked, and one even booked a follow up with Miranda. 

Buzzing with job satisfaction, you're grinning when you nip to the restroom, walking through the narrow corridor. As you exit, you're immediately accosted by Eddie. He stands close, a hand loosely holding your wrist to keep you there as he bends to whisper in your ear. 

“Now, you're not supposed to touch fine art, but someone's gotta pin you against the wall and nail you right.” 

“Eddie!” You whisper shout at him, only serving to make him chuckle low in his throat. 

“Sorry, couldn't resist. I have an idea, for that favour you owe me?” 

Body tensing of its own accord, you look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted. Before you can ask what it is, a voice cuts through the tension. 

“Hey, keep it at home guys.” 

Mac's standing at the other end of the corridor with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pursing your lips, you wriggle from Eddie's grip. 

“It's not what it looks like Mac, I promise.” You say, shouldering past Eddie. 

“Come on sweetheart, don't get all shy on me now!” He shouts, walking after you.

You ignore him, giving Mac an apologetic look, and sit back down at the counter. God, that was embarrassing. Seems like professional and discreet are out the window. 

“So, as I was saying-” 

“Eddie, stop, not now.” you say, cheeks bright red. 

“I was only-” 

“Eddie please! I don't want to get into trouble!” 

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, but backs off finally. 

You make a very clear point of being busy until the rest of the day, completing any ad hoc tasks you can think of. Tidying the stock cupboards, refreshing the consent sheets, and even organising the sparse counter. Anything to avoid further comment from Mac. 

When six rolls around you turn to talk to Eddie, but he's already leaving without a glance at you. 

Sighing, you make your way outside and home, trying to ignore the little sting in your chest. 

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

It's Saturday before you see him again. Your day off was mostly spent worrying about how you upset him and thinking about everything you could have done differently. 

By the morning you're an emotional wreck, anxiety having done her job and left you a bubbling mass of maybes. When Eddie storms in the shop with a proverbial rain cloud over his head your heart pangs in your chest. 

He's such a big character, and you didn't realise until now the influence this has on this place. Usually he's energetic and upbeat; however, with this melancholy energy coming from him, everyone seems to stoop a little more, eyes a touch downcast, movements more shuffled and broken. It's like a black hole has descended on the shop, pulling joy from your soul and sucking everything into its gravity.

The tattoo shop is quiet for a Saturday. Not from lack of customers; it's just a more hushed and sullen atmosphere. By the afternoon you decide enough is enough and you grab Eddie's arm between clients.

“Eddie, can I talk to you?” 

He gets up, stretching his back in a feline movement, and walks with you slowly to the stockroom. 

“Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened on Wednesday, I didn't want to upset you and I can't stand seeing you like this and-” 

“Woah, sweetheart, slow down. You been worrying? About me?” He tilts his head, giving you a small lopsided smile. 

“Yeah? I thought you were mad at me.” You mumble out. 

“Oh, princess, come here.” He wraps you in his arms, holding your head close to his chest. A relieved breath puffs from your chest as you melt into the hug. 

“That's not what I'm upset about, I promise.” 

You pull from the embrace to look at him, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips. 

“Really?” 

Stroking your cheek softly, he presses his lips together. “You're adorable,” he moves his hand away and starts waving his arm about as he tells you what's wrong. 

“You know I'm in a band? Well we've got this regular gig at Hatters, which is great and all, but I found out they're looking for more bands at The Pit. That big rock club on Main? I've been trying to get hold of the damn owner but he's ignoring all my calls and I'm pissed off.” 

Grinning, you grab his arm. “Eddie, I can totally help you with that.” 

His gaze is soft and warm as he asks “Really? You'd do that for me?” 

“Of course I would. You got their number?” 

He digs around in his pocket and passes you a wedge of shiny paper. Unfolding it, you look at the details, smiling even wider when you see they're attempting a ladies night. There's a telephone number at the bottom, the contact listed as William. 

“I gotta idea. Just roll with it, OK?” 

He looks confused but nods at you. Skipping to the counter, you pick up the phone and dial the number. When it's answered by a young woman, you speak with a nasal voice, sounding almost bored. 

“Is Bill there?- Tell him it's Barb- oh trust me he's gonna wanna take this call honey.” 

Eddie's staring at you with an amused expression; you look back at him, flashing a smile while you wait. 

“Bill! How long has it been! Oh, don't say you don't remember me… oh, you do!- I'm good, I'm good- I'm managing this band, yeah, you've gotta book them- Corroded Coffin- yeah, yeah- They are hot right now, selling out their shows- look I know you're struggling getting the ladies in, but that's about to change. Their lead singer is-  well lemme tell you, if I were a younger woman- haha yes, sounds great! Next Saturday?- Nine- Great stuff- I'll speak to you soon.” 

Placing the phone down with a little click, you cross your legs and look at Eddie smugly. 

His jaw may as well be on the floor, eyebrows so high that he resembles a cartoon character. 

“Barb? Selling out their shows? If I were a younger woman? Where the fuck did that come from?” 

You giggle, “I thought he'd listen if he thought I was a business connection. I took a shot, a little bullshit can take you far.” 

He swoops over to you and grabs you in his arms, lifting you bodily from your seat and swinging you around as you squeal helplessly. 

“Saturday? Not even midweek? Princess I owe you big time.” 

“Eddie I already owe-” 

He's not listening, running over to Mac and bouncing on the spot like a child. “Mac, Mac, did you hear? I'm playing at The Pit!!” 

You watch as he explains what just happened; he's so animated, gesticulating wildly as loose locks of hair fly from his bun. Mac beams at him and hugs him in a fatherly motion before Eddie springs back over to you. 

“Who the fuck is Barb?”

“I dunno, she sounded worldly.” 

He grins, shaking his head, “I can't believe you lied for me. You seem… different lately. More confident. It suits you.” 

Blushing, you thank him. For a second you stare at each other, both lost in the other. 

Eddie shakes his head, and looks at the time. 

“Fuck, right, I got 20 minutes, I'll be back!” He grabs his coat and runs out of the shop shouting “personal errand!” 

Chuckling, you sit back down at the counter. Mac approaches, smiling softly. 

“You did good Miss, he's really happy.” 

“Thanks, I couldn't bear the sulking.” 

He laughs and touches your shoulder, “he cares about you. In case you didn't notice.” 

He walks away nonchalantly as if he didn't just drop a bomb at your feet. Eddie cares about you? You're still pondering it when he returns a half hour later looking sweaty and dishevelled. 

“Princess, I got you a present,” he whispers, brandishing a nondescript black bag at you. You peek inside and shut it immediately. 

“Eddie what the fuck!” You whisper, face flooding with blood at the sight as you hide it under the counter. There's a sex toy in the bag, well at least one, but you were so shocked at the sight you didn't get a good look. 

He chuckles and leans in close. “Thought you'd like it.” 

“Eddie I don't know how to- to use this stuff,” you mumble quietly, looking around to make sure no one's listening. 

He smirks at you in response.

“You free tonight? I can show you.” 

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[moonstruckme]

hello love! i know you probably a dumpster load of requests so i apologize for taking your time. but i just had a thought.; james potter is totally the kind of guy to tell his girlfriend he's taken when drunk. like that man is to loyal for his own good. even when his own gf is trying to bring to home, he's just like "no. i've got a girlfriend that I love DEARLY. leave me alone" and when she keeps trying he'd call for sirius for backup😭. don't feel guilty if you don't do this!! i just wanted to share my thought, with or without you writing it! have an AMAZING day or night, and keep being YOU!! you inspire many people whether you believe that or not, it stays true!!!

Thanks sweetheart, love you!

cw: alcohol

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 844 words

You find your boyfriend in a corner booth, hanging onto Sirius’ arm and waxing poetic about their school days. 

“They never figured out how we always avoided Minnie whenever she wanted to find us,” he snickers, eyes glimmering. “We were soooo slippery.” 

“I think she knew everything,” says Remus, taking a sip of his drink. You notice there’s not one in front of James; it must have been confiscated. “She just liked us—some of us, that is—” He hides a smirk behind his glass. “—well enough to let us get away with it all.” He spots you and, with a nod, turns his attention to Sirius to give you and James space. 

James humphs noncommittally, confused as to why Remus no longer seems to be entertaining him. 

You come up on his other side, touching his muscled shoulder lightly. “Hey.” 

James turns swiftly, clearing not having noticed you walking over. You’re expecting a smile and a hug and expectant, puckered lips—his usual greeting for you—but instead his eyes narrow behind his glasses, brows twitching together almost imperceptibly.

“Hello,” he says, somewhat stiffly. 

You feel your lips curve into a bemused sort of smile. “Hi, handsome. Ready to go home?” 

He guffaws. Actually guffaws, like you’ve just suggested he go jump in the Thames. “I think not,” he says. “I have a girlfriend.” 

A tiny laugh startles out of you. “Yeah, I’m aware. You alright?” 

Now he gives you a smile. Or his best attempt at one, but James has always been a terrible actor, and the false grin manifests as a grimace. “M’good, thanks.” 

He starts to turn back towards his friends, but you pull on his sleeve. 

“C’mon, Jamie,” you urge. “It’s time to go, yeah?” James turns around, looking truly scandalized now. You give his arm a tug. “Let’s go home.” 

“No,” he insists, firmer than you knew could be managed with a slur. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. She’s waiting at my home, ‘nd I love her very much. Leave me alone.” 

“James,” you laugh. “Honey, it’s me.” 

“Pads.” He turns around, wrapping his arm around Sirius’ shoulders like he needs to hold onto something lest you try and haul him away. “Pads, this woman is trying to take me home. Tell ‘er I have a girlfriend.” 

Your mouth drops open. “James!” 

Sirius turns slowly, raking his gaze over you. He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Get lost, babe. This one’s taken.” 

Then he jolts and cuts a glare towards Remus, who sips from his drink innocently. “Be nice,” he reminds his boyfriend, foot moving back under his own chair. 

Sirius sighs, rolling his eyes. “Prongs,” he says with great reluctance, “this is your girlfriend.” 

Even drunk, James knows enough to be suspicious of his friend when he’s in a mischief-making mood. He squints at Sirius. “My girlfriend s’at home,” he reasons. 

“Your girlfriend is here,” Sirius says evenly, and you can’t blame James for his skepticism; if you weren’t fully aware that you are here, you wouldn’t trust Sirius’ deadpan stare either. 

“I texted her, James,” Remus says helpfully. “She’s here because I told her where we were.” 

Your boyfriend’s lips part, and he turns to you with something between joy and heartache—but the shock of both—written all over his face. “Sweetheart,” he cries, “it’s you!” 

“Yeah,” you laugh, letting him tug you forward by the hips into an awkward hug. You set a consoling hand on top of his head. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.” 

“My sweetheart,” he mumbles into your stomach. “I didn’t know it was you, angel. Of course I’ll go home with you.” 

“Glad to hear it.” You pat his back, heat rising to your cheeks at the display. 

James turns his head, still gripping you tightly so the side of his face is pressed to your front. “You texted her for me?” he asks Remus, maudlin.

“Well, I texted her because I didn’t feel like walking in the opposite direction of our flat to carry you home,” Remus says, then shrugs. “But for you too, sure.” 

“Thank you, Moony,” James croons. 

Remus turns to hide a smile, and you take James’ head in your hands, angling his face back up towards you. “Hi, handsome,” you try again. “Ready to go home?” 

He bobs his head happily, clambering out of his seat and whistling rowdily when you slip an arm around his waist to help support him. You wonder if the heat from your face could be harvested to power a hospital or something. You wave goodbye to his friends as James calls over your shoulder how much he’ll miss them until he sees them tomorrow. 

“M’so excited to go home, baby.” He leans into your side as you maneuver the both of you out the door of the pub. “I’ve been dying to get home to you. You should’a heard, earlier, I was talking to this other girl ‘nd I told her, ‘I’m just dying to get home to my girlfriend’.” 

“Yeah, I remember,” you say. “That was me.” 

“Oh, right!” 

[chokamo]

crossing paths

pairing : single dad!charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary : you moved to monaco, a place you never expected to call home. after an unexpected dm, you met charles, leaving you to wonder whether it was fate or coincidental.

a/n : this is part one of the “fateful encounters” series .

yourusername

liked by yourbsf, charlesleclerc, user and others.

yourusername 📍🇬🇧 hope i make it out of here

user so excited to see 💞

user have a safe trip

user love the caption

yourbsf YEAYYY

you liked this comment

user is this the girl charles followed recently?

user -> yes she is !

user -> omgg

user uhhh who is she 😬

user -> y/n is a model / content creator. ☺️

user -> based in the uk ;)

user -> and is moving soon

user cute girl

you added to your story .

yourbsf liked your story .

yourbsf is that WHAT YOU ARE BRINGING ??!

you replied -> uhhhh yeaa…?

yourbsf -> you do know you are going to MONACO right? not hawaii, ibiza orrrr bali

you replied -> leave me and my summer dream ALONE 😠

yourbsf im speaking from concern u better pack necessary stuff !!!

you liked the message

charlesleclerc liked your story .

charlesleclerc -> hey, i saw you are moving to monaco

charlesleclerc -> can we meet up?

seen just now

if someone had told you that you’d end up in a long-term relationship with your neighbor, you would have laughed and brushed it off with a “that’s crazy!” or a “in what world that would happen?” but here you were, as it turns out you were wrong.

it was around the month of may. you had recently moved to monaco for a job opportunity, and, by some wild coincidence, the building you rented your place was the same building he lived in, and, little did you know, it’s the same man who’d soon be occupying more of your thoughts than you’d ever expect.

with the help of your best friend, you managed to moved all your belongings up into your new apartment. boxes after boxes piled up like a mountain, and you’d think after months of dedicating to “decluttering” you’d minimize the items you own, hoping that it would fix your life. but it didn’t and here you are sorting it all out.

“i cant believe you are finally here in monaco” she exclaimed, while folding the boxes down in the corner, with a large grin.

if you didn’t know better, you’d think she was the one moving, with how bright she’s smiling.

“right? it feels like a dream.” you replied, laughing.

“yeah, and as i was saying. as your friend who cares about you, you better hook up with some rich monaco dude here” she teased, pointing at you with faux seriousness, her eyes glistening with mischief.

you laughed, rolling your eyes. “oh please, don’t get me started with that, i just got here!”

“i’m serious!” she insisted, a playful smirk painted on her face. “monaco is full of hot guys - you’re bound to snatch one up. . . i mean, just look at you!” she exclaimed making a show towards yourself “you are a total catch, babe!”

“you say this with every country we’ve been to” you pointed out, chuckling at her antics.

she shrugged playfully “ well, have i ever been wrong about this?”

you nodded your head, “ yes and yes, but i’ll test your theory out” you said with a wink.

time passed, and the adrenaline rush quickly faded turning into a comforting silence.

after countless of kisses and gratitude of thank-yous for her helping hand, she turned to you with a shaky smile.

“don’t miss me too much, will you?” she teased.

you let out a shaky laugh “ i’ll try, you know how much i need you in times like this”

with one last hug, she rushed off to catch her flight back home, leaving you to settle alone.

you couldn’t lie - you were nervous. this was your first time being in a foreign country living by yourself which only made it harder to accept. despite all the months of planning and preparation, it still wasn’t enough to ease the knot in your stomach as you stood infront of the building taking it all in, you sighed and made your way back inside the lobby, wondering what this new chapter of life would bring.

unaware of the person infront, you had accidentally bumped into them, knocking the item they were holding as it tumbled to the ground making a light thud noise. you gasped, at the sound more concerned about potentially breaking the person’s item more than your own stupidity. quickly, you knelt down and moved to pick up the fallen item - what you now noticed was a phone and swiftly handing it back to its owner.

“im sorry, so sorry” you blurted out, your mind racing as panic seeps through your system. what a good first impression, you thought, note the sarcasm. it wasn’t until seconds later after - you realized you’d spoken english in monaco, where the people dominantly spoke french, and suddenly, feeling self conscious about it. but before you could back track, thankfully, the person spoke english as well with an accent you could assumed sounded local ;

“don’t worry about it” his tone sounding amused.

you lifted your gaze to take a look at the mysterious man, your eyes trailing and tracing over his features - his lips, his shining eyes, the tousled hair. he was undeniably attractive, you realized, a thought that would lingered longer than you might expected.

then, suddenly, something clicked. that undeniable beautiful eyes and his gorgeous face - you had seen him before. your breath hitched as recognition dawned on you.

it couldn’t be. . .

but there was no mistaking it now. the man standing right before you was none other than charles leclerc. the man who dmed you the other day, but didn’t have enough time to respond.

this wasn’t just a coincidence, or was it? your mind raced, trying to grasp the situation. the man in front of you or was it really fate - the universe bestowed upon you?

breaking your shameless staring, a sheepish smile tugged-on your lips, “i’m really sorry about this. it’s not the best way to start the morning with, is it?” you said with a small huffed.

he smiled, chuckling softly “it’s not something you experience every day - that’s for sure” he replied.

“though i wouldn’t mind getting interrupted by you” he added, his smile remaining on his beautiful face sending jolts down your body and leaving you feeling fuzzy. “in exchange for your time “ he continued, his accent making the word lulled like musical notes.

you blinked, your mind freezing at the brazen request “ you want me - uhh my time?” you echoed playfully after breaking from your shock, trying to match his boldness.

“you would be suprised” he said lowly, his voice dropping down to murmurs.

“i’m charles, i live here,” he continued, his voice smooth introducing himself .

“oh, really?” you said jokingly, already knowing who he was. “i live here too” you replied.

his eyebrow arched in a feign suprise “i’ve never seen you here before?” he remarked, seeping through his tone as he studied your face.

“ i just moved in. . . today” you explained.

“ah, i see,” charles said thoughtfully, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you raised your eyebrows, genuinely surprised by his nonchalant tone “you already knew that? didn’t you?”

he grinned, “you caught me” raising his hand into a playful surrender pose “your best friend told me about you” he added with a mischievou glint in his eyes.

your eyes widen in shock, “my best friend?” you gasped.

“she’s a good help, credits to her for - “

“no wonder she was persistent about that earlier” you confessed, feeling betrayed by her slyness, a knowing smile crept to your face, recognizing how she was always on the lookout for a chance to play matchmaker. “i should have seen it coming.”

after a brief pause, he nodded, “it was nice meeting you y/n” his lips forming into a smile.

“it’s a pretty name” he complimented, his smile widened, showcasing his full lips.

you offered him a soft smile “thank you” .

“take care, then.” his words were simple but warm, and you returned the gesture with a quiet, “you too.” you whispered softly.

as you walked away, your thoughts drifted to charles. in a massive building surrounded with so many people - the probability of running into him is slim, you figured you would never see him again. and maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing after all. a part of you was relieved by the thought.

but as much as you tried to convince yourself, there was a stubborn part of you that hope to cross paths with him - just once more.

but what you didn’t know was that charles hoped the same. how could he not? his aka “celebrity crush” or whatever, pierre, his best friend teased him with was you.

the moment he came across your page, he was hooked. he wanted to get to know you. but he had no way to communicate you - not until your move to monaco, it gave way as a perfect opportunity for him to meet you. even if it was just a friendly exchange, he wanted to seize the chance to get to know you better.

yourusername

liked by yourbsf, charlesleclerc, francisca.cgomes and others.

yourusername first week here 🇲🇨

user GORGEOUS

user so exciting

yourbsf found him yet? 😏

you replied -> PRIVATE message exist and yes you traitor

user gorgeous

user hellooo

charlesleclerc beautiful 🤍🤍🤍

you liked this comment

user -> WOAH

user -> new girl??????

user -> AND she’s im monaco

user -> this was the same girl he followed awhile ago.

user -> damn.

user -> OMGG

francisca.cgomes 💞💞

you liked this comment

user -> YESSSS

user -> a NEED to see them together

user -> 😫😫😫

user -> are they friends???!

you added to your story .

yourbsf liked your story .

yourbsf -> missing youu

you replied -> imyyyyy moreee

francisca.cgomes liked your story .

francisca.cgomes -> gorgeous 💐💐

you replied -> says you 🫶🫶

charlesleclerc liked your story

charlesleclerc -> hey, if you have time

charlesleclerc -> would you like to go out and meet somewhere?

you replied -> sure ;)

you replied -> what time?

a/n : tell me how u feel about this lol (my writing is mehhh and i re read this so many times i gave up even checking for any errors) and part two will come in october <3

checkout the fateful encounters masterlist

part two is already out -> here

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, the events and characters depicted are not based on real life, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

[crescenthistory]

Still Just Totally the Fifth and Sixth Wheel, You Guys

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: The two couples, and one pair of best friends who are not dating thank you very much, finally go on their not-date to Hogsmeade.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader (she/her pronouns), use of y/n, lots of bickering and banter, mentions of black brothers drama and angst, healing brother bond, hella pining, intimate moments, talk of kissing, brief mention of hooking up, featuring rosekiller and wolfstar

Note: this is part two to this fic. part three can be found here.

“Wait, but if it’s not a date now, can’t I join?” James called from where you were all about to leave him behind in the Entrance Hall.

You almost felt bad for him, but couldn’t fight the small laughter as you were the last of the six of you to turn around to look at him.

“Sorry, Prongsy, but it is still strictly for couples,” Sirius said, and upon seeing Regulus turn to him, about to argue, he added, “or those who are best friends enough to be mistaken for a couple.”

“So unless you finally win Evans over, or get much closer to Wormy…” Remus’ voice trailed off, the apology in his tone weakened by his sight smile.

You could barely make out James murmuring “totally unfair” under his breath, before he gave a tight-lipped smile and waved. “Will go work on that, then!”

“Good luck!” you and Barty called at the same time, though in completely different tones, before your little group turned back around to continue towards Hogsmeade and this dreaded not a triple date you were somehow sort of looking forward to.

As the six of you walked, the chilly autumn air wrapped itself around you, nipping at your nose and cheeks. You were trailing slightly behind the others, arms linked with Regulus, the both of you sinking into the easy silence that had always come naturally. His long, lithe frame was stiff beside you, and though he never said anything, you could sense his reluctance. His hesitation clung to him like the cold mist swirling around your ankles.

"Still time to run," you whispered with a teasing lilt, tilting your head towards the forbidden forest that loomed dark and mysterious off to the side. “We can ditch the whole thing. Just you, me, and a pack of hungry werewolves – sounds fun, right?”

Regulus glanced sideways at you, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face. "Tempting," he murmured, his voice soft and low, the kind of sound you had to lean in to catch. “But... it might be nice to spend some time with Sirius.” He sounded less sure about that part.

You squeezed his arm gently, offering a reassuring smile, and felt him lean further into you in response. You both knew that his relationship with Sirius had been strained, fractured by years of tension, secrets, and choices neither of them were ever fully ready to confront. That made the faint glimmer of hope in Regulus' eyes all the more important, both to you and him. An unspoken desire to bridge the gap both brothers had been toying with – you knew you would support him through it, no matter how long it took to fully heal.

"Well, if you’re sure," you replied, letting your playful tone linger, as if to lighten the weight between his words. “But the offer still stands. Any time, really.”

Regulus chuckled under his breath, his body easing a little as the two of you continued your slow pace. The rest of the group – Sirius, Remus, Barty, and Evan – were ahead, animated in their own conversations. Barty was half-draped over Evan, practically buzzing with energy, while Evan walked beside him with a brooding air, casting occasional amused glances at his boyfriend. They were a chaotic contrast, loud and quiet, impulsive and restrained, but there was an undeniable balance between them that was hard to miss.

Barty's eyes glinted with mischief as he stole a look back at you and Regulus. "Oi, lovebirds!" he called out, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You're falling behind. Regulus, not getting cold feet, are you?"

Regulus rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, Sirius cut in with a bark of laughter. "He was born with cold feet, look at the state of him. But let him be Junior."

Contrasting statements you heard Regulus murmur beside you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch up,” you interjected smoothly, though not altering your pace as you gave Regulus a light tug on his arm, as if to shield him.

Finally reaching Hogsmeade, you passed through its cobbled streets, bustling with students eager to escape the confines of the castle. The Three Broomsticks was already crowded when you arrived, warmth spilling out into the chilly air from its open door. You were greeted by the comforting scent of butterbeer and the hum of conversation, the perfect haven from the cold outside.

Inside, you all squeezed around one of the larger tables near the fireplace. The seating arrangements happened naturally – couples with couples, as Barty heartily proclaimed – with Barty predictably claiming a spot beside Evan, his arm thrown lazily around his back as he chattered away. Sirius plopped himself down next to Remus, already in the middle of a bickering debate over who had a better strategy in last night’s chess game.

You and Regulus, as usual, gravitated towards each other, sitting opposite Sirius and Remus and beside Evan and Barty. You moved your chair closer to Regulus', so that your thighs were practically smushed against each other and you could hook your ankle around his. A faint smile played across his lips as he settled in. The heat from the nearby fire was welcome, but the slight tension of being roped into all of this was still palpable.

"So," Sirius started, stretching the word as if he were setting up for something, eyes flicking between you and Regulus, "what’s new with you two? Anything you'd like to share?"

You shot him a pointed look but didn’t bite. Regulus seemed content to let you take the lead on this one, his focus elsewhere, probably already imagining an escape route.

“Same as always,” you said casually, though your words were lightly laced with sarcasm. "Being unfairly dragged into your romantic schemes. Couldn’t ask for more, really."

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Barty cut him off. "Speaking of romantic schemes," he drawled, "Evan and I are officially a thing now, right? Isn’t that right, darling?" He nudged Evan, who simply raised a brow in his direction.

"That’s what you’ve told me," Evan said dryly, though his eyes softened as he looked at Barty.

"Exactly," Barty continued, undeterred. "But Dorcas doesn't believe us! She thinks we're playing some prank on her. Now, how do we prove it to her?"

"Why doesn't she believe you?" Remus asked, a sly smile playing over his lips.

"Barty and Dorcas have quite the history of pranks none of us understand," you explain, looking half-exasperated half-amused at your best friend. "They try to convince the other of something untrue, only to laugh at them for weeks. Last year, Dorcas made Barty believe–"

"No one needs to hear that story, Treasure." Barty cutting you off made you and Regulus giggle, both knowing why he didn't want anyone to know, while Sirius looked highly offended of being left out.

"Well, I'd like to know," he tries his luck.

"Too bad I don't care for what you want then, hm? Anyway, how do we prove it to Dorc, because Evan here thinks it's taking it too far to shag in her bed."

"I would have to second Rosier on that," Regulus drawls, mirth still in his eyes from laughing at Barty's expense.

"Me too."

"No, no," Sirius gleams. "I think you should totally do it, I have DADA with her and reckon she could kill you in just about fifty ways."

"That would be a welcome sight," Evan says. Barty slaps his arm without turning to look at him, while waving his other hand in everyone's faces.

"Yeah, yeah, funny, funny – now let's talk strategies, you tossers."

As the babbling continues, Sirius and Barty turning out to be a perfect duo who makes each other so much worse, you lean into Regulus' side, looking up at him through your lashes. He is already looking at you, having turned his attention when he felt you shift.

You mouth a you good? at him, to which he smiles and nod. Your lips mirror his when you realise it's genuine, reaching down to grab his hand under the table and squeeze it. He squeezes back, before looking up when he senses his brother trying to get his attention.

"Where did you get these freaky friends of yours?" Sirius questions, gesturing vaguely to Barty and Evan, the latter of whom's hand was currently being gnawed on by the former. Evan's face remained impassive.

"First year." Regulus provided no further invitation, blinking owlishly at his brother.

"Yeah, that's really the only way, isn't it? Merlin, they're a match for sure though."

You cock a teasing brow at Barty as he lets Evan's hand go from his teeth, only to hold it in a death grip. "You that bored already, Junior?"

"Yes, Treasure, thank you for noticing. It needs to be addressed." Barty's voice is overtly dramatic, as he digs into his jacket pocket.

He conjured up a deck of magical cards, all but slinging the container onto the table, just barely missing the candles, as he began to shuffle them with a flourish. "Let's make things more interesting. Care for a game?"

"Doesn't seem like we're given much of a choice," Sirius murmured at the same time as Remus said sure! and elbowed his boyfriend in the side.

Regulus groaned. “We all know you always cheat Barty, I catch you almost every time."

“That’s because you don't know how to have fun,” Barty replied, flipping a card over and eyeing it dramatically before sliding it back into the deck. “And obviously delusional, as I would do no such thing."

He gives you a wink and you roll your eyes, albeit with a smile.

A small fight ensues between Barty and Sirius as they try and decide on what game to play, before Remus makes a decision for all of you, taking the cards from Barty to stock them properly.

"It's everyone for themselves right?" he asked as he looked down at the cards.

"No, Treasure and Regulus always play together." Barty's comment is off-handed, going off of instinct.

"Always?" Sirius' smirk is teasing as his gaze flickers between the two of you.

"Yeah, she doesn't care much for most card games, so we usually just pair off," Regulus explains matter-of-factly, though his voice is a bit quieter than normal and his hand unconsciously tightens around yours. It's only now you realise you're still holding hands, unsure if you should use it to ground yourself or panic over.

"Yeah, they're inseparable yada yada." Evan rolled his eyes, as if you two were just horribly exhausting.

"Just like us," Barty teased in an overly-happy voice, kissing Evan square on the lips with an overdramatised smooching sound.

"Disgusting," Evan winced, wiping his mouth before wrapping an arm around Barty and squeezing him tight.

Sirius looked thoroughly confused at the boys' expressions of affection, but seemed to let it go.

You exchanged an amused glance with Regulus. "You wanna look at our cards?" you asked, nudging him gently while eyeing the cards Remus had placed in front of you. He seemed to take a moment to rip his eyes away from you before picking up the cards, moving even closer to you.

Soon, the table was abuzz with laughter, shuffling cards, and accusations of cheating flying in every direction. It didn’t take long for you and Regulus to settle into a comfortable rhythm, working together to strategise while everyone else tried to undermine each other. Even Evan, typically more reserved, joined in on the playful taunts, a small smirk on his face as Barty egged him on.

“Barty, you’ve been ‘shuffling’ those cards for three minutes straight,” Remus commented dryly, watching Barty’s theatrical motions as he tossed the cards between his hands. “At this point, you’ve either enchanted them or lost the ability to count.”

Evan, smirking beside him, shook his head. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Oi!” Barty exclaimed, feigning offence, before tossing an arm over Evan’s shoulder with a mischievous grin. “Don't you lot dare forget how naturally brilliant I am. I know numbers and I don't cheat.”

"Yeah, you sounded really smart just now, mate."

“Brilliantly annoying,” you quipped, grinning as you drew a card from the deck and slid it over to Regulus. “That counts for something, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Treasure,” Barty shot back, tilting his head as if he’d just received a compliment. “You always know how to flatter me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the laughter bubbling up. Regulus, sitting next to you, leaned in slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed the scene unfolding in front of him.

“They can’t help it, Junior,” Sirius chimed in with a grin that was borderline feral, leaning back in his chair as he tossed his cards onto the table. “They have to deflect. It’s either that or admit they’ve got no idea what they’re doing.”

“Excuse you, we’re doing perfectly fine,” you replied, your competitive streak flashing as you glanced at Regulus. “Reg and I are winning, aren’t we?”

Regulus gave a barely perceptible nod, lips twitching at the corners. “As usual,” he murmured under his breath, flipping over a card with precise ease. “But you don’t have to tell them that.”

Your quiet, shared moment of confidence made your stomach flip, though you kept your expression calm and collected. There was something so steady about Regulus, something that made it easy to forget about the noise around you, the teasing jabs from the others, and just sink into the comfort of his presence.

“Winning by sheer luck, more like,” Sirius teased, drumming his fingers on the table. “What’s next, Reg? Gonna let her do all the work while you sit there looking pretty?”

Before Regulus could respond, Barty leaned forward with a wicked grin. “Oh, he’s definitely good at looking pretty. Right, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes again, though your cheeks warmed at the implication. “I don’t need to answer that. Though shouldn't you focus on calling your boyfriend that, instead?”

"Yeah, I'll call mine pretty if you do the same to yours."

You stuck your tongue out at him at that, retreating back into Regulus to look at your cards.

He had stayed quiet, but you could feel the amusement radiating off him. He gave a subtle shrug, like the teasing was something he was long accustomed to. His knee bumped yours beneath the table, a silent gesture that said let them talk, it doesn't matter.

“Doesn't matter,” you added, taking another sip of your butterbeer with a smirk. “We’re still winning.”

“You two are disgustingly good together,” Barty agreed, leaning back in his chair and lazily drawing a card from the deck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the ones cheating.”

Evan snorted. “Shut it, Junior.”

“You adore me,” Barty shot back without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to Evan’s cheek, much to the other boy’s quiet amusement.

The group fell into a rhythm, exchanging playful insults and light bickering as the game progressed. You were deep in conversation with Regulus about your next move when you took another sip of your butterbeer, not realising a bit of foam had clung to your upper lip.

Regulus, ever observant, caught it immediately. You, completely unaware, kept talking, pointing at one of the cards in front of him and suggesting a play. He wasn’t paying attention to the cards anymore, though. Instead, his focus had shifted entirely to the butterbeer foam, and without thinking – without hesitation – he reached up.

His thumb brushed against your upper lip, so soft and natural that you almost didn’t register what was happening until it was done. His touch was tender, deliberate, like it was something he did every day. The action made you pause, your words catching in your throat as his thumb lingered for just a second longer, other knuckles brushing against your cheek, his skin warm against yours.

Your eyes lifted to meet his, and suddenly, everything else seemed to fade away. The loud chatter of the group, the clatter of cards, the clinking of glasses – it all dulled in the background as the two of you became the centre of a much quieter, more intimate world.

Regulus’ gaze was steady, softer than usual, like he was studying you, reading into something deeper. His hand hovered near your face, frozen in place as the moment between you stretched longer than either of you had intended.

You felt your breath hitch slightly, the warmth from his thumb still lingering on your skin, and the look in his eyes made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the game. There was something unsaid in the way he looked at you, something that hummed beneath the surface.

Neither of you spoke. The moment hung between you, fragile and delicate, like a thread waiting to be pulled.

For a second, you thought he might say something, or do something more. His thumb lingered, hovering just above your skin, and his eyes flicked to your lips, just for a heartbeat, before darting back to meet your gaze. Your pulse quickened as the silence deepened, the air between you charged with something new, something you weren’t sure either of you were ready to acknowledge.

But before anything could happen, Barty’s loud laugh from across the table shattered the bubble around you. Right. There were other people around.

You blinked, the spell broken, and Regulus pulled his hand back with a soft clearing of his throat. His expression didn’t change much – he was as composed as ever – but there was a subtle pink tinge to his cheeks that told you the moment had affected him just as much as it had you.

“Everything alright there, Reg?” Barty asked, his voice full of smug amusement as he leaned back in his chair, looking between the two of you with a knowing smirk. You felt the heat rise in your face again, but you didn’t let it show, instead giving Regulus a playful nudge under the table with your knee.

Regulus, ever calm, only narrowed his eyes at Barty in return. “Just fine,” he said coolly, though you noticed the faint curve of a smile tugging at his lips. He was used to Barty’s antics by now, and though he could’ve easily snapped back, he chose instead to let the moment pass, his arm brushing lightly against your shoulder as he shifted in his seat.

Barty, however, wasn’t done. “I don’t know, mate. You looked a bit… distracted.”

“Oh, he was,” Sirius chimed in, grinning as he kept his eyes trained on the two of you. “Completely gone. He’s mastered the art of selective hearing.”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “I’m sure it’s just his natural state from growing up with you. Completely unbothered by all of your nonsense by now.” Deflecting, deflecting.

“I don’t know,” Remus added with a thoughtful look. “He seemed pretty focused on something else entirely.”

You were saved from responding by the loud call of Madam Rosmerta that all Hogwarts students had to leave for curfew. Groans sounded around the room, and around your very own table, but no one dared argue with her – they knew it was no use. Everyone began gathering their things, the light atmosphere continuing with playful jabs and comments flying between the group as they readied to head back out into the cold.

You and Regulus were the first ones out the door, regretfully, as you had to wait for the others. As you stood, tugging your coat tighter around you, the bitter wind immediately stung your fingers. You rubbed them together, trying to chase the chill from your skin, but the cold had already settled in deep.

Without a word, Regulus took your hands gently in his own, his long fingers wrapping around yours with a kind of care that felt second nature to him. Before you could react, he brought your hands to his lips and blew warm air onto them while rubbing with his hands, breath hot against your cold skin.

You blinked in surprise, but the gesture felt so natural, so easy, that it didn’t seem out of place. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness – just Regulus being Regulus, quietly looking after you in the way only he knew how. His hands lingered over yours for a moment longer before he slipped off his gloves and slid them onto your hands with the same gentle touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice low and fond, almost like he was speaking only to you despite the many students bustling around you.

You nodded, feeling the warmth of the gloves and the lingering heat from his touch. “Much better. Thanks.”

His eyes met yours again, softer this time, and there was that unspoken connection again – only now it felt less like something that needed to be questioned, and more like something that just was.

“Won’t you get cold, though?”

“Nah, you know I run warmer than you.” There was an endearingly teasing tone in Regulus’ voice as he looked past you. “Plus, I’ve got you beside me to keep me warm, right?”

You bit back the always sitting prettily on your tongue, instead just nodding and pressing your nose into his shoulder as you stood close. For warmth, of course.

Sirius and Remus finally make their way outside, Barty and Evan not too far behind them. The first of the bunch give you and Regulus a once over when he sees you huddled together.

“Well, I’m glad to see tonight didn’t change my mind whatsoever that you two are a thing, whether you know it yourselves or not,” he says in a neutral tone, though his creeping smirk betrays him.

“I didn’t know that was still on the table,” you say dryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Of course it was!” Sirius scoffs lightheartedly. “You two, sitting there together, basically telepathically in sync. No wonder you always team up for cards – it’s frankly disturbing.”

“Oh, come off it, Siri.” Regulus wasn’t looking at Sirius when the comment slipped off his tongue, so he couldn’t catch the slight hitch at the sound of his childhood nickname. You smile softly at him, but he keeps his eyes on Regulus, seemingly trying to keep steady.

“As your big brother, I don’t think I can. It’s my duty to meddle”

“Leave the kids alone, sweetheart,” Remus says, coming up beside Sirius with a knowing smile. “You’re just jealous you’ve never been able to sit quietly for more than five minutes, let alone work together with someone without bickering the whole time.”

Sirius gasped in mock offence. “That’s because I have passion,” Sirius declared, flipping his hair back with a grin. “It’s not bickering if it’s done with flair.”

Barty finally stepped out to hear that, and, always ready to cause more chaos, chimed in. “Oh, please. You lot wouldn’t know passion if it hit you in the face. Now, we”—he pointed between himself and Evan—“are the real deal. You should’ve seen us strategising earlier. Absolute power couple material.”

“You weren’t even playing together, Barty,” you commented, but he gave you a look that said please.

“My life doesn’t revolve around you lot, we have other things to strategise about. Like Dorcas.”

That received a few “right”s from around the group, to which you lovingly rolled your eyes. Barty blabbered on about something, stalling the group from beginning to move back towards the castle, and you took the opportunity to turn back towards Regulus.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and trying to school your expression as you studied what you found there. The soft crinkle around his eyes, the quiet warmth swirling around his otherwise cool irises. You took his bare hands between your gloved ones, rubbing lightly at them to keep him warm, as promised.

For another beautiful moment, the two of you stood still, lost in your own world. The noise of the others faded into the background as Regulus’ eyes flicked to your lips, just for a split second, before meeting your gaze again. His hands move to hold each of yours independently, fingers intertwining with yours, despite that exposing his skin back to the cold air again.

You felt the flutter in your chest again, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were – that maybe, just maybe, there was more between you than friendship. Before either of you could say anything, you pulled your gaze away from his, focusing it back to your group of friends, who seemed increasingly eager to walk home.

“Alright, lovebirds, you done being all cute, or do we need to give you more time?” Barty said, looking at you with a smug look on his face.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you quickly brushed it off, shaking your head. “You never quit, do you, Barty?”

“Never,” he replied, flashing you an exaggerated wink. “You know me too well.”

Regulus shot Barty a sharp look, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe you should find a new hobby,” he suggested dryly. “One that doesn’t involve sticking your nose in other people’s business.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Barty grinned. “Besides, I’d be out of material if you two would just finally–”

“Barty,” Evan interrupted, giving him a pointed look as he slid an arm around his waist. “Let them be.”

Barty pouted dramatically, but he relented, leaning into Evan as they started walking. “Fine, fine. But I’m just saying – it’s only a matter of time.”

Sirius looked baffled at how easily Evan made Barty shut up, mumbling something about we should always bring him with to Remus.

Regulus shook his head, his arm brushing against yours as you fell in step beside each other, trailing behind the rest of the group. Your hands were still warm inside his gloves, and every now and then, your shoulders would brush as you walked, the quiet connection between you speaking louder than words ever could.

Regulus glanced down at you, his expression thoughtful. The quiet between you felt comfortable, but there was an intensity in the way he looked at you, something that made your breath catch again.

All that was running through Regulus' head was how beautiful you looked in the nighttime, surrounded by cold air that came out in white puffs when you breathed. How beautiful you had looked inside by the fire, laughing beside him, butterbeer foam on your lips – or better yet, his thumb on your lips. He realised as he walked that you were always on his mind like this, and you were always so unbelievably beautiful.

And finally, he realised that when he had looked at your lips, he wanted to kiss them.

Regulus knew that if he ever got the bollocks to do so, Barty would never let him live it down.

[ellecdc]

ok so idea: parents poly!moonwaterkiller + fem!reader are called to hogwarts for a parent-teacher conference of sorts after their troublemaker kid was caught following in their parents (*ahem* remus and bartys *ahem*) footsteps by causing general mischief and being a pain in mcgonagalls behind

im imagining remus as the disappointed-but-secretly-proud/amused dad meanwhile barty just openly encourages the kid, leaving poor regulus and reader to try and discourage their kid from further “marauding” if you will

you're literally an angel for a) requesting this and b) waiting almost four months for it 🥹🫶

poly!moonwaterkiller x fem!reader who are called to a meeting at Hogwarts regarding their marauder of a child

CW: targeted prank against Slytherin, naughty child who is a product of naughty parents, Regulus tries really hard to be the bad guy [someone's gotta do it]

Did the Deputy Headmistress’s office used to be bigger? You swore it used to be bigger.

Certainly the chairs used to be bigger? You weren’t sure the last time you were in here that your feet could touch the floor.

You and Regulus sat somewhat rigidly in the chairs of your formidable former Professor’s office whilst Remus sat comfortably as if simply meeting with a colleague and Barty sat incredibly casually as if he was lounging by a pool. 

You expected some levity to dissipate when Professor McGonagall strode in with your child on her heels, but Barty simply smiled at the newcomers.

“There’s my girl!” Barty cheered as McGonagall moved behind her desk to expose your kid who at least had the grace to look somewhat chastised. “How are you, sweetness?”

“She’s in trouble, Barty.” Regulus hissed severely, causing you and Remus to grimace slightly as you waved apologetically at her. 

“Indeed, Mr. Crouch.” McGonagall agreed quickly as she considered the lot of you from the top of her glasses. 

“Uhm, actually, Professor,” Barty started, pasting on what the three of you often referred to as his ‘faux adult voice’, “it’s Mr. Lupin, now, and I expect to be referred to as such.” 

McGonagall seemed to be working overtime to stifle the half exasperated and half happy-for-him smile that was threatening to take over her face before looking down at a piece of parchment in front of her.

“Right, well, it appears that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Mr. Lupin’s.” 

Barty seemed nonplussed over the accusation whilst Remus seemed to straighten ever so slightly in his chair. 

“Eloise has been doing exceptionally well in her Care for Magical Creatures class; so well, in fact, that she was able to enlist the help of some nifflers that she released into the Slytherin dorms. Many students awoke very displeased that their family crests and various jewellery were missing.” 

“Objection.” Barty demanded as he sat up straight. “What evidence do you have that it was her?”

McGonagall pursed her lips as she looked at her former student. “She was caught trying to dispose of the jewellery, Mr. Lupin.”

“Awe, Eloise.” Barty bemoaned then, turning to look at his daughter. “You got caught?” 

“Barty…” You whined then, alerting him to the severe glare McGonagall was levelling him. 

“This is a very serious matter, Mr. Lupin; though all of the jewellery was returned with the exception of one Malfoy signet ring,” McGonagall paused as Remus’ chuckle-turned-cough and Regulus’ ill hidden smirk at the thought of his poncy cousin-in-law fussing over a child’s ring, “the Slytherin student’s families are not pleased.”

“Of course not, Professor. This is completely unacceptable and will not happen again, isn’t that right, Eloise?” You offered, giving your daughter an encouraging look to agree with you.

“Of course, absolutely, it won’t happen again.” She agreed readily - smart girl. 

“And please let the Malfoy’s know that we will compensate them for the missing ring.” You continued, earning you a disbelieving scoff from Barty, a ‘well…let’s not get carried away now’ from Regulus, and a snort of laughter from Remus. 

“Very well.” McGonagall offered. “Be that as it may, this act cannot be overlooked; there will be consequences.”

You, Regulus, and Remus quickly agreed verbally, barely masking the muttered “what a rip” from Barty. 

“Since Eloise has such a…penchant for creature care, she’s going to be tasked with assisting Hagrid in feeding, mucking, and grooming all of the beasts and their pens on school grounds.”

“All of them!?” Eloise and Barty chorused almost comically, had it not been for the steely glare the deputy headmistress shot them. 

“All of them.” She agreed resolutely. “For three weeks, you will be in charge of the hippogriffs, giant toads, thestrals, puffskiens, bowtruckles, and nifflers alike. As well as what other beasts Hagrid needs help caring for.”

Eloise sat back into her chair with a huff at that, looking comically similar to Barty who appeared to be moping in camaraderie. 

“That is all for me; I’ll leave you to it for a few moments to catch up and say goodbye, Miss. Lupin.” McGonagall offered her current student before nodding curtly at her former students and exiting her office. 

“My sweet, silver sickle; how have you been?” Barty asked then as he opened his arms wide to which Eloise quickly accepted. 

“Barty! Do not coddle her!” Regulus admonished then, though you couldn’t help but notice the way his hands seemed to itch to reach out to her.

“Oh, hug your daughter, Regulus.” Remus admonished before Eloise quickly left Barty’s grasp in order to crash into him.

“Sorry, papa.” She murmured into his neck, causing Regulus to heave a great sigh which was mostly just for show. 

“Tu me donnes du gris.” Regulus sighed then as he pulled Eloise in tighter to him. “You’re forgiven, but I mean it, amour; plus rien, d’accord?”

“Oui.” She mumbled miserably as she stood up straight.

“Okay, come on then, hug your mum before McGonagall comes back in and chases us all out with her walking stick.” You teased as you stood from your chair; Eloise wasting no time before slamming into your middle. “I miss you, sweet girl.”

“I miss you too, mum.” She admitted before moving, finally, to Remus. 

“Oh my gods.” Regulus murmured as he spotted something across the room. “Does McGonagall have the first edition of Nicholas Flammel’s book over there?”

And just like that, one of your fourths had wandered to the other side of the room to peruse his former Professor’s bookshelf.

Swat. 

“That was kind of a good one, El.” Remus whispered then, earning him an eye roll from you though you opted to stay silent. 

“Yeah! Enlisting the help of creatures that can’t be given detention was brilliant.” Barty agreed readily. “Less brilliant that you were caught, though.”

“I just didn’t want the nifflers to actually run off with all their things! I was going to give it all back.” She harrumphed.

“What about the Malfoy ring?” Remus asked as he held her by his side. 

A sinister smile took over Eloise’s face. “That’s at the bottom of the Black Lake.”

“I thought you said you were going to give it all back?” You asked in an accusatory manner. 

“To everyone who deserved it back.” She corrected haughtily. 

“Well, I’d wager that no Slytherin deserves it back.” Remus argued, earning him a glare from Barty.

“You and me, tonight. We duel at dusk, Lupin.” He spat.

“For Merlin’s sake.” You sighed as you bent down to Eloise’s level. “Sweetheart, I’m so happy that you’re so creative and having so much fun, but please for the love of all the gods, don’t get in trouble next time!?”

“Yeah, be more like your Da over there; he never got caught.” Barty added quickly. 

“The trick is having a fall guy; blame it on Haz next time, that’s what I always did to his father.”

“You better not be encouraging her over there!” Regulus called as he began to make his way back over.

“Love you, El!” Remus offered as he stamped a hasty kiss on the top of her head.

“Be good! Love you!” You hissed quickly and you pulled her in for one last quick hug.

“Don’t forget to write us!! Love you!” Barty added before the three of you hurried over to the floo, leaving Regulus shaking his head in exasperation and Eloise with a beaming smile as the three of you disappeared through the green flames.

[koiiiji]

unexpected comfort

author’s note ; continuing to secret friends series. and i did this rarity & patrick bateman edit myself so u know the rules.

summary ; suddenly Gitae can be soft. just a little.

Gitae Kim had arrived in korea with a purpose. as the head of a notorious mafia organization, he was no stranger to the underworld, and now he was here to assist Goo Kim with some of his more clandestine operations. cold and calculating, Gitae had little patience for distractions, especially when it came to romance or anything resembling affection.

Goo and his secret friends gang left for another business, Gitae settled into the office, intending to catch up on some paperwork. as he sorted through papers on the table, a faint thud echoed from the other room. instinctively, he moved toward the sound, only to find you sprawled on the floor, unconscious.

“hey, brat,” he muttered, nudging you with his foot. you didn’t stir.

rolling his eyes, Gitae decided to take matters into his own hands. he bent down, scooping you up with surprising gentleness, and placed you on the couch. however, as he did, you instinctively leaned into his hand, your head falling against his shoulder. he froze, a mixture of irritation and something softer swirling within him.

“seriously?” he grumbled, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through him. he felt an unusual pang of reluctance to disturb you, akin to the feeling one gets when a cat curls up in their lap. he tried to ignore the warmth spreading through him as you snuggled closer.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

the door swung open, and Goo, Seongeun, Taejin, and Taesung walked in, their raucous laughter abruptly halting as they took in the sight before them: the golden light filled the room and Gitae sitting on the black, leather couch, looking through some papers in his hands, while you nestled against him, drooling on his shoulder.

Goo’s eyes lit up with mischief. “oh man, this is priceless,” he whispered, pulling out his phone. without distracting from the papers, Gitae’s expression hardened instantly. “don’t even think about it or i’ll cut off your fingers and make you regret your life decisions,” he warned, his voice low and dangerously calm. gang burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the scene. Taejin leaned against the wall, shaking his head, while Seongeun couldn’t stop grinning. Taesung simply looked amused, habitually putting his hand in his pants

Goo blinked, taken aback. “whoa, chill, chill! i was just — ”

“can you just not!” Gitae snapped, his eyes narrowing. stepping closer, peering at you with concern Goo asked “did she faint?”

“seems like it,” Gitae replied, glancing down at you. “she’s just a brat, though. didn’t even bother to warn anybody.”

the tension in the air was thick, but Goo couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face. “poor thing, don’t you think so, huh?”

Gitae’s expression shifted slightly as he glanced down at you, still drooling on his shoulder. but now it was the lesser of two evils. he just found a gold. “actually,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious, “i plan on taking her back to mexico with me.”

Goo’s eyes widened in shock. “what? no! you can’t just steal my secret friends!” Gitae grinned looking down at papers before him. finding information about his business in mexico, finding out who is who and what each person is doing, a lot of personal information, and all this you dug up in a couple of hours with computer fraud? impressive. and he also caught you fainting in time, it seems like you were preparing a report for that cunning fox Goo.

“brat is too good at digging up information, and i need smart people in my organization,” Gitae replied, crossing his arms with an air of finality. Goo wanted to object again, but then, with a soft moan and a snuffling sound, you opened your eyes slightly, slowly coming to your senses. and while you were still processing what was happening, you glanced between Goo’s frantic expression and Gitae’s cold demeanor, you didn’t understand a thing.

as you fully awoke, confusion clouded your mind. “what’s going on?” you asked, looking up at Goo.

he sighed dramatically, “someone here wants to steal my secret friends, to spy on his own businesses!! can you imagine?!!”

you froze, as you understand that it was only you in this room, smart enough to fit that description. your eyes darting back to Gitae, and your heart sank. the reality of having fallen asleep on him, drooling, hit you hard. fear washed over you as you realized how vulnerable you had been. Gitae’s gaze was as icy as ever, his earlier devilish smile now replaced with that signature cold stare. he seemed to take pleasure in your discomfort, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

as you finally stirred fully awake, blinking in confusion, you suddenly realized your head was still resting on Gitae’s shoulder. eventually, your eyes fluttered open wider, and you blinked in confusion, taking a moment to double check your surroundings. when you realized where you were — and who you were with — you quickly sat up, wiping drool off your chin, a deep blush creeping onto your cheeks. panic set in, and you quickly sat up, brushing your hair from your face. “oh no! i’m so sorry!” embarrassment flooding your voice.

Gitae shrugged, trying to sound annoyed. “it’s fine, brat. just… don’t make it a habit.”

“and next time, try to sleep at a reasonable hour,” he said coldly, his voice echoing in the room. “you’re not invincible.”

he shot you a glare, but there was no real malice behind it. “brat,” he muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he turned back to his paperwork.

[whalesforhands]

the swimsuit dilemma

summary: you’re reminded that swimsuits are back in season after seeing a certain someone on gojo satoru’s lockscreen. (star plasma vessel era)

“Waka Inoue.”

You blink at his phone as it hovers in front of the you, the glowing screen of a gravure model in an all-too revealing bikini that left little to the imagination floating before your eyes.

“Oh? Satoru, you changed it?” Suguru’s directly behind you, leaning over the back of the sofa and your seated self to get a good look, the scent of lavender incense with a hint of strawberry weighing heavy on your nose from his closeness.

“Yeah, yeah! Whaddya guys think?” The cellular device waves around lightly, a grin growing on the white-haired boy’s face as he watches your expression, eyes blank as you focus in on her.

“She looks nice, I suppose.” Not his type though. Geto’s response is curt, his eyes much more interested in watching your reaction, the slow tapping of his fingers against the plush material of the seat as they await your opinion.

Would you be jealous? Or would you be so adorably embarrassed, hiding your face away?

“Mmm…” Your eyes are slowly losing their focus as your brain churns, still fully fixated on the picture in front of you. “…do you guys think that style would suit me?”

(Now that’s one unexpected reaction.)

Two pairs of eyes nearly bulge out of their heads, a choke going unheard as your lax expression remains, a tapping of your finger against your chin as you tilted your head to the side in focused thought.

“Shoko mentioned that it was about time I bought a new swimsuit—“ You sigh. “But everything I’ve shown her ends with a rejection…” You slump onto the couch, slightly agitated with your precious Shoko’s resistance to your choices.

“Not cute enough.”

“Choose something else.”

“…are you serious?”

You’re sighing again at the memory of her dissatisfaction with you, at her crossed arms and furrowed brows, a small pout forming on your face as you let the thought simmer on. Inoue Waka must be a model of sorts, you gather. So her clothing must be acceptable by Shoko’s standards, right?

“Inoue-san looks fashionable… Are they expensive? How much allowance would one be…?” Your mumbling doesn’t go unheard as two jaws start to unhinge, red splashing all over their cheeks as you suddenly snapped out of your daze, a thought occurring to you, as a cute smile of realization on your face forms. “Oh, Satoru! Could you show me more—“

The phone is immediately slammed shut. “No.” A smile, no; something akin to an even brighter grin is upon the pretty face of your white-haired friend.

“Eh?” Your head tilts to meet dark, sunglasses clad eyes that rejected you all too soon. “…would it not suit me after all?” There’s an awkward scratching of your cheek as you let out a dry laugh to ease the odd tension in the air.

“No.” Gojo Satoru does not stutter. “It’d suit ya well.” A glimmer of his perfect teeth. “You’d wear it?” Excited blue eyes appear in your view as you simmer in more confusion.

“Well… Yeah. I suppose I would?” Your smile returns as you try to decipher his words.

(Did you just leave yourself open to more teasing…?)

“That’s cute.” A pat to your head that messes with your hair. “But you can’t wear it out,” His smile is too tensed, his face a little too close as he leans in, his breath nearly fanning your lips had you not shifted back slightly. “Okay?”

“Okay…?”

(Would it look bad on you after all? You’re sighing again as you see him pull away from you, a proud smirk upon his face.)

There’s a shadow cast over Suguru’s eyes when you confusedly lean back, looking up to face him when you feel his larger palm rest upon your shoulder.

“…why don’t you allow us to pick one for you? I’m sure Shoko wouldn’t disapprove of our choices.” His expression is quick to shift, to reveal an all too tense smile, teetering just between the line of mischief and his usual genteel, his chest against the back of your head as his arms settle on both sides of your head, his long fingers mindlessly playing with your hair as you feel Satoru’s head loll and rest on your shoulder in pure boredom.

Hmm… Maybe you should…?

(…or are you just feeling too comfortable right now that you’ll agree to anything they say?)

“We have finished packing our luggage.” Kuroi’s voice rings out as you hear the creaking of the door and the rolling of a few luggages. Her footsteps are quiet against the carpeted floor as your ears pick up on another set of feet tottering in, braided hair swaying as her uniform skirt flutters with her movement.

“We’re ready for the flight to Okinawa!”

(“Riko, please do not yell. We will disturb the neighbors.”

“Oh. Sorry, Kuroi…”)

——

“Hey.” Riko is leaning in towards you, whispered words and close proximity as you sat beside her on the plane. “What was that about swimsuits?” Her eyes gleam with a hunger to know, to get in on the action whilst her other escorts were far too busy intimidating the other passengers.

You giggle lightly in embarrassment, your cheeks feeling a little hot. “Oh— You heard?”

“Duh.” A smile of pure, unadulterated pride sits upon her smug face. “As the vessel who will become one with the almighty Tengen-sama, of course such matters do not escape my mighty ears!”

(She sounds kind of impudent, you’re not gonna lie.)

You’ll humor her. “Oh, it’s such a trivial matter, great vessel!~” You sing out your praises. “It was just—“ You take a pause for the dramatic effect as you see her cross her arms, nodding at your choice of dramatics.

“Letting them pick my swimsuit for me.” It does sound more embarrassing now that you’re saying this out loud.

“Wha— Don’t let them pick for you!” She’s quick to break character, grabbing onto your hands with a look of stout determination in her eyes.

“I’m much better suited for the job!”

Notes:

Riko thinks she’s much suited for it due to her yearning to experience the true ‘school girl’ experience! And that includes shopping for clothes.

You did this to yourself. Gojo went online to go find and order the exact same swimsuit on his lockscreen. He thinks it’s ready to be replaced soon too, if you get what I mean.

Geto is upset Riko managed to goad you into picking her as your swimsuit stylist. What kind of future husband is he if doesn’t pick out your clothes with you…?

Whilst in the clothing store, there was quite a battle between the dynamic duo and Riko.

“What do you mean this colour isn’t suitable?!” Gojo is quite frankly offended as he held up the skimpy blue two-piece.

“It looks cheap and nasty, just like your bug eyes!” Riko is sticking out her tongue at him as she hides behind you, grasping onto your shoulders and using you as a shield.

“Come now Riko, you shouldn’t be saying that to your poor security escorts. We’re working very hard, you know?” Geto is quick to jump in, a deep royal purple one piece with a deep-V in the front in his hands, as he appears directly behind the both of you. Riko jumps in surprise, quickly turning around with her arms up defensively.

“Bugger off, you weird, conman-looking delinquent! Your tastes are just as bad!”

He feels a vein pop.

It seems that only you and Kuroi are of sane mind.

masterlist

KOFI does being in okinawa give you okinawan dreams? (continuation of this specific fic)

nvy’s aftertalk:

HAH u THOUGHT i was gonna do my animal ears special but YOU THOUGHT WRONG WAHAHAHAHA

[aprilcolours]

blackheart: part two

part one - part three - part four

—

Two days after the Battle at Lydden, the campground was abuzz with news. ‘The Northmen are here.’ ‘The Stark has arrived.’ ‘Did you hear? The greybeards have joined camp.’ The whispers were unavoidable as Visenya broke her morning fast. She thought it rather funny that men at war gossiped all the same as their wives at home. 

As she began to braid her hair (a wartime style like her mother’s), she thought of a certain young lord who had taken up a pressing residence in her mind. 

She worried that the kiss had been rash, impulsive, and ill-conceived. Perhaps I have let the fire in my blood get the better of me, she fretted.

Visenya carried a great weight on her shoulders. Her mother was relying on her to be successful on campaign, while her father was off gallivanting heedlessly. It was of the utmost importance that these Riverlanders respect her authority as commander and be brought to heel. Not an easy feat as a woman. I cannot afford to give even a single reason for doubt in my capability. 

It was these worries that had caused her to rebuff all attempts Benjicot Blackwood had made at flirtation since the kiss. He had tried to tease her, or goad her, or even on one fateful attempt last night: find her alone again. Like the day at Lydden, he had approached as she landed after scouting on Vermithor. She had said immediately, before she could change her mind, ‘After one does battle, they can retain a sort of thrill-seeking madness to expend the remainder of their blood-letting energy. It is common enough, but regrettable. My sole focus at this time is on securing my mother’s throne. I can consider nothing else.’ She did not meet his eyes as she spoke, looking instead over his shoulder before forcing herself to walk steadfastly away, and ignoring the flash of hurt writ across his face. 

It pained her, as she recalled the morning after, her braid now finished. She could still feel the ghost of him on her lips. Warm and yearning. 

We must all make sacrifices in war, she assured herself. Visenya II took a deep breath, steeled her shoulders, and stepped out of her tent to find her place among the war council. 

As the morning’s gossip foretold, a new broad figure stood at the table. Cregan Stark was a large man, an impression made only larger by the cloak of furs clasped round his shoulders. The familiar lords bowed, but surprisingly, the Northerner chose instead to drop to a knee before her. Lord Stark took her hand and kissed the back of it, declaring in a low voice “It is an honor, your highness.”

Visenya did her best to mask her amusement, though her eyes did widen at the display. 

“Lord Stark, so glad you could join us,” she responded, to some chuckles from the other council members. She looked around the table and caught Ben’s eye. His expression was dark, his usual grin now morphed into something more like a sneer. She looked away quickly and began the day’s deliberations. 

—

Near midday, the council adjourned momentarily to see to matters within their banners. Visenya used the time to discern the state of the troops, observing carefully to ensure standards were being met. 

Since the victory, certain soldiers had taken it upon themselves to establish a training field. Knights from differing regions clashed steel against steel, trying their skills against one another. She observed the sparring, face impassive. It seemed silly to waste such energy, the war is only beginning, she thought. 

“Does the fighting not please you my lady?” Ben’s taunting voice rang out nearby. 

His face held the promise of mischief. She was immediately wary, raising her signature unimpressed brow. He took a moment, almost seeming to check that all the gathered were listening, before he stook a step out into the yard and said,

“Well of course, a princess is not trained in such matters, not when you have a dragon to fight in your stead.” He gestured jauntily about like he had made a great joke. 

The whole camp stuttered to a standstill. Utter silence across the plain.

How. Dare. You. 

Visenya’s blood turned to ice in her veins, cold hard rage bottoming out her senses. Her face must’ve done something terrifying because every man in the near vicinity took a few steps back. 

And the scoundrel still just grinned his lopsided grin. 

You’ll pay for that Blackwood, she swore in her mind. 

“Is that so?” she asked, voice sharp and quiet like a shard of glass. She stalked slowly to the other edge of the training yard across from him, her steps measured and predatory. The knights gathered there scrambled back, dragging their equipment hastily. 

Back still turned to him, Visenya looked out upon the troops but did not see them. Only red. With nought a thought for the propriety of the situation, he seems to have that effect quite often doesn’t he, she reached to her back and unsheathed the two blades holstered there. 

Then finally, with a Valyrian shortsword in each hand, she turned and looked the Blackwood in the eye.

“To first blood then?” she asked, tone as mild as if she was asking about the weather. 

“To first blood,” he confirmed, eyes gleaming. And he attacked.

He was an explosion given form. A savage whirl of motion and violence, seemingly without end and tireless. It was a hacking, slashing, sort of style— unpredictable, but not so crass as to be reckless. The movements had a deceptive sort of tightness to them: where it appeared at a glance that such rabid fervor might leave his flanks open; he was guarded and compact. 

All this, Visenya gleaned as she danced circles round his brutal strikes. She parried and sidestepped, studying his every movement like a cat might watch a bird. He was a force, made for chaos and to mow down men in great swathes. But she was finely tuned, a crafted blade made for precision. 

He was good, that much was sure. But Father is better. 

She waited until his left foot turned out slightly, as she had noticed it did when he lunged two handedly, and with a swift precise kick she knocked him flat on his back. Between one blink and the next, she had a boot on his chest and her two blades crossed at his throat. 

There was a moment of utter silence again. Before the camp began their raucous applause. The men were shouting her name, her house words, roaring their approval, but she had eyes only for one. 

Ben, his head in the dirt, smiled. A real, genuine, one, not a sneer or smirk. She did her best to remain stoic even as she felt her own smugness tug at her lips. She picked her boot off his chest and pulled her swords from their position, transferring them into one hand so she might offer the other to him. 

He took it, and did not let go as he stood up. Instead, he raised it to his lips and bowed, his dark searing gaze never leaving hers as he, slowly, imploringly, kissed the back of her hand. 

Seven hells. Visenya suppressed a shiver. She could not tell whether she was still angry or wanted to laugh. She forced herself to recover quickly.

“You have a boot-print on your shirt, my lord,” she teased. Then she promptly turned around and looked at the gathered spectators to call,

“Since the situation has arisen, is there any other who would challenge a duel?” She turned in a circle, watching some soldiers jostle each other forward and others shy away. 

“Good Ser Tully,” she addressed, “perhaps a knight can make a better showing on behalf of the Riverlands.” 

The knight laughed humbly and stepped forward, “I can certainly try my lady.”

—

Visenya sparred with four men, challengers each from different houses. She remained for the better part of the day, offering advice, comparing strategy, and watching other matches. As the sun fell low in the sky, the group finally dispersed. As she made her way back to her tent, she felt a familiar presence step into stride with her. She did not look at Ben as she asked,

“Are you so troubled that you must resort to insulting me the moment another man dares to exist in my presence?”

“No, my lady” he protested, trying to make light of the situation, though he did appear slightly chastened. “Twas simply a ruse so that I might kiss you. I thought you might find it amusing.”

“Amusing? Amusing that you have so loudly begun a pissing contest with the Warden of the North?” she questioned incredulously, temper rising again. She stopped walking and turned to face him. 

Men, she thought angrily, never consider the consequences of their impulses. She felt all her worries about being respected arise within her like a great wave.

“I—” he began, but was swiftly cut off. 

“I will remind you Lord Blackwood, that my mother the Queen has final jurisdiction in the matter of my hand. And she has not yet even heard word of your proposal let alone deigned to consider it,” Visenya bit out, anger giving way to something more like distress. 

She heaved a shaky breath and took a moment to collect herself. He looked thoroughly chastened now. Squaring her shoulders, she pulled her stoicism about her again, declaring,

“Should you presume to mock me publicly again, Raventree Hall will find it has urgent need for its liege Lord to return from his time abroad.”

With that, she turned to stomp away but was halted by a firm hand at her wrist. Turning viciously, she began, “You dare—” 

“Did you speak truly?” Ben asked, voice uncharacteristically timid. “That you regret it?”

She was stricken into silence. He has a habit of surprising me, doesn’t he? Emotions warred within her, crashing against one another like the Narrow Sea. But thinking about his smile today, with her blade to his throat, she could not find it within herself to lie. So she simply shook her head no. 

The Blackwood let a breath out through his nose, like he had been holding it, and pressed a quick hand to her face. His thumb flitted over her cheek once, an echo of his roaming pulling hands. For the briefest of moments, Visenya allowed herself to close her eyes and press her face into his palm. 

“My mother is depending on me,” she whispered, a confession she did not intend to let escape. “I cannot fail her.” 

“I understand,” he replied simply, voice also hushed. 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. A long tender beat. Two. 

When he pulled away, the look in Benjicot Blackwood’s eyes was something close to grim determination. He backed away and strode into the night, cloaked in purpose.

—

A/N: okay so turns out that was just some random blackwood but we are going to ignore that and continue in the delusion bc its fun

[sleepypanda27]

Distractions

Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky is bored filling out the paperwork. Luckily, you're there to distract him.

Words: 616

Once or twice a week, Bucky worked in his office to handle the paperwork. This was one of those days. You softly knocked on Bucky's half-closed door to his office. His eyes looked up from the pile of paperwork in front of him. Honestly, you thought he had fallen asleep. 

"Hey, Buck." You smiled, shutting the door and walking to his desk.

"Hi, doll." He stretched his arms above his head, leaning back in the chair. 

"I brought you coffee." You pecked his cheek and placed the mug on the desk, leaning against the table in front of him.

"Thanks." Bucky rolled his chair closer to you, placing his head in your lap, and wrapped his arms around you. "I'm gonna take a nap." You tangled your fingers in his hair, softly massaging his head with your fingertips. "Sweetheart," He hummed in contentment. "That feels so good." He almost moaned. 

Bucky pulled you in his lap, nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You giggled as his scruff brushed over your skin. 

"I love this shirt on you." You brushed your palms over his chest, stopping at the buttons and rolling them between your fingers.

"I don't know, I think it looks better on you." His hands slid up your sides. "Especially if you're not wearing anything underneath it." He smirked, looking into your eyes with mischief sparkling in his blues. "And I've had my way with you." 

You chuckled at his statements.

"Ugh," He sighed. "I have so many things to do. I need to make a training schedule for new recruits and sort out this pile of papers, but all I want to do is you." He smiled playfully. 

"I would love that, but we're at work."

"So?" He quirked a brow.

"What if someone comes in?"

"I still don't see where's the problem." While Bucky's hands found their way under your shirt, he leaned closer to your neck, placing a soft kiss. 

"Bucky," You gasped, giggling as he blew raspberries against your neck. You laughed as you squirmed away from him.

He wrapped his vibranium arm firmly around your waist and stood up with his free hand, sweeping the papers and stationary off the table. Thankfully, the coffee mug survived, staying on the table.

"Bucky!" You giggled as he seated you on top of the table. 

"Yes, dear?" He smugly replied before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. 

His stationary phone rang. He ignored it the first time. The second time it called, he pulled away to look who was calling so persistently. "Oh no, it's Tony."

"I'm not here." You whispered, catching your breath.

Bucky nodded, pressing a button on the phone console and setting it on the loudspeaker. "Yes, Tony?"

"I need Y/n." Tony's voice rang through the speaker, filling the quiet room.

"Sorry, but she's not here," Bucky answered in all seriousness, looking at you, basically undressing you with his eyes.

"Yeah, right." He chuckled. "Y/n, come to my office in five." Tony knew where to find you when you weren't in your office. Either you would be with Nat or Sam. But most frequently, he could find you with Bucky.

"Okay, Tony." You rolled your eyes, ending the call. Getting off Bucky's table and straightening your clothes, you spotted the thing you were coming for in the first place. "I'm taking this." Smiling, you took the invoice from the floor. "Tony approved buying the knives you wanted."

"How did you manage that?"

"It's like you don't know me at all. You can thank me later." You winked at him as you turned to walk away.

"Oh, darlin', already can't wait." He said as he playfully slapped your backside. 

[justauthoring]

all too easy.

requested! -> hello!! :D i've loved your fairy tail fics so far and wanted to know if you could write something for laxus? anything would be fine! thank you! -> can you write some laxus x reader fluff please requested by -> anonymous

a/n -> this was sitting unfinished in my drafts for too long and given that fairy tail is returning in a week basically i HAD to finish it (im still in disbelief my first anime is returning!)

pairing -> laxus dreyar x f!reader

"i have a proposition for you."

quirking a brow up at cana, you know instantly that the sly smile and the mischief dancing in her eyes is nothing good.

you loved cana. of course you did. she was part of your family and your friend, not to mention your teammate; but the girl seemed to get a particular kick out of teasing you. you were more often then not the target of her skeems, usually crafted after a few of her barrels were downed. however, being the resident alcoholic of fairy tail, cana's mind seemed to work better inebriated then it would for others.

so her proposition is regarded with hesitance, pulled away from your own thoughts to focus in on her. "...yes?" you ask softly, prompting her to finish and almost instantly she brightens, the smile turning genuine as she takes a seat at the table across from you.

your eyes fall on the barrel of alcohol she promptly drops beside her.

"i'll give you the full reward of our next mission if you drink with me."

okay... so that was certainly not what you were expecting.

brows furrowing, you shake your head. "that's... all?"

still grinning, cana nods. "that's it. i just want you to drink with me." she explains, tapping her barrell for added effect.

"why?" you ask instantly, not trusting how... simple her request. it's definitely a set up of some sort... the only problem is you can't figure out what or just what her angle is. "you've never asked me to drink with you before and we've known each other a long time so—"

"y/n?"

"yes?"

"i just want to drink with my best friend," she says, her voice oddly soft and sincere in a way that it normally never is. you knew cana cared, of course, but she was rarely ever this serious. "and i know you don't like drinking so im bribing you."

you pause, regarding her for a moment longer. you let your eyes drag across her, taking in her expression and trying to find some sort of hint that there was something beyond what she meant.

you couldn't find anything.

the guilt starts to well then. it seemed cana truly just wanted to have a drink with you and you think back to all the times you'd rather quickl denied her request. it never was more than just because you could not keep up with cana without getting incredibly drunk and you were... not a fun drunk to say the least.

but... you supposed a few drinks couldn't hurt.

"okay," you concede, nodding as you signal mira to bring the two of you some cups. "i'll drink with you."

cana lets out a whoop, her hand pumping the air and you watch on with a laugh, shaking your head.

-

it's not just a few drinks.

it's practically her whole barrel and before you know it, you're thoroughly drunk. your words slur and your movements are jagged, you're not even fully conscious of what you're saying or doing; all you know is that you're having fun and there's not a single care in regard to anything else.

somewhere along the way, as to be expected, other members of the guild started to join in the fun. wakaba and macao were the first, then team natsu returned from a mission and of course, natsu was quick to join in the celebration. he'd tugged lucy and happy with him and gray, erza and wendy trailed behind.

with them came the rest.

the whole guild was in an uproar and you were basking the full of it.

completely unaware of the eyes watching you quietly, you linked arms with cana, the both of you singing loudly, out of pitch and without a single care in the world. some of the guild members watched on in amusement, clapping and cheering the both of you on.

you'd ended up on a table without meaning to, dancing around without watching your step. it takes five minutes before you inevitably trip, stepping back only for your foot to land on nothing, and feel yourself slipping back as your arm slips from cana.

you register that you're falling but you're inebriated state leaves you unable to catch yourself, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips as you wait to slam into the floor beneath you. your eyes squeeze shut in anticipation, but...

but you never hit the ground.

instead, you're enveloped in warmth. arms catch you, wrapping around your back and under your knees as you're held against a firm chest. with a gasp, you open your eyes, only to see laxus looming over you, eyes flickering across you as if assessing you for any injuries.

"laxus!"

his name leaves your lips in a squeal of surprise and it seems the commotion of everything caught the attention of the guild as there's cheers called out for laxus' save and a few whistles that has your cheeks burning.

you expect laxus to let you go, but he just stands up straight, still silent and still holding you close to him. his eyes flicker across the rest of the guild and then he's turning, making his way to the guild doors—with you.

"aw! laxus! don't ruin all the fun!"

it's cana who calls out, voice pitching and loud but laxus just shakes his head, never faltering in his step, opening the guild doors and letting them fall shut behind him. the chaos of the guild grows muffled and instead instantly, and you're left out in the cool magnolia air, only then realizing how late it had gotten.

"where... where are we going?" you ask tentatively, unsure of your own voice and hating the way your words still slightly slur.

"i'm taking you home."

you nod, more to yourself than anything. nearly falling had taken you from your stupor slightly but your mind was still jumbled and you could clearly feel the effects of alcohol coarsing through your system; it didn't help that it was laxus that had caught you or that you were alone with him.

for as long as you can remember you've had a raging crush on him.

being apart of the guild since you were a little girl, you'd had a schoolgirl crush on laxus; it was a mix of the fact that he was older and you'd been enamoured with his magic. only, you never really grew out of it. even when he'd done his attack on fairy tail, your heart had been in a state of conflict between your feelings and the cruel actions he'd done.

and when he'd been kicked out? you'd been distraught; only to be ecstatic when he returned that day on tenrou island. sure, it had been followed by being asleep for seven years, but regardless, laxus had returned and it seemed with it his attitude had changed.

while he'd never been cruel to you, you'd spent most of your time watching him with adoring eyes. but when you'd all returned from tenrou, there was a noticeable difference in laxus. he was still quiet and he did tend to stick to himself, but where he'd been cruel and crude before, he was awkward and endearing. he was considerably kinder and the two of you had even grown closer in the passing months since.

needless to say, that schoolgirl crush had grown into a fullout 'i-like-you-so-much-i-can't-fuction-around-you' crush.

so, clearly, you were freaking out.

it takes you a moment to realize you're still in his arms, wrapped securely around your waist and the blush deepens as you hastily worm your way out of his grasp, pushing against his chest. the action causes laxus to halt in surprise, turning to glance down at you with parted lips as you frantically wave your hands in front of you.

"i-i can walk home on my own," you rush out, words still clearly slurring. "i me-mean, thank you for catching me but you don't need to... you don't need walk me home. i don't want to be a bother."

there's a beat of silence, then; "you're not a bother."

and you blink, stunned, eyes flickering up to meet his calm and steady ones.

"i don't mind," he clarifies, the words somewhat awkward. are his cheeks red or are you just imagining that? "i... i want to make sure you get home safe."

"oh."

you regret the second you say it, feeling like a complete fool as your cheeks burn and you stare back at him like an idiot.

blinking, you force yourself to speak; "o-okay, then."

you turn and he follows and then the two of you are walking again. it's awkwardly silent and you're mentally cursing yourself because it wasn't like this was the first time you've ever been alone with laxus so why can't you think of anything to say? you want to blame it on your inebriated state but you know that isn't completely it.

his words, though probably not meant by anything more, of wanting you to get home safe is getting to your heart and making your heart race—and that is making your brain short circuit on what to say.

you're so lost in your own thoughts you aren't watching when you're stepping and for the second time that night you lose your balance, tripping and tipping forward as your vision blurs.

this time you're sure you're going to fall but you forget that laxus isn't a s-class ranked wizard for nothing, and his reflexes allow him to slip his arm around your waist with ease. once again you feel you back press against his firm and warm chest, and you're positive you might pass out.

"maybe i should just carry you."

you blink, wide eyes turning to face laxus and you're even further surprised to see the small grin on his face at his own teasing.

"i-i..." but no words leave your lips because you have no argument. "sorry..."

laxus just shakes his head but before you can say anything more, he's shifting, his arm slipping underneath the bend of your knees and your axis is tilted as he lifts you into his arms, bridle style.

"oh!"

he shuffles, making sure you're properly in his arms before meeting your gaze; "this okay?"

letting out a shaky breath, you don't dare try to speak—knowing you'll only make more of a fool of yourself—and nod with burning cheeks.

the rest of the walk goes pretty uneventful from there. you don't live far from the guild so laxus reaches your small apartment with ease having been there before when returning from a mission that you and cana had joined laxus' team for. you'd moved out of the fairy apartments a while ago because although you loved the girls, having a space to your own was something you'd desperately needed.

you're more than thankful for that in this moment cause you don't think you could handle the embarrassment of any of the girls seeing laxus carry you home.

you hand him your key when you reach your door and instead of leaving the second he's set you down inside, you're pleasantly surprised by how laxus stays.

swallowing thickly, you shuffle in front of him; "once again, thank you. for-for everything."

laxus' eyes fall on you, nodding; "of course." then, after a moment, he adds; "i... uh, was surprised to see you drunk. you normally don't join cana on her bad habits."

tucking a strand of hair behind your ears, you glance at your feet; "yeah... definitely learnt my lesson for that one."

laxus pauses; "i mean... i wouldn't mind if it meant i got to be the one to walk you home."

you're sure you misheard that. had... had laxus just been flirting?

turning to him, your lips part; "what?"

this time you're sure his cheeks are red.

"you're cute drunk," is what he says, stunning you further. "it bothered me how some of the other guys there were eyeing you so when i saw you fall, i... well, made sure i was the one to catch you."

he promptly avoids your gaze all while he speaks, rubbing the back of his neck and cheeks as flushed as yours.

"o-oh..." you mumble, before cursing yourself. stupid you and stupid brain for shortcircuting. "i-i mean... are you saying what i think you're saying?"

slowly, laxus' eyes shift to yours.

"yeah..." he breathes, "especially if you feel the same."

for the first time you're thankful for your inebriated state that gives you the courage to close the small distance between the two of you and promptly press your lips against laxus'. you fall against him with a swoosh, hands wrapping around his neck as you let your eyes flutter shut, sinking into him further the second he tugs you closer by the waist.

it's exactly like you always hoped it would be and you can hardly believe you're kissing him even as his lips slant against your own.

a moment later, breathless, you pull away, chest rising and falling with laxus' as he cups the back of your head and meets your gaze.

your eyes flicker from his eyes back to his lips.

"we-we shouldn't."

and at first you're panicked, heart stopping momentarily, but laxus is smiling in a way you've never seen before (and a way that takes you breath away) and shakes his head; "i don't want our first time to be while you're drunk. i have no doubt of my feelings, but i want you to be sober."

could your heart possibly swoon anymore?

biting your lip, you smile, wide; "at least spend the night?"

laxus grins; "of course."

-

"so... did you and laxus have a good night?"

eyes zoning in on cana, you frown; "what does that mean?"

shrugging, with her regular barrel in between her legs, "nothing," she says, playing it off nonchalantly. "just, you two left together last night and came to the guild this morning together. it's a bit suspicious, don't you think?"

you stare at her for a moment longer, taking in her grin and the twinkle of mischief in her eyes and promptly gasp; "you got me drunk on purpose!"

cana glances away; "i have no idea what you're talking about!"

"yes, you do!" you accuse, pointing your finger at her. "you wanted me to make a fool of myself... so... so what? laxus would come in and help?"

cana scoffs; "the two of you were ridiculous. always making heart-eyes at each other," she laughs. "i had to step in. for you, of course."

rolling your eyes, you stare at her in disbelief.

staring past you, cana just grins; "it worked didn't it?"

and you're confused at first, until a hand settles on your shoulder and you glance up to meet laxus' familiar and soft look.

"hey," he smiles and for all his talk of being tough, it seems even he can't fight the lovesick grin off his face.

a quick glance at cana tells you she's drinking her victory in, but really, you can't be all that angry when you see the way laxus is looking at you.