#take my hand and i can help you stop using the word sodding where it’s not supposed to go

[steelycunt]

kills me that no one has ever asked me to britpick for them id be so good at it and id find it so satisfying. literally all i do all day is say alright back and forth to people

[ellecdc]

can i request angst with sirius 🥲 like where reader finds out he only dated her for a bet 🧍‍♀️my hyperfixation on this trope is sickening and i hope to hear mother elle’s take on this 🙏🩷

ughhhhh I think maybe you guys hate me??? what's with the angst, my loves? why are we doing this to me? Listen: I wrote your Sirius Black dating reader for a bet..............but I made it a miscommunication trope/hurt-comfort I'M SORRY I COULDN'T DO IT. I get angst, truly, but I didn't want Sirius to actually be mean to us 😢 hope this works for you 🫶

Sirius Black x fem!reader CW: perceived bullying, miscommunication trope, hurt/comfort

Sirius Black was many things. He was a wizard, he was an animagus, he was a disinherited heir to a Pureblood family, he was a Gryffindor, he was a flirt and a friend.

One thing Sirius Black was not was a coward.

“Then go ask her out.” Peter said plainly.

Sirius scoffed. “I will do no such thing.”

“Why not?” Remus asked with a smirk. “You like her, you can’t stop staring at her, and you find every excuse in the book to be in her vicinity other than ask her out.”

“I don’t understand what your hang up is.” James added. “You’ve never had a problem asking girls out before.”

“I don’t have any hang up’s, Prongsie. I’ve never had and still don’t have a problem asking girls out.”

“Good.” Remus jumped in quickly. “So go ask her out.”

“No.” Sirius said petulantly. 

Peter’s expression grew into a mischievous smirk as he shared a knowing look with his two other friends. “Let’s make a bet then.”

This caught Sirius’ attention. “I’m listening.”

“If you don’t ask Y/N out on a date, you have to do my Astronomy homework for two weeks.” Peter offered.

Sirius scoffed. “I fail to see how this bet benefit’s me at all.”

“Well, ignoring the fact that you’d have a date with the girl of your dreams; if you do ask her out, I will do your Ancient Runes homework for two weeks.” Peter bargained.

Well…Sirius couldn’t deny that those stakes were pretty beneficial to him. 

And he could really use the help in Ancient Runes.

“Petey, my boy. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He proclaimed with a smirk as he marched his way across the library to where you were sitting. 

But by the time he got over to you…all words left his brain.

Why was this so difficult for him? He had a reputation as Hogwarts' Ladies Man. You were a lady – why couldn’t he talk to you!?

“Hello Sirius.” You greeted him warmly, putting the dumb sod out of his misery.

“Uhm, er, hi Y/N!” He returned awkwardly, grimacing at the delivery himself. You had the good graces just to smile at him, though. Gods he was a goner.

He heard snickering behind him from his friends and your eyes nervously darted over to the group.

“Uhm, was…was there something I could help you with?” You asked nervously, eyes moving between Sirius and his friends as you played nervously with the quill in your hands. 

“Uhm, no. Well, yes actually, you see…I was wondering if perhaps you might want to maybe go to Hogsmeade with me, at some point. No pressure though…” He rambled, trailing off awkwardly and grimacing once again. 

You chuckled nervously, but kept your eyes locked on his friends.

“Sirius, is…is this a prank?”

Sirius felt all colour drain from his face. 

Oh gods. Between his awkwardness and his friends all giggling like schoolgirls behind him paired with the fact they are known for their mischief, you thought he was pranking you!?

“Oh gods. Y/N, no! No, ugh, I’ve really mucked this up.” He groaned as he slumped down into a chair beside you. “It’s just…the wankers” he said, motioning to said wankers behind him, “know I’ve been uncharacteristically nervous about asking you out for a while now. They’re just having a go at me.” 

“Sirius Black? Nervous? To ask me out?” You scoffed. “Do you take me as a fool, Black?”

“No! No, Merlin, please, believe me – one date, okay? One date to prove I’m not the tosser I apparently look like right now.” He begged. Begged! Sirius Black had been diminished to begging. 

He was never going to live this down.

You narrowed your eyes and surveyed Sirius’ form whilst Sirius fought the urge to shield himself from your piercing gaze. Your eyes flit over to his friends before decision seemed to paint your features.

“Fine.” You said, “one date at Hogsmeade, this weekend.”

The way you were speaking made it sound like a formal business transaction, but Sirius beamed at you feeling slightly bolder in the face of (reluctant) agreement on your part, standing from his chair.

“You won’t regret it! I’ll meet you in the courtyard, Saturday morning – 10 am!” He called as he walked backwards towards his friends, only stumbling into one stray chair on his way.

Sirius could tell you were fighting the urge to smile or laugh, and even though you would have been laughing at him, it still felt like a win in his books. 

The Hogsmeade date was a success. In fact, you had to admit it was one of the best dates you’ve ever been on. You had been friendly enough with Sirius from your shared classes and such – but your interactions had never exceeded as much as a polite “hello” from either party. You always figured that was for the best – considering those who found themselves to be too familiar with the Marauders were often victims of their many pranks. 

You only knew the Sirius Black that the rest of the school knew:

Mischief maker, Gryffindor, quidditch beater, flirt, a player, and anti-all-the-things-that-his-family-stood-for. Some of those things were bad, whilst others were good. But you had no idea that this Sirius Black existed.

The Sirius Black that was an amazing listener, who held doors open and pulled chairs out for you, who made you feel as though every word coming out of your mouth was the most fascinating thing he ever heard, who could make you laugh until your stomach hurt, who seemed to be able to fill any lull in the conversation with ease. 

You hated to admit it, but…you sort of liked this Sirius Black. 

After a nice day of window shopping, actual shopping, butterbeer’s and scenic strolls through the picturesque town, you made your way back to Hogwarts. Sirius bid you farewell by kissing your knuckles (you actually think you might have swooned a little bit) and asked if you’d be so inclined to make this a “regular thing.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You tried to say noncommittally, though you were sure the grin on your face gave away your enthusiasm. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” He asked as he walked backwards towards his friends, face turning a little shy.

You couldn’t help but take the piss for it. “We live in the same castle, Black. I’m sure you’ll see me tomorrow.”

“Cheeky minx.” He called back, though his face remained soft as he shot a wink at you before turning towards his friends.

You started to head towards the castle but watched as Remus pat him on the back and James’ cheered at his friend’s reunion. 

Before you got too far away, you overheard a part of their conversation. Remus asked if he had enjoyed himself, James asked if the two of you were going to do it again, but it was what you heard Peter say that made your heart drop to your stomach.

“So? Was the bet worth it, did you have a nice time?”

A bet…had a nice time, because of a bet?

He made a bet…he asked you out…because of a bet.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You knew better.

You felt sick, you felt foolish, you felt betrayed.

He really was a player; he really was a flirt. He made you feel so special today, and it was all just an act? 

How could you be so naïve?

How could you have believed his whole “I’ve been so nervous to ask you out” bit. You’ve seen him at parties – you’ve seen him with other girls.

You were such an idiot. 

Sirius had really enjoyed himself yesterday. He had to continuously wipe his hands on his jeans as they were clammy with nerves all day, but generally he felt he handled himself okay. 

At least, as good as could be considering he’d completely lost the ability to keep his fucking cool around a pretty girl. 

So, maybe he hadn’t been as smooth as he normally was. But he didn’t think he’d been so bad as to have elicited this reaction from you.

You barely spared him a glance as you marched past him in the Great Hall the following morning, shouldering him as you headed to sit with your friends.

You…you had enjoyed yourself yesterday, right? When the two of you parted, you’d actually expressed interest in seeing him again.

So, why were you ignoring him?

He figured perhaps you just hadn’t noticed him or mistaken him for someone else or some other such thing as he took his place at the Gryffindor table, but not before he spared one more glance at you. 

You looked painfully dejected and one of your friends placed a comforting hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles. She was also glaring at Sirius.

What had he done? 

He had gotten up to go over and ask you, but if he thought he had been intimidated to talk to you before – his intimidation was increased ten-fold at the withering glares your friends all cast at him.

He’d just have to find a chance to chat with you alone.

That chance never came, however, as you seemed to have an entourage escorting you to all of your classes that Monday.

But by the following evening, he couldn’t take it anymore – wouldn’t take it anymore. He’d had a nice time, dammit! And he wanted to enjoy time with you again!

“Are you lost, Black?” One of your friends goaded him as he approached your table in the library. He sucked in a steadying breath as he focused his sights on you. You, who sat unbelievably tense but still never lifted your head from your quill and notebook.

“Y/N? Could we talk for a moment?” He asked quietly.

“No.” Another friend answered for you.

As politely as he could – which was becoming increasingly difficult due to his frayed nerves – he addressed your friend. “With all due respect, Bones, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“No, you were talking to Y/N, right? Why? Did your friends make another bet with you?” She sneered.

Sirius felt his heart fall out of his arse.

He scoffed in disbelief. “You…you mean Pete’s bet?”

You laughed humourlessly and threw your quill down in front of you. “Why? Was there more than one bet, Black?” You spat, finally turning to face him. He was horrified to see your eyes were red and glassy – you were close to crying. 

“No! No, Circe, I-”

“Oh good,” your friend said sarcastically, “there was only one bet. Guess that’s not so bad then.”

“Y/N, please, you have to listen I-”

“Whoa, what’s going on here?” James said as he moved towards Sirius, apparently only having just arrived in the library. Sirius was sort of horrified to notice that some of the surrounding students had turned in their chairs to witness the ultimate downfall of Sirius Black.

That’s right - fuck being formally and officially disowned by his family – this was the undoing of Sirius Orion Black.

“What’s going on is Y/N found out about your lot’s stupid bet.” Your friend announced. Sirius could feel James’ confused face beside him, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from your face as he watched a single tear roll down your cheek. 

“Pete’s bet?” James asked dumbly.

“Yes! Yes, Pete’s bet!” Sirius shouted. He got down on his knees and kneeled in front of you, willing your eyes to him. You denied him the sight, but he supposed he sort of deserved as such. “Pete’s bet, Y/N, to finally get me to stop being a sodding coward and ask you out.” He offered, albeit much more quietly.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t mean to intrude but I can assure you that’s really all it was.” James offered with a pained grimace from where he stood behind Sirius’ crouched form. “We’d been so tired of him convincing us all to hang out in the sodding library just so he could stare at you and never do anything about it. Took us weeks to get him to even start saying hello to you.”

You looked at James, eyebrows furrowing which seemed to cause more tears to fall.

“That makes no sense. I’m not that scary.” You cried.

“No,” Sirius agreed, “you’re just that pretty. That special. That lovely and kind. You’re not scary but you were really intimidating. I was so afraid of botching the whole thing – looks like I kind of did that anyway, huh?”

You were finally looking at him, and Sirius relished in the sight of your eyes meeting his once again, even if they were filled with hurt and tears. He took your two hands in his and ran his thumbs along the backs of your knuckles.

“I begged you for one chance, Y/N. I have no problem begging you for a hundred more. I swear to you, one of these times I’ll get it right.” He promised.

You stared at him for a moment longer before laughing wetly. “Gods, I’m sorry for being so cold. I…I really thought-”

But he cut you off by shaking his head. “I think you were justified. I would have been hurt if I’d overheard that I’d only been asked out on account of a bet. But I promise, it was not malicious.” 

You nodded in understanding and pulled on of your hands away from Sirius’ to wipe away the tear tracks on your face.

“Gods I feel so silly.”

“Let me make it up to you.” Sirius barked quickly. “Right now, come with me. Please?”

You looked at him confusedly for a moment before nodding your head and looking back to your friends. One of them still seemed slightly miffed, so conceded to letting him steal you away from them though she didn’t let you part without shooting him a few more withering glares. 

No matter, Sirius would have time to win over your friends.

Right now, he was more worried about winning you over. And hopefully keeping you this time. 

To start, he’d spend the rest of the night snuggled up to you under stolen blankets from the Gryffindor common room while the two of you watched the stars from the Astronomy tower.

Well, you watched the stars; he spent the evening watching admiring you.

He’d make sure you never felt like the butt of some joke ever again – not if he could help it.

[calolily]

A little Xmas gift for @ayvaines with a delightful little short written by @cweepa under the cut.

As the Fasten Seatbelt sign blinks off, Astarion rubs his temples and gets to his feet. Holidays. He hates working through them.

“Look alive,” someone tells him. One of his colleagues, he reckons, but he doesn’t recognise them. This is, after all, a route he doesn’t get rostered into often. He’s only here at a special request. And it’s not too bad. On one hand, it’s a pretty short flight. On the other, it’s long enough to warrant a meal service.

As children and adults alike begin rushing towards the washroom, Astarion side-steps them elegantly and makes his way towards the galley. There, another attendant is already preparing the meal trolley. They hand it off to him with an apologetic look. He’s the unfortunate sod that drew the short straw today. But truthfully, it’s not all that bad. He rolls the cart down the aisle, repeating the same thing over and over;

“Boar or trout?” Most people pick trout. Astarion can’t fathom why, but perhaps that’s because he doesn’t really care for fish. Then again, he doesn’t really care for this particular job. He’s only here because, well –

“Excuse me.” Astarion turns to an elf on the left. She smiles at him. “Is the trout option meat-free?” He closes his eyes. Opens them, a strained smile on his face.

“No, but if you require a vegetarian option, we do have Blackbark soup.” It’s a dietary request that he’s certain this passenger had not stated prior, but it’s fine. That’s why they have spares.

She nods. “I’ll take that.” And that should be end of it, except when he’s circling back, she snaps her fingers at him. As though he’s a bloody hound. He inhales deeply.

“Yes, ma’am?” “This tastes like meat.” “I assure you, there is no meat in there. It’s made with tree bark.” She’s insistent. “It tastes like a beef stew.” To his annoyance, she’s lifting up the tray and shoving it at him. Soup slops precariously over the edge. He ducks away on instinct.

“Ma’am, please put the tray table down.” She pushes it at him again.

“I don’t think so.” Astarion allows his eyes to dart to the ceiling as he mutters a silent prayer. Forcing a smile onto his face, he leans in close.

“If this is not your liking, I’m sure we can find something else for you to eat.” His gaze flickers down to the metal tray. The implication behind his words is clear.

She settles back in her seat, nose scrunched. But at least she goes back to eating her stew. Sighing, Astarion returns to the galley, where he spends a few peaceful moments cleaning the trolley. That is, until someone begins jabbing at the call button.

The sight that greets him has him contemplating jumping off the plane and into the ocean below. A dragonborn stares at him challengingly.

“Ma’am,” he says, eye twitching imperceptibly.“Please take your feet off the headrest.”

She sniffs at him. “I don’t think I will.” He’s losing his patience, alongside his brain function, because he’s half-holding his breath to stop himself from smelling anything he doesn’t wish to.

“Ma’am, this is not only unsanitary, but you’re disrupting the experience of your fellow passengers. That’s someone else’s headrest you’re using as a footstep.” All gets in return is an audible gasp.

“Are you questioning my personal hygiene?” Astarion stares at her blankly. He can’t help himself.

“It’s a foot.” That should be self-explanatory. Thankfully, he’s saved by the senior attendant in his ear. She tells him to begin collecting the trays. Oh, joy.

The hours tick by in a blur of tantrums – both from babies and adults alike. He catches countless passengers attempting to have a covert cigarette in the bathroom, right beneath the giant NO SMOKING sign.

Someone attempts to hit him with a tray. Ten more try to hit on him. A scandalised mother gets into an altercation with an enraged passenger when her child refuses to stop screaming.

All of Astarion’s limited sympathy flies out the window when he finds out that said child is a bloody teenager. An actual orcish child tries to toss a cup at him. Two seats down, a middle-aged tiefling catches said cup and tries to tuck it into their duffel. Astarion doesn’t care. If they want a souvenir from this blasted flight so badly, they can take it.

He’s barely made his way up the aisle when someone else grabs his sleeve. He’s about to snap at them for touching him, when the woman in question raises a finger to her lips and gestures for him to lean in close.

“I think that couple over there is …” Her voice trails off. Astarion follows her pointed finger and fights the urge to groan out loud. He makes his way across the aisle.

“Sir, ma’am,” he begins. They both look up with varying levels of guilt. “I do hope you know that joining the mile-high club really isn’t as impressive an achievement as the movies make it out to be.” He pauses and narrows his eyes. “Not that you’d be inaugurated there anytime soon. I’ve seen more enthusiasm in wildlife documentaries.” Ignoring their sputtered excuses, Astarion stomps away.

The relief he feels is immense.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Astarion ducks into the galley for a moment. It’s thankfully empty. He runs trembling hands along his hair, trying to smooth it back into place for disembarkation.

“Astarion.”

He looks up, a polite service-smile already straining the too-dry skin of his face. A moment of peace amidst this madhouse is immeasurably precious. He’s this close to cracking, his temples radiating with a growing pain that is becoming increasingly hard to ignore.

His shoulders slump visibly as a familiar face appears in his field of vision: solid arms outstretched, faint circles beneath his eyes, but his bearded jaw curved upwards in an unmistakable grin. The tension from the flight leaves him immediately.

And for the first time that day, Astarion smiles back.

Holidays.

He hates working through them, but really, it’s not all that bad when your husband is the one flying the plane

[littlest-w01f]

Lady Bloodshed

Cassian x Assasin!OC (Kiera)

CASSIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: She was the deadliest assassin in the Night Court, someone who could do anything for the right amount. Her newest mission was to take down the general of Night Court, but something held her back once she was face-to-face with him

Cw: Suggestive MDNI

part one - part two - part three

The Court of Nightmares was silent, hushed whispers flowed in the air, the clicks of heels sounded, and the owner of those heels smiled at the people who skittered away at the closeness with her, she stood in front of the diaz where the High Lord sat, his inner circle surrounding him.

"Happy winter solstice, My lord." Kiera bowed in greeting, her red glittering dress flowing perfectly down her toned body, the bodice sticking to her upper body like a second skin, gold and diamonds decorating her neck, shoulders and arms, a tiara on her head, a deep blood red siphons on the back of both her hands, her hair was half up in a bun and the rest flowed down to her hips.

"Kiera," The High Lord said strained, "It is a surprise to see you here, lady."

Lady. Lady Bloodshed. The subtle title made her smirk, "It usually is, my lord. Can't a female enjoy a party?" She raised her brow at him, Rhysand knew she wouldn't cower to him, he had stopped trying years ago.

"Of course, you can." His voice didn't match his words, she could see the gears in his head turning, trying to figure out what she was up to. She took that as her leave and moved to the table set up with different types of wine, taking a chalice and drinking deep.

She felt someone approach her before they could even get within arms reach of her. She spun around a knife that was in her bodice now that the male's throat.

Cassian raised his hands in surrender, his own glass of wine in hand, a deep chuckle leaving his lips, "Now, now, my lady, I'm just here to introduce myself to the female called my darker half."

Introduce, because they weren't the same people they were while they were faelings.

"Of course," Kiera smiled, setting her knife back to her bodice in a way that Cassian couldn't figure out, "Lord of bloodshed."

"In the flesh," Cassian smirked, his siphons glowing red with a slight pride in them.

Kiera turned away from him to walk but Cassian followed, "Did Rhysand ask you to babysit me? I think we stopped that years ago."

The four of them had been friends, her, Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel, they had been close, but now they were merely familiars. She had taken the counterpart of his title after she had left the adoptive brothers, as an insult or to use as an extension, she couldn't decide.

Cassian gave her a grin, "Well, Rhysand thinks whoever you are here to kill might just be under out noses."

Right under your nose. She didn't say. She was here to assassinate him, Cassian, the general of Rhysand's armies, Lord of bloodshed. But he bathed in blood during war, she had grown up around it.

"Well, whoever poor sod it is, should feel lucky they are under the High Lord's protection." Kiera chuckled, letting him walk with her.

"So, would you like to dance, my lady?" Cassian asked curiously, a smile still playing on his lips as he offered her his hand.

She looked at his hand, she needed him vulnerable if she were to take his life, so she agreed.

Perhaps it was a mistake, to accept his offer. Kiera thought as he twirled her the music, the rest of the inner circle had also joined in on the drinking and dancing under the eyes of their High lord.

Cassian and Kiera were shamelessly using the dancing as an excuse to feel each other up, two hundred years, it had been two hundred years since the last time they had met. Cassian had changed a lot physically, a lot more than she had, and she did not pass up the opportunity to feel his biceps from over his clothes.

They danced in the middle of the halls, Cassian's hands held her tightly, feeling up her waist and hands, a smirk on his lips as he couldn't help but note how much smaller her hand was in his.

She tried to ignore the feeling of his hands feeling up her body, the teasing smile that formed on his face as he brought her in closer, "For someone with such a feared background, I thought you would've gotten taller. At least you are a little more muscular."

"Oh, Cassian, you know what they say about small packages..." Kiera rolled her eyes at that, trying to not let the fact that she had to tilt her chin up to even see him get to her. "We carry more of a punch."

Cassian twirled her around so she was pressed chest to back to him, his hands feeling on her waist, then she realised, he was looking for where she hid her knives. "Well, this package here isn't small in any sense. Never really has been. Still has the same punch though."

"Is it always sexual innuendos with you, Cassian?" She inhales sharply, feeling something poke her at the base of her spine.

"Not just innuendo, my sweetheart." She could feel his hands inching towards her breasts as he leaned down to whisper. "I could show it to you really well."

Hours. It had been hours of them simply dancing and having their back and forth. Teasing touches all over, Kiera found her hands playing with the base of his wings, teasing the membranous wings that he carried, hence the hardness she felt pressed against her now.

She turned around to look at him, her hand once again tracing the thick membrane of his wing, both their eyes dark in lust as Cassian growled, "I'm taking you home, my sweetheart, sorry, my lady bloodshed."

Kiera smirked, he had given her a chance to pull away, but she reached up on her tiptoes, licking across his lips when something in him snapped as he gripped her tightly in his arms and flew her up and out of Hewn City, the scent of their arousal making the other crazy as it coated the air.

{Cassian Taglist: @novalovi}

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Ravenous (Part 3)

Pairing: Steven Grant x Avatar!Reader, slight Marc Spector x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 4420

Warnings: Violence, language, canon divergence, angst, fluff

Summary: He mostly resided in Marc’s mind, hiding in reflections or fading into obscurity during missions. He was a risk, a liability to both you and Marc, and he had no desire to get in the way and cause more harm.

Hey! I'm new to the Moon Knight fandom :) Hope you all like this thing I wrote.

This is the final part! Thank you to those who came along for the ride, I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart :)

And (again) special thank you to @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for making the gorgeous moodboard and beta reading this monstrosity. ILY <3 Check out her work, you won't be disappointed!

Part 1, Part 2

When Steven saw you again, it was through the eyes of Marc.

It always felt strange being on the other side. He hadn't gotten used to it as Marc had after so many years. It was like being wrapped in tin foil, tightly pressed, and compacted until he was nothing more than a tiny ball of mass. 

It felt awful. Suffocating.

Steven noted his surroundings. He wasn’t sure where you both were.

It was hot, blazing even, the sun unforgiving as it beat down over them. Steven was unfamiliar with the landscape. It looked like something out of a National Geographic magazine or one of those nature documentaries he’d sometimes watch. They were obviously quite far from London.

It was a dry climate, the ground below cracked and powdery, bits of dust flying about with the arid breeze. 

You were both kneeling behind a massive dead bush at a cliff edge, peering down at something Steven couldn’t make out.

You weren’t in your suit, he noticed, and neither was Marc, which made him think you weren’t on a mission. 

That was odd. 

Were you both having…a moment? And in a foreign country? Steven didn't know the extent of your interactions with Marc other than Khonshu and Sekhmet's missions. He was blacked out for most of them, lost in darkness while you both did whatever it was you had to do.

It unsettled him, just as it did the night you weren't healing. And why should it? He had his Tarzan moment with you, hands briefly touching—and what? Was something supposed to come from that? Steven didn't think so.

Marc was better suited for you, he always thought so. He understood the moral ramifications of being an avatar. He understood the pain and guilt of it. He understood the exhaustion. 

"Steven," Marc suddenly spoke, his American accent cutting hard through the silence, "I can feel you brooding, man, calm down. You're making my stomach hurt."

Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to do that. Where are we, anyway?

"Kenya."

In bloody Africa? 

"Your geography skills are outstanding, buddy."

Wanker. What are we doing here?

"We're on a mission for lion lady." 

Oh, so it was a mission, then. Steven thought you did those alone. After all, you made most of your moves during the early morning hours while Marc and Steven moved exclusively at night. 

What about your suits?

“Not yet,” Marc grumbled, “now keep quiet.”

Oi, don't do that. What’s the sodding mission? 

Steven could hear Marc sigh in annoyance and if there were any reflections nearby he could use, he knew he would’ve seen Marc rolling his eyes by now. It was a trait they, unfortunately, both shared.

“Would ya stop askin’ so many questions?”

“A pair of imbeciles.” You muttered to yourself, your hawk eyes trained on whoever it was you had to kill.

“You mean a trio? You’re giving yourself way too much credit there, sweetheart.” Marc countered back, smirking when you stuck your tongue out at him.

Was that you being charming? Marc, you absolute prick.

“Can’t be helped, it’s in the genes.”

“What, being an asshole?” You jokingly asked before adding, “You do ask a ton of questions, though, Steven.”

Is she taking the piss? Unbelievable.

You were amused, Steven could tell even through the slight haziness of his vision. He’d learned to read you better, and although he wasn’t fluent in your language, he viewed it as progress. 

He could make out your profile, the tip of your nose, the upward curve of your lips. 

You were squinting, eyes fighting against the brightness of the sun. You had a pair of binoculars that hung around your neck through which you looked periodically. 

The sight of you made Steven want to take over, wanting to push Marc into the darkness of their dusty mind if it meant he could spend a couple of quiet moments with you. 

He was like a lovesick schoolboy. As if you’d ever have him in that way. 

You were tough, a fighter, and one hell of a woman, and he was just...Steven. He liked books and Egypt. And he liked you. A lot.

It felt strange admitting that to himself but there it was.

“Poachers, Steven,” you finally answered, as if you heard him ask the question in your own mind, “we’re hunting lion poachers.”

Seriously? 

“Their pelts are being sold in the black market.” Marc continued. 

“And naturally, Sekhmet isn’t too happy about it," you added, peeking through the binoculars, "They're moving camp, that's our queue."

Why are we even here?

"Khonshu's orders. The stupid bird can't say no to the love of his life."

You snorted at Marc's statement, tossing the binoculars aside and letting your suit engulf you in a blur of red. "It's time," you looked over at Marc with glowing eyes, "you ready or what?”

“Yeah,” Marc grunted in response, letting the white wrappings of his suit slither over his limbs like snakes, “but you’re helping us with that damn scarab later.”

“Not like I have much of a choice, Spector,” you pointed out, “I’m gonna get a head start. Oh, and Steven?” you regarded Marc carefully, hoping Steven was listening, “don’t fight Marc on this, you fucking hear me? Let him deal with it or Sekhmet won’t be happy.” There was an edge in your tone, a sharpness that didn't go unnoticed. With that, you hopped off the cliff edge, a fall that would’ve easily killed anyone else but was nothing short of elegant when you landed on your feet.

What does she mean by that? Steven panicked, watching you slowly descend on the hunting party, just as a lion would, with a lack of fear and an unnatural grace in every one of your movements. 

Marc sighed.

“The reason Sekhmet didn’t heal her the night we fought Ammit and her disciples was that she got hurt trying to save us, Steven, trying to save you.”

Steven remained silent, processing the information.

He remembered. 

He remembered his anxiety, his overwhelming fear that struck him like lightning during the fight. And he remembered your face, the panic as rare as gemstones that was etched over your features.

So it was his fault, really. 

You were growing “soft” because of him. You were punished by an immortal being because of him.

“I know you care for her,” Marc cut into his thoughts, hopping off the ledge of the cliff once he saw you attack, never breaking a sweat or losing his breath, “Christ, she’s pricklier than a fucking cactus, but I care about her, too. And that’s why I’m better suited for these missions. You got a lot to learn. Khonshu is a bastard, but lion lady is worse. Remember that.”

Screams erupted from the campsite, and Marc joined you in the massacre.

»»————-　☾　————-««

Steven rarely took the body after that.

He mostly resided in Marc’s mind, hiding in reflections or fading into obscurity during missions. He was a risk, a liability to both you and Marc, and he had no desire to get in the way and cause more harm.

He felt useless, utterly inadequate.

He lost his job at the museum, no thanks to Harrow and his disciples. Marc handled the situation but Steven had to deal with the consequences, sitting in an office full of his superiors insinuating he was going fucking bonkers. 

It was humiliating, to say the least.

The little business card his boss had given him to seek help was in the trash bin later that day, ripped up by Marc almost immediately after taking control for another mission. “Nothing’s wrong with us,” Marc had snapped, “don’t let these people fill your head with bullshit.”

As if their mind could handle any more bullshit.

With no job, Steven kept to himself, only taking full control in his flat where he felt most comfortable, surrounded by his favorite books and a good cup of coffee in his hands.

But his absence didn’t go unnoticed. 

“So, Steven’s ignoring me, huh?” You asked one night after a mission, leaning against your kitchen counter, watching Marc devour his takeout. Thankfully, you both made it back in time before the last Chinese restaurant in your neighborhood closed for the night. “What’s wrong with him? I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

You’d drop by Steven’s flat occasionally, either after a mission or just because you were bored, mostly lonely, but he never made much of an appearance. You saw him less and less and fought alongside Marc a lot more, anger and viciousness clouding your every waking moment.

“I wouldn’t call it ignorin’,” Marc answered with a mouth full of steaming rice, “you know how…sensitive he is.”

I am not bloody sensitive! 

Marc ignored him, devouring the rest of his veggie stir fry eagerly. 

You looked irritated, arms crossed over your chest, eyes as sharp as knives, and lips set in a tight line. It had been a while since Steven had seen that look on your face, such a while in fact that you seemed like an entirely different person already. He watched you grow snappish and irritable again. 

Sekhmet must have reveled in it, purring like a house cat in your mind after every kill, feeding off you like a parasite.

"Sensitive about what? Not fighting? Because—"

"It's not that. Not exactly."

Marc, you better not.

"Then what is it?" You insisted, your gaze steady on Marc, hoping to catch just one glimpse of Steven in those dark eyes.

"Jesus, am I not enough for you, sweetheart?" Marc joked, something he'd been doing more of lately, and usually, you gave in to the flirty banter and the bickering, but this time you weren't amused.

You liked Marc, and that was saying a lot. You were similar in more ways than you could count and it was nice to be in the company of someone who understood you. It was like looking into a mirror sometimes, the reflection familiar and comfortable. 

But you liked Steven, too, and that was saying even more. His absence was loud, and you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it to them, but you had missed him way more than you probably should have.

"I will snap you in half." You threatened Marc, grabbing the closest object on the counter, a wooden chopstick, thankfully, and sent it flying across the kitchen toward Marc. He caught it with ease, using the one stick to stab into a piece of broccoli before shoving it in his mouth.

"You gotta understand, Steven isn't like us. He actually has…feelings, ya know?" Your brows furrowed at the comment.

Way to go, Marc, that was brilliant. Exactly what she wants to hear, you twat.

"Probably why she likes you a lot more, huh?" Marc muttered quietly, taking a swig of his canned beer before continuing in a louder tone, "Steven just doesn't want to see you hurt because of him." You snorted.

"I'll be fine—"

"No, you don't fucking get it," Marc's tone changed suddenly, the timbre of his voice shifting into something much lower, "he doesn't want to be the reason lion lady punishes you any further. He blames himself. You may not think much of it, or even care, but Steven does. We both do." 

Can you just kill me? Is that possible, Marc? Ask Khonshu.

“Shut up, Steven,” Marc growled, and Steven hyper-focused on your eyes as they narrowed, probably even more irked knowing he was conscious and listening.

“Doesn’t mean he has to hide all the time.” You snapped, annoyed with your own reaction. You were revealing way too much of yourself.

“You can take that up with him, sweetheart.”

“How?” You barked, your shoulders sagging down in defeat. You were quiet after that, the plastic Tupperware in your hands sweating from the heat of your forgotten food.

I’ve gone and made things worse, haven't I?

“He’s not doing it to hurt you, you know.” Marc ran a hand through his dark curls. He wanted a way to pacify you both, but his need to protect Steven was strong.

“I’m not hurt.” You argued.

“Mhm.” Marc wasn’t convinced.

“It’s fine,” you said with a shrug, tossing your uneaten food into your empty fridge, rubbing your tired eyes, “I'm going to bed. you can stay if you want, or not, doesn't really matter."  

Before heading to your bedroom you looked over your shoulder, a look in your eyes they've never seen before.

“I have feelings too, you know,” you said, directing it to both Marc and Steven, “may not seem that way because I’m always, ya know,” you aimlessly waved a hand around to help with your point, “angry.” You shrugged, your vulnerability cracking through.

"Tell Steven not to beat himself up. I can handle Sekhmet. I would risk her wrath anytime if it meant keeping him safe. Both of you,” You paused for just a second to collect your thoughts, “he’s not alone. He should know that by now.” Your face hardened again as if you didn't say a heartfelt thing at all. And then you retreated into your room, the door immediately closing. 

“Since when did I become the messenger and the fucking therapist?” Marc rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter. 

I dunno but you’re quite shit at it, mate. 

“I know. But I think that was the nicest thing I’ve ever heard her say.”

Should I go talk to her? I feel like a twit. Steven answered with a sigh.

"Give her some time." Marc tossed out his Tupperware, padding over to your old sofa and taking a seat with a deep sigh.

Shouldn’t we go?

"Wanna make sure she's okay.”

What happened to ‘she’s a grown woman, she can handle herself’?

“Shut up, Steven,” Marc muttered, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

☾☾☾

In the morning, it was Steven who woke up.

He was still in the same position Marc had fallen asleep in except there was a blanket draped over him.

He looked around your empty flat with heavy eyes, stretching his legs and flexing his toes.

Running his hands through his hair he felt something stuck to his forehead. It was a yellow sticky note with red ink scrawled over it in what he assumed was your chicken scratch handwriting. Leave it to you to have nothing in your flat but vodka, sticky notes, and a red pen.

Out on a mission.

Fishermen off the coast of Scotland.

There are keys on the coffee table if you want them.

Shifting his eyes toward the coffee table there were two keys held by a metal keyring neatly placed over the false wood. Steven reached forward and grabbed them, feeling the weight of them in his palm before jamming them into the pocket of Marc’s sweats.

He looked over at the window. It was still early in the morning. 

He might as well stay around until you come back if only to talk.

☾☾☾

Steven was in your small kitchen, shuffling around making lunch when he heard a loud bang from your bedroom before you emerged, your red suit still on.

He was startled at first only remembering a second later that you had a ceiling window and that you probably slithered in that way. 

You stared at him, confusion clouding your features.

“Hey, Grouch.” He greeted you, his hands immediately moving forward over his front to twiddle his fingers together in his anxiousness. His accent wasn’t so obvious in his greeting but the separating factor between him and Marc were the nicknames they had for you.

“Steven Grant? Could it really be you?” The sarcasm radiated off you as you slowly shuffled forward, exhaustion clear in the way you carried yourself, “What are you doing here?” Your suit disappeared, revealing your usual cargo pants, t-shirt, and Steven’s denim jacket.

“Oh, you know, just makin’ some lunch,” he shrugged as if it were a usual occurrence, cooking in your kitchen, "you hungry?"

He had prepared veggie burgers with sweet potato chips in the one pan you owned, presenting them on paper plates he had to grab from the store since you didn't even have that in your kitchen cupboard. Steven offered you the plate when you finally approached him, holding the burger between the two of you like a peace offering.

You look between Steven and the plate as if there were danger lurking behind his intentions. You were still in adrenaline mode from your mission, your chest heaving a bit from the climb into the ceiling window. 

He watched as you grasped the plate tightly in your hand, tight enough to disintegrate the paper if you really wanted to.

You scanned the burger and chips, your stomach growling at the smell.

"I'm mad at you." You finally muttered, picking at a chip and shoving it into your mouth.

“Uh, I know,” Steven said, twiddling his fingers again, willing his heart to stop hammering in his chest, “I just wanted to make lunch and talk about it, I s’pose.” He beamed as soon as you bit into the veggie burger, pleased with himself when you closed your eyes for a moment in approval of the taste.

“So talk.” You urged with your mouth full, leaning against your counter as you always did when eating.

“Uh, well…” shit. He didn’t plan this far ahead. 

A huff escaped you as you set your paper plate down on the counter beside Steven’s. 

He could swear an amused glint flashed in your eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? Or am I gonna have to force it out of you?” You asked, picking up a chip and using it to point at him before pressing it past your lips. 

Steven watched your movements for a moment before sighing and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I dunno, guess I’ve been feelin’ like a burden lately. A proper twit. I lost my job, ya know.” He couldn’t meet your gaze, keeping his sight on his barely touched food. 

“Fuck 'em, they didn’t deserve you. Too smart for them anyway.” You popped another chip in your mouth, savoring the subtle sweetness before noting Steven’s sad eyes. “You’re worried.” You concluded.

“Why didn’t you tell me what lion lady was doing to you was because of me?” 

“Because I didn’t want to worry you, Steven,” you sighed, “‘sides, there are too many factors involved. And I’m just…tired. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Of course, I’m going to bloody worry!” He didn’t realize how close you both have gotten to each other, eyes now locked completely, “I care about you, Grouch!” There was silence after his declaration, something as simple as those words rang loud and heavy between them. “Worry is all I do if you haven’t noticed.” He added quietly.

You blinked up at him, a smirk stretching across your lips as you watched him squirm under your intense gaze. 

“You care about me?” You snorted with a shake of your head, “I’m a nightmare to deal with, you know this.”

“Oh no, love,” Steven defended, grasping your hand in his, “you’re not so bad once your shell cracks a bit.” You looked down at both his hands clasped over your own, feeling the warmth that radiated off him. You were cold, Steven realized, but he let go of your hand, suddenly extremely self-conscious.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” you said, just as quietly, “I care about you, too. More than you know.”  

The admission had Steven shuffle back as if he received a punch to the gut. His lips parted in an attempt to say something, anything, but words failed him. 

“I guess it’s true, I’m getting soft, huh?” You joked as your eyes fluttered down to his lips, watching how his tongue darted out to moisten them before you surged forward to kiss him. 

It was short and sweet, so unlike you in the face of a fight. Just a light tap that promised so much more. You licked his lower lip, tugging on it gently with your teeth before pulling away. 

You didn’t get far as Steven curled his hand over the back of your neck, pulling you close again to steal another kiss from you.

It was a clash of teeth in the beginning before he found his rhythm, his lips learning to move in sync with your own. The tip of his tongue poked out every so often to clumsily offer you little kitten licks. 

You hummed, bringing your body flush against his, sighing once you felt his warm hand grip your waist, hesitantly at first, his thumb drawing tiny circles over the skin under your t-shirt.

Steven was on fucking cloud nine. 

You tasted a bit sweet from the chips and a bit savory from the veggie burger, but the tiniest taste of iron lingered and settled on his tongue. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of you ravenous and wild just before this.

He felt your fingers dance over his arms, gripping his bicep so tight that a whimper escaped him, and you took the opportunity to plunge your tongue into his mouth to explore, your hands moving to run your fingers through his messy curls. You tugged the dark strands, gently at first and then a bit rougher, exposing his neck to you. You dragged your nose over his exposed skin, breathing in his scent before licking a stripe up the delicate skin.

“You’re killing me, love,” Steven whined as you smiled against his skin, his eyes closing as he savored your touch. He pulled away from you for only a moment to drag his lips over your brow in a fleeting kiss, pulling you back in for a tight hug and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t want you to get hurt ‘cause of me.” He mumbled into your skin, his nose catching the scent of the Scottish sea in your hair. You shifted in his arms so that you could look him in the eyes. 

“I need you to trust me when I say I can handle Sehkmet,” you run your thumb over the concerned lines that wrinkled his brow, your touch so gentle despite the damage you could truly cause, “I’ve been her avatar long enough to appease her. What you’re not gonna do,” You continued, jabbing your finger into his chest with force to make your point clear, “is run into a fight you’re not ready for, like a proper twit.”

Steven would’ve smiled at your use of one of his terms if he weren’t so embarrassed. His cheeks were blazing. How could he be with someone who he couldn’t protect? He couldn’t even protect himself.

That’s why you have me, idiot.

Steven turned to look at the glass of your cupboard, the reflection revealing Marc's stern eyes looking back at him. But there was something else swimming in his eyes, something dark and sad and just a bit lonely, but Steven couldn’t focus on it for too long, not when you were pressed against him like a cat begging for attention.

“I don’t mean to say it in a hurtful way,” you clarified, turning his cheek back so that his eyes met yours again, “Marc is better suited for the missions. For now. That’s not to say you can’t fight, I’ve seen you in action. You pack a mean punch,” Steven felt his chest puff out in pride, deflating a tad when you continued, “but I’d rather not see you hurt either, got it?” The sternness in your tone suddenly crept up and had Steven squirming again for entirely different reasons.

“Got it, boss,” Steven said, a goofy smile forming over his lips that was as blinding as the sun, though it disappeared as quickly as it came when it was swapped for one of his more serious looks. “Just one thing.”

“Mm?”

“You can talk to me, ya know. That whole bottling-up emotions thing you and Marc do? That’s not healthy. You can talk to me. Please.” His eyes were so sincere, so full of love that you could’ve melted right then and there. Since when did Steven have that kind of power over you?

You pursed your lips in thought and Steven had to suppress the urge to rush forward to capture your lips again, choosing instead to patiently await your answer. 

“Got it, boss,” you ultimately decided, repeating his own words, “I’ll try my best.” 

“Promise?”

“Mhm.”

“Brilliant.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” you shoved your hand in your pocket, presenting Steven with a crinkled piece of paper, “I got you a postcard.” 

Steven took it delicately in his hands, smoothing out the postcard gently over the counter. It was an illustrated image of the Loch Ness monster, with the words ‘Greetings from Scotland’ written in white cursive over the top. He laughed, holding the postcard gingerly in his hands before turning to you with bright round eyes. 

“It’s going right up with the rest of ‘em. Gus’ll be happy. Thank you, it's brilliant.” 

You did what you always did and shrugged off his appreciation, taking another bite of your now-cold veggie burger. “It’s nothing,” you insisted, watching how Steven shuffled from foot to foot, his eyes still trained on his new postcard. “What’s wrong?” 

“We’re gonna get out of this, yeah? Somehow. All three of us. We’re getting out of this.”

“Steven, what are you talking about?” 

“This whole avatar mess,” he elaborated, “we’ll find a way out. There has to be another way.” 

“You know that’s not possible. Sekhmet and Khonshu are too hungry for chaos and revenge. They need us.” 

“But it’s good to hope, innit?” He said, his eyes catching yours now, laced with a child-like yearning. 

“Yeah, it's good to hope,” you put your paper plate down, “especially when you’re not alone.” You grabbed the front of his hoodie, Marc’s hoodie, in a tight fist, pulling him in for another bruising kiss. “We have each other, right?”

Steven only hummed into the kiss, his lips hungry, searching for the different parts of you he wanted to explore. His hands grasped the collar of his denim jacket tightly dragging you closer, all his fear and anxiousness disappearing for this one moment.

“I should probably give your jacket back now, huh?” You muttered over his lips, laughing when impatient noises bubbled out of him.

“It’s already yours, love, now shut up and kiss me.”

»»————-　☾　————-««

Part 1, Part 2

...

Taglist:

@local-mr-frog @yumeillu @parkeepingparker @woofgocows @ladythomsen @sansaorgana @rosecentaur1916

[halfmoonshines]

Hello! I saw your post of Moon Knight and i was wondering if you can accept this idea.

Is based on the 2nd episode. Where Steven met with Harrow, but Reader (Steven's friend) is there too because she doesn't want him/them to be alone and hurt. By that Harrow sees that reader is a good soul and he wants her as a sacrifice for Ammit when they resurrect her or something like that.

So Steven gets over protective and stuff happens when he's fighting the jackal, like in the end she gets caught while she was looking for the scarab and Khonshu sees everything.

I'm sorry if this is large but i liked to share this scenario, it's okay if you don't want to make it or want to change some stuff.

Hi hello yes sorry I've been slow with prompts I have just been dog tired the last couple of days, but I love it!

Steven Grant x F!Reader, Marc Spector x F!Reader if you squint

Consequence

summary: You're selfless, always have been. You'll give the shirt off of your back and last dollar to those who need it, so when you find out that your best friend is in danger - of course you stick with him. Though, it makes you a target for something more sinister.

(Non-Layla fic ((even though shes a baddie)), reader is in possession of the scarab. This is not proof read because I'm lazy.)

"May I ask why you joined us here? I believe I only asked for Steven to be retrieved." Harrow was walking the both of you down the cobblestone path, explaining the once sordid history of the area.

He would have you fooled for a good man if you were a complete idiot.

"He's my best friend and I had the feeling that he might need my help, so here I am." Was your simple reply. The smile that Steven tossed you was brimming with appreciation.

Harrow seemed to drink your words in, eyes narrowing at the same time. "Interesting."

It only took twenty minutes for it all to fall to shit, and it had to be expected.

It started with the suggestion of a sacrifice.

"Ammit is true justice. Able to stop evil at the source. Wouldn't you want to pull the weeds in the garden before they suffocate the rest of the crop?" Harrow knew how to spew a good sermon, but you were nowhere near close to buying it.

"That seems evil in itself. People are changeable creatures, surely a millennia old god knows that." You countered.

Steven had his hand on your leg, you could feel the fear in that touch. But Harrow was just staring at you with a look you couldn't quite place."

"You seem like a very good person, Y/N. Down to your core."

A compliment was unexpected.

"Uhm, thank you?" You hesitantly replied, glancing to Steven before zeroing back in on the man across from you.

"To bring Ammit back, truly back, it would require a sacrifice. One of pure good. I'm sure you'd be willing to help with that, wouldn't you? Knowing it's for the sake of the world?

Okay now that was the unexpected part.

"What?" Steven demanded incredulously before you could even get a word out. "You steal us away, corral us here with the intent of getting us to bend to your will and have the audacity to suggest that she offer herself as a sacrifice for you?" His voice had gotten progressively louder, a hard edge you'd never heard from him before.

"Steven, I merely meant-"

"I know damn well what you mean, you old sod. We're leaving." He stood abruptly, grabbing hold of your hand to pull you up with him.

"This is unfortunate." Harrow interrupted your hasty escape, going to take a step in front of you. "Give me the scarab. I can sense it on you." An arm was outstretched while the people in the room seemed to converge on you and Steven slowly.

You swallowed thickly, mind darting to the different exits before you made a hasty plan. Tossing the scarab to Steven, you grabbed a hold of his arm and dragged him up a nearby incline, hoping to get to the second floor.

"What are we doing?" Your companions voice was almost a squeak as he hurried behind you, Harrow's chanting echoing off of the buildings walls.

"Running."

The whole two years of self defense classes you'd taken had better come in handy, because it was now or never. You threw a punch at the man approaching you two, knocking him off balance enough to kick him off of the stairs before continuing on your escape route.

"That was awesome." You heard Steven's haggard breathing behind you.

You had, unfortunately, come into a room with no discernible exit. You went over to the window to gaze down while you heard Steven.. fighting with himself? Fighting with the man who lived inside of him, at least. Having a veritable freak out while something big was pounding on the door you'd locked behind yourselves.

Walking back over to him, you latched onto his arms and directed his attention back to you. "Steven. I don't know what he's saying to you, but you've got to calm down. We can get out of this."

He decided to momentarily ignore how you seemed to know about Marc. "I can't do this."

"Yes you can." You replied firmly, trying to put all of the reassurances you could into your smile. "You've survived this before, you can do it again. You need to listen to Marc."

He was floundering, mouth sitting open while he shook his head, the beast at the door one hit from breaking through. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. So sorry. I can't."

You were out of time.

Whatever it was was... invisible to you? Just the low snarling you could hear and Steven's scream of Jackal was all you had to be sure you weren't going crazy.

Whatever it was had Steven falling out of the window in five seconds flat.

You ran over to the side, relieved to see Steven very much alive and decked out in some sort of white suit - you assumed that's what kept him from being splattered on the pavement.

You also noticed the golden glint of the scarab that had skittered across the dark road. Choosing to fight the battle you could actually see, you shimmied down the drain pipe that lined the building, landing with a dull thud.

Maybe I should start stretching in the morning, just in case we end up in some ridiculous battle. You thought wryly.

You were across the street quickly, attention half on the fight Steven was having with the air - Jackal - but you knew every other Londoner on the street must just think he was drunk.

Life's gotten weird, lately.

You bent over to pick up the scarab with a triumphant smile, but you're split attention was dangerous. You didn't hear the man approaching behind you until he had grabbed you roughly, both arms pinned behind your back with one of his as the other took the little gold scarab, handing it out to his left.

Harrow stood there, one hand on his cane and the other clutching his new prize while he looked over the other one. "Too bad poor Steven is indisposed. Ammit will be very happy with my offering."

His words sent a chill to your bones, but you didn't have long to think about it before whoever was holding you sent a blow to your head, leaving darkness behind.

Khonshu stood a few meters away, thoughts stewing as he watched Harrow take his scarab and the girl away.

He found his Avatar a few blocks away, knelt next to a fountain with sweat dripping from his brow.

"I'll find the scarab." Marc said without looking to the god, jaw clenched.

"It's too late. Harrow has it, and your companion."

"What?" Marc demanded, eyes coming up to meet the hollow holes in the gods head.

"What?" Khonshu could hear Steven parrot, panic in his voice.

The deity gave a shrug, strolling away from the pair. "I would figure it out rather quickly, if I was you."

[hops-hunny]

Stories That Are Told

Pairing: Tarrant “Hatter” Hightopp x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: (Y/n)’s so used to being the background character in everyone’s story that she forget she can be the main character in her own.

Warnings: Slight angst but majority fluff!

A/N: I love this man with my whole being omg pls

Stumbling into Wonderland with Alice had been a wonderful thing for not only Alice, but (Y/n) as well. For Alice it was an escape from all the things she didn’t wanna do and would never wanna do. She wasn’t forced to marry some sod of a guy who’d make her miserable for the rest of her life or to be the proper lady she was expected to be, but instead she got a taste of freedom. And although it was an escape for (Y/n) as well, it was an escape of a different kind.

In the other world, with it’s dreary skies and monotonous patterns and cycles, (Y/n) lived a very humdrum life. Her family had never been as fortunate as Alice in any ways of the sorts, it was a miracle that they were friends to begin with. Alice’s father had been friends with (Y/n)’s since boyhood and because of that, he always made sure they knew they were welcome to anything of his that they wished. And while (Y/n)’s father had never taken advantage of that from the way Alice’s mother treated (Y/n) and her family, it wouldn’t be hard to think otherwise.

When Charles was still around, she hadn’t done anything out of line. The older woman always kept to herself, occasionally having an afternoon cup of tea with her own mom. However, her true colors and feelings came to light after the passing of her husband. During the next few months after her husband’s absence, the (L/n)s were there for Kingsleighs. Although they didn’t have the funds to help them monetarily (for they also didn’t need it), they offered their labor and services to the two as much as they needed. Farm work, house cleaning, garden maintenance. Anything you could think they had done. But as soon as Helen was well (as well as you could be after losing someone so dear) , she had forbid them from coming to their property. She didn’t believe her and Alice should associate with people of “such low stature” because it didn’t “align with their image”. But that had never stopped Alice.

Anywhere Alice went, (Y/n) was always there by her side right along with her. They practically went everywhere together and that hadn’t changed since they arrived in Wonderland. (Y/n) was grateful that she had chased after her friend. It was like she knew something would happen. Afterall, crazy things always happen when you put two curious girls together for more than a moment. The friends they had made since they arrived were nothing short of lovely. She knew her sister would describe them as odd characters and disturbing individuals. Telling her to stay far away from them and to not associate herself with those types. But what was wrong with being odd or even disturbing? The only things worth doing in life were a bit odd and disturbing and if that made her peculiar than so be it. 

For the first time in her life, she felt as though she belonged. Sure, it wasn’t her story nor her destiny to be here as it was Alice but that did not mean she did not appreciate Wonderland for what it was. The story had never been her story, not here, and certainly not where they were from. Alice was the main chat and she was the topic that would get trickled in after. 

“Everyone has a part to play, (Y/n). Even if it is not large or as set in stone, each person’s role is necessary for the story to progress, even yours. You’ll see.” the words of that tricky caterpillar replayed in her head over and over again whenever she had a moment to think. What had he meant by that? Was her story not more than to be here in support of her dearest friend and the latest edition to their friends? Was she not just a tool in the scheme of things? (Y/n) had never known people of lesser importance as herself to contribute much of anything big to a legacy as large as Alice’s! 

From her end of the table, she watched as Hatter threw his hat high into the air before it landed on his head causing everyone to erupt in a jostled mess of laughter and cheering. She smiled fondly from a far. Tarrant was a kind man. No matter what was going on or where they were, he always had a way of making her feel included. That’s just who he was. He had known what it was like to feel excluded from things and the last thing he’d wanna do is be the cause of that for someone else. But it was nothing more than his nature, that’s it.

“You know, you should just tell him how you feel.” a velvety voice sounded from beside her ear causing her to jump. The (h/c) haired girl glared at the purple cat, reaching a hand to swat him away but he disappeared once more before appearing on her other side. “He watches you often, even when there is not many around to see. But I always do of course.” The Cheshire cat said in a sure tell tone. The girl scoffed at him, shoving another small pastry into her mouth.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your jokes today, cat. So if you’ve come to mock my feelings during my 2nd to last day in Wonderland, I wish you well and send you off.” she huffed out, crossing her arms across her chest, turning her gaze away from him back to Tarrant who was already looking at her. The Hatter gave her a secret wink and a smile before turning back to the March Hare who seemed rather frazzled about something. Or perhaps excited. But once again, the grinning cat appeared in front of her face once more.

“Silly girl, you ignore the plain truth in front of you? I can see why you and Alice get along so well, both of you can be quite foolish. Oh well, the story isn’t over yet after all.” and with that he was gone. What did he mean by that? The story was clearly over. Alice had done what she set out to do. The Jabberwocky had been slain, the White Queen ruled once again, and all had been made well. And what was with everyone with stories? Not everything you can do will always be a story and not every story comes to an end. She decided not to dwell much on it. This was her last night she’d ever spend in Wonderland and she’d rather like to keep it in good memory.

So when the White Queen offered her a hand to dance she took it, their dresses swaying in the wind in oppositional unison. They all danced with one another, twirling, laughing, and having a grand time. The entire time the smile never once left (Y/n)’s face which a certain hatted man enjoyed with all his being.

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

“I can’t believe you’re leaving today. It seems as if it was only yesterday when you arrived.” the girl swiveled around to see the red head there, a bittersweet smile on his face. His smile grew once she turned to face him. Removing his hat, he bowed as he grabbed one of her hands placing a delicate kiss to the top of it. “I am delighted to have known a woman as graceful as you.” hot tears sprung into her eyes which she quickly got rid of before he stood up. Giggling some she hopped onto the large sit swing, motioning for him to join her.

“Don’t get sad yet, Hatter. I’ve still got a few hours left. You can’t rid of me that easily.” he joined her on the swing, a wide grin still on his face. Although it was partly real, she could tell there was some sadness lingering behind it. (Y/n) turned her gaze to the sight in front of them. From the large benched swing, you could see just about all of wonderland over the edge of the cliff. “Besides, there’s not much to miss. I’m just me.”

“And ‘just you’ is a lot! I’ll miss everything about you. The way you mimic the bird calls you hear, the way you get excited when the rock you skipped across the water goes further than you imagined,” she looked at him in shock as he continued to speak, “E-even the smaller things like how you leave the crust of your sandwich for last and give your crumbs to the ants. But I think more importantly I’ll...I’ll just miss your presence.” he said the last part softly, staring off the edge of the cliff to avoid her gaze. A million thoughts raced through her heads as he spoke. Could it really be? Could he really share the same feelings as she did? (Y/n) reached a shaky (s/c) hand to lay on top of Hatter’s pale one, intertwining their fingers.

“Hatter, I've got something to tell you. During my time here in Wonderland, I’ve enjoyed every second I’ve had with everyone. But more importantly, I’ve enjoyed my time so much with you and I believe it’s only fair to share with you that my feelings I have for you go beyond those of normal friendship. I guess you can say I’ve grown...quite mad for you.” his head whipped to face her as he stared into her eyes, tears welling within his own. He flashed her another smile except this one was genuine, filled with the love and warmth he had shown her the entirety of her time in Wonderland.

“(Y/n)! Alice sent me to fetch you. I’m afraid it’s time for the two of you to head back.”

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

After a lot of shedded tears, heartfelt speeches, and goodbyes that were nothing short of wholesome, it was time for the two to head home. Alice patted (Y/n)’s shoulder before holding her arm out for her to grab. As they neared the portal, (Y/n) turned around once more to stare at her friends but when she got to Tarrant, her heart began to break. The gaze they held with one another was long until she simply couldn’t take it. Without thinking she ran up to him once more, grabbing his shoulders tightly.

“Hatter, Tarrant, I need to know how you feel. I couldn’t live with myself if I left and never knew.” he shook his head, looking away from her as he tried to stop the waterworks that were withheld behind the dam. Hot tears streamed down the delicate skin of the girl’s face. “Hatter...please.” her voice was broken as she begged.

“I believe I wasn’t honest myself either. I am completely enamored by you, my dear. I wish I had said something sooner but even though I couldn’t, I’ll always hold a special place for you in here.” he said, placing a hand over his heart. Standing on the tips of her toes, she leaned forward placing a quick peck to his cheek.

“What if it isn’t too late? What if I stayed?” she started, watching as he shook his head, “Hatter listen! You may think I’d regret if I stay but I think I would regret even more not following my heart the first time it’s ever tried to tell me something. Nothing would make me happier than staying here with you...that is if you’d allow it.” a silence fell over as everyone awaited his answer. Without another thought Hatter leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and sweet. Filled with a silent promise, a silent vow to care for her as deeply as his heart will allow. 

“I do not know what I did to get so lucky, but I would do it again if needed.” she felt herself grow flustered at his words. A quick peck was placed on his lips before walking over to Alice once again. The blonde had tears of her own in her eyes. She was glad her friend had found something to fight for, something to call her own. But also for the first time in many years, they would not see each other everyday as they once did. They both stared at each other before throwing themselves into each other's arms, laughing in unison as bittersweet tears fell.

“Good luck. Make sure you put your foot down. You’re Alice! You listen to no one and march to no one’s drum but your own.” Alice gave her a curt nod.

“Take care. We’ll meet again, do not doubt it.” 

Although Alice’s story had seemingly come to an end, it seemed as though (Y/n)’s story was just beginning. For once she wasn’t the side character in someone’s tale, but the main character in her own.

TAGSLIST: @de4ds0up @pink-hufflepuff​ @redpanda-poetry​

[readerstories]

Horse Whisperer - Tommy Shelby x male!reader

This got so long so quick. Hope you enjoy! (AO3)

Warnings/tags: boss/employee relationship, friends to lovers, fluff (link to bonus smut at the end)

Wordcount: 3418

Request: Tommy x m reader R is good with horses. Rides and takes care of them, but Tommy notices him when he is able to calm down a horse that went completely wild. He finds himself intrigued in this 'horse whisperer'. They share their love for horses and it develops into love for each other. That leads to secret meetings, one pulling each other to the side for quick kisses, riding together etc.

Horses have always been the one animal you gravitate towards. Cats and dogs were okay, but they were nothing compared to horses. You loved them and as you got older, you found yourself working with them, and over time, gaining a reputation for being a hard stable worker who treats the animals well. Which is how you find yourself working on the Shelby estate, taking care of the Shelby family’s horses.

You rarely see any of them, and you have yet to meet Thomas Shelby, your employer, since the stable master had been the one to hire you. You don’t mind, as the horses are your number one priority. You have of course heard about them all, the rumors, the brutality, everything, but they seem to care about their horses, so you don’t care about anything else.

The first time you meet, or rather see Thomas Shelby is when the farrier comes to the stable to check over and shoe some of the horses. It’s a day with some bustling activity as horses are moved back and forth, but it’s all going well.

Until the last horse. A grey stallion named Tom-Tom you had warned them to be slow with, and that they shouldn’t move or even touch him without you there. You know him well. The horse gets nervous easily, and several hundred kilos of a nervous horse is bad news for everyone involved.

Which is why, when you return from taking a piss, you swear as you notice two stable-hands leading him out of his box.

Tom-tom is already agitated, so you increase your pace, keeping yourself from running or shouting just knowing that would make everything worse. It doesn’t help however, as seconds later there’s a loud clatter from somewhere in the stable as something is dropped, and Tom-Tom has had enough.

He neighs loudly and trashes around, the two men leading him barely hanging on to the ropes fastened on either side of his halter. Not deterred and panicking more by the second, Tom-Tom neighs again, this time rising up on his hind legs.

This time the ropes are dropped, and when his front is back on solid ground, Tom-Tom starts running towards the stable door. People dive out of his way, in no way thinking about trying to stop the panicked animal. Only one of the two stable doors were left open, but now Tom-Tom busts the other one open with his shoulder. Someone yells out in surprise on the other side and you swear, taking off after Tom-Tom, not even bothering to yell at the stupid idiots who took him out his box. You will get to them later.

Seconds later you’re outside too, eyes quickly landing on Tom-Tom where he’s pacing, almost running back and forth on the large open space in front of the stable. You quickly note the two men in peaky caps next to the stable door, which must have been the ones to yell, but you pay them no mind, all focus on Tom-Tom as you try to get the horse’s attention.

“What the fuck was that?” One of the peaky men yells, mustache quivering.

”Shut the fuck up or the horse is going to get worse you sod.” You purposefully try not to yell, but your voice comes out forceful nonetheless. It looks like he’s about to say something more, but the other man puts a hand on his shoulder, seemingly to stop him. It works, and you turn your attention back to Tom-Tom.

He is still pacing, not calming down in the slightest. You call his name over and over again as you slowly, every so slowly, creep closer to him.

A few feet away you stop, reaching out a hand towards him.

A few more strides, then Tom-Tom slows, before finally coming to a stop not far from your outstretched hand. He is still nervous as you approach once more, legs twitching, ears flicking back and forth, frothing ever so slightly at the mouth. You keep your voice low and even, talking to him as you get closer.

“That’s it, good boy. You doing better now?” When your hand makes contact with Tom-Tom’s mule, his head snaps up just once, before he puts his mule back in your hand. You move it slowly upwards, tracing your fingers up to his forehead, close to his mane.

“That’s it, that’s it.” You almost whisper, walking just a little bit forward so you can move your hands along his neck, ignoring the ropes for now. You talk slow and low, praising him for calming down and not running away as you slowly move your hand along his neck.

Tom-Tom moves his head so it’s over your shoulder, putting some weight against your shoulder and back.

Your hand moves from his neck down to the shoulder he banged into the stable door on his way out. It feels alright, slightly warm, but you can’t be sure nothing is damaged before walking him around for a bit.

Still being slow, you take a few steps back, Tom-Tom moves his head so you can look at him again. You untie one of the ropes from his halter, letting it fall to the ground, before gently starting to lead a slightly less twitching Tom-Tom away from the stable.

You hear the peaky man from earlier say something, you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or your companion, but you don’t care. You however feel eyes burning into your back, so you glance over your shoulder, your eyes connecting to intense blue eyes watching you from under a peaky cap.

----

A little while later, you return Tom-Tom to his box, satisfied that he will most likely be fine, though you will need to keep an extra eye one him for a few days. Then you talk to the farrier and get him to agree to return in a week, a smart man after having worked with horses for long.

After that, you find the two morons that took Tom-Tom out of his box without you. They were currently cleaning saddles, but you stop them in their work. Standing just inside one of the two doors to the rooms, you give them a verbal lashing. It’s at the tail end of this that Tommy Shelby finds you. You see the eyes of both boys grow wide, and one of them actually interrupts you.

“Uh-”

“What?!” You bite out. The boy doesn’t answer, instead pointing behind you. You turn around and leaning in the doorway is the man with the blue eyes from earlier.

“What do you want?” Blue Eyes raises a brow.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving these boys a reminder that they shouldn’t be stupid and do things they shouldn’t when they have been told multiple times not to do something.” Your tone is clipped, annoyed with the interruption. Blue Eyes doesn’t seem faced.

“Is that so?” He flickers his gaze to the boys behind you, and before you can really process what’s going on, the other door to the room slams behind the boys as they make themselves scarce. Blue eyes give you a once-over. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“I recognize the cap, you’re a peaky blinder, but other than that I got no fucking clue.” You cross your arms over your chest, the man almost seems like he is having fun.

“Is that a tone to take with your employer?” His tone is neutral, face much the same except a little twinkle of something you can’t recognize in his eyes.

“My employer is the stable master.”

“And his employer?”

“Thomas Shelby.” His brow is raised yet again, and a few seconds is all you need. “Ah, evening Mr. Shelby.” You uncross your arms, fishing out your cigarettes from your back pocket, taking one out.

“If you want to fire me for not being polite earlier, there are easier ways.” You offer him a cigarette, and to your surprise he pushes of the door frame and takes it. You light your own, then hand him the matches so he can use them. The flame dances briefly over his face as his attention is moved away from you, but just seconds later you got eye contact once more.

“I’m not here to fire you.” He says in an exhale of smoke.

“Then why are you here then Mr Shelby?” Your smoke mixes with his as you ask, wondering what this is.

“Please, call me Tommy.” You nod, furrowed brow, but Tommy keeps talking. “I just wanted to see the man that managed to calm down a wild horse.” You snort, already forgetting to even try keeping your response or tone in a fitting way for when talking to your boss.

“He was hardly wild Mr Sh- Tommy, he was just scared. I worked with Tom-Tom enough that I knew that, and I knew how to calm him down.”

“Still, an impressive feat to calm down a panicking animal.” Tommy’s eyes flicker all over you, and you suddenly notice how close he is standing to you. Every time either of you takes a drag of a cigarette, you can almost brush a hand against the other, smoke mingling as you talk. You take half a step back, unsure yet again of the situation you find yourself in. Tommy notices, but doesn’t comment on it other than a barely there tilt of his head. He seems to be sizing you up for something, but you have no idea what.

He mirrors you then, taking a step back too. A last drag of his cigarette before he stumps it out on the ground.

“I will see you around.” He doesn’t let you respond, out of the room and gone in seconds.

----

You don’t have to wonder much or long about what those words meant, as you do actually end up seeing him more after that little incident.

A lot more actually.

Before that day you had never even seen the man, but now, you see him at least once a week, if not more. He’s around the stable more, sometimes talking to the stable master, other times preparing for a ride, however the weirdest times are the ones where he comes around with an excuse to talk to you.

The first time it happens is a few days after the incident with Tom-Tom. He just wanders up while you are cleaning out his stable and asks you about him. You glance up at him, unsure why he is asking, but you start talking about Tom-Tom. You liked your job and talking to Tommy, your boss, was a sure way to keep that job. You end up talking through all your cleaning, and when you try to excuse yourself to do other work, Tommy insists you keep on talking, not letting go of you quite yet. You find it strange, but you do as you’re ordered.

That was the first time it happened, but not the last. Tommy will find you wherever you are, tell you to talk about something, most of the time the horses in the stable. You do so, and he mostly listens, sometimes coming on with comments or even stories of his own.

Surprisingly, Tommy loves horses too. You had thought he was just another rich man that had a lot of horses just because he could, but he genuinely seems to care about the animals. You sometimes see him feed them treats, giving them extra pats and attention when he thinks no one is looking. Hearing him talk about them is great too, sometimes he even smiles when talking about them, which you learn is something he doesn’t do a lot of.

Over time, your friendship of sorts grows strong, and you find yourself looking forward to the days Tommy comes to see you. It is a distraction from your work and the horses, but you don’t mind.

----

It’s night, and for once, the stable is quiet, almost no activity going on. Some horses are moving around in their boxes, and you can hear some animal rustling the bushes outside, but other than that, you’re alone with your lamp.

One of the mares, Lady, is only days away from birth, and to be on the safe side, you had suggested for you to watch her in the night. None of the others had wanted to do it, but you and the stable master were both content with it just being you. You know the old man is not long from retirement, and he was not about to stay up late when someone else he trusts can do it.

The only thing about doing night shifts like this was how boring and lonely it could be. Sitting on a hay bale outside Lady’s box, you try to enjoy or at least not mind the quiet. For a little while you had entertained yourself and Lady by humming, and even singing, some songs you knew.You tire of that quickly however, and have now settled on letting your thoughts wander before you try to find some work or really anything to do.

So when you hear quiet steps nearing the stables you are instantly on alert. No one else is supposed to be coming, and it’s still far until morning. The steps get closer and closer, before one stable door is pushed open, creaking as it reminds you that its hinges need oiling.

The first you see is a puff of smoke, and then Tommy enters the stable. He puts out his cigarette on the wall, throwing it outside, already aware of your ire for smoking near very flammable hay.

“Evening.” Tommy says, sounding weirdly formal for it being the middle of the night.

“Tommy, what are you doing here?” He keeps silent as he walks over to Lady’s box, peeking into it. You stand up so you're next to him.

“She looks about ready to go.” Tommy comments, keeping all of his attention on the horse except a brief glance at you.

“She is, which is why I’m here. But again, why are you here?” The silence stretches as Tommy says nothing, moving to lean his arms on the edge of Lady’s box. Lady doesn’t seem to care, as she munches on some hay.

“Couldn’t sleep.” The admission is quiet, almost like Tommy didn’t want you to hear him, so you pretend you didn’t. Sort of. You know he can use a distraction, knowing your own mind being like that when you’re the one who can’t sleep.

“Hey, let me show you something.” Tommy has to move back as you start to open the sliding door. Lady shifts her attention from her hay to you, blowing out some air from her nose.

“Come, come.” You say to her, reaching out your hand. She slowly takes a few steps towards you, pushing her nose into your hand, blowing some more air.

“Good girl.” You give her a scratch and then move out of the doorway of the now open box, letting her walk past you, into the hallway and right next to Tommy. Lady barely spares him a glance before walking towards the stable doors. You tug at Tommy’s arm for him to follow, grinning as he seems to be watching Lady with some skepticism. Opening the stable door for her, Lady slowly walks outside, stopping not far outside the doors, giving you time to close the doors behind her before she starts walking again.

You quickly catch up to her, as her steps are slow with how heavy she is. Tommy is quick to follow, walking behind you at the slow pace Lady has set. You can see Tommy thinking, glancing between you and her as you walk.

“And you still do not want to call yourself a horse whisperer, ey?” You snort.

“No, this is no horse whispering, this is trust built up over time.” Tommy doesn’t respond, so you let the silence linger, just enjoying the company. You let Lady steer the direction as she usually does, taking you on a short route that will lead you around some of the paddocks.

“It’s good for her to walk like this, both for her and the foal.” You tell Tommy, mostly to have something to fill the quiet night air with. He nods, seemingly lost in thought with his hands in his pockets as he walks beside you

It doesn’t take long before you return to the stable. Although Lady liked these walks, she  would only walk for so long with how big and slow she was. She patiently waits for you to open the stable doors for her, going straight for her box as she gets inside. She gulps down some water as you push the door to her box closed.

Lady peaks outside so she can take the small piece of apple you offer her. You offer the other piece to Tommy, who takes it, and in turn, offers it to Lady. She takes it, munching on it as she lets out a small neigh. You smile at her, then at Tommy.

“I think she likes you.” Tommy is watching her, slowly raising his hand towards her. She lets him pet her for a little bit before moving away, moving into her box, away from the both of you.

“I think I like her too.” Tommy’s voice is quiet and it’s only when he turns his head towards you that you realize how close you are to him. You perhaps only inches apart, closer than needs be in the deserted stable. Tommy is watching you with a look that you don’t recognize, eyes intense as his focus is solely on you.

“I-” Whatever you were about to say is lost as Tommy raises a hand to cup your cheek, surprisingly gentle for a man with such a fierce reputation. But that is also not what you know him as, is it? You know that he loves horses, that you like talking to him, that he is seemingly content to walk with you when he can’t sleep, that he-

Your thoughts are cut off when Tommy leans forward to press his lips to yours.

The kiss is short, barely there, you aren’t even really able to process it’s really happening before Tommy leans back, gauging your reaction

You don’t know what to say, so instead of even trying, this time it’s you who leans forward to capture Tommy’s lips with yours. He is quick to respond, the hand not holding your face pulling you in by the waist. Not to be outdone, one of your hands goes to his ribs, the other to his hip.

His lips are firm against yours, intense and hungry.

He pushes you and you go willingly, letting him push you against the nearest wall, not stopping to kiss you, introducing his tongue, letting him slowly coax your mouth open.

Which would have been wonderful to continue, but in that moment Lady decides to remind you both that it’s her box you’re leaning against and that she would like some peace and quiet. To do this she lets out a loud neigh, causing the two of you to jump, breaking the kiss as you almost jump out of your skin.

“Lady!” You chastiste her, all you get in response is a huff of air and her turning around so her behind is towards you. You huff too, focus returning back to Tommy. He’s watching you once more, letting his eyes wander as his hands stay on your face and waist. He’s warm and firm against you, making you want to stay like this for a good while longer.

“She doesn’t take kindly to being disturbed when she is trying to relax.” Tommy raises an unimpressed brow.

“Is this her or your way of telling us that we should take this elsewhere?” You give him a brief kiss, not letting him deepen it.

“I wish I could, but I need to stay and watch her, it’s my job.” Tommy sighs, leaning back and letting go of you. You wish he hadn’t, the night feels colder already.

“Another time then?” Again, gauging your reaction with intense eyes. You smile and nod, which gets an ever so slight smirk in return.

“Well then, good night.” Without more preamble, Tommy walks towards the stable door. He lights another cigarette, giving you a brief glance while doing so, before slipping out into the night.

----

(Bonus smut that has nothing to say for the plot of you want it)

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 125: Accidental Bonding (Part One)

When Harry woke up, his head was pounding and his heart was racing, he thought he might vomit. He staggered over to the floo to firecall in to work.

Robards answered, "Junior Auror Potter, good morning."

"Hello, sir," he said before his stomach heaved and he had to turn away and take a few deep breaths to steady himself. "I need to call in sick, sir. I think I've got a virus."

"What are your symptoms?" he asked curiously.

"Really bad headache, it feels like my eyes are going to pop out of my head; elevated pulse; and nausea."

His brow furrowed, "Who was your training partner yesterday?"

"Malfoy, sir," he said, his gut twisting uncomfortably.

"Where did you go?"

"Excuse me-" he broke off and held up a hand, turning away from the fireplace to try to get his bearings as his stomach tried to eject itself through his esophagus. After a moment he turned back, "We were sent to that old antique shop, sir," he said as quickly as he could manage.

"You're going to need to go to St. Mungo's."

"I don't-"

"That's not a request, Potter. Go there now and I'll be sending Junior Auror Malfoy right along."

"But-" Harry started.

"No buts, Malfoy called in with the same symptoms and I'm not taking any chances," and without another word he ended their connection.

With a sigh and one more longing look at his bed, Harry headed to St. Mungos.

(Read more below the cut)

They ended up putting Malfoy in the same room as him since they were there at the Ministry's behest and with the same symptoms. Harry tried not to look at him, imagining that getting irritated would only worsen his ever growing headache. Malfoy must have felt the same because he was less annoying that usual.

Healer Kenner, a stern looking woman who reminded Harry very much of Professor McGonagall, ran diagnostic test after diagnostic test and then finally said, "Well, you're bonded."

"What?" Harry yelped.

Malfoy groaned, "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Language, Auror Malfoy," she tsked.

"Apologies."

With a short nod, she continued, "The good news is that most of your discomfort can be alleviate by simple physical contact."

"And the bad news?" Harry asked wryly.

"There's nothing we can do to break the bond."

"What?" Malfoy spat.

"Surely, there's something-" Harry started.

She shook her head, "I'm afraid not. But it's not permanent," Healer Kenner added. "It'll only last a month."

"A month?!" Harry asked incredulously.

"Well it's certainly better than forever," Malfoy snarked, rubbing his hands over his face.

Harry wondered if Malfoy's head hurt as much as his did. He certainly hoped so.

But before he could say anything, Healer Kenner raised her wand and cast a spell the dragged their beds across the floor to the other. "Hold hands," she instructed.

He crossed his arms over his chest and Malfoy let out a pitiful groan.

"The sooner you do it, the sooner you'll start to feel better," she chided. "Just be glad that this particular bond only wants prolonged physical contact."

Harry shuddered, he'd heard the stories about some of the more archaic bonds.

"Oh, for Circe's sake," Malfoy grumbled as he reached across the space between them and clasped Harry's forearm in his hand.

A sense of relief hit immediately, Harry groaned as a weight lifted off his chest and the headache started receding.

"It will be faster if you both actively participate."

At this point, as the waves of relief were rolling through him, Harry was willing to do anything. He flipped over his hand, offering it to Malfoy.

The other man slid his hand down Harry's arm, as though he was afraid to break contact with him, and clasped Harry's hand in his.

She was right, his world seemed to right itself as they sat there holding hands and he let his head drop back against the bed as he took full, deep breaths for what felt like the first time in ages.

"How long do we have before it starts to feel like that again?" Malfoy asked, which Harry could admit was a good question.

She hummed, "I'd say two hours maximum before the discomfort starts affecting the way you function." After a short pause, Healer Kenner added, "You're going to probably want to spend nights together."

"Can't we just see each other in the morning?" Malfoy asked.

And Harry couldn't help but agree, "This wasn't that bad," he added. "And now that we know-"

She shook her head, "Now that your bodies are acknowledging the bond, the effects will set in quicker."

"Great," Harry grumbled. "Just bloody fantastic."

This day just kept going from bad to worse. He had no idea how he was going to tell everyone that he had an accidental bonding with Draco sodding Malfoy.

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

They argued about whose house to stay in overnight and finally decided to flip a coin for it. Draco won.

And that was how Harry found himself standing with a duffel bag outside of a surprisingly cute little house, knocking and waiting to be let in.

"Potter," Malfoy greeted as he opened the door to let him in.

And Harry wondered if he was feeling the bond tugging at his skin, too, if the bond was making his gut clench and making him feel irritable and like there was something crawling under his skin. "Can I-?" he started through gritted teeth, reaching a hand toward Malfoy but stopping a few inches away.

Malfoy nodded and closed the distance between them.

The moment he touched the other man his body sagged with relief, swaying back against the doorway.

After a moment, Malfoy released his hand and gestured toward the rest of his house, "Come in," he said. "It's nothing fancy," Malfoy said, "But it's home and it's not something that my family owned."

Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement, so he just focused on looking around the house as Malfoy gave him the tour. Malfoy was right, it wasn't anything fancy but it was surprisingly cozy. It was nothing like Harry had expected; he'd imagined black leather and green decor, dark and broody. But the house was the opposite, the closest anything got to Slytherin green was the sea form green accents in the bathroom. "You have a nice house," Harry said.

"You needn't sound surprised," Malfoy said with a sniff, "I have excellent taste," he added as he opened the door to the bedroom.

The bedroom had pale blue walls and cream bedding, the dresser and wardrobe were both a dark wood that Harry couldn't identify. All in all, it was a nice room, very relaxing.

"You can use this drawer," Malfoy said, flicking his wand at the second drawer to open it, "And I cleared a space for you in the closet."

"Err, thanks," Harry said.

He rolled his eyes, "Don't mention it. I know it's hard for you to believe but I can actually be considerate when the mood strikes."

Before Harry could reply, Malfoy left the room, calling over his shoulder, "I'm making salmon and rice for dinner. If you don't like it you can make something for yourself."

This wasn't quite what he'd expected, Malfoy wasn't quite what he expected, he thought as he put his clothes away. Maybe Malfoy wasn't who Harry thought he was.

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

Nope. Malfoy was precisely who Harry thought he was. The two of them had spent the entire night arguing about literally everything: about using coasters (when they were wizards and removing water stains was no big deal), about which clothes Harry should have hung or left folded, about the proper way to do the dishes, about their friends and the kind of people they were, and dozens of other things that made Harry want to tear his hair out.

They were still bickering when they went to bed because Malfoy had the nerve to critique the way Harry brushed his teeth and to demand that Harry wash his face before he get into bed.

"I'm not letting the oil in your skin damage my pillowcases!"

"My skin doesn't damage pillowcases," Harry snapped. "I have pillowcases too, you know, and none of them have oil stains."

"Potter wash your fucking face or I am covering your pillow with a paper bag," Malfoy threatened. "It's not a fucking hard request. It will take you literally two minutes."

"Fine!" Harry shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the bathroom.

When he came out, Malfoy was already on the left side of the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard, reading a book. "Was that so hard?" he drawled.

"Oh fuck off," Harry grumbled as took off his glasses and he threw himself down on the right side of the bed, punching a pillow for the sheer pleasure of punching something.

"You're such a bloody neanderthal," Malfoy grumbled without looking up at Harry.

"Shut up!" Harry finally erupted. "For Merlin's sake just shut up and I will, too."

Malfoy glanced over at him, looking unperturbed which honestly made Harry even more frustrated.

"It's going to take me ages to fall asleep because I'm so fucking irritated."

After a moment, Malfoy reached over and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's the bond," he said quietly. "We're not touching often enough and it's making us lash out."

"I don't think we need any help in that department," Harry grumbled but he could admit that he was feeling better already.

Malfoy chuckled, "You're right about that, I suppose."

He shook his head and reached up to cover Malfoy's hand with his own and expedite the process. "This does help though," he said with a yawn.

The other man hummed, "I think we should agree now that whenever either of us wakes up over night that we'll reach out and touch the other so we can get as much sleep as possible."

Through a yawn Harry murmured, "Sounds reasonable." He closed his eyes, surprised at how tired he was feeling all of the sudden. "Merlin, I'm knackered."

"Do you mind if I leave the light on to read for a while?" Malfoy asked.

He opened one eye to look at Malfoy's blurry face, "That's nice of you to ask," he said. "I don't mind."

"Are you certain?"

He nodded. "Night."

"Good night," Malfoy replied, going back to his book but leaving his hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry drifted off, asleep in minutes.

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

When Harry woke up again, the sun was peaking in through the curtains and he felt fantastic. He blinked open his eyes and realized that at some point during the night he and Malfoy had shifted, drifting until Harry's front was pressed tight against Malfoy's back, his body curled around the other man's.

He really ought to move.

But he was just so comfortable and his body was warm and loose and he just couldn't bring himself to move away.

It wasn't long before Malfoy started to shift, waking up slowly and Harry panicked. He did the only thing that he could think of and feigned sleep.

Malfoy arched and stretched, pressing his body back against Harry's for a long, delicious moment before he jumped, seeming to realize what he was doing. Then he held very still like he was waiting for something and Harry wondered if he was waiting for him to say something. When Harry didn't move and continued pretending to sleep Malfoy carefully withdrew himself and climbed out of bed to head to the loo.

Harry laid there for a long moment, missing the warmth of the other man's body, missing the way they'd seemed to fit together already.

Just the bond, he assured himself. This was all just the bond.

Right?

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

Ahhh friends, I'm sorry. I hate to leave you like this but this one's going to need a part two. This girl is exhausted and this fic(let) is taking way longer than anticipated to write. I'll get part two written and posted tomorrow. <3 Lots of love, C

Part 2

Day 124: Joke | Day 126: Arranged Marriage

[glowing-blue-feathermage]

"hugs that last a little longer than they should" for pre-fenders? <3

Thank you for the prompt my dear!! <3333

Some very soft Fenders for @dadrunkwriting !

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

“What are you doing here, mage?” Fenris asks, not looking at him. The elf’s gaze is turned toward the city where it stretches out below the high balcony, but Anders thinks that isn’t what Fenris is seeing. 

“I thought you could use some company,” Anders tells him cautiously, his stomach fluttering with nerves, pulse jumpy. 

Fenris turns his head, dark brows pulling together, frowning. He opens his mouth, but before he can tell Anders to sod off, Anders thrusts a bottle out between them.

“I brought wine.” 

Fenris closes his mouth. He doesn’t even glance at the bottle, green eyes delving into Anders’ own. A moment passes that seems a decade long, but then he tilts his head toward the space beside him and flicks his hand, palm open, as close to an invitation to sit with him as Anders will probably get. 

Anders lets out a breath and settles down on the marble floor of the balcony. Fenris sits cross-legged beside him, their knees almost touching. Anders sets the bottle down, then picks it up again, looking at it forlornly. It’s not the expensive stuff that Fenris usually drinks, but it’s sealed with a cork like every bottle of wine. A cork Anders can’t remove without the right tool. 

“I guess I didn’t think this through completely,” he says with a reedy laugh, angling the bottle toward Fenris so he understands. 

The elf snorts, reaching to his other side and producing another bottle, this one open. He takes a drink, hesitates, and then passes it to Anders. 

Anders sets the unopened one down and accepts it, taking a drink. He coughs and breathes out, surprised the air doesn’t combust. “Maker, this is strong,” he croaks. 

Fenris grunts, taking the bottle back and drinking. He says nothing as he returns to his vigil over Hightown. 

Anders fidgets, picking at a loose thread on his coat. He inhales, chews his bottom lip and clears his throat, but words don’t form. 

“Speak, mage,” Fenris says dryly. “Something is on your mind.”

“Yes…” Anders says cautiously. “You. Are on my mind.” He immediately squeezes his eyes shut and internally curses his own awkwardness. “I mean. I’ve been worried about you. We all have been.” 

Fenris shrugs, taking another, longer drink. He doesn’t offer any reassurances, which just makes Anders worry more. 

“Are you…holding up?” he asks the elf. His friend, perhaps? At least not his enemy. Not anymore. 

“I do not need to be coddled,” Fenris says in a dark voice.

“Sometimes it helps,” Anders tries. 

Fenris looks at him again, raising an eyebrow. Anders smiles. Fenris snorts and looks away. 

“Are you trying to comfort me, or yourself?” he asks. 

Anders doesn’t know how to answer that. “Both? Maybe? Healer, you know. I don’t like for people…for my friends to hurt.”

“This is not a thing that magic can cure,” Fenris says, though without the usual vitriol that always accompanies the subject.

“You’re right,” Anders says with a sigh. “But maybe not being alone will help.” 

For once, Fenris didn’t argue. 

They sit on the balcony together and drink. Fenris produces a wine key and they find their way into the other bottle and into something resembling a conversation. Fenris doesn’t talk about what happened at the Hanged Man several nights before, or about his sister’s betrayal, or about Danarius. Anders doesn’t press, and finds himself indulging a surprising interest in his Grey Warden adventures instead.

Time passes, and the lights of the nighttime city blink on one after the other. They run out of wine, and some unspoken thing passes between them that sends them both into the mansion for more. They’re in Fenris’s disused kitchen when Anders decides he can’t stand it anymore. 

“Fenris,” he says, thinking he sounds a little drunk but not caring. “Do you mind if…can I hug you?” 

Fenris stops rifling through the pantry in his search for something to eat and looks at Anders owlishly. Before he can dismiss the question, Anders takes a few steps closer.

“I promise it feels really good.” 

Fenris’s eyebrows draw down over his eyes, brow wrinkling. He looks so confused by the question that something heart-breaking occurs to Anders.

“Have you never had one? A hug?” 

Fenris says nothing, silence stretching between them, and then he shakes his head. 

Anders chest knots. He steps closer again, lifting his hands, fingers hovering scant inches above the elf’s arms. Fenris doesn’t move, glancing at Anders’ hands and then meeting his eyes. 

Anders advertises every movement then, shuffling closer, fingertips brushing the elf’s arms, then his waist, and then slowly guiding him closer until he fits into the circle of Anders’ arms. 

Fenris is stiff, all hard lines and caution and alarm, but as Anders holds him gently, he feels the elf start to relax. Then, with aching slowness, Fenris curls his arms around Anders. 

Anders presses his cheek to Fenris’s soft hair, breathing him in. He feels Fenris’s forehead drop to his shoulder and imagines he can feel the elf’s heartbeat against his chest. The mansion is utterly silent around them, like they are caught in a bubble and separate from the world. 

It’s Fenris that finally pulls back, his cheeks slightly flushed, and Anders thinks it’s not just from the wine. 

They spend the rest of the evening talking, and nothing is said about the hug. Anders is too drunk to walk home later, and stays the night on Fenris’s moth-eaten sofa. 

The next morning, a hung-over elf walks a hung-over mage back to Darktown. Before they part ways, he lets Anders pull him close again and they cling to each other. Longer this time.

[hotporridgepot]

Been There

I didn't expect the first Ghosts fic I wrote to be from Julian's perspective, but this idea struck me and I can't stop thinking about it!

I've always imagined Julian to be the first one to properly talk to the Captain about his sexuality, and this is how I think that conversation would go.

It was one of Alison's "talks" that finally did it.

All it took was a sharp hairpin turn in the conversation, a misplaced comment from Kitty and bam, there it was. Button House's worst-kept secret was sent spinning across the circular space between their group therapy chairs. Julian's suddenly reminded, as the Captain evacuates the room in what looks like shock, of a news report he'd heard when he was a kid. It was of an unexploded bomb they dug up by a church. Everyone in the area had known it was there for a while, but to actually see it out in the open was something else.

Alison looks upset. Guilty, even. She keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs and pulling her cardigan over her hands.

"I thought he was okay," she mumbles, staring at the empty space on the wall Cap floated through. "He seemed to - last time we had a talk, he seemed like he wanted to -"

"Oh it's my fault, Alison," Kitty wails, thumping her hands down on her skirts as though she's smacking herself. "I was the one who asked about everyone's favourite beau. I shouldn't have fussed so much, I'm so sorry, it's just-"

"Kitty, it's fine!" Alison holds up her hands. "It's not your fault, it's just...complicated."

Julian watches as the conversation trickles down its many paths again. "My cousin's cousin was gay," Pat's saying to a bewildered Mary. Fanny's muttering about how she had no idea, Robin couldn't seem to care less, and Humphrey's still on the other side of the room asking for a rundown on what happened.

"Do you think he's alright?" Alison says.

Julian shrugs. "Damned if I know."

But the thing is, Julian does know. And the answer is most definitely no.

It might be a bit of an absurd conversation for the rest of the ghosts, but he's different. He comes from the time of - of gaydars, of Canal Street, of "metrosexual" plastered across the front of the Daily Mirror. Of Elton. Freddie. George. Coming out was a thing when he died. To pick up the vibe from someone simply wasn't done in Robin's time, nor Mary's. Nor even Pat's, really.

"I should probably go and see where he is," Julian says, feigning nonchalance.

No one responds. Alison's already on the other side of the room, complaining to Mike about "ghost stuff". Julian thumbs toward the back wall.

"Anyone wanna - no? Just me? Alright."

It doesn't take long to find the Captain. Whenever he's in any kind of sulk he always migrates to the window in the television room, staring at the gate outside like he's expecting someone to walk through it.

Now that he's here, Julian's not sure what to say. Best to try and get on Cap's level, really. Some more personal experience sharing. Alison would be proud.

"I've been there, you know," Julian says. It makes the Captain jump, a hand clutched to his chest before he turns back around and ignores Julian. "A couple of times, actually."

Cap sighs. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"New Year's Eve, 1971," Julian goes on, sauntering into the room. He's good at this, he decides. "That was the first time. We were absolutely spangled on a fat bottle of Haig, started playing strip poker and before you know it, my second moon landing was -"

"Blast it, Julian, this isn't about sex!"

The Cap's outburst stops Julian short. He backs up, wincing a bit as the Captain turns to face him. Julian's never seen any of them except for Kitty and Thomas cry, but he reckons that this is the stoic army equivalent. There's a deep, grey heaviness in the Captain's eyes, like something's been keeping him awake for a century.

It hits Julian, with a wave of shame and embarrassment he's very much not used to, how the older ghosts must see him. While he'd definitely be on the way to retirement were he still alive, he's a baby to the likes of Fanny and the Captain. A thoughtless, boisterous, fraternity-going thrillseeker. Shit-brained Bullingdon boy.

He isn't that, though. Not anymore. He's lived past that. He's died past that.

His own escapades might have been the wrong place to start. He realises now there are much more valuable things he could be saying; now, Julian suddenly remembers the other side of it all. Because he also comes from the time of Section 28. The AIDS crisis. Newspapers talking about a "gay gene". Newspapers spitting what Julian knew even then to be pure lie and vitriol.

He knows it's a big deal that the Captain just blurted it out in what looked like a fit of adrenaline that came and went against his will. To think of all those years, every second of Cap's life and afterlife built upon this cornerstone of a secret...it tugs at something in Julian's chest. It - well, it's a rotten thing.

Cautiously, Julian steps forward until he's sat opposite the Captain on the windowsill. He mumbles a "sorry" and clears his throat.

"Gets talked about these days, you know," Julian tries. "Like that wedding that came here, remember? It's a...thing."

A lame end to the sentence, but hey ho. It is a thing now.

Then the Captain clears his own throat. "I know it's a thing," he says pompously, "but it doesn't quite feel like my thing, if you catch my drift."

Julian frowns. "Wait, so you're not gay?"

"No, of course I - see, even that word! 'Gay'. It meant something completely different in my lifetime," the Captain says, fiddling with the buttons on his coat maniacally as though he wants them to fall off. "I feel so terribly out of touch for having kept it all inside for so long, that I can't possibly reduce it to the inconsequence people make of it today. I don't quite know how to navigate any of it. If it's even worth navigating, now that there's nothing I can do with the information."

Julian nods. It's making so much sense now. Poor sod.

"We all went in different directions after uni," Julian goes on. "Well, to some extent. One of the lads I romped about with is -"

The Captain pinches the bridge of his nose. "Julian, I said this wasn't about -"

"No, no, listen! I was going to say, one of the lads is married to a man now. Another one decided it wasn't for him and never did it again."

Cap's listening now. "...And as for you?"

Julian shrugs. "S'not something I thought about much when I wasn't up to the eyeballs in booze, but I suppose I'm - oh, I'd say 90 percent for women, 10 percent for men." Cautiously, he leans forward. "See? People still talk about that, too. Working out how you feel and all that malarkey. There's not really one way to about it, if I'm honest. There's never been one way about it."

The Captain's face softens, some of the heaviness in his eyes melting away.

"It doesn't matter who knows what, mate. Just give yourself some time."

"I've got plenty of that," Cap chuckles.

The sun's high in the sky now, beating feverishly hot through the window.

"You up for a bit of volley on the green? Humphrey's been begging us to play."

The Captain looks out the window at the grass, then back to the gate. "Not now, thank you. I'll watch from up here."

"Suit yourself." Julian gets up to go, something blooming in his chest he hasn't felt since he was alive. It's been a while since he truly helped someone, he thinks, and he's proud of it. Proud of them both.

"I'm all ears whenever you want to rant for a bit," he calls back as he leaves the room. "Remember, I've been there."

[rhaenyratargayen]

dance, baby // f.w.

summary — fred weasley is feeling sappy a month before his big brother gets married, so he takes his girlfriend out to ask the big question.

word count — 2.7k

warnings — marriage, proposing, cursing.

a/n — hi loves! this is for my bby kai’s @rcwenaclaw 1.5k followers writing challenge! congratulations my love <3 my prompt is “care to dance?” “there’s no music playing!” “so?” 

Fred held your hand tightly in his as he led you through the tall grass behind the Burrow. It was just after sundown, the air cooling as the stars appeared in the sky. You tugged Fred’s old flannel you were wearing tightly around you, squeezing Fred’s hand in the process. He looked back at you, chuckling softly when he realized his long legs were practically leaving you in the dust behind him.

“Sorry, love.” He laughed, slowing his pace.

He lifted his hand still in yours and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you close to him in the process. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and one to your lips before he continued on.

“Where are we even going, Freddie?” You asked, squinting your eyes as you looked out into the empty field.

“Patience, darling.” He chuckled, “It’ll be worth it.”

While all the other Weasleys had gone to bed after a long day, Fred was outside your door and ushering you outside before you could protest or ask why. It was June, the weather was warm and days were filled with playing quidditch and water fights with the garden hose. Even as an adult, summers spent at the Burrow were anything but uneventful.

Still, your mind often wandered to the place it was so many summers ago, reading a book with Hermione in the shade while the others played quidditch, or helping Molly cook dinner in the kitchen. Those memories were fond as they held the warmth of the burrow and the peacefulness in mind – no anxious thoughts of the Dark Lord or fear of the next war.

Your most prominent memories included your current boyfriend, although he wasn’t so fortunate to hold that title years ago.

“Fred. You prick, give me back my book.”

You were sixteen years old, hot from the beating sun, and absolutely furious at the lanky redhead before you.

Fred laughed at your harsh tone, always proud to get a rise out of you. He began running around the yard, tauntingly, with your book held high over his head and completely out of your reach.

George, Ginny, Harry and Ron all stood on the ground with their brooms, waiting impatiently for Fred to return to their game. Hermione rolled her eyes at Fred’s antics from where she sat under the shade tree, clutching her book tighter as if he would return to steal hers as well.

But you stood firm in your place, heels dug into the ground and arms crossed over your chest. You clenched your jaw, exhaling a heavy breath like a bull preparing to charge. Fred turned when he realized you weren’t after your book and looked to you with a confused frown.

“I’m not going to chase you, you git, give it back.” You scoffed, holding your hand out expectedly.

“Y/N,” Fred whined, “You’re always under that shade tree reading, come play a game with us.”

“You mean come play a game with you?” You quipped.

Fred tilted his head and scratched the back of his neck, “I mean yeah… I’ll be there too.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You huffed out a laugh.

You turned on your heel, without your book, and began stomping back to the shade tree. But a gasp left your lips as you felt a hand grab at your wrist, you whipped around to see Fred’s larger hand holding your wrist. It was one of the moments you hated Fred Weasley most; when he made you feel light as a feather with him as your only tether to the ground.

“One game,” He pleaded, “Please?”

“Oi!” Ginny’s booming voice was heard behind Fred, “Didn’t Mum ever tell you stealing isn’t a good way of flirting?”

Fred sighed dramatically as soon as he heard the cackles from his brothers at Ginny’s comment.

“Sod off!” He scoffed.

“Let’s go mate, we wanna play again.” George huffed, standing with his hands on his hips.

“‘M trying to get Y/N to play with us, then we’ll have an even six.”

Y/N sighed as the others perked up at his suggestion, suddenly in on his plan if that meant a fair game for them.

“Come on, Y/N, what do you say?” Ginny grinned.

“It’s too hot,” You protested, “I was just about to head inside, anyway.”

“Too hot? I’ve got a solution for that.”

It took you too many seconds to realize what George meant, and before a scream of protest could leave your lips you were being soaked from head to foot as George raised his wand in the air, the garden hose raining over you and Fred like a downpour.

All were silent as the water stopped, revealing your absolute furious expression and clenched fists.

“This is your fault, Weasley.” You spoke dangerously quiet to Fred.

He bit his lip to contain the bark of laughter he so desperately wanted to let out, and he couldn’t help but find you absolutely adorable in that moment.

“And you’re gonna pay for it.”

You began chasing Fred just as he had wanted in the beginning. He laughed loudly as he weaved through the tall grass, slowing his speed to allow you almost close enough to catch him before he ran off again. Soon enough your screams of fury were cut up by laughter and Fred finally let you catch him, laughing uncontrollably when you knocked him to the ground.

Memories like that kept you feeling afloat, kept the light burning when things became too hard to handle. Any memory you had with Fred you held close to your heart, treasuring them all individually, afraid to lose them.

It wasn’t long after that you had become Fred’s official girlfriend. After years of mutual pining and immaturely making each other jealous as teenagers, all it took was one insufferable Dolores Umbridge to bring the two of you together ultimately on the day of the twin’s escape from Hogwarts.

Your boots clicked rapidly against the floor as you rushed to the top of the stairs where the boys were waiting. You desperately hoped you weren’t too late.

The thought of not having Fred in your life overcame any pride you had. Not having him scared you, and with the clock ticking down on your realization, you rushed to find Fred to let him know how you felt before he was gone.

“Fred.” You sighed in relief as you spotted two redheads looking over the balcony of the staircase. Below you could see the hall filled with students taking their exams as Fred and George waited for their opportune moment.

“Y/N?” Fred turned back with a surprised grin.

He wasn’t sure he would see you before he left, after all you two didn’t get along. He worried that the banter you two had wasn’t a cover up for your feelings for one another, he worried maybe you truly didn’t like him, but all of his anxious worries washed away the moment he saw the adoration on your face as you saw him.

He rushed towards you and wrapped his arms around you, digging his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent as your arms wrapped around his neck. He felt his stomach fill with the familiar flutters he felt around you, but it was different this time because he knew you were feeling them too.

“I was afraid I was too late.” You sighed as you pulled back.

Fred kept his arms around you, keeping you close to him and savoring the moment he longed for before he was off and out of this school forever.

“I would’ve waited ages for you, darling.” The sincerity in his tone stole your breath, your vision now only filled with everything Fred Weasley.

“I’m gonna miss you, Freddie.” You muttered, afraid if you spoke up you might break under the thought of him leaving after you finally confessed.

“Hey,” He cooed, petting your hair, “It’s only two months before you're out of here for good too, and when you are I’ll be waiting for you to get off the train and we can pick up where we left off, yeah?”

You nodded, holding on to the promise of his words and the love you felt for him. With a confident inhale, you put on a smile as you blinked up at him. You fell for the mischief in his eyes in that moment, the mischief that couldn’t wait to go out with a bang and start up a joke shop with George.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” You giggled softly.

“Sooner than you think.”

Suddenly you felt his hands cupping your face as he stared down at you in adoration, like he was holding his entire world in his hands. He waited for you to nod slightly at him before he dipped down and connected his lips with yours.

It was euphoric, to finally kiss him after so long. The kiss held a thousand meanings; a hello and a goodbye. You clung to him at the thought, sucking lightly on his bottom lip and feeling him tug you closer in return. You chased his lips as he pulled back, and he indulged you with one last kiss before he was off on his broom.

“I’ve been patient long enough, Freddie,” You laughed, “Are we almost there now?”

Fred smiled back at you but didn’t answer, he only continued with your hand in his until the two of you reached the peak of a small hill. You gasped as you reached the top, his question suddenly answered as you caught a glimpse of floating lights circling around a picnic blanket laid out in the grass.

“Oh, Freddie.” You sighed happily, taking the lead as you rushed towards the comfortable spot.

“I told you it’d be worth it.”

Fred placed his hand on your waist and spun you to face him, his lips colliding with yours before you could even comprehend his actions. You smiled instantly, pausing the kiss to giggle softly before you wrapped your arms around his neck and sunk to the ground over the blanket.

“I love you.” You sighed against his lips.

Fred hummed in return, moving to hover over you. His thumb ran softly over your hip as his lips peppered kisses along your cheek and the corner of your mouth.

“Trust me, not as much as I love you.”

You scoffed, playfully, fighting back wordlessly as you caught his lips again in a kiss. He exhaled a breathy laugh at your actions, pecking your lips several times before he pulled away and sat up.

“Merlin, you’re perfect.” He muttered to himself as he watched you sit up to face him, pure innocence on your face as he knew you had no idea of the events to come for the night.

A smile rose to your lips, along with growing affection in your chest as you moved to sit beside him, tucking your face in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you once again.

“You’re rather needy tonight, aren't’ you love?” He teased.

“Well you’re being awfully romantic.” You quipped back.

He chuckled to himself, “You have no idea.”

You sat there for a moment, enjoying being in each other’s arms under a starry night sky. His scent filled your senses, lulling you to a state of uteral peace, a state your mind brought you to everytime you thought of him. Fred was where you always wanted to be, not only was he the love of your life but he was your home as well.

“Care to dance?” He spoke up, suddenly.

Your brows furrowed as your head shot up to face him. He had an obnoxiously adorable smile on his face, one that could unknowingly make you do absolutely anything. The air had started to cool and you were much warmer cuddled up beside him, but his smile was far too adorable to immediately shut down his offer.

“Fred,” You laughed, softly, “There’s no music playing.”

Fred scoffed playfully, immediately standing to his feet confidently.

“So?” He shrugged, holding his hand out to you, “When has something like that ever stopped me before?”

You bit your lip as your eyes met his, sharing the mischievous glint you used to hate so much. It had grown on you in the best possible way, becoming one of the things you loved about your boyfriend most.

With a knowing head tilt from Fred, you playfully rolled your eyes in protest before you slapped your hand in his, snickering as you heard his laughter roar as he pulled you to your feet.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before he twirled you around and into his chest. His hand fell at your waist, the other holding yours delicately in the air beside you. You hadn’t even thought about the absence of music, instead finding yourself getting lost in how he held you.

Being near Fred was simultaneously dizzying and grounding. Your overwhelming love for him sometimes had you feeling like you were floating on cloud nine, slipping out of this reality and into one where you could be with him forever, but the tenderness in his voice as he spoke to you, the firmness in the way he held you; grounded you to the point where you didn’t feel like you needed to drift away to another reality, this one was just fine as long as he was in it.

“What’re you thinking about, princess?” Fred rested his head on yours, not even needing to look at you to know what your silence meant.

“You,” You sighed, honestly, “I love you.”

Fred stopped swaying and pulled back to look at you, cupping your face in his hand the instant you raised your head.

“I know you’re scared, Merlin, I am too,” He sighed, “But it doesn’t seem so scary when I look at you. It doesn’t seem like some mountain to overcome, it just seems like an obstacle to face, and we will face it. When I look at you, I don’t worry about the fear because I know when we come out on the other side you’ll still love me like you do now.”

Your eyes flitted between his, holding on to every word he said. You sank into the feeling of his hold on you, your own hands clasping together around his neck. He bit his lip as he paused, tearing his gaze from the landscape behind you to look you in the eyes.

There it was, that mischievous glint. And before you could question the suspicious romantic actions of your boyfriend, he had lowered himself on one knee before you. You gasped as he took your hands in his, running his thumb along your knuckles comfortingly, like he knew how rapid your heart was racing as his was too.

“I’m scared, fuckin’ hell I am,” Fred nodded rapidly, “But Bill and Fleur are getting married in two months. They aren’t letting the fear stop them from being with each other and that’s how I feel with you, Y/N. Whatever happens is worth it to me if you and I are together in the end.”

Your hands shook in his, silent tears streaming down your face as you longed to jump into his arms. You knew your answer, he knew your answer, but you awaited the moment and welcomed it graciously.

“You are the love of my life,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box, opening it to you to reveal a stunning ring, “Love, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Your tears fell as the words left his lips, and you were nodding before you could choke out a coherent, ‘yes’. Fred cried as well, his tears falling rapidly as he slid the ring on your finger, he took a moment to admire it, capturing the image in his mind.

He held you tightly as you jumped into his arms once he stood, your lips finding his immediately. You kissed Fred Weasley with a passion you hadn’t felt before, melting into his embrace as the weight of the ring on your finger sunk in. You were to be his and he was to be yours, fully and officially.

“I love you.” Fred mumbled against your lips as he pulled away, breathless.

As your eyes searched the face of your fiance, no trace of fear settled in either of your minds. You were joined in a love much deeper than any dark magic or fear could penetrate.

“I love you, Fred Weasley.”

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[fredshufflepuff]

can you write a draco imagine where he’s such a simp for the reader and he gets shy and maybe nervous around her but he ends up asking her out successfully <33

fallen for you || d.m ✧˖*°࿐

summary: draco builds up the courage to ask out his crush.

warnings: hufflepuff!reader, fem!reader, slight language, fluff

word count: 1,886

y/n y/l, the hufflepuff that unknowingly captured draco’s heart.

she knew who draco was of course, there wasn’t anyone at hogwarts who didn’t.

but, she wasn’t exactly close to him. if anything she felt intimidated by the boy—everyone was.

she saw the way he treated anyone who wasn’t a slytherin, especially muggleborn’s and half bloods.

she saw how he lashed out on others for harmless mistakes and would insult them to the point of tears.

he was attractive yes, anyone with eyes could tell you that, but his personality was ugly.

“why’s malfoy looking at you?” hermione asked, your head titling up from your book as you cocked a brow.

“malfoy?”

“he’s been staring at you for the past minute” she said, her finger pointing subtly in his direction as you couldn’t help but turn around.

your eyes immediately locked with the boys as you quickly whipped your head back, face reddening in embarrassment and eyes widening.

he was staring at you.

“d-did i do something?” you whispered, your brain scattered as you tried to think of everything that had happened today.

“i don’t know, did you?”

you hesitantly shook your head, eyes staring straight at your potions book as you tried recalling if you had ran into malfoy or not.

surely you would have remembered, there was no way something like interacting with malfoy could be forgotten so easily.

your study date with hermione was cut short when you suddenly remembered you volunteered to help professor sprout with potting the mandrakes.

classes were done for the day and you had already finished all your school work, so helping with the mandrakes would be something to keep you busy.

“ah, y/n! so glad you could come” professor sprout greeted, her gloved covered hands raising up in excitement as you gave her a warm smile.

“of course, i love being around these little guys. even if their screams could kill me” you teased.

you made your way over to the greenhouse table and grabbed a pair of patched gloves, slipping them over your hands before taking a pair of earmuffs.

“ah, mr.malfoy. so nice of you to join us.”

malfoy? as in draco malfoy?

“s’not like i had a choice” he mumbled, the blonde oblivious to your presence as he trudged his way past sprout.

but when he did finally notice you, his eyes dropped and his breathing hitched.

why were you here? he thought he would be alone, alone or with anyone but you.

draco was there for detention after all, so he had no idea you had shown up against your own will.

“malfoy, grab some gloves and earmuffs so we can get started.”

“i have my own,” the boy snapped, reaching into his robe and pulling out an expensive pair of gardening gloves.

did this boy own anything that wasn’t designer?

“now, i want you two to start with the baby mandrakes. they need to be soaked in—”

“pomona, have you seen my- oh! excuse me for interrupting” professor slughorn said, placing his hand over his chest with a lighthearted smile.

“no worries, i’ll be back. just soak the youngest ones before putting them in their pots—don’t forget to wear your earmuffs” sprout said before rushing out, bringing slughorn with her as the greenhouse door shut behind them.

you stayed quiet as you turned to grab the pitcher of water, draco’s eyes burning into the back of your head as you moved from one mandrake to the other.

“why’re you here?”

it was sudden and blunt, draco immediately scolding himself for sounding rude, something he never did.

“oh i uh...like to help sprout during my free time” you explained, keeping your head down as you ran your fingers through the soil, trying to get all the lumps out.

“that’s pathetic” he mumbled, voice low and full of criticism as it carried over to you. your heart dropped as you nodded in response, not saying anything.

draco scolded himself again for his snippy response, quickly spilling out a “sorry” before he could think.

‘sorry?’ you thought, eyes wide as you turned to view the boy. draco never said sorry—even if something was his fault, you wouldn’t catch him apologizing.

“i-i didn’t mean pathetic, i meant to say...uhm” he paused for a second trying to think of the right words to use, “well you said free time, and i don’t really see a girl like you having free time. i mean, surely you hang out with people.”

he was a rambling mess, his explanation seeming to get worse as you listened quietly. 

you weren’t sure if he was insulting you or apologizing.

“because you’re so nice, i mean, seem nice. i haven’t really been around you much but i assume you’re nice to be around.”

“thank...you?” you said quietly, your response sounding more like a question as all he did was nod quietly, draco gulping down what felt like a rock stuck in his throat.

what the hell was he on? more importantly, why was he so flustered? especially with a hufflepuff, a house he saw as weak and pitiful.

after your...awkward interaction with malfoy, it seemed like whenever you were he was there too.

call it a coincidence, but it seemed far from it. 

if it was the main hall, quidditch pitch, hogsmeade—he was there and so were you.

he was always with his friends of course, but that didn’t stop him from showing his liking to you.

he even stopped bullying the first years and picking on the golden trio. it sounds hard to believe, but draco knew your dislike towards negativity, so if he wanted you to like him, he had to change his attitude.

everything he did was for you. if it was holding the door open for you, walking you to class, saving you extra slices of pie after dinner—the boy was head over heels for you.

even if you were a hufflepuff.

“one butterbeer please” you ordered, placing your menu down as your waiter nodded before walking off.

you came to the three broomsticks to have some alone time, most of your friends doing school work or at quidditch practice.

but when your attention was brought towards the door, your heart leaped when you saw draco enter, his friend group close behind.

he wore a black coat with matching gloves, shrugging the jacket off and hanging it up to reveal an expensive suit.

he scanned the tables like he was looking for something...or someone, his eyes locking with yours as you quickly looked down.

‘shit,’ you thought, your head hung low as you stared at your shaking fingers.

what if he thought you were staring—or you were judging him. no one dared to judge draco, but you remembered witnessing him hexing a kid for just looking at him the wrong way.

“here you go, ma’am” your waiter said, interrupting your thoughts as he placed the drink down in front of you.

“oh! thank you—” you took out your coin purse to try and find your money, the man quickly stopping you as he explained your drink was already payed for.

“b-but i didn’t pay” you mumbled, confusion laced in your voice as he nodded his head behind you.

“the gentleman in the suit did.”

meanwhile with draco, his friends were teasing him for paying—claiming he’s never done anything like that before.

“sod off” he mumbled, his voice low in order for you not to hear him. you were only a few tables away, who knew if you were listening or not.

“i’m just saying, mate. you never give your money out like that” blaise said, theodore agreeing as the blonde shook his head.

“i didn’t give it out.”

“yeah, you did.”

draco shoved his friend before ordering a butterbeer, the chatter around him fading as he turned his attention towards you.

you sat at a table in the corner with a book in your lap, your fingers wrapped around your drink as you took small sips from it.

“i’ll be right back.”

your eyes scanned over the parchment before your finger came up to flip the page. a sudden shadow casted over you though, your head titling up to see what it was.

“draco.”

the boy gave you a shy smile as he took a spot next to you, your body tensing up slightly before settling down.

“i-i was going to thank you for the drink, i just didn’t want to bring you away from your friends” you said quietly, your eyes staring into his. he was much more beautiful up close, the way his eyes shimmered and hair fell softly upon his forehead.

“they aren’t really my friends, at least i wouldn’t consider them that” he mumbled, a small chuckle falling from his lips as you smiled softly.

“but, you’re welcome. it really isn’t a big deal.”

“well thank you anyway, no ones really done anything like that before” you confess, draco’s eyes furrowing together as you worriedly looked at him. had you said something wrong?

“what do you mean ‘no ones done that before’?” he asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

“i mean buying me stuff. i don’t expect anyone to of course, it’s just” you pause for a second, your fingers playing with the drink handle as you thought to yourself, “no one really does those kind of things for me, y’know?”

no, draco didn’t know. as a child he was given anything he pleased. gifts from family, friends, admirers—it would be alarming if draco didn’t get anything from anyone.

“that’s odd” he mumbled.

“what’s odd?”

“the fact that no ones ever done anything for you, a beautiful girl like yourself has had to have someone spoil her” he whisked out calmly, your breathing getting caught in your throat as you couldn’t help but stare at him like he had three heads.

“b-beautiful?”

draco nodded in response, a smile playing on his lips at seeing your flustered state. but you didn’t feel all that flustered, you felt embarrassed.

this had to be a joke, there was no way draco malfoy called you beautiful—he had to be doing this for a bet.

“don’t play with me, draco.”

draco’s mouth fell open as he looked at you with knitted brows, “playing with you? y/n i-”

“draco, do you think i’m dumb?” you asked, his eyes widening as he shook his head quickly.

“i don’t-”

“then why do you think i’d believe you!”

it fell silent for a minute or two, the only sound being the crackling fire and the people talking around you.

“y/n, i don’t think you’re dumb. i think you’re beautiful and smart, not to mention kind” he spoke slow and gentle, wanting the girl in front of him to know he was serious.

“i would never do anything to hurt your feelings like that, if anything i want to treat you right.”

you let his words sink in, your eyes blinking slowly.

“what are you saying, draco?”

“i’m saying” he paused for a second, a nervous sigh falling from his lips, “i fancy you and want to take you out sometime, preferably soon.”

draco watched in silence as you took in his words, a small smile making its way to your face as he couldn’t help but smile himself.

“i’d love to, draco.”

draco malfoy tag list 🏷 @dracomalfoys-wh0re @fjorelaant @eunoniaa @xlauren-malfoyx @90smalfoy @astoria-malfcy @whipped-for-the-weasley-twins @ang9lic @malfoysbiitch @Harrypotter_Whore @aetheralist @miraclesoflove @myloveforluna @bellatrixscurls @dracosbaibe @skaratjung @1800-shutup @wh0re4blaise @riddleswh0r3crux @thatsassyhufflepuff @tommarvoloriddleisdaddy @drachoesimp @marrymetheonott

[woopboopboop]

heaven is a place on earth; hell is too

a/n: i just like the idea behind the prompt so i thought i’d write it. and to @harrysgloves​, thank you for the encouragement sent early this year! happy reading everyone! :)

content warnings: strong language, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of drug.

[usually, in the story, the gang leader will kidnap a person, right? this time, it’s the other way around]

“Are you a demon?”

She stops twirling the handcuffs in her hand and put it on the wooden drawer next to the bedroom doorway. For a beat, she doesn’t quiet know what to say because it is not the common “where am I?” or “who are you?” or even him trying to escape. But, only for a beat. Then, she straightens from where she is leaning at the door.

When he asks the next question, she pretends to not hear and calls for Ezra. If it is not for the real intention behind this, she probably would entertain his question and tell him if there is any angel in the room, if she is one, it would be an incarnation of Lucifer.

The younger boy comes as quick as she calls him and stands beside her at the doorway, waiting for whatever she has to say.

“He’s still in the cloud,” she says, eyes still assessing Harry who is lying on his back on the bed before turning her attention to the raven haired boy next to her. “How many did you use?”

“Just like you wrote in the note,” Ezra answers. 

She hums and returns to look at Harry who is now looking at his hands, inspecting for who knows what and mumbling something. Well, she did want the drug to make him forget a little bit. But not to the point where he is delirious. In this condition, there is no way he can give her what she is looking for.

“Are you sure?” Her eyes return to Ezra’s confused ones. There must be something wrong somewhere. He did what she told him to. Maybe not in a way she had instructed it. “You do know there’s a point before the number five, right?”

When she said that the confusion in his eyes shifts to realisation and it dawns on him. That would explain it. He did not forget, obviously. He misread it. He should’ve given Harry a half of the vial, not the whole thing.

She let out a sigh, thinking how there is no undoing this now. She can only hope the effect of the drug will wear off soon. Besides her, Ezra looks like he is trying to say something but the words don’t come out. He gives up then, head drooping slightly, the tips of his ears are red. 

“It’s okay, Ezra.” She gives him a small smile, trying to ease his silent guilt as he knows this plan is important to her. The smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes but he doesn’t want to say anything, afraid that it will make the situation worst. Instead, he says his apology before leaving quietly and quickly after she dismisses him.

“Am I… on a boat?” Harry slurs.

At first, she answers him by shaking her head, hand grabbing the abandoned cuffs on the drawer while she strides over to him. The colour is muted in the room and she figures he can’t see much but the faint cold blue of the evening that is falling like a dusky curtain of the room. So when she stops a reasonable distance away from him, she answers him curtly, “No. Not anymore.”

The sight is a great pity. It is almost like seeing someone on the edge of falling off the pedestal. Who would’ve thought that there will be time when she can see a person who is deemed organised and calculated, feared in the underworld, be so weak. Unguarded. His once pressed, white dress shirt stained with dirt and blood.

Seeing how vulnerable he is in that moment; she can just end him then and there. That was the job after all. And she did pull the trigger that had sent brain pieces to fly everywhere before Harry landed face down on the flour sacks stacked on the boat with a thud, leaving white powder dancing in the air. Not really a way to go for a notorious gang leader if you ask her but the woman and the two men on the other side of the canal seemed content which made it another job well done.

Except that the brain blown was not Harry’s. And as far as the world, especially the Abramo who had delivered their order to end Harry’s life and insisted on witnessing it, is concerned, he is a dead man.

“Am I in hell?” His voice snaps her from her trance. She thought he slips out of his consciousness again when he went silence seconds ago.

This sod. She tilts her head, looking at him and shrugs. “Depends.”

There is something in his eyes and she knows he is trying to make sense of it all because she feels his resistance when she tugs his wrist closer to the bed post above his head. A part of him resurfacing, despising to be in such position. But his brain might still be too hazy to think through so he just let her cuffs him without much struggle.

“Oh! Kinky,” he teases, neck straining to look where his cuffed wrist is at which makes her scoffs. He then looks at her like he is taking note of her face, eyes narrowed.

Maybe he is remembering how she looks like so it’s easy for him to instruct his men to hunt her down once he gets out of there. If he is able to walk out there alive that is. 

If he wants to. 

If she lets him. 

Because, even though as organised and calculated of a man Harry is, this time, she has the few steps ahead.

///

“Now, really,” Harry starts. Sitting up becomes more of a task when one of his hands is cuffed and his brain feels like it is rattling against his skull with every move he makes. “If you wanted to see me so badly, we could have just meet up.”

When he woke up minutes ago, he thought he was in his bed until his senses kicked in and it hurt almost as his throbbing head. Since then, he has been trying to get out of the restrain that tied him to the bed post on top his head and figures out what is happening, where is he. Out the window, it is pitch-black.

He probably is in hell; his brain had decided to land him there.

In retrospect, it is as surprising as it is expected. To be in hell, that is. After all of the deals making, bloods spilling, life taking, fists colliding, he knows there is a place for him here. Only that he expects that it would be overwhelmingly hot and full of screaming human, or what’s left of them. Where he is now is opposite of that. The cold nips his skin and the silence is unnerving. Maybe hell is not all fire and brimstones.

“I tried,” the woman says. Her voice is smooth.

That smooth voice is a good sign. It shows that this person is still able to tolerate whatever deal that he can make out of this. But it is not necessarily safe.

“You are a busy man.”

In between the lack of conversation, he tries to place her somewhere and everywhere but he has never seen her before. Moving up to find a more comfortable position, the movement has caused a dull throb behind his head that makes him wince. Somehow, it also unlocks a sound of gunshot and his gaze flicks to her. At the foot of the bed, she is unfazed.

“You shot me.” His voice rumbles lowly; somewhere between amusement and danger.

“That what was asked for.” It is stated oh-so-matter-of-factly and he accepts it.

He is in no place to make a fuss about it since enemies, like friends or business partners, are made along the way. If anything, he is a little bit bewildered at the attempt of keeping him alive and he doesn’t like not knowing what brought him here. Well, aside from someone ordering this woman here to kill him, but he is not dead though, which makes the motive behind whatever this is, is more questionable.

“Am I dead? I am in hell?”

The questions are supposed to be echoed in his brain but his slightly hazy state betrays him which caused the words to left his mouth unfiltered. The words then hang in the air and it makes him internally cringe. Her unamused face certainly doesn’t help with the situation. “What?”

“I never really thought people like you believe in afterlife.” To be fair, he never really thought about it himself. He is too busy living his life here. Not the one after. “And that is the second time you ask me that question,” she continues.

“So, I am alive.” He swears his mouth is really trying to destroy all the reputation he has been building all these years of being a gang leader. Fearless, self-assured and all that but he conceals the uncertainty in his voice with a smirk. “Why? They didn’t pay you enough for you to complete your job? Maybe you are afraid my men would take revenge on my death?”

She raises one eyebrow, shifting her weight from one leg to the other and he takes that as a sign to probe further, “Sentiment, perhaps?”

“They paid enough. A vendetta is the least of my concern. And no, it’s not sentiment.” With every answer to his question, she takes a step closer until she stops at his side.

“Then you’re holding me for ransom? It would be a huge amount of money, although, I don’t think my accountant would be so happy with that much money flowing out –”

“I have more important purpose for you than death or money.”

If it’s not him or his money, so it might be for her own benefit. The thing about Harry or he would like to think so in this way about himself is that his concern when it comes to being in a situation or making a deal is he will be leaning unto anything that benefits him the most. He tolerates as long as he is presented with a mutually beneficial outcome. In this situation, it is no difference. She wants something from him and he wants her to let him go.

“Interesting.” A smirk on his lips is now blooming into a full smile as he tilts his head. “Maybe you can uncuff me first and then we can carry on with our business?”

If she hears him, she is purposely ignoring his question and diverts her attention to reaching whatever it is in her trouser pocket. When she pulls something out of it, she holds a picture of a man at an arm length. Its creased lines showed that it has been folded and unfolded multiple times.

He is about to take it from her hand to inspect something scribbled at the corner of the picture but she retreats her arm half way, still holding it between her thumb and forefinger. “Do you know him?”

“You know, we could’ve discussed about this over a meet up or dinner. The cuff is really unnessa –”

“Just answer me.”

If she has been quiet this whole time, passive, this is the first time he sees her reacting. The smoothness in her voice now has an edge to it, her eyes are hard and piercing; a presage of storm. He presses his lips together and answers with a nod.

“I need you to talk to him,” she says. The picture is folded and put in her pocket again.

He cocks one eyebrow towards her. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I know only you can reach him.”

That is true, to a certain extent. The last question he has now is that will doing what she wants him to do benefits him too, so he asks in the way that he usually does. “What if I won’t?”

Like a fired bullet, her fist catches tight in the front of his clothes and then her hand finds his throat, knocking his head hard against the headboard. He juts his chin up almost defiantly and grabs her wrist with his free hand.

He pushes her wrist away but it is a futile effort as he can feel how her fingers reach near the particular throbbing part at the nape of his neck, digging in. 

“Fir – first the cuff. Now, you are tr – trying to choke me? Take me, fuck, take me on a dinner first, at least.” He grins despite his choked words and his ragged breath.

“You fucker,” she spats, eyes darken, “this is all a game for you, isn’t it?”

The storm he predicts reaches him and he is trapped in it as she pushes him impossibly further into the headboard, her fingers tightening around his neck while his loosens up around her wrist. He is whirling little by little, the full smile reduced to a tug at the corner of his lips.

“The Abramo was right when they come to us, to me, to launch their vendetta. You are a cocky piece of shit and the only place you deserve to be at is at the bottom of the cold, murky canal with a big gap behind your head!”

“Do you regret… no – not killing me?” He chuckles but it sounds strangled.

“You are making it really easy right now,” she snarls.

Maybe it is the restriction of breath or the warmth of her breath fanning out over his face against the coldness of the room but there is a glint in her eyes. He had been in near-death’s hold before but this feels like he is being thrusted into one without warning as he witnesses a sinister gleam in her face. She has been waiting for this moment. However, before she can end it or start it, she let go of him and strengthens herself up.

“Although,” she sighs, backing away. “I believe your mum and sister won’t find it that easy.”

It takes him minutes to be able to focus on her again, blinking and gasping a little. Her eyes are still boring into him. In between relief and dismal and the ringing in his ears, he notices her settling into the unfazed demeanour she was in before until –

“Dotty and Dusty will probably going to miss you too when you’re gone.”

His stills.

Nobody. Nobody knows about the cats. 

Rivals targeting his family is a part of his work hazard and he always makes sure they are under his protection. It is such trivial matter. It is only cats’ names. But to know it specifically holds a certain power against him because it either means that she had been in his house before or it means that she has been in close proximity with either his mum or his sister to know about that much information.

And at that moment, whatever security he puts his family under, it is not safe anymore. His stomach bottoms out and she is delighted to see him in that way to say the least.

“What do you want?” He grits his teeth, moving forward to fight and the cuff clinks against the headboard because of the sudden jerk.

“There’s only one thing that I want.” Her voice is smooth. She is back at the feet of the bed again, now, with a faint smile on her lips. “But I need you to be able to hold up a proper conversation first before we continue with the business.”

It is not much of a mock or provocation but he still feels a squeezing of terror and of anger. His jaw clenches. “I am talking to you now, don’t I?”

She is already walking towards the door, leaving him struggling to stand up behind her. The bed legs scrap against the wooden floor as he pulls the bed along with him when he tries to grab her arm or shoulder or hair but she is already far away from his reach.

“Not enough,” she says while sparing him a look over the shoulder.

When he realises he is not going to go anywhere, not when he is still restrained to the bed, especially, not when the wood under his feet begins to warp, he fell back on the bed, eyes squeezed tight to block the sharp pain of his head. Defeated.

“Get a good rest. I need you fresh first thing in the morning,” she says before the door shuts. 

Wherever he is, be it in the real world or the after, this is hell.

[greetings-and-salutations]

“There’s Two of You! That Makes So Much More Sense.”

Fred Weasley x oc

(soulmate au) Part 5

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: Fred Weasley’s been searching for his soulmate for what feels like ages. What happens when he finally finds out she’s been right next to him this whole time; Or rather, seated right next to his twin in potions?

soulmate au: On your 15th birthday the first words your soulmate will say to you appear as a tattoo on your wrist.

Warnings: cringey writing from my teens; Jealous Fred; some purposefully messed up ages; Seamus Finnigan being Seamus Finnigan

Paring: Fred Weasley x Harper Bell (OC)

Harper

“Is it true?” Harper glared up at whoever it was that had interrupted The peaceful nap she had been taking on the couch in the common room. Her homework was sprawled out in front of her, leading her to believe that it had been what she was doing when she passed out.

“Yes, people do think you’re gay for each other.” Harper responded, grumpily. Dean and Seamus rolled their eyes as they popped down on the couch beside her. They had their bags with them, so she assumed they had just gotten back from class. That reminded Harper that Fred would probably be back from his own class soon. Butterflies flitted around in her stomach at the thought.

“Haha. Very funny. You know what we’re talking about.” Seamus said. Harper decided to play dumb.

“Do I?” She asked, noticing the small herd of students slowly filling up the room. She reached for her school stuff, knowing she wouldn’t be doing anymore homework tonight now that classes were over.

“Don’t play dumb with us, Harp. It’s all over school.” Dean said. Harper’s cheeks flushed a little at that. Sure, they hadn’t exactly been discreet about everything, walking through the halls hand in hand and all, but she didn’t think people would get “soulmates” from that so soon.

“Look, Dean! She’s blushing!” Harper’s face got even redder as he yelled out for anyone in the common room to hear. She decided she’d rather not have this conversation right now and grabbed her things, deciding to hide in her dorm until Dean and Seamus get bored and went to bed themselves.

“Stop her!”

“Quick, Dean, grab her leg!”

“I can’t! Just tackle her!”

That was all Harper heard before she was on the ground, a big lump of boy sitting on her stomach.

“What the he*l?” She cried out, trying desperately to shove him off but to no avail. That is, until another voice joined the ruckus.

Fred

After what had felt like the longest class of Fred’s life, he and George had finally returned to the common room only to find some sort of fight going down. At least that’s where it looked like from where Fred was standing. He was about to laugh at the poor sod Seamus Finnigan was on top of, when he noticed the unmistakable face of his soulmate. His blood practically boiled at the sight, but he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. He didn’t wanna risk her getting mad at him.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” He asked, making his way purposefully through the crowd and stopping in front of Seamus who was now looking up at him, like a deer in headlights. Harper was still trying to shove him off, her face showing signs of annoyance, but not necessarily anger.

“Um... I was... um...” Seamus didn’t seem to know what to say. Fred didn’t wanna admit it, but he was kind of enjoying watching the younger boy squirm. Though he wasn’t too keen on the squirming happening on top of his soulmate.

“Freddie? Can you be a dear and GET HIM OFF ME!” Harper cried out, her annoyance escalating by the second. Fred didn’t need to be told twice and grabbed Seamus by the back of his shirt and tossed him aside before helping Harper to her feet.

“Do I even wanna know?” He asked. His question was aimed at Seamus, though his attention kept flitting down to Harper, his arm wrapping around her waist almost instinctively.

“Well... you see... I... um... we... well...” Seamus stuttered out, still not seeming to have an answer. Fred was right. He did enjoy watching Seamus squirm more from this position.

“Seamus and Dean we’re picking on me.” Harper spoke up with a pout. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was just messing with Seamus. Fred could do that too.

“Is that so?” Fred cracked his knuckles threateningly. He could see Seamus gulp from where he was standing about three feet away. “You want me to take care of it, love?” He asked, looking down at Harper. He could tell she was trying not to laugh.

“No! I mean-um I’m sorry...Harp-Harper. We were just-I mean-I was just messing around and-“ It seemed as if Harper couldn’t last another second of the poor boys babbling and burst into laughter. Fred just watched his soulmate’s happy expression with a fond smile. “Oh, it was a- you were just...right.” Seamus said, realizing that they were just joking with him.

“So does this mean you two are...?” Dean finally spoke up from where he’d been watching the exchange. Harper and Fred turned pink and looked at each other questioningly.

“Well... we-um...” Harper started, but thankfully Fred picked up where she left off.

“Sorry, mate. Looks like Harp’s spoken for.” He said, not really answering the boys question, but also not not answering it. Harper appreciated it.

“Don’t apologize to me. Seamus here’s the one with a fat crush on her.” Dean joked causing Harper to roll her eyes. The Finnigan boy did, in fact, not have a “fat crush” on her, contrary to the never ending teasing Dean directed towards him and herself. It was just a long-standing inside joke. But, of course, Fred didn’t know that.

“Is that so?” The redhead asked, jealously practically oozing from him as his grip around Harper’s waist tightened. Seamus’s eyes widened in terror.

“Freddie, calm down...” Harper whispered though, this time, he didn’t acknowledge her, his eyes set on her Irish friend.

“No! I would never have a crush on Harper. Not that she’s not pretty, or anything! She’s very pretty! Just not my type... not that she’s not... you’re type, or whatever. But like she’s not mine... and I don’t like her. I mean, not like that. She’s great, but like... yeah.” Fred raised his eyebrows in question. Harper cringed as Seamus began sweating nervously.

“You done digging yourself a deeper hole?” He asked, ignoring Harper tugging on his sleeve, trying to get him to stop.

“Yes, sir! I mean- you’re not a sir. I mean-“ Fred smirked a little at the authority the word made him feel like he had.

“No, go back to sir. I quite liked it.” Harper physically facepalmed at this.

“Okay, we get it. Seamus is annoying, Fred’s a git, and I’m tired of this conversation. Can we go?” Harper asked, tugging on Fred’s sleeve once more, though this time he turned to look at her.

“Alright.” She smiled up at him and Fred felt the same aching in his heart. She had no idea how cute she was.

As she began making her way towards the portrait hole, Fred turned back to the two younger boys in front of him.

“For the record, I was just messing with you.” He said with his signature smirk. Seamus sighed in relief, but Fred wasn’t done. “But if you do try and make a move on my girl, It’ll be the last thing you ever do. Got me?” Seamus nodded quickly, prompting Fred to turn around, pleased with the boys reaction.

“I got you, mate.” Seamus called out towards his back as he followed Harper out the door.

“That’s sir to you, young man!”

part 6?

Tag lists open!!!

Tags: @electriclcvewp @fredsandlokiswhore

[futurewriter2000]

Dysfunctional - pt. 1

A/N: I'm just bored.

XX

Growth is something only a little amount of people know about. Nobody truly wants to grow but they do, whether they choose to or not, through time they change.

And so as a bad man finds a bible, a good woman finds her power.

Who were you in the eyes of most people? - A question that always floated in the back of your mind. Like a pebble in your shoe, the one you could never get rid of. It was the main question that bothered you all years through Hogwarts, up to a point where you pushed it so far down and completely transformed it.

Who are you in the eyes of yourself?

Foolish question that oddly worked wonders for you and your transformation. You change your mindset, you change yourself right? At least that's what all those Muggle books had been telling you.

All Hogwarts dug their interest in you all of a sudden but you haven't thought much about it. For you, it was as if nothing had changed. You thought you didn't interest anybody and that was what made you keep yourself on the right path to focus on you and the little moments life has to offer.

"I can't believe that's her." Sirius leaned over, staring and smiling.

"Wave a whole banner, don't you." Remus retorded, rolling his eyes.

"If only she wasn't a Slytherin- by the way, how could she had got sorted into Slytherin. Since our interactions had always been so... civil and well... she posed no threat what-so-ever. I'd always imagined her being in a Hufflepuff." James added, meanwhile Sirius sat down and grabbed himself a toast.

"She lives not far from us." started Peter and all eyes turned to him. "(Y/n)." he felt the need to clarify. "I had heard loads of shouting in her house... since we lived there, everybody knew her family situation."

"Rich and spoiled?" Sirius rolled his eyes, taking another bite in his toast.

"Rich and... strict... very strict father and mother..." Peter mumbled, looking at his bread.

"Oh, that's right. Met her father once- loud old sod." James looked back, looking at you laughing with some of other Slytherins- the bad kind that caused his heart to be swallowed by his stomach. "Always so angry..." he continued, looking at you until your eyes met and he quickly turned away.

"She's got nice hair." said Sirius as all of them furrowed their eyebrows at him. "It's just an observation." he shrugged.

---

You had been starting to hang out a lot with the wrong crowd of Hogwarts. Everybody started to notice... everybody started to say they were corrupting you and the changes they noticed were quite massive.

You started talking back to the teachers. Something you have never thought of doing, since your shyness was a large part of your childhood personality. But that was just it... you weren't a child anymore, were you?

You were going out of the classroom when somebody rushed right into you, spilling the coffee in your hand all over you and your books.

The boy's eyes widened as he continued to look at the stains that were starting to show all over your uniform.

"I am so sorry, (Y/N). I swear, I didn't mean to- I just- you appeared out of nowhere-" James started to apologize. You were only staring down, staring at him, then back down and just as James was preparing to be yelled at, hexed at or cursed at you let out a laugh.

"Well hell..." you smiled up at him. "Finally a reason to get a new robe." you let out another laugh, meanwhile James only stood there.

"You're not... mad?"

"Well, being mad wouldn't really do us much favour, would it now?" you picked up your books that weren't that much damaged as you thought they'd be. "Shame for the coffee tho. Can't really function without it."

"Coffee?" he repeated. "You're mad about the coffee?" he started to feel a bit relieved.

"I don't joke about coffee, Potter. You should know that." you wiped the books with the sleeves of your uniform. You started to take off the robe so that you would only stand there in front of him with your shirt, tie and skirt. Only then James started to realise how much your body has changed since the last time he had seen you. Your breast, specifically, where he could see your finely shaped lace bra through the coffee stain. He felt his cheeks go red, radiating through his faint freckles and you couldn't help yourself but to smile.

"I'm so sorr- rry." he muttered again, taking off his robe and offering it to you. "Here. Take it."

"Oh, nice. A Gryffindor robe." you took it and wrapped it around yourself. "Though, I always imagined stealing it." you winked and he let out a laugh.

"Would fit your house perfectly."

"Theft?" you questioned. "No. Not a trait for Slytherins."

"No?" he grinned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back. "If it's not their trait, then whose is?"

"Mine." you winked again, grabbing the bag from the floor as James grabbed your books. "Now, imagine a Slytherin coming into the common room with a Gryffindor robe. God, I'd piss them all off."

James started to laugh. "You hate your own house?"

"Oh, God no." you let out a laugh as you started to walk beside him and notice him looking at you, observing you. "I just find this house thing rivalry real funny." you said, finding him still staring. You stopped and turned around. "What are you staring at Potter?"

"You, clearly." he pointed out bluntly. "It suits you so much better than me and it clearly doesn't even fit you."

You started to laugh. "Well, don't get jealous over it. I'll give it back to you when we reach the dungeons."

"Oh, you can give it back later?"

"Why?"

"Because you can see everything through the stains. Why do you think I offered it to you? Plus, you said you wanted to piss off Slytherins and I'd like to piss of Slytherins as well."

"A common interest."

"Exactly."

"Though, I think they'll live, knowing I wear a bra and that I have... a body. Maybe they'll finally stop thinking I'm half mermaid or something." you started to joke and so did James. "If I really wanted to piss them off, I'd use a tie because a robe looks like any other robe, really."

James was the one that stopped now, shoving the books he held into your arms and untying his tie.

"No way, you're doing that. I was joking."

"I'm not." he smiled with his teeth and pulled it over his head. He untied yours and pulled it over yours, exchanging it for his own, Gryffindor tie. "Tell me how it goes. " he said just before he left, lifting your tie in his fist. "I'll keep on to this- just in case I don't get mine back.

"Alrighty!" you shouted after him.

---

It wasn't until the next day when James was drowsily eating his breakfast before his practice. You came from behind and scared him half to death. His toast flew from his hand and all eyes flew to the two of you. You squeezed between him and the red-head, completely dismissing her presence as you gave James a cheeky smile.

"Want to know?"

"You made my toast fly away." he siad drowsily.

"And you made my coffee make love to the floor. Now do you want to know?"

"How are you so chirp this morning? It's not even seven?"

"Got up at 2am. Had like two coffees since then. Anyway. Do you want to know?"

"Two in the morning? Hell, why did you get up so early- that's not even early... that's like late. And yeah, I do want to know." he started t wake up to the news.

"Been studying all week at night and now I sleep in the noon and am awake in the night. Fun." you chirped.

"Okay- tell me what happened?"

"The looks- oh, my God, you should have been there when I walked it. It was like I murdered their entire family."

"No-" he let out a laugh.

"Mulciber came to me." you started to talk in a more drama-spilling tone and James got excited.

"I thought the two of you were like friends."

"Us? Maybe in another dimension but like-

' *flashback*

"What the hell are you wearing?" he stomped to you and grabbed you by your tie, to which you shoved away in a second.

"Haven't you seen this new trend? I think it goes with- you are what you eat." you started to tease, turning around like a fashion model as you placed your hands on your hips. "Or in this case, you wear what you eat and I eat coffee every day, any day." you winked.

"And the tie?"

"You like?" you continued, seeing the little jealousy burn in his eyes, except you knew far well it wasn't jealousy. It was possessiveness and you'd rather go to hell than be anybody's property. "It's from my new beau." you fanned yourself, wrapping yourself in his robe and peeking through it. "A prince on white horse came to me today-"

"Be serious, (y/n)."

"I am dead serious." you pouted playfully. "He rushed on his horse and knocked me down, spilled my poor coffee all over me. It was like love at first sight. He scooped me into his arms and said 'Oh, dear! How could I have hurt this beautiful creature.-"

"You really didn't say that?" James interrupted the story telling, laughing as the other's who were surrounding you laughed with you.

"I did. Now let me go back."

- "He didn't say that!" Mulciber rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're shagging a Gryffindor?"

"I'm not." you started to get more serious. "And if I would be, would it be such a bad thing doing one? I mean, you only live once, why would it be wrong not taking a taste of all four cakes." you teased again, causing him to grow redder in his pale skin.

"You stole it."

"It was pleasantly exchanged."

"Exchanged?"

"A tie for a tie." you smiled.

"Why don't we go, eye for an eye?"

"Because nobody wants to give their eye, silly." you continued.

"You really annoy me, you know."

"I do and I really do not care. I only want to go to my room and take a nap."

"I will find out, you know!"

"I don't care!"

"Who was it?!"

"Dumbledore!"

*end of fashback*

"You're crazy." James continued to laugh.

"A little dysfunctional but not crazy." you winked and got up.

"And my things?"

"Do you got mine?"

"No, I didn't think I'd see you this early."

"Well then... guess they are mine now." you leaned forward, an inch apart as both of you continued to grin at each other, not another word spoken. You didn't dare to look anywhere else than his hazel eyes, such a wonderful mixture of green, brown and yellow. It amazes you how somebody can have such a wonderful eye colour. He didn't even only have one colour but three. "Pretty." you said, still smiling and pulled away, jumping back on your feet as he turned to you, smiling.

"Wait!" Sirius spoke before you could leave. "When did... when did you become best friends?"

"We didn't." James answered and you looked down at him, raising an eyebrow and feeling amused.

"No. We just made blood bond nobody else could break." you spoke mysteriously, putting your elbows on James' shoulders and placing your head on top of his, staring at Sirius. "And now we will secretly plan the end of the world. Muahahah." you joked, standing back up as the others laughed. "See you later Potts." and with that you were gone as the other watched you.

"What... just happened?" Remus started laughing, amazed.

"They made a blood bond." Sirius pointed his finger at you disappearing.

James started laughing. "Maybe now I can ask her about what she does with her hair for you." James got up and winked at Sirius.

"Oh, would you? I really want to know." Sirius stood up and started to walk behind him. "Just... say it's for Lily or something."

James started laughing again, then realising. "Oh, shit!" he turned around, searching for the red-head that was sitting beside him. "She was telling me something when (y/n) appeared. I totally forgot about her."

Sirius started laughing loudly, tapping James' shoulder. "Good luck getting her attention now."