#the maroon looks more red... i am loosing it a little

[korshrimpski]

oganesson, haiku poem: clayton keller

the end of the line you're millisecond half-life brings down the curtain.

organised by: @simmyfrobby

[kkpwnall]

wine & dine

or: the quickest way to a man’s heart (and parts beyond)

((edit: now on ao3))

[ @corrodedcoughin laid down a reverse uno card, and i am extremely susceptible to gentle persuasion. i know you asked for headcanons, but apparently i have lots of thoughts about eddie taking a cooking class to wine and dine steve so this one got a bit away from me. anyway, hope you like it, and hope your day got better. ]

“Shit!”

Steve’s steps up the trailer stairs falter when he hears Eddie’s shout. He balances a tray of cupcakes and a bouquet of red daisies in one hand and knocks on the door.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts again, followed by a loud banging and clanging.

“Eddie?” Steve knocks again. He’s been here often enough since they started dating that he knows he doesn’t have to knock, that he’s welcome to just walk right in. But it’s their date night, and he wants to do this right.

More banging, more clanging, more cursing. Then the alarm starts. That’s enough for Steve.

“Eddie!” He bursts through the door and skids to a stop halfway to the kitchenette. The trailer is full of smoke and Eddie is right in the middle of it, waving a dish towel in front of the screaming smoke detector. Steve drops the cupcakes and the flowers on the small kitchen table and grabs a flaming pan of… something off the burner, moving it to one of the empty burners further back on the range and cutting the gas.

Eddie gives up trying to fan the smoke away, and climbs up on the counter to rip the alarm out of the ceiling instead. Steve grabs his abandoned towel and flings open the kitchen window, fanning the smoke out as Eddie manages to get the thing off the ceiling without bringing the tiles crashing down on their heads.

He rips the batteries out of the back of it and turns to look at Steve, panting like he’s run a marathon. Eddie’s thighs are eye level with Steve, who has to drag his eyes up and away from his favorite gray sweatpants, the ones that always make him a little crazy, past the old sleeveless band shirt cropped above Eddie’s waist, to finally look up at him. Eddie’s curls are spilling loose from the bun he’d tied them up in, framing his flushed face and wild eyes.

“You’re early,” is all he says, looking Steve up and down. He suddenly feels over-dressed, standing there in the middle of the tiny kitchen with his maroon button down securely tucked into his best pressed khakis. He even wore the leather shoes with the little tassels on them.

Steve tugs self-consciously at his shirt and looks around the kitchen. “It’s date night,” he says simply. “Thought I'd see if you needed any help with dinner.”

It looks like Eddie’s used every dish in the house. Twice. He’s crouched on the kitchen counter now, looking like a wild animal that might bolt at any sudden movements. Steve slowly reaches out a hand and tucks some of those stray curls behind Eddie’s ear. “Seems like you’ve got it handled though.”

Eddie sighs and flops down so he’s sitting on the counter. He puts his head in his hands and mumbles, “this isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“What are you talking about? I’m here, you’re here, you made us…” he looks over at the softly smoldering pan, trying to figure out what exactly Eddie’s been making, “dinner? Sounds like the perfect date night to me.”

Eddie just groans and shakes his head, hiding behind his hands and his hair.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad, it’s only a little burnt. We can still salvage it.” He throws the towel on his shoulder, and unbuttons his cuffs, starts to roll up his sleeves. “What are we having?”

“Beef stroganoff,” Eddie mumbles through his hands.

“If you’re going for medium well, I think it’s done.”

Eddie just groans. “Steve…”

“Hey, hey,” Steve puts his hands on Eddie’s wrists, gently pulling them away from his face.

Eddie looks close to tears. Steve brushes Eddie’s bangs out of his eyes with one hand and cups his cheek with the other. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me, I didn’t know you could cook like this. I thought we were gonna have Macaroni a la Eddie tonight.”

Eddie makes a face, and looks away, mumbling something so quietly, Steve wouldn’t have known he’d said anything if he didn’t see his lips move. Steve dodges down and around, trying to catch Eddie’s gaze again as he plays keep-away with his eyes.

“Didn’t catch that, Eds.”

Eddie sighs dramatically and half shouts, “I’ve been taking a cooking class down at the learning annex!”

“Oh…” that pulls Steve up short. That’s time, that’s effort, that’s… serious.

“The head chef at Enzo’s has a class every Thursday night, and it went fine when I made it there! I don’t know what happened tonight!”

“Well there’s your problem, you’ve got an Italian chef teaching you a German recipe.”

“Pretty sure it’s Russian, dude,” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. “And it’s not just Italian, she teaches a different recipe every week.”

“Ok so, let’s figure this out. Where’s the recipe?”

Eddie looks around and fishes out a slightly singed, very crumpled piece of paper from under the corner of the cutting board with a half-chopped onion on it. It’s less a recipe and more doodles and half-written thoughts in Eddie’s chicken-scratch. Some of the ingredients don’t even have a measurement next to them, just ‘brandy,’ ‘Worcestershire,’ ‘beef’. Nothing like how Steve bakes, with everything carefully measured out and plotted before he even starts mixing.

It also becomes rapidly apparent that Eddie doesn’t have half the ingredients the recipe calls for, as Eddie directs Steve from his perch on the counter, translating his hieroglyphic scrawl and making substitutions on the fly. But together they manage to cobble together something that might resemble a technical definition of beef stroganoff. It’s got beef at least, all the burnt parts scraped off, and noodles. Steve figures it’s close enough.

Eddie rinses out an old coffee grounds can to put the flowers in while Steve plates their dinner. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches Eddie holding the bouquet to his nose, a soft smile on his face.

When they sit down at the scratched and dented and much-loved table, Eddie quickly scarfs down several bites. He chews thoughtfully and makes a face. Steve’s barely got the fork halfway to his mouth when Eddie whisks his plate away and throws the whole thing in the garbage can.

“Hey, I was eating that!”

“No, you’re not,” Eddie says fiercely. “You’re not getting poisoned tonight.”

Steve takes the bite on his fork defiantly and stares Eddie down as he chews. It’s somehow both over-cooked and underdone. He chews and chews and eventually swallows, and does not make a face.

Eddie stares back, hands on his hips, working his jaw back and forth. Steve twirls his fork in the air. “I came hungry tonight. I’ll eat it out of the trash can, don’t tempt me.”

He holds Eddie’s gaze for a beat longer, then he’s up and out of his chair, pivoting around Eddie like he’s on the basketball court. He just manages to stick his fork in the trash can before Eddie jumps on his back.

“At least let me get the plates out of there!”

“No!”

They wrestle for a few minutes, knocking things off the counter, and making a bigger mess than the one Steve walked in on tonight. Eddie grapples for his hands, but Steve’s arms are longer so he gives up and puts his hands over Steve’s eyes, making him stumble backwards into the refrigerator. The cereal boxes on top fall off as Eddie gives a small “ooft” and slides off his back.

Steve whirls around and pins Eddie to the fridge with his hands on his hips. His lips find Eddie’s and he kisses him fiercely, already breathless. Eddie holds out for a moment, just for a beat, then he winds his arms around Steve’s shoulders and sinks his hands into Steve’s hair with a deep sigh. His mouth parts and Steve deepens the kiss, titling his head just so, tongues brushing, hot, desperate, feverish. He drags his hands slowly up Eddie’s waist, toying with the raw edge of his cropped shirt, thumbing over his ribs. Just as slowly, he drags his hands back down, plucking at the waistband of those stupid sweatpants. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along Eddie’s jaw, down his neck. He drags his tongue over Eddie’s collarbone and scrapes his teeth over the spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Why have you been taking cooking classes?” Steve breathes into his neck, trailing his nose back up under his ear.

“Don’t make me say it…” Eddie says with a groan.

“Eddie…” He sinks his teeth into Eddie’s pulse point, and soothes the bite with his tongue.

Eddie growls, he actually growls. Steve feels it rumble from Eddie’s throat under his lips as Eddie gently tugs on his hair in frustration. It sends a thrill of electricity straight down Steve’s spine, making him press closer. “Because I wanted to learn how to make fancy recipes for you! You deserve better than box mac and cheese!”

Steve pulls back, just slightly, just enough to see Eddie’s eyes, just enough so Eddie knows he’s serious.

“I love box mac and cheese. Especially when you cut up the little hotdogs to put in it? With the hot sauce? That’s what makes it Macaroni a la Eddie.”

“You’re Steve Harrington,” Eddie says desperately, “you deserve to be wined and dined. And I—”

“Hey,” Steve says, squeezing Eddie’s hips in his hands, shaking them gently. “You’re Eddie Munson, if anyone deserves to be wined and dined it’s you. I’ll get dressed up and take you out every night. Candlelight, roses, you name it.” He can’t resist, doesn’t even try to resist, diving back in for another kiss, gently dancing his fingers from Eddie’s hips to his waist, then smoothing them back down. “I’ll hold your hand and shout about it from the rooftops. ‘I’m dating Eddie Munson and we’re more in love than you’ll ever be!’”

“Always a competition with you jocks,” Eddie rolls his eyes and grouches, but his tone is fond.

“It is, and I’m winning.” Steve pecks a kiss on Eddie’s nose.

Eddie catches his lips, draws him back down for another kiss. It’s less frantic but just as heated. Until Steve’s stomach growls and Eddie breaks away laughing.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I came hungry,” Steve laughs, pressing his forehand against Eddie’s.

“Yeah, well… sorry I messed up dinner. I think my cheffing days are over. Glad you like box macaroni, ‘cause that’s all we’re having from here on out.”

“No way,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I just got used to fancy home cooking, I need to taste your other recipes. And you need a sous chef.”

Eddie looks at him skeptically. “Steve, I almost burnt down the trailer tonight, you really want to try that again?”

“Absolutely,” Steve says immediately, kissing him lightly again.

Eddie still doesn’t look convinced though, so Steve says, “let’s make a deal, ok? You can experiment as much as you want in the kitchen, try anything at any time, as long as you let me help. And, if it’s truly inedible, which I do not for a single second believe is possible, I’ll buy us a pizza. Deal?”

Eddie’s eyes flick between both of Steve’s as he thinks it over. He bites his lip and nods. “Deal.”

“Good,” Steve kisses him again, sealing the deal. He pulls Eddie away from the fridge and nudges him towards his bedroom with a wink. “Go get changed, we’ve got a date tonight.”

Eddie laughs, “what, you don’t like the sweatpants?”

“I love the sweatpants,” Steve says with feeling. “Which is why you need to get changed right now. Otherwise I won’t be able to keep my hands off you for the rest of our date.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a cheeky wink of his own.

Steve playfully slaps at his ass and starts looking for the phone book. “The Works?”

“No olives,” Eddie reminds him.

“Extra olives, got it,” Steve says, picking up the phone.

Eddie sticks his tongue out at him, backing away towards his room.

Steve quickly dials the number and fumbles through the order. They’ve got at least thirty minutes before the delivery shows up. If he hurries, maybe he can take those sweatpants off with his teeth.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

I arbitrarily decide to examine the post box again on the way back.

MAIL COLLECTION BOX - The dented yellow mailbox greets you with it's graffito and bullet holes in the front.

"Good mail delivery box." (Pat the box.)

"Fuck you, mail delivery box!" (Kick it.)

[Leave.]

MAIL COLLECTION BOX - The box seems happy.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] - "Eat shit, pig!", "FUCKED BY THE CUNN" and "Saint-G" with a crown have been scribbled on it. "Jennie is a WHORE" and "*Baise cette* mailbox!" also.

I feel you, mail collection box.

Been there, *Poste L'Aventurier* mail collection box... been there.

Mail collection box, you should man the fuck up.

MAIL COLLECTION BOX - The mail collection box seems cathartic, thankful even. So do you. You shudder. Then you swallow.

+1 Morale

The sea breeze carries more than salt: meat. Not rotten, not fresh; grilled.

🎵 Rue de Saint-Ghislane 32B

Waves crashing in the darkness.

Someone has torn down the wall.

BOOK "SIXTEEN DAYS OF COLDEST APRIL"

The cover features a row of concrete buildings with a monochrome rainbow in the sky. It tells a rather excruciating story about two lovers during a period of ethnic unrest in Yugo-Graad. The book has been filed under psychological realism.

Could be useful if we ever need to pass time. Otherwise, I don't see us getting much out of this one.

SAVOIR FAIRE - Master Investigator! You just can't keep yourself away from locked and hidden places, can you?

What do you mean?

It is my duty as a cop to investigate every square inch of this world.

Hey! I am not some sort of a... peeper.

SAVOIR FAIRE - Nothing. Nothing! You're right -- get in there... deep. Invade every personal space, break every lock...

I'm just browsing...

It is my duty as a cop to investigate every square inch of this world.

Hey! I am not some sort of a... peeper.

SAVOIR FAIRE - Attaboy! The world's secrets were made for you. They wait patiently for you to uncover them...

Thought gained: The Jamrock Shuffle

THE JAMROCK SHUFFLE

Temporary research bonus: -1 Esprit de Corps: Confusing behaviour Research time: 1h 5m

By now it’s clear you like to look inside containers. You like to open doors and see what’s behind them. Maybe secrets? Maybe... more juicy containers? Let’s be honest, you like *all* containers. Trash cans, utensil trays, manholes, coat pockets, secret containers left behind by the Filippian kings that hold forbidden relics. Okay, you haven’t come across one of those yet, but *one day*... Wait. Is that why you’re so hellbent on opening containers? Do you think you’ll find the Holy Scepter and the Orbe de Montagne?

Lot of loose change in this cabinet.

A blister pack of medicine peeks out of the box. You should take it!

It's Hypnogamma, which gives us three charges to Morale. Not useful to us right now.

Someone's also left change in their shoes.

Hmm... these shoes come in three different sizes.

This cabinet contains even more Magnesium and... some alcohol.

ALCOHOL "COMMODORE RED"

A large crimson bottle of cheap sugary wine. Made of poverty, sugar, artificial taste enhancers -- and a vague memory of grapes. Guaranteed to colour your lips.

Moss crawls on these bathroom tiles... actual moss.

*Kuuno de Ruyter* is the name on unfinished homework.

Three things occur to Harry at once out here.

Complete silence. Whoever lives here isn't home.

...I think that one was meant to trigger earlier.

You hear distant traffic. Night is falling on the city.

A maroon glow of light pollution rises from the east.

The curtains shift. Just a little. Someone is watching from within.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - "Gendarmerie! You found me." The young man on the balcony gives you a bright smile, before taking another drag from his cigarette.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - His slender figure is backlit by city lights, its distant streets and motorways flashing like diamonds...

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - It feels like a Friday. He seems to be in a good mood tonight.

"We got your hint. Found the key right under that stone."

[Leave.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - "Beautiful," he replies, smiling. As he looks at you, something sparkles in his eyes.

"So tell me, are you here to make things *right* again?"

"That's what I'm aiming for, yes."

"Honestly I'm just trying to not screw anything up."

"I'm not going to make things just *right*, I'm going to make them *spectacular*."

(Ignore his question.) "I was hoping to talk to a possible witness. Your balcony overlooks the murder scene."

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - "Beautiful," he says again. A nearby street lamp casts shadows on his chin, drawing out the slender cheekbones.

"I have some good news for you. My Sunday friend is visiting me tonight. I told him about you and he'd like to say hello. Step in, he's already waiting." He nods towards door #28.

"By the way, I'm really digging the view here." (Point to the city skyline.)

"Is it Friday tonight? It feels like Friday."

"Why would I want to meet your friend?"

"Very well, I'll talk to him, but first I want to talk to *you*. I have so many questions." (Proceed.)

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - "Mhmh, that's why I chose this place." He looks away, his cigarette end glowing in the dark. "Martinaise is special, isn't it?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Wait, suddenly you're *digging* things?" the lieutenant whispers to you, shaking his head.

2. "Is it Friday tonight? It feels like Friday."

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - "Yeah, it does feel like the end of the week. Such gentle weather..."

"Even the rain feels nice." He leans over the railing and sticks out his hand to feel the rain.

3. "Why would I want to meet your friend?"

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - "Trust me, you do."

4. "Very well, I'll talk to him, but first I want to talk to *you*. I have so many questions." (Proceed.)

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - "That's nice, but I don't have anything to tell you. It's my friend you're looking for, not me."

He takes another drag of his unfiltered cigarette and looks around. It's getting dark and the neighbouring windows have lit up one by one.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - Downstairs a cat crosses the yard, disappearing into the bush.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - "Besides, I've got to run."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - He's going to leave you alone again. That's sad.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Something tells you you're never going to talk to an individual this cool or mysterious ever again.

"Run where?"

"But I just *found* you again!"

"Go, if you must, I don't care. I don't care about people leaving me all the time."

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - "Just look at it..." He gestures towards distant motorways, all leading to golden La Delta. "It's a beautiful night. Who's going to stay in on a night like this?"

"Only if you promise that we'll talk again. It's *important*."

"Alright, go then."

KIM KITSURAGI - Something flutters in the corner of the lieutenant's mouth as you're saying those words.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] - It's laughter!

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - "We'll talk," the smoker assures you, brushing his hand through the hair. "Just not tonight."

"Take care, alright?" he says with another disarming smile, before slipping off into the night.

Task complete: The smoker on the balcony

+70 XP

Level up!

New task: Interview the Sunday friend

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - And he's gone again. Looks like it's becoming a theme for him.

"He's always leaving... Why is he always leaving, Kim?"

"There's something so *different* about him that I just can't put my finger on…"

"Let's go, Kim. We have to interview his Sunday friend." [Leave.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "Who knows, detective? It's a... mystery," he says, turning his face away from you.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] - There, he's laughing again!

2. "There's something so *different* about him that I just can't put my finger on…"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Different, of course."

[smt4flynn]

COMING IN COMING OUT, CRAZY NOW, CRAZY NOW, CRAZY NOW

Vampire story so far

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

A serpentine road winds up to the waiting mansion far in the distance, the Viera sat with hands curled on her lap as the carriage bumps and rocks with the movement of the road. It moves in a troubling, puzzling manner, dragging her like a cadaver to a morgue to her destination, yet escape is not an option – not only for the fact that the carriage moves quickly and she wishes not to try her chances, not only for the fact that she sits in a luxury offered by a man most influential, but for the fact that magic circles around her throat in a makeshift collar. Runes she has never seen before float around her neck, a scant millimetre away from her skin, cast upon her by the man that sits across her so leisurely, a book in hand from a new author – someone she does not recognise.

He sits, composed and silent across from her; dressed in a finely tailored suit, fitted perfectly to his proportions as large as he is, towering over her not only with his Garlean origins but with a gift supernatural, a gift that has him forever immortalized as he looks now. A man in his late thirties, early forties, with a swept over, two-toned hair that houses a singular white streak amidst wine-toned locks. Bow-shaped lips release a low huff, agitation over whatever he is reading, and they are as red as rubies, as red as the life source he sups from. Her hands uncurl on her lap, arm aching from how tightly she clenches her fists, and she looks out towards the vistas available to her.

Trees as old as time take over a majority of her vision, wizened from the changing seasons, and still there is something beautiful as she witnesses leaves fall in waves, carried by the cold wind. It is late enough that she can not catch sight of any of the woodland critters, the time in which the sun sets and darkness holds over.

(“I had thought your ilk cannot function in the day.” says she, Cyresia, to the man who now keeps her, head raised yet eyes focused on his chin instead of those golden serpent eyes.

His hand rests atop his walking cane, clad in white silken glove, and she sees the way his then-maroon painted lips curl into an amused smile. “You are indeed right, my dear; yet, the older you are, the more you can... tolerate it. You lose your strength, your powers, you are oh-so-vulnerable to little monster hunters who think they can handle you, but I have had the experience of many lifetimes, as I am sure most of your kin does as well.”

“We do not suddenly cease to be because we stand within sunlight, nor should we ever have to train ourselves to endure it the older we grow,” she says, eyes still trained on his chin, breathing slow, “and do you not fear that I will try to kill you? Have you not given me the go ahead to be able to do that?”

“You overestimate how weak I can personally get from this, don’t you? Even should I be weaker than a mortal, I need not vampiric strength to overpower you. And, let us not forget,” a shadow casts over her when he walks closer. He bends down, burying her further in his presence, lips close to her stiff and straight lapin ear. “You do not have the trained will to be able to fight back against a vampire’s bargain,” he whispers, voice almost sultry in how low it is, “and I would recommend you do not even attempt.”)

Fingers sweep across her neck, as though attempting to feel the runes that bind her. She lets loose a harsh exhale, ankles crossing as she leans against the carriage wall, watching as the world moves by quickly. “Perhaps you should sleep,” his voice, bored and disinterested as ever, catches her attention, and Cyresia glances over to the man who smacks his book shut with one hand, the sound of it loud in the small space of the carriage. “We are quite a ways away, and it would not do for you to be so tired when we arrive there.” his eyes light up, as though hit with an idea, and the fingers holding his book tap against it once just for it to disappear, sent away to... somewhere. He snaps his fingers and she shifts up, her attention entirely on him. “Good girl.” he says sardonically before he beckons her over with two fingers. “Come, lay your head on my lap, instead of staying seated there all on your lonesome.”

“Must I?” she asks, voice quieter than she intends for it, and the vampire gives a smile that flashes his sharp teeth. He watches her, waits, and her shoulders slump before she gets up on shaky legs. His hands reach out and she uses them to balance herself, helped closer to him only to be made to stop when he moves his hands down to her hips, tapping on them thoughtfully with his index.

“Address me properly.” he says lowly, his nails scraping against her hip and an involuntary shiver runs through her as his claws catch on the silks he dresses her in. Her hands rest on his shoulders from another bump on the road to keep her from stumbling over onto him. She looks down to witness his golden gaze piercing through her.

(“Rose gold,” he says with some measure of amusement as he cups her face and strokes the underside of her eye with a gloved thumb, “what uniquely beautiful eyes you have, dearest – Viera truly are the gem of the world, are they not?” and she sits quiet, hands tight fists on her lap. Still she dresses in rags, having just been barely bought, and the man before her shakes his head. “You did not deserve the treatment they gave to you – these marks shall take a while to fade. Fret not, I shall care for you, as you deserved.”

They must be aware, they must absolutely be aware that their master is a vampire, they must be aware as they take her away and wash the grime out of white hair, as they scrape all of the dirt that cakes itself onto her skin, the reminders of the squalor she lived in under those who would sell all of the humans – save for the lalafells it seems, for ‘their blood has no taste and the personal discomfort at supping from one is not worth the reputation loss’ – to the gluttonous vampires.

“You will rest here in this home away from home,” he says to her, watching from his armchair as she is dressed by his servants – in an outfit so fine and form-fitting. “We will have your skin restored and your body cleansed.” she looks at him, he who sips of the wine, and she cannot say a word when he comes to a stand and cups her chin, lifting her head up to inspect her closely.

When he bends down, he presses a kiss to her cheek, then another to the corner of her lips, and smiles something sinister and sweet. “May your recuperation go well.”)

She cannot look away from him. He holds her gaze, his height still imposing with her standing over him, and it is almost intimate how he tugs her closer even when she is well aware her station beneath him. She has yet to feel his lips against her neck, his teeth sink into her vein. Fear bubbles in her stomach. A sigh slips out of her. “Yes, master Solus-”

“Ah, ah.” he clicks his tongue, lips curling into a playful smile. His hands slide up her back, settling above her derriere, though he does not resist the temptation to simply let his hands rest on her rear for a scant moment before going to settle on her lower back. “You know better than that.” he sounds more like a tutor correcting a normally perfect student, and Cyresia cannot fight back the downward curl of her lips, agitated by the nonchalance, and her fingers curl into shaking fists atop his shoulders.

His lips press against her belly, kissing her even through the fine silk that flows down her body, far too expensive for who is essentially a walking, regenerating meal. “Yes,” she begins, “yes, master Emet-Selch.”

And she feels him open his mouth near her hip, teeth scraping against her in almost a threat, just for him to back away, face once more unreadable as he tugs her down onto his lap. He completely encompasses her, hand running down her back to cup her twitching tail, pinching the tip of the fluffy bundle, before he cradles her head under his chin so that he may kiss her forehead.

“Good girl.” and he helps her slide next to him, patting her head encouragingly until she finally laid down, resting upon his thick thighs, and Cyresia flutters her eyes shut. Her ears lay flat on her head and she fights against the urge to freeze when his hand comes to pet her hair. “Rest, my dearest pet, rest. I will wake you when we have arrived, but for now – listen to my voice, let yourself be lulled to deepest dreams, and rest.”

-

A gentle nudge on her shoulder is what forces her out of a deep void sleep. Her eyes flutter open and she finds herself curled into a protective huddle, one hand lazing in front of her and the other resting on Solus’s – Emet-Selch’s – knee.

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Howl - Chapter 2: In The Woods Somewhere

Pairing: Werewolf!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader (race and weight inclusive), eventual polyamory (optional)

Chapter Rating: T

Chapter Warnings: medieval age gap (but still legal for our time), dark medieval themes, hunting & dead animals, extremely vague descriptions of butchered meats and pelts, werewolf!boyfriend fluff, slight voyerism

*If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature and explicit themes and kinks. Additionally, you understand and acknowledge warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story*

A/N: Hello! I am back with another installment of Howl! Thank you all for being so patient! When I write, I do tons of research, obsessing, and let my OCD have full reign. I’m a perfectionist and that’s why it takes me a little time to post. I’m so excited for this chapter because we are finally going to meet our werewolf boyfriend! We are also going to get a tiny sprinkle of Frankie POV. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you @musings-of-a-rose​ for being my cheerleader and sounding board <3 Monica

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Today was market day. A blessing, because you could sleep in longer then you could on hunting days. A curse, because you had to interact with people. You rise with the sun, stretching your limbs and sighing with each crack of your joints before begrudgingly rolling out of your fluffy, straw filled bed. 

You move to the bucket on your bedside table, splashing water on your face before choosing your ‘market dress’, a deep maroon gown trimmed with red, gold and black embroidery, a vine pattern trailing down the sleeves, and throw it on over your best chemise, taking care to cinch the drawstrings of your pointed angel sleeves so they are drawn up and away as to not get in your way. Looking yourself over in your cracked dresser mirror, you throw your hair into a sloppy braid, pulling pieces loose to frame your features, pinch your cheeks and bite your lips for a little color, and make your way out the door.

Market was held in the largest town in the province, home to the lords’ castle, and therefore, where the majority of the nobles of the area lived. Making yourself look as presentable as possible brought you more business, yet if you had your way you would have strolled in wearing breeches and your hair in a tangle.

After feeding your few livestock and scarfing down the last section of stale bread, you saddle up Redfly and begin loading the wagon with your wares. Salted meats, jerkies, pelts, teas and herbs, all arranged neatly so as not to be shaken on your journey. Your meat stock is low and it worries you, it was your most profitable item and you hope you can get enough coin for the week. You need to replenish your animal feed and your own food stores, and Redfly would need a re-shoeing soon.

You can’t remember a time before that game had been so absent, for years it was solely after the fullest moon. But lately, that time had extended, the Wood getting more bare each month, forcing you to wake earlier and earlier to try and throw the game off of your routine, to catch them off-guard. You’d considered for some time going to hunt during the full moon, to see if the forced curfew of the county made animals less afraid to be active, but you were not eager to be fined, nor were you desperate enough yet.

Cart arranged, you mount Redfly and make your way through the village. It’s quiet, families and merchants still waking to the warm, foggy morning, so you take the main road, not needing to be careful of Fly trampling anyone with his massive hooves. You follow the path up past the pub and Santiago’s smithory, the smell of yeast mixing with the scent of coal wafting lightly in the air. As usual, the candles are lit in the Miller house and you turn down their lane to pick up the bread you usually sell on their behalf.

After the traditional amount of hugs and teases, and one stern lecture to Ben on the importance of good sleep, you continue on, following the lane to the far side of the village to the river. You feel a sudden prickling inside you as you exit the main street of the town and beyond the closely bunched houses and business. In front of you and to the right, nestled against the edge of the river, is Francisco’s house. And you realize…it’s the exact place those lights were last night. The eyes.

You shake yourself, chiding yourself for letting the village chatter get to you. It was a normal wolf. Or perhaps a really big stray dog, you reason. No need to become hysterical.

Francisco is already up and attending the ferry, his back to you as he adjusts the pull line and makes sure everything is in working order for the travelers unwilling to walk the three miles down the river to the bridge. You take a minute to appreciate his form, his broad shoulders pulling against the sleeveless gray tunic he wears, muscles bulging in his toned and golden arms. He already has sweat gathering in the cotton of his shirt, and for some reason you suddenly feel somewhat dizzy. 

He turns his head as he hears you approach, his ever present hat blocking the sun's rays but doing nothing to give him reprieve from the sweat on his neck dampening the chocolate curls spilling out from beneath the brim. You suddenly feel the overwhelming and confusing desire to lick the droplets off his skin, and you feel your cheeks burn as he greets you.

“Artemis!” He breathes, standing up to his full height. He wipes his damp forehead with his forearm, pulling his hat off to adjust his curls and the sweat gathering in the strands. 

You clear your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice how awkward you suddenly are. “Good morning Francisco. Are you…up and running yet? The ferry. Is the ferry ready?”

Bloody hell.

If he caught your accidentally suggestive slip, he didn’t make any sign of it as he nods and motions you towards the vessel. You turn your head shyly as you slide off Fly’s massive flank, your breath hitching as you feel hands press into your waist to help you down safely. You can feel him behind you, smell him, and you feel a swooping low in your belly as you turn almost in his arms. He backs up to give you space. This is new.

“Thank you.”

He nods shortly and turns, giving Redfly a pat and rub on the neck before taking the reins and guiding the horse and cart safely onto the gigantic cable raft. Redfly follows him willingly, stubborn and ornery with most, he has spent enough ferry rides with Francisco to see him as a benign figure. Francisco leads the russet animal to the opposite end of the ferry, tying him and the cart wheels to the railing so they wouldn’t slide, before turning to you and offering a large hand to help you step on. 

You take it, intrigued by his sudden change in demeanor around you. Usually he is quiet and keeps mostly to himself. His hands are dirty and calloused from rope burn, and when he drops your hand once you’re safely aboard to turn to the cable pulleys, you notice him flexing and releasing his fist as if he had been scalded.

Your passage is quiet, and you spend your time cooing to Redfly, laying out on the deck of the ferry to bask in the sun, and shyly observing Francisco. It was funny, something you had seen him do hundreds of times over the past ten years had become so fascinating.

He was a beast, brow furrowed and teeth bared as he yanks and releases, yanks and releases all the way across the river, beadlets of sweat running in rivulets down his straining muscles and into the tunic’s vee collar, staining the fabric dark, yet still, it seemed like it didn’t cost him any effort at all to pull the boat across the river, his perspiration grown of the sun’s beams alone.

You could smell the sweat of him, it made you feel overwhelmed in the best way. His scent reminded you of the grass, of the old bark of the Wood, the sweat of Redfly as you galloped with him practicing your archery, the crispness of an Autumn bonfire, the tang of a musky fox pelt.

You wonder why you’d never thought to look at him before. He was incredibly handsome, in a rough and dark way. Always polite, but quiet. More content to observe than partake. You’d see him often with Ben and Will and Santiago, although the Millers had been childhood friends, when they came home from war they were grown, and older enough than you to not always want a young girl trailing their footsteps. Your accidental meeting a few days before had forced you to really see him, as if he had been in the shadows and the light of the full moon finally revealed him to you.

“Alright then.” He says as the ferry gently knocks into the opposite shore. “Here we are.” He hops onto the river’s edge and turns to reach back to several ropes tied securely to the ferry railing, looping them around two gigantic stakes in the ground beside him to stabilize the vessel while you unload. 

“I wish you a prosperous day.” He says softly, looking over your cart once more to make sure everything is in order.

“Thank you, me too. I don’t have much today, I pray none of it will go to waste.” You smile grimly as you hand him his pay and he drops his gaze to his feet as if guilty. As you turn to leave he opens his mouth to say something else, but a loud call from the other bank grabs his attention and he begrudgingly turns away from you to prepare the journey back across the bank for the next riders.

The town is about two hours from the river, but you make good time and reach your rented market booth with time enough to lay out your wares to your liking. People are already trickling in from their homes here or in the surrounding villages, and it is not long before you become busy enough that the morning passes quickly.

When you aren’t with a customer, you lean against the posts of your stall or mingle with the other vendors you know near you, listening in on the gossip and news through passers by. Who crossed whom, who slept with their neighbor’s wife, the birth of a new grandchild, the most recent tax increase of Lord Lorea. But today, something was different. Something felt off, and you struggle to piece together the snippets of conversation from people waking by into a legible story. Around midday you hear your name and jerk your head up, smiling wildly as a young woman jogs down the lane to you, arms filled with basket handles. 

“Ismene! Hello! You are rather late today.”

“I know.” she huffs, catching her breath at your table as her baskets fall to the ground. Milord hosted a large party yesterday evening, men from all across the town. They made quite a mess to clean up. Do you still have some things left for me?”

As she looks over the meat you have left, you investigate further. 

“All the houses?”

“Mmm. And merchants and representatives of the villages too.”

That…was odd. The Lord, Lorea, rarely even saw his peasants as people, let alone invite them to dine with him.

“I wonder why…”

“Oh, you have not heard? It is because his stables were attacked. His favorite horse and several others were killed earlier this week. Ripped apart all over the pasture behind, some parts weren’t even recovered. Quite disgusting really. I’ll take all your quail, the hog rump, and some of that stomach soothing tea. You know how he gets when he eats too much.”

You nod absently, your brain pressing forward with muscle memory to wrap up her meats while you process what she’s saying. “Someone…killed his horse?”

“Not someone. The Gizotso. Ripped the paneling right off the back of the stable and pulled the poors thing out. And don’t you dare start with me on the ‘I go in the Wood all the time I see nothing, I know nothing,’ She chides, wagging her finger at your opening mouth. ”You tell me what kind of beast you have seen large enough to do this, and smart enough to avoid the castle and town guards? Don’t tell me that isn’t a werewolf, there is no other explanation.”

You’re too stunned to even argue. Basque horses are notoriously massive and very sought after by the rest of Europe for hard labor. And if there was something in those woods that could kill one of Lorea’s horses, it would be able to kill Redfly. You turn to look at him, chewing his cud contently behind your booth, completely unaware. 

“Hey.” You turn back and look down, Ismene’s soft hand squeezing your forearm in an attempt to calm you. “I’m sorry, I don’t wish to upset you. I’m sure you’re right, that it’s a bear. And you don’t have to fret, there’s going to be a large hunting party across the county to find the animal and bring it down. That’s what the dinner party was for. Lorea wants all the strongest men across the villages to help the guard kill it. He’s offering two pounds for it!”

Two pounds. Even after rents and tithes, that was enough to keep you comfortable for almost two years. Lorea must be desperate.

You throw Ismene a small smile as you finish wrapping up her purchases and arrange them in her baskets to take them back to the castle. As she turns to leave, you call her back once more. “When is this hunt going to take place? I would like to make sure I am not hunting that day.”

“Next full moon! But I must go, I’m already behind schedule. I’ll see you next week!”

You wave to her retreating back, turning back to your booth, chewing your lips in thought. You truly believed you were the best archer in the region, even though you’d never had the money to enter a contest. You could do this. You could take down this bear yourself, you knew it. And the prize...you imagine what life could be if you had the money and realize it could keep you financially secure for a year, if not more. A part of your heart clenches at the thought of having to kill the beast, it is a living creature after all, but the threat to Redfly is non-negotiable. You would not lose him. He was your only family, and this bear now has a taste for horseflesh. And the reward. You needed it. You weren’t bringing in enough game to sustain yourself anymore. 

You wrap up the day selling some of your rabbit pelts, a few various herb pachets, and discreetly, several jars of Moon Tea before piling the remainders back on your cart, hopping on Redfly, and returning back to the ferry, much on your mind.

“You’re quiet. Usually I am the quiet one.” Francisco’s deep voice brought you out of your head, you hadn’t even realized you’d receded into it.

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

“What about?”

You turn to him. “Did you hear about Lorea organizing a hunt for whatever keeps attacking the livestock?”

“What?” His surprise is clear, he actually stops pulling the cord, his face blanching, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean? When?”

“It got in his stables. He’s having the entire province enter the Wood and hunt it down at the next full moon. Large reward too. I’m thinking about doing it.”

Francisco freezes momentarily, then actually leaves his station, striding to you quickly and kneeling down beside you. He takes your hand in his. “Please don’t.”

You pull your hand back. “Why not? I could do it, you know I could. And I need that money! It’s two whole pounds!”

“It won’t be safe for you, and I know you told Will and Ben you would be fine, but if you got hurt I would never forgive myself.”

You glare at him, straightening your back. “Yet you have no problem with other men doing the hunt. I wonder why this is. It is not your job to keep me safe. I’ve been doing it on my own since I was young. I’m going.”

“Artemis…” 

You snap your eyes back to his, ready to lash out once more, but the expression on his face halts you in your tracks. He looks absolutely stricken, deep brown eyes wide and pinched together, and you think you might have caught tears gathering in the corners. He takes your hand once more.

“Please. Please don’t go near there in the dark. Full moon or not. Please. I’m begging you.” 

You look at him with such anger and hurt, and he hates it, so he focuses on your bare feet hanging off the back of the ferry, the drag of the water from the boat swirling around your ankles, and he wishes more than anything he could finally tell you how long he’s been pining for you, since that first moment he saw you after coming to this village almost ten years ago.

He’d been too old for you at the time, and maybe he still is. His stubbley beard is rapidly being overtaken by gray where the hair does decide to grow, his stomach is flabbier, his muscles are weaker and he constantly has aches and pains at the end of the day. And…well…there are other obstacles. How could you, in your youthful ferocity, ever be drawn to him?

But now you are older too…and you had said he was handsome. With a nose like an emperor. Or were you just being kind? 

“...Alright.” You concede finally. I won’t.” 

He nods and returns to his place, resuming your course across the river. You don’t speak more, and when you bank, you quickly mount Redfly and head home without much ceremony. 

As you trot home, you realize it.

I know you told Will and Ben you would be fine, but if you got hurt I would never forgive myself.

He asks about you. He cares for you.

And you just blatantly lied to him.

You don’t spend many nights idle in the next few weeks, using any spare evening you have to creep off to the Wood to try and track the beast. The hunt wasn’t til the full moon, everyone was so determined it was a werewolf that you took advantage of their single-mindedness and absolutely scoured the area around your village. But you found nothing. No tracks, no noises, no bear nests. No evidence of something that large at all. You’d have to go further in. 

By the time the next full moon was due, you still had not found your prize, so you resign yourself to hunting the same night as the official hunt. Hopefully, they will steer the animal away from their noisy crowd and it will come straight to where you quietly stalk between the trees.

The night of, you dress practically, pulling on your linen breeches, a thick tunic for warmth, and your loosest bodice for ease of motion. You attach your belts, quiver, and bow holder, and shove a dagger in each boot, just in case, one short and one long. You’d even commissioned fresh, silver tipped arrows from Santiago earlier in the month, and he’d made them good and strong for a thick hide, despite all his complaining. You top your outfit off with a short woolen capelet, braiding your hair tight to your head so it wouldn’t get in your way. Finally, you grab a glass lantern and attach it to your belt, choosing your smallest one because you didn’t want too much light to scare the animal. 

Satisfied, you pull your cow, goat, two chickens, and your four sheep into your home, bolting the door shut, turning to do the same to Fly’s stable. With so many people in the Wood, it could be possible the animal would flee straight into the village, and you didn’t want him making a meal of your livestock. You hoped it would be enough. 

Tonight you would be going further into the Wood than you ever had, then sweeping to the left towards the direction of town, banking on the other hunters driving it right to you. You enter before sunset, following the creek deep into the woods as the sun drops behind the hills, eventually drenching you in heavy darkness. The wind is rippling through the trees with a sigh, stirring up the leaves on the forest floor with a rustle that constantly distracts you. 

You see a few animals as you move through the maze of twisted and mangled looking trees, but you have one objective tonight, and you will not be sidetracked. The spired limbs of the trees seem like they are reaching out to you, and the deeper you get, the closer together those trees are, the more oppressive the darkness, until it feels like it’s a heavy blanket pressing into your skin.

It isn’t until you have gotten so far you figure you should bank towards town that you hear it. Rather, that you don’t hear. Anything. The Wood is suddenly completely silent, no wind, no rustling, no owls, not foot-treads of deer.  Then—-a heavy padding, like something with massive paws, the pads oversized and spread wide to eliminate any rustling from the forest floor. You shift to the side, pressing your back against the bark of one of the trees, hiding yourself from view from where you think the sounds are coming from. 

As the footfall comes closer, it is joined with hard panting huffs of breath, low rumbling chuffs that seem to vibrate the ground you stand on, rattling up through your boots and into your chest. You turn your head slowly, the soft shine of the lantern at your waist allowing you to see the shadow of something absolutely gigantic moving through the trees at least fifteen paces away to your right.

You are dumbfounded. It came out of nowhere, you’d seen no tracks, no territorial marks, no scat, no broken tree limbs or branches. And it was a bigger bear than you had ever seen in your life. 

You wait for the creature to get a few minutes ahead of you before quietly darting forward in between the tree trunks to get ahead and cut into the beast's path, scrambling up into a tree and positioning yourself quickly, bow and arrows at the ready for a shot from above in the eye.

But it wouldn’t have been a shot from above, because when the creature slips through the trees into your eyeline and pauses, nose in the air, you realize that it is at least ten feet tall, and capable of standing on its hind legs.

And it hears you. You’d been sure you’d been quiet on your perch as you raised your bow but somehow it heard you and the most terrifying guttural snarl rings your ears as it turns and looks right at you. The eyes. They’re like the eyes from before, and you realize as it returns to four feet that this non-bear thing is fully capable of simply reaching up into the tree and yanking you down.

“Fuck.” Your breath trembles as you release it, and as the beast charges at you at a speed no bear is capable of, your nerves finally cause you to make a mistake. You shift your footing on the limb in order to get more of a grip, but in your haste you had forgotten to take off your boots before you climbed, and instead of your toes curling around the limb, you slip from the limb and fall with a cry, having only the time to turn your arrow away from you as you fall to the ground, the air exploding out of your lungs from the impact of your back hitting the tree’s uneven roots.

As soon as your brain turns back on, you gasp, pulling yourself up and yanking the dagger out of your boot to face the massive animal. You know you stand no chance against it, but you wouldn’t give up without a fight.

But there is no fight to be had. The creature has halted a few feet from you, it’s weight shifting from hip to hip as it tilts its head to look at you. And then it sits. You both stare at each other for several minutes, you’re panting with adrenaline and so is the beast, but you will yourself to slow your breathing, calm your racing heart. 

It is a gigantic wolf...thing. A massive wolf thing with black brown fur long around the neck, back, and arms, but shorter on it’s chest and face. It’s chest is broad and wide like a man's, not like a wolf. It’s golden brown eyes seem calm, it’s long pointed ears pricked upwards, and you stare at the teeth that are as big as your dagger, glistening with saliva and gleaming a bright white. It seems to sense it’s scaring you, because it slowly closes its mouth with a deep rumble you swear you can feel through the dirt and moss under your palms. 

And then it moves. You inhale sharply as it trots up to you faster than you can scramble backwards, a clawed paw-hand the size of your head deftly knocking your dagger out of your hand and into the brush. It’s over you now, it’s long muscled forearms framing your legs and hips as it hovers level with you, an inch from your own face.

You try to pull your head back, craning your neck away from the beast but it uses That as an invitation to bump its snout into your clavicle, sliding up to your neck and behind your ear, leaving a thin trail of cool wetness from his soft nose in its wake. It inhales you deeply, then pulls back and looks at you again, another soft rumble vibrating from it’s chest that almost sounds like…contentment? Happiness?

You couldn’t help yourself if you’d tried, your body moves on instinct and before you’re even aware of what you’re doing, you’re reaching your hand up to it, pressing your palm against its forehead and threading your fingers through the surprisingly soft fur there. It closes its eyes and leans into your touch, so you slide your hands down to it’s jowls and back up around to his ears, rubbing them softly and giving it a nice scritch. 

It clearly loves it, because the giant thing all but flops heavily on its side to the forest floor with a thump, pressing its head into your thigh so you can give it more rubs.

“There now.” You murmur. “You’re not so scary.” You don’t even know why you’re talking to it but it just seems right. “Well, actually you are terrifying, but not when you’re like this.” You let your gaze follow your hands as you run your fingers through the thick mane-like fur around its neck. With the light of your lantern, you can see now that he has the most handsome shade of fur, a deep warm brown brindled with chestnut patches. And it doesn’t even smell bad. You’re reminded slightly of the way Francisco smells after a long day pulling his ferry. It’s somewhat pleasant. Earthy, musky, a slight tang.

It snorts and opens its mouth once more, long pink tongue lolling out, before heaving itself back up on all fours beside you. Even on four legs, your head barely comes up to his shoulders. This creature is only slightly larger than Redfly, completely capable of taking a horse down, and the thought of that makes you gasp as you stand up abruptly. 

The hunt.

“You must leave,” You turn to the beast, looking into its human-ish face. “There is a hunt for you. Almost all the men of the county are out looking for you.” You don’t expect it to respond but it does, angling it’s head towards you with a snarl you somehow know isn’t for you. It looks around for a few moments, ears twitching this way and that as it decides it’s course, before his large head bumps into you hard enough that you stumble forward awkwardly.

“Alright, okay. Just please don’t eat me, Wolf, I’ll go where you want.”

Of course it doesn’t answer, just huffs and stalks off into the woods. You follow. His back end is more narrow than the front, the back legs are shorter and you wrestle yourself with the possibility that you had been wrong this entire time, and that it is an actual werewolf.

You observe its gait as it walks, its forearms are more like human arms in that the elbow points back, not to the front, and it doesn’t make one single sound as it walks despite its enormous paws. Its tail is thick and fluffy, and you find yourself wanting to reach out and give it a playful tug, but you resist the urge. As it lopes ahead of you, you’re able to take a quick glance and confirm that the wolf is a male. 

You’re so intrigued with him that you don’t even realize he’s brought you back to the stretch of forest behind your house. “Oh.” You whisper, unable to hide your disappointment. The creature circles you then stands up fully on his hind legs, large human-like paws gently pushing on your back. “Wait!” You turn around and pause, your gaze slowly rising up to his head, almost five feet above your own. He grumbles, and places his paws back on your shoulders, giving you another push. You plant your feet stubbornly, your hand reaching out to push back against his soft tummy before you realize it. 

You feel him tense, his fur bristling as he snarls at the sudden touch, so you quickly pull it back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The wolf tilts his head and chuffs, and you feel like he’s telling you it’s okay. You reach out to touch him again when you hear soft shouting, tiny flickers of light coming from way deeper into the forest.

They were here.

You look back up at him. “What about you, Wolfie?” Now that you’ve seen him, been with him, touched him, you can’t imagine anyone hurting this creature. He was magnificent. And you seemed to be able to communicate with it. Could others?

The wolf whines and falls back to all fours, flattening his ears back. 

You chuckle. “You imbecile. You took me home instead of hiding. Come on.” You start forward, pausing when you don’t hear him following you. You turn around again. “Come, I will hide you. I won’t hurt you. I trusted you, you must trust me. There’s no way you can escape at this point, you will be caught.”

 The wolf blinks several times, looks back at the lights growing stronger, then makes his decision and follows you along the creek bed until you break out of the treeline and spot the back of your house. You tiptoe/run across the grass to the back of your house, flattening yourself against the walls and motioning the wolf to quickly follow before craning your neck around the corner towards the center of the village to check if the coast was clear.

“Alright, stay here, and I will make sure the path is clear. Do not go anywhere. No eating people!” You raise your arm slowly so he isn’t startled, pointing your finger to point at his nose. It makes a chortling noise that sounds like a laugh. 

You take a breath and sneak around the corner of the back wall of your house, moving slowly so as not to draw attention. There’s no one on the road, and the lanterns in front of most houses and shops have burnt out by this time. It must be incredibly late.

“Okay! Come on.” You whisper loudly, and the wolf slinks around the corner to you in such silence, with such carefulness, you understand how it had been right near you in the Wood and you hadn’t even noticed. You let yourself through your gate and the wolf chooses to step over it, and as you motion it quickly to your house and through the front door, you’ve never been more relieved for choosing a double barn door for the entrance to your home. 

You shove your terrified livestock out your door into their enclosure, begging them in a hushed tone to be quiet, before shutting the door quickly and bolting it, pausing to listen to make sure no one saw you.

Nothing.

You let out a deep exhale of relief, then begin lighting the various candles and lanterns scattered around your home. You watch the creature out of the corner of your eye, but he seems content to stay out of the way, hovering against the wall. 

“Thank you for not eating my animals. Are you…do you want something to eat?” You move to your tub of salt, pulling out flank meat you’d cut into smaller pieces and bringing them to the table. “Here. These are only from this morning. I’m sorry I don’t have any more, hunting has not been good this month.” 

You turn away from him as he all but inhales the meat sloppily, stirring the embers in your fireplace until the fire awakens, then put your cauldron over it to boil some water for tea. You make sure to keep him in the corner of your eye, but he is calmly walking about your home, investigating it, nosing at the pots and pans hanging from your ceiling. When you finish making your tea, you turn back to him and return to the table, taking a seat and sipping the soothing herbs. The wolf is sniffing around your bed but suddenly shoots up on his hind legs, almost bumping his head on the ceiling.

“What is it Wolfie?” But then you hear it. Muffled shouting and the flash of orange fire by your windows and you run to him and push him back against the wall and away from the back window. The sounds of men’s voices circle close around your home then die back down, trailing off towards the front of your house and beyond, and you realize some men from your village must have abandoned the search. 

When it’s been quiet for a few minutes, you turn your head back to the creature, blinking rapidly as you realize what you are doing. You’re pressing your palms on him, your head only reaching his upper stomach, your arms resting against the fluffy muscles as you try to anchor him with your tinier body. His back legs are bent and you are nestled between them, the backwards knees of a wolf jutting out from each side of you, and his arms…are around your back, holding you against him.

And fuck, but he smells good, really good, in a way that a giant wolf thing running around in the woods shouldn’t. You trail your nails through his belly fur, feeling him hum, little shivers under your fingertips betraying the way it’s making him feel.

“Wolfie.” You whisper. “I think they are gone.” He huffs deeply, dropping his arms from around you and you step back, your heart racing as you realize how close you were to this animal that could have bitten you in half in one bite. But he hadn’t, he’d been soft and surprisingly gentle with you. You never would have expected it.

You realize with full confidence that he would not hurt you. Somehow he and you were able to communicate, to form some kind of bond, and he was trusting you back. It was hard to rectify this creature before you with the monster that was taking animals and wandering town drunks and tearing them to shreds in the Wood.

You also suddenly notice just how exhausted you are. You yawn widely, stretching your arms above your head, your back arching and you gasp in pain and release the stretch, your hands flying to your back. Wolfie whines, starting forward towards you and you look up at him. 

“It’s okay. It must be from slipping from the tree. I’ve never done that before, you know. You scared me.” 

You finish your tea, setting the fire low and covering the water cauldron before heading over to your bed, unlacing your bodice as you go. You toss it to the side, then unlace your breeches and pull them off too, followed by your stained and ripped tunic shirt. Rifling through your chest, you find your favorite sleep chemise and toss it on before turning back around and moving to the bed. 

You meet huge, intensely staring eyes as you turn around, and when you meet eyes, Wolfie looks away sheepishly. You take one more look out the window, noticing a few men with torches still lingering on the road and sigh. “You should probably stay a while longer. I’m not sure when they will be finished. I’m exhausted though. I’m going to lie down.” Careful to avoid the windows, he sneaks across the house to the floor beside your mattress as you lift the covers and settle yourself. You turn to him, he looks almost cute splayed out on your floor. 

“What are you, Wolfie? Are you truly a werewolf?” He keeps quiet, just observing you as you talk absentmindedly to him. “Hmmmm. I wonder who you are then. Do I know you?”

Your heart suddenly slams against your chest as you realize that if he was truly a werewolf and he would be a man in the morning, then he just saw your entire backside as you dressed for bed. Your cheeks burn and you throw a pillow at the creature. “Well, if you are, you better not tell anyone you saw my arse. And I don’t want to hear about it either.” 

You shriek as he throws the pillow back at you, laughing as he clambers over you and crushing you onto the bed with his massive body, so large he can’t fully get fully on the mattress, his back end hanging off it.

“Oof! Get off me now. At least be at the foot of the bed like a good dog.” You push him futilely, but he acquiesces and settles himself beside you, closing his eyes and rumbling as you run your fingers through his mane. You can feel yourself slipping, your eyelids falling lower and lower and it’s getting harder to keep them open. 

“Wolfie….” You whisper, and he turns his large snout to you. “You won’t eat me if I sleep, will you?” He growls low, shifting his body so it’s flush to yours and you know what he means.

No.

You roll toward his warmth, your hand sinking into his fur as you rest your forehead against him. “It is nice…having someone here…m’usually alone...” Your voice trails off as you fall asleep. You don’t feel when Wolfie presses his wet nose into your neck and gives you a light lick. 

When you wake in the morning, he is gone. In the grass behind your house, there are two gigantic bucks and a wild hog waiting for you.

Werewolf visual moodboard:

[dourpeep]

Hello, i want to req kazuha x f!reader and if you can do nsfw, please 👉🏻👈🏻 since it's kazuha, maybe he's more like soft!dom. Thank you!

IEHFIEH OKAY OKAY I got really excited about writing this so it's a WHOPPING 3K WORDS! So many words

Kazuha's another Xiao situation for me, it seems...not to mention my favorite to write is very painfully obviously soft doms. That being said, I did make him a little more flirty than his voice lines suggest.

The poem that is referenced in the fic is In the Sea of Iwami by Kakinomoto Hitomaro!

Drowning in You

Summary: At first, you know little of the mysterious ronin's past, but little by little, you find your fates entwined.

Contains: ((NSFW 18+)) Kazuha x afab!reader, soft dom!Kazuha, reader is traveler but not Aether or Lumine, small mention of alcohol, hint of overstim, poetic

How vast, the ocean seems to be, even more so in the dark of night. Above, the sky is a spattered array with thousands of glittering stars, the moon but a sliver. The ship gently rocks in the calm waters as a meager dot upon waves. Despite the moon's position already setting back down along the dark curtain of night and the crew's final decision to retire to their quarters, you're awake.

Lost in all the thoughts of how you've just begun to experience all Liyue has only to now be well on your way to Inazuma.

The dangers that others have spoken of, that you know are to come…you’re sure that your resolve will be tested once more in the unfamiliar land.

The silent repose is interrupted by a voice.

"May I join you, traveler?"

Kazuha.

As you've come to find in the few days you've been aboard the Alcor, the red-dressed man often sits and watches the way the waves roll along the surface of the ocean and the birds soar across the sky. Lost in all that the sea has to offer, there's hardly a moment when he's not tuned in to the whispers of nature in quiet appreciation. Though, you notice, never this toward morning.

Shuffling to the side, you pat the solid wooden deck beside you. He takes a seat with legs folded beneath him.

"It's beautiful tonight—the gentle breeze, the sounds of the water hitting the hull...I fully understand the appeal. But why is it you're still awake?"

Before tonight, you've hardly heard the gentle timbre of his voice. The raspiness—whether natural or from his own fatigue, you're not sure, but a feeling of warmth settles. It swirls, tempting. Breaking your thoughts, you politely meet his gaze.

"Thinking, of everything, I guess."

You pull your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them. Though it’s a warm night, the breeze provides a chill from the ocean.

"Of Inazuma, too."

Kazuha hums in understanding.

Once more, the silence of the ship and sea envelop you to drift back to your thoughts, closing your eyes and forgetting what your handsome companion just stirred in you.

But your mind drifts back to him regardless.

Your heart quickens at the thought of him staring out towards the sea, the sun shining down just right and highlighting pale hair and scarlet eyes.

There’s little doubt that he’s caught your eye, handsome, with an aura of unknown strength. A wanted man, from what Beidou has told you. Forever on the run and far from home. She fully believes there’s no need to worry, but you know others might think otherwise.

They whisper how it’s certain with the breathtaking skill he displays in his swordsmanship that his abilities come from a multitude of experience. Speaking of the way he keeps so to himself. A samurai with a lack of a master.

A ronin.

It’s not surprising, the rumors that spread quick.

Though, you find, the speculation of danger quickly dissipates once the realization of his gentle spirit and knack for poetry comes to light. He’s gentle, you realize. Kind.

It’s hard to believe someone as free-spirited as he would be a criminal.

Kazuha is patient, body turned so he’s facing you while you think, examining the look upon your features. The realization that you’ve been lost in your thoughts about the very man warms your cheeks. You finally speak up.

“And you?”

“Most of the same,” He replies. “There’s no need to worry—about Inazuma, I mean. After what I’ve seen, I trust in your abilities.”

His hand settles atop one of yours. Its touch is warm.

“I may not be able to join you, but I’m sure of this.”

You look back out to the deep blue waters. But he doesn’t move, not until you look back into eyes the color of the very maple leaves he dons.

Expression serious, Kazuha leans closer. The skip in your chest worsens the heat that creeps up your neck and cheeks. But as quickly as he does, he pulls away, his hand returning to lay in his lap.

“Away I have come, parting from her / Even as the creeping vines do part. / My heart aches within me…”

Wistful, he recites, and turns his gaze to the moon.

“A poem, from my homeland. Bittersweet in it’s meaning. Whether he sees his lover upon his return—it isn’t known.”

“Do you? Miss someone?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Not quite in the same way. A friend. Though I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have someone like that. Someone to hold so dearly within your very being that the thought of being without them brings physical pain…”

A hand lifts, pressing to his chest as if trying to feel for heaviness.

The two of you watch the night for a bit longer in silence.

As your long and arduous journey dwindles, you find yourself seeking Kazuha’s company more and more.

Unbeknownst to you, he does the same.

Most often, it’s between duties on the ship, arms leaning against the wood banister as you both watch the waves and birds as they meet in swoops. They glide with wings tucked, diving into the murky waters, soon to break back through with a prize.

An osprey, he tells you.

The pleasant bird-watching comes quickly to an end before you’re both swept back into work until late afternoon when the crew gathers to drink and celebrate.

After all, there’s only a few days left until you finally dock at your destination and the night is beautiful and clear.

You find Kazuha tucked away towards the quarterdeck.

With everyone else scattered on the main deck, the two of you are left alone with the waves and wind.

“You��re not going to join them?”

He looks up from his drink, setting it down before rising. Despite the way the sun has set, you can clearly see the mirth dancing in his eyes. Kazuha stops a few inches away from your face with his head tilted in question.

“Weeks we have known each other now…should I be offended that you’re still asking that?”

Clearly the unimpressed look on your face is enough to make him chuckle and apologize.

“No, I won’t be joining them. Not when I’d rather stay away and have you to myself instead.”

You flush and give him a little push. Again, he laughs and apologizes but you know that he doesn’t mean it. Regardless, you brush past him to sit where he was before, patting the deck in a way not different from that first night. All the same, your heart skips a beat.

“May I join you, traveler?”

A smile spreads across your lips. “Of course.”

So he sits and the two of you find solace in the little conversations you have.

It’s nice, to have someone to be close to, to share interests despite having backgrounds so distinct. He offers you a bit of his drink and you take a sip, holding it between both your hands. The face you make, he decides, is unforgettable just as it is hilarious. But his innocent enjoyment only lasts so long.

A dribble of the deep liquid beads at the corner of your lip.

You miss the way that his attention flicks to the way your tongue peeks out to catch the glistening drop.

Kazuha shifts, eyes flicking from your lip back down to the cup in your hand.

When his hand touches yours, guiding you to place the cup down, you snort. But he continues so he can interlace your fingers with his, to hear the way your breath shifts and sees how your pupils dilate when you realize the difference in his mood.

Would you mind if he were to…?

When your lips part and your eyes lower to his, he gets his answer.

"I hear the way that your heart beats loudly in your chest, your breath bated...” Really, his own hammers in his chest, louder than the crash of waves against the ship’s hull. He squeezes your hand.

“Just as I can feel your desire."

And truthfully, you know he’s noticed the way your gaze lingers on him. How when you two accidentally brush hands that you don’t immediately pull away. Not anymore.

Small flashes of little interactions with him come to light.

Finally, he leans in, and you find that his lips taste of the lingering bitterness of wine, tongue sweet as it laps at yours. He looses himself in the velvet of your lips and how they seem to meld to his so perfectly, the music of your sighs filling his senses and your heart beats like the rumble of the ocean.

To know what it’s like to hold someone so dear…this must be what that is.

Languid, your lips move against each other’s, reluctant to stop. Under the light of the maroon sky, you’re cloaked in the warmth of his body against yours.

When he finally parts, you’re laying against the deck with him hovering above you.

“I don’t want to regret this—the mere thought of being apart…”

He brushes a stray hair from your face, fingertips tracing over the curve of your cheek.

“Even if it means I will be risking my life, I will follow where you go. Destiny has made its mark, so who am I to break it?”

How can you refuse, seeing the sincerity of his vow, trusting the very man you met and befriended and come to love in a few weeks’ time? To know his gentle nature, the way that he seems always so aware of the world around him, the carefree way he approaches all he does—you’d known, somewhere deep within, that the moment he asks to accompany you, you’d selfishly say yes.

But it’s all too much to express in word, so you pull him down to meet you, desperate and yearning.

It’s easy, natural, the way that you melt into each other, fumbling as he helps you stand up—to make your way to his quarters between kisses.

The others still are above deck celebrating, unaware of the blossoming bloom between you, the private quarters void of anyone else. The door to his room swings open as soon as he turns the knob and you take him by his lapels and pull him inside.

The door closes with a soft click.

Setting you down upon his berth, he meets you for another kiss before beginning the tedious task of undressing. Even in a hurry, he carefully folds each article, ensuring their safety. When he turns, you’re left bare as well, looking at him through halfmoon eyes.

In his lungs, his breath is caught.

You’re beautiful.

So he says it in word and in the way that he guides you to lay with his body between your spread legs.

You utter his name, cupping his cheek. He leans into your touch while you guide him back down to you. It takes little for him to follow your movements, drawn in like the sweet song of a siren.

He claims you in the kisses peppered over your lips and jaw, dragging down to dip in the hollow of your neck. Beneath him, your pulse jumps and your neck flexes. So he continues, reverent. Pledging loyalty with every brush of his lips against your skin.

Yours, all yours.

Busied with the sensation of him, you relax, offering yourself to his touch. His unbandaged hand travels over the soft planes of your body, cupping breasts and hip, careful as it travels to press fingertips into your thigh. It lingers, so close.

The feel of your hand timid on his chest encourages him to explore the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before finally, finally tracing along your wetted cunt.

“Please—”

His fingers tease, sliding up and down along it, making you shiver beneath him. A sight to behold, one that makes his heart sing and stutter at once. And they draw out a shaky moan when they press into you.

He takes his time in the movement of his fingers, coaxing you with a curve and the dulcet tone of his voice in your ear.

Left with his name on your tongue, your arms wrap around his neck, wanting him closer, closer. He obliges. All you want in this moment is him—impatience running quick.

Kazuha is taken by surprise when you take him into your hand, marveling at the way his hips press closer to your touch.

It’s strange to be touched this way, even with his past experiences. How it feels to be caressed by you so intimately, just the idea of it being you beneath him, touching him, him touching you. He wants more of it. And so he bucks into your hand with hot desire coursing through his veins.

For a while, the two of you delight in each other’s bodies.

When he draws his fingers from your core, he doesn’t bother with the way your slick clings to his skin, replacing your hand around his cock with his own and propping himself up with legs kneeled and hips slotted between yours.

With bated breath you observe as he gazes into your eyes.

Even so smoldered with desire, they’re impossibly clear and gentle, reflecting the very swirl of emotions you feel with every thump of your pulse. Leaning closer, Kazuha brushes his lips to yours, slow.

“You’re trembling—are you cold?”

The room feels fine despite your state of undress, though he continues before you can speak.

“Allow me to warm you up...”

When he finally kisses you deep, his hips press into yours and fill you.

The ship sways, each rock back and fourth amplified with how he holds you close to him, how he whispers sweetly in your ear and describes just how good it feels for you to squeeze around him like that. Once more you’re swept into all he gives you.

Kazuha thrusts, every movement deliciously slow. The brush of his cock against your walls makes your eyes flutter and your lips part with every gasp.

Every sigh draws him in deeper. Slow, fluid.

With the ebb and flow of his movements, you find yourself lost. He is the raging tempest dragging you down to the murky depths yet is the same gentle wind that cools you. You’re lost in the way that he moans your name in your ear and hips barely pull away from yours before burying back deep.

You—spread beneath him with your legs bent to his sides—in the dim light drives him. Kazuha finds that no matter where he looks, how close his body is pressed to yours, it’s never quite enough. Every sigh that’s drawn from your lungs is the voice that calls to him to wander.

He’s mesmerized.

Each push stirs that need in you for more, coming to life in the way that your body arches to meet his. Almost…as if feeling him against you is your lifeline—a deep, unyielding need. The same strange feeling that he knows is coming to life within him. And with how you so sweetly grasp at his shoulders in your hands, he’s certain it is.

His arm slides down, hand flat against your lower back to lift your hips. Eager, you comply. A few strokes of his hips with the delicious drag provided by the new angle, and you cry out in whimpers.

“Right there—please, please-“

Murmuring your name, his lips press to your ear and his hips speed up as he searches for that spot once more. He’s good—feels so so good.

A kiss to your temple accompanies the quick build of the knot deep in your abdomen, pulling taut and teasing your release.

“Where should I touch you?” The croon of his voice calls.

You guide his hand between your writhing bodies, a shock of pleasure jolting when the pad of his finger brushes against where you’re most sensitive. Only moments pass before your vision flickers, body tensing and a choked moan escaping past your ruddied lips.

It’s too much—his careful movements to hit the right spot and the way his fingers trace over your skin and he finds himself lost in the feeling as well. The lingering feeling of your high sends shocks with every movement he gives, both of you left trembling. Shaky hands try to grab at his chest and arm, pulling it away.

He stills, just holding you close.

He can feel it again, the flutter of your pulse, when his lips pepper kisses along your jaw and neck to bring you back to him.

Finally back from your high, Kazuha carefully slides from within you in lieu of laying by your side. You’re still breathing hard when careful movements pull the blanket from the foot of the bed over both of your forms. With an arm draped over your now covered hip, he smiles soft.

The wind howls outside.

"Do you really mean it, Kazuha?”

He lifts his arm so you can turn onto your side, looking up at him with your head on the pillow. It’s cute the way the soft material forms around your cheek. But you’re still waiting for his answer.

The ronin simply places a kiss on your forehead, the warm brush of his lips punctuating his words.

“I will follow you til the day the sun ceases to shine—so long as you are by my side, the wind shall blow and the tides ebb. This shall be my vow to you...”

It isn’t until your expression relaxes, lulled to sleep by his warmth and the gentle rock of the ocean, eyes closed and your breathing even that he speaks once more. It’s quiet, save for the creaking of wood and the faraway shouts of the crew above in their revelry. Here, laying besides you, the feeling within his chest carefully tended to, Kazuha finds a new purpose. A newfound desire.

“…whom I love with a love / deep as the miru-growing ocean.”

[the-girl-who-cried-wolf]

Fingertips on me

5SOS Calum Hood fan fic

This was mainly inspired by the pretty nail polish Calum was wearing lately, so I ended up writing a random fic about it <3 not much else to say really, enjoy reading!!

Background: painting Cal's nails for him can be fun, but he's always a little impatient

Warnings: mild swearing, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

“Y/n?”

Calum’s voice echoed through the apartment, reaching all the way to where you sat on your shared bed, busily typing away on your laptop. You looked up as he came into the room, a box in his hand and a frown on his face.

“Hey, y/n, can you help me out here?”

“Sure, love, what is it?” You shut your laptop and pushed it onto the bed beside you as he came over, fingers dancing through the bottles of nail polish that were neatly arranged in the box.

“I need to pick a colour, and I don’t know what will suit best…” he hummed as he sat beside you, picking out a bottle of bright pink to see the colour, then dropping it back and checking another one.

“You’re painting your nails?”

“Yeah,” he looked up at you, a shy smile dancing over his face. “Me and the boys wanted to do a photoshoot tomorrow and we all decided that we’d do our nails, and maybe a little makeup or something for it.”

You grinned back at him. “That sounds awesome, Cal.” You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and watching his fingers sort through the bottles, making soft clinking noises with every movement.

“You know I love when your nails are painted,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss onto his arm. He stopped sorting through the bottles for a second, picking up on what you were doing before you had even started.

“Yeah?” He turned his head to look at you, his hand abandoning the polishes in favour of dragging a finger across your jaw, turning your gaze to him. He was sitting so close already, he just had to look down at your lips and you were done. How did he do this so effortlessly? His voice was low as he continued, “Well how about you help me paint them first, then you can look at them all you want.”

“Just look?” you said with a sly grin.

He smirked at that. “We’ll see. But we have to paint ‘em first, okay?” You just sighed as he turned back to the box, lifting out a bright orange one with a frown. “The fuck is this?” He spun the bottle around to read the label. “Sunburst Grapefruit. You couldn’t just call it orange could you? Pretentious bastards.” You chuckled at that, earning a smile from him.

“Do you know what colour you wanted? Did you guys have a theme in mind or something?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Ash said he’d do red, and Luke’s are already silver I think. And Michael wasn’t sure yet but I’m assuming he’d do black or something, you know him.” Calum raised his eyebrow a little as he picked out a dark purple-ish colour, holding it between his thumb and finger like it was an object of disgust.

“I’ve literally never seen you wear half of these colours, y/n, why do we have so many?”

“Well you never know when you might need some-” you checked the label of the one he was holding- “Aubergine Maroon.” You laughed at his evident confusion.

“It doesn’t even look like an aubergine, damn it,” he said as he put the bottle back with a little laugh of disbelief. “These names are so fucked up.”

You just laughed at his mocking. “Ok, ok, give it here. If you’re just going to insult all the ridiculous name choices then we’ll be here forever.” You took the box and placed it in your lap, fingers running through the colours until you found a dark blue one, almost navy coloured, and pulled it out for him to inspect. He put his arm out behind you so he could lean back a little, his other hand reaching across to hold the polish for a second. He shook his head.

“Too dark. They said it would be a low light shoot,” he said.

You nodded and placed the bottle back in its place. “How about this one?” The cornflower yellow was certainly lighter. He screwed up his nose though.

“Maybe the cooler colours would be better,” he leaned forward to watch your fingers dance over the blues and purples, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Not green?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, how about this one?” You pulled out a baby blue colour, a lighter shade of sky blue. He hummed in thought for a second.

“Actually…yeah, that might work.” He reached out his hand to hold it.

“See,” you nodded at the pale bottle in his tanned hand. “It contrasts your skin nicely.” You smiled sweetly at him, making him laugh.

“Ok Miss Sunshine, now you can help me paint them,” he said with a smile as he took the box from your hand and stood. “Cause lord knows I’d fuck it up in two seconds flat if I did it by myself.” He walked out the door without checking to see if you were following.

“Come on, y/n, let’s go.”

---

“Shit, that’s cold!”

“What did you expect, tough guy? Quit whining will you,” you told Calum with a smile as you began painting his nails with the baby blue colour polish. You were sitting at the kitchen table now, his hands spread out in front of you as you applied the polish as neatly as you could, a frown creasing your brow as you concentrated.

“It tickles.”

“Shh.”

A moment of silence passed. A few more nails finished. Then his free hand started tapping on the table a little, the sound of his rings echoing on the wood as he started a beat. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised. He just smirked.

“Sorry.”

“Do you want me to paint your nails or not?”

It was hard to fight off the grin when he was staring at you so sweetly, mock innocence all over his face. “Yes, please.” He wiggled his fingers to bring your attention back to them. You huffed out what might have been a laugh as you went back to painting, quickly finishing off that hand and holding out your hand for the next one. He switched them over, placing the other hand in front of you as he blew on the freshly painted nails.

“You look like such a diva,” you giggled.

“That’s cause I am one.” He grinned, giving you an imaginary hair flick before blowing more on his nails. You laughed at him. What a dork.

You quickly finished up his second hand and screwed the lid back onto the bottle of nail polish. “There you go, Cal. Now just don’t touch anything for ten minutes and I’ll do the second coat for you then, okay?” You stood from the table, stopping in front of him when you noticed his pout.

You just raised your eyebrows at him. “Yes, diva?”

“But what am I meant to do for ten minutes?” his whiny voice was saying something completely different to his wide eyes as they watched you lean down in front of him, matching his sitting height.

“I’m sure you can find some way to amuse yourself,” you said quietly, eyes dropping to his lips, then dragging up his face back to meet his dark eyes. “Unless you can’t even do that by yourself.” You reached out and flicked his nose with a cheeky smile, tutting when he went to grab your wrist. “Uh uh, no touching, remember?”

“Not fair,” he mumbled, another pout turning his lips downwards.

“God, you’re pathetic,” you muttered as you straightened up. “Come on then. The sofa’s more comfortable.”

---

You flicked the TV on to play quietly as Calum went and sat on the sofa, careful not to brush the wet nail polish on anything as he went. He sat and looked up at you with a little grin, hands spread out on his thighs so he wouldn't bump them into anything. You just smiled and shook your head at him. He really was like a little kid sometimes.

You sat down next to him, remote in hand, surfing through the channels until you landed on a sports one. You knew he liked watching soccer matches, so you let that play.

Finally quiet and content, Cal just watched you as you tucked up your legs and leant into his side. He carefully lifted his arm and settled his hand on the back of the sofa, leaving room for you to properly snuggle into his chest, which you did. He was deliciously warm and cuddly in his big hoodie.

“You happy now, diva?”

He pressed a kiss to your head. “Mm hmm. Be happier if I could touch you though,” he whispered into your hair. You could hear his cheeky smile.

“Well just wait a few minutes,” you checked the clock on the wall, “then you can touch me all you want, princess.”

You casually lay a hand on his thigh as you pretended to watch the TV, slowly picking at the loose threads of his distressed jeans, and smoothing out wrinkles in the denim. Completely unnecessary touches, you both knew that.

“Y/n.”

“Mm?”

“Don’t.”

You smirked as you turned your head and leant back to look at him properly. “Don’t what?” you asked innocently, a hand still resting on his leg.

“Don’t be such a tease,” he almost growled, even as he fought off a little smile. “You could let me kiss you at least.”

“Okay, princess,” you said quietly, a smile quirking up the corner of your mouth.

That was all he needed to hear before he leant towards you, connecting his lips to yours ferociously. You could feel the strain in his arms as he willed himself not to touch you, to only taste with his lips. You indulged him for a long while, letting him bite at your lips and swipe his tongue along yours before you gently pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“What’re you doing?”

You just looked at the clock, then back into his dark eyes. “It’s been ten minutes. They should be dry now.”

The smirk he gave you was pure evil as his hands were finally free of their invisible restraints, one coming to rest on your jaw and draw you in for another hungry kiss, then both hands slipping down to your waist as he quickly pulled you onto his lap. You gasped a little in surprise at the sudden movement, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

Your legs straddled him as his wandering hands came to rest on your thighs for a moment, before drifted back to your waist, then up and over your back. He couldn’t stop touching you now as his mouth explored your, drinking you in as much as he could.

You eventually parted for breath, a smile on your red and swollen lips as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Only ten minutes, and you were that desperate.” You said quietly, making him blush a little through a smile.

“Only for you, princess.”

“Hey, don’t steal my nickname,” you laughed as you swatted at Calum’s chest, before crawling off his lap.

“What, it’s cute,” he said as he offered you a hand to help you stand, chuckling at your clumsiness.

You just smiled in response as you went and retrieved the bottle of nail polish from the kitchen table. You came back and sat beside him again, holding his hand still against his thigh as you balanced the bottle on the coffee table in front of you, dipping in the brush and spreading the polish over his nails once more, easily falling back into the rhythm.

A moment of silence passed as he watched you, then, “How long will this one take to dry?”

You grinned at him, pure, evil delight on your face.

“Twenty minutes.”

Thanks for reading!! Check out my [masterlist] for more fics <3

(and thanks to @theduckgoesquack for helping me with this one, ily jocelyn 😌)

[wicked-mind]

The Queen and King: Chapter one

Summary: Y/N is the Queen of Guns and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the King of New York City. She wants him as a buyer, but Bucky wants her to be his queen. After all, every King needs a Queen.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: this will be a +18 series, AU, Mafia!Bucky, Dark!Bucky, sexual tension, sex implied, mentions of murder and dismembered fingers (minor character), swearing.

Series Masterlist

Total Masterlist

Chapter One- The King

Y/N knew everything about James Buchanan Barnes, otherwise known as Bucky. The King of New York City. Nothing happened without him knowing about it. He was the most powerful man in the city. He ran the drugs through the area and killed any rival that dared to come into his territory. He had the police and politicians in his pocket and made smaller businesses pay him for protection. Y/N had plans for James. She was the lead gun seller in the eastern region, and she wanted him as buyer. She had infiltrated his second in command, Steve, meeting him and spending two weeks sleeping with him and trying to gather intel, but he kept his lips locked tight when it came to Bucky’s business. Y/N knew Bucky was currently buying his current gun supply from Brock Rumlow, one of her competitors. But she had already taken care of him, having some from her team kill him and chop off a finger to send to each of his buyers. The package for James had already been dropped off on his doorstep as proof of how serious she was. It was a very clear message- either join Y/N or she would tear you to shreds.

Bucky licked his lips as he watched his new club fill up with bodies. The music was loud and the bar was busy. Just what he liked to see. He sat at the round booth, Steve and Sam at either side of him. He nodded to one of the waitresses who promptly went to the bar to grab him a drink. He leaked power off of him. Everybody knew he was the King and he made sure to prove it every chance he got.

As the waitress was on the way bringing a glass full of dark whiskey, she was stopped by a woman wearing ankle high black boots with a heel, black shorts, and a tight maroon tank top, “I’ll take this.” Y/N hissed out to the wide eyed waitress, taking the drink from her hand. She turned to meet eyes with Bucky who had his eyebrows raised at the ordeal unfolding in front of him. Y/N could already tell she had captured his attention just as she wanted with the way he was eyeing her and the grin that rested on his lips. Y/N walked over to the table, tapping the glass with her index finger as she held it. She broke her gaze from Bucky to look to Steve, a smile appearing across her lips that were painted with a deep shade of red lipstick, “Stevie.” She sang out, making Steve snap his head around to look at her.

Steve looked at Y/N in shock seeing her while he was working. He stood quickly, “What’re you doing here, Y/N?” He asked. Y/N had been sleeping with him the past two weeks. He had told her nothing of the business he was into and nothing about the night club he would be at tonight. Steve had no idea how Y/N was here.

Y/N smiled at him, “That’s for me to know and for you to.. dot dot dot.” She said softly, keeping her gaze on his as she took a sip of the whiskey in the glass, leaving a red lip stain on the rim. She slid into the booth, taking Steve’s spot next to Bucky and sliding so close to him so their legs were touching. Steve sat back down on the other side of Y/N, a confused look on his features.

Bucky watched, his eyes flickering between Steve and the mysterious woman named Y/N. He was curious, was this the piece of ass Steve had been bragging about for the past two weeks? He raised an eyebrow as she slid in the booth next to him, watching her take another drink of his whiskey, “And what can I do for you, doll?” He mused curiously, a smile resting on his lips. He couldn’t believe Steve had scored such a beauty like her and keep it a secret from him. Bucky knew why Steve didn’t tell him though, she was gorgeous. A woman that Bucky would have no problem taking back to his bedroom and devouring. He licks his lips as he continued to look her up and down, undressing her with his eyes. 

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, “I heard you were looking for Rumlow.” She said shortly, taking the last swig of the whiskey and setting the glass down in front of Bucky, unflinching as the liquid slid down her throat with ease. Y/N could tell by the way Bucky was looking at her that she had his full attention. And Y/N couldn’t lie, those dark, powerful eyes on her made a small tingle shoot through her body. She had always been attracted to power, and Bucky was dripping with it. Not to mention he was very handsome and the darkness behind his gaze magnetized her.

Bucky shifted a little bit at her words. Rumlow was his main arms dealer and they were supposed to meet here tonight to sort out a gun shipment. But Rumlow was late which was very unlike him, “What are you? His messenger?” He asked, keeping a grin on his lips as he stretched both his arms on the top of the booth to spread across Y/N shoulder, reaching down the let his finger stroke her shoulder softly, fiddling with the strap to her top. He could already tell she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Y/N grinned at his words, leaning closer to him until her lips were brushing against his ear lobe, “A messenger? Fuck no.” She quickly slid herself onto his lap to face him, her hands running up Bucky’s chest as she licks her lips. Y/N could feel Steve and Sam watching her in shock, but she didn’t care. Bucky was attractive. He had the looks and the power she craved.

Bucky’s grin widened as Y/N moved onto his lap, dropping his hands to her waist. He knew he had an effect on women with the power and darkness that swelled around him, but this woman seemed different. She had the effect that seemed like she was a cat playing with a mouse. But Bucky was amused and allowed it to continue. He squeezed her hips, pulling her body roughly against his.

Y/N tilted her head at him, her eyes staring at his as the lights around them pulsed to the music, “You see, James,” She began, tilting her head so her hair slipped to one side of her neck, “Stevie blue eyes over there never spoke about your business, even after I gave him the best sex he’s ever had. But I’ve been watching you for a long time. I know you’re the King of New York.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed to Steve with a bit of anger and jealousy before returning to Y/N’s face, “You mean my club? Just opened, it wasn’t exactly a secret.” He said as a cover, wondering what exactly Y/N knew about him. Even if she did know about his drug running, he wasn’t just going to admit that blatantly even if the woman was as hypnotizing as Y/N.

“You were fucking me for information?” Steve asked suddenly, his jaw clenching as if he was angered by her comment. He should’ve known by how forward she was with him that there was some ulterior motive. She was always asking what he did as she drew small circles on his chest after they had sex but he never said a word about it. 

Y/N looked over at Steve and put a pout look on her face, “Oh, don’t look so surprised, darling. You really think this,” She looked at Bucky, gently rolling her hips over his. Her eyes fluttered as she let a beautiful moan pass her lips. Her face snapped emotionless again after the act and she tilts her head at Steve, “Was real? Oh please. You’re far too gentle to have me make those noises.” She smirked at him.

Bucky gritted his teeth as she rolled her hips against his. Damn, she was good. The moan that passed her lips, even if was an act, made him want to be the cause of the sweet moan. He snaked his hands up her back, wanting to rip the tank top from her skin. He wanted her, right there and now. He stared up at her face with a grin, “And why would a woman like you be curious of my business?” He asks, leaning up so he could whisper it into her ear seductively. 

Y/N looks to Bucky as he whispers to her. She snakes a hand up his chest and behind his neck, gripping his hair between her fingers and pulling his head back by his hair. She leans her face down to his until her lips were inches away from his, “You’ve been getting your guns from Rumlow the past couple years. That ends now.” She told him, “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. And you may be the King of New York City, James Barnes.” She brushes her lips along his cheek until she reached his ear, “But I am the Queen when it comes to guns in the eastern region. And I will be the one you’ll be doing business with from now on.” She bit his ear lightly before pulling her face back to smile at him, releasing his hair from her grasp. Y/N slipped out of Bucky’s grasp and slid over onto Steve’s lap giving him a deep kiss, her tongue rolling on his bottom lip as she separated, “And I’ll see you later. A girls got needs and maybe next time you’ll get it right.” She said as she slid off his lap and out of the booth. Y/N turned to look at Bucky, a smirk returning her lips, “I’ll be in touch.” She could see the jealousy in his eyes from her move with Steve. She could tell he was a possessive man that craved her.

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle when she called herself a queen. Confidence leaked off of Y/N the same way it did from him. He could tell she was powerful. But more than that, she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen and had the fierce attitude to match it. And Bucky wanted her. He couldn’t help but frown a little as she kissed Steve. He looks at Y/N as she started to head out, “What happened to Rumlow? I just like to know if I need to clean up a loose end.” He said with a smirk, looking up and down her figure with his wanting gaze. The things he would do to her…

Y/N turned her attention back to Bucky, noticing him eye-fuck her. She licks her lips, “Oh, you’ll see him when you get home. Well, a piece of him. Just to let you know how serious I am when it comes to my business.” She said with a sinister smile before turning on her heels and promptly exiting the club, a few men following her out.

Bucky watched her go, licking his lips that were curved in a smile as he watched her leave, tilting his head as his gaze fixated on her ass. When she was out of view he wiped the smile from his lips, pointing his finger over at Steve, “You will not see her later. There will be no next time.” He growled out, rage flashing in his eyes showing he was serious. Bucky wanted Y/N all to himself. As of this moment, she was only his.

Steve looked at Bucky, seeing the darkness and rage in his boss’s eyes that meant he was deadly serious, “Of course, sir.” He said quickly with a stern nod, “Are we going to get into bed with her?” He asks, curious what Bucky was thinking. As his second in command, these were things Steve needed to know. Would they get into buying guns from Y/N?

Bucky sat back in the booth and a small grin returning to his lips. He spread his arms back across the top of the booth, “We will buy her guns. And I will be the only one getting into bed with her. She’s a Queen. And a Queen needs her King.” He said possessively. He could already imagine what he could do with Y/N, business and personal. Bucky would have her guns and would have her folded over his desk with him behind her at the same time.

[bitch-for-bo]

"Worried I'll Replace You?", "No." (Ushijima Wakatoshi x chubby reader)

TAKES PLACE POST- TIMESKIP 

Despite the fact that you and Ushijima have been dating for years, he still doesn't want to introduce you to the team. You find out that it isn't because he's embarrassed, it's for selfish reasons of his own.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SERIOUSLY

When you had told Wakatoshi that you were going to be attending the Japan National team’s practice later that day, you didn’t expect him to react. Why would you? Toshi rarely reacted to anything you said in explicit ways, he was a stoic man. Sure, he was a stoic man that you happened to love, but a stoic man nonetheless.

You had been curling your hair in the bathroom mirror as Wakatoshi took his morning shower when you brought the fact that you’d be attending his practice up.

“I’m going to be there with Kuroo-san planning some advertising strategies.”

“Do you have to be with Kuroo?” Wakatoshi’s deep voice rumbled from behind the shower curtain.

“Why?” you asked, leaning against the counter and looking at the shower curtain through the mirror, seeing Toshi’s large outline through the light material.

“I don’t appreciate the way that Kuroo speaks to you. He isn’t your boyfriend, I am.” He replied before ducking his head beneath the showerhead to rinse the shampoo from his hair.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at Wakatoshi’s blunt statement. No matter how many times you told him that Kuroo was only kidding when he teased you, Toshi was still unnecessarily possessive of you.

Not that you minded. It was nice to feel protected by the powerful ace, even if that meant having to almost hold him back when he saw Kuroo playfully ‘flirting’ with you.

The shower turned off and the curtain was slung back, revealing a fully nude Wakatoshi. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist as your eyes followed him lustfully in the mirror, admiring how the beads of water ran down his broad, tanned back as the muscles flexed and relaxed with his movement.

“I also don’t want my teammates meeting you.” He said, walking up behind you beside you to the counter to continue his morning hygiene routine.

You scoffed lightly at that. You knew that his words held no ill intent or malice, but if Ushi would have said that sort of thing in public, and someone overheard the conversation, they would’ve thought that Ushijima was embarrassed by you. So much so that he didn’t want his team meeting you. Again, deep down you knew this wasn’t the case, but that didn’t stop the small ball of dread from making its way into your heart as you began to question if Toshi really was embarrassed by you. You knew that the only way to find out what he meant was to ask, or else you would be upset the rest of the day and lord only knows that Wakatoshi was too bad at verbal communication to ask you why you were mad at him.

“Why?” You teased, grinning at your boyfriend in the mirror despite the small pang of hurt in your chest. “Scared I’ll find someone more attractive to replace you with?”

“Why would a be scared of that? I am the most capable partner for you on the team.” He replied, turning to look at you in the eyes with an expression of slight confusion.

You couldn’t help but giggle at your big dumb boyfriend.

“Awful confident about that aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

You just laughed more, stepping towards him and craning your neck to place a small kiss on his jaw. It was mean to bully Toshi like that, especially since he took every word you said so literally, but it was too fun not to.

“How about this,” you offered, wrapping your arms around his bare hips and encouraging him to do the same to you, forming a loose hug between the two of you as you stood in the doorway of the bathroom. “I’ll go do my job with Kuroo, but you don’t have to tell the team I’m your girlfriend. We can both pretend we’re strangers.”

You weren’t gonna lie, you really wanted Wakatoshi to introduce you as his significant other to his friends, after all, you’d been dating for almost 5 years, but you understood that PDA made him uncomfortable so you could deal with your own butthurt feelings if it meant that he was more comfortable.

“Are you sure?” Wakatoshi asked, his eyes looking down at yours, seemingly into your soul.

“Yes.” You smiled, kissing his chin, “Who knows,” you added, “it might make for some hot foreplay too…”

Wakatoshi chuckled and kissed your forehead, letting his lips rest against the skin for a couple of seconds before pulling away and detaching the two of you from your ‘loose hug’.

“When do you have to go?” You asked, glancing at the bedside clock that read 5:50 AM.

“I have to be there by 6:30.” He responded. You groaned in reply, turning back to your own routine as he moved out of the bathroom to get dressed so he could go to practice.

You absolutely hated the days where Toshi had to go to practice early in the morning. He would wake up at almost 4 AM to go on his jog. And of course, being the huge oaf that he is, he’d always wake you up with him as he tried to maneuver his bulky frame out of bed. It wasn’t too much trouble though, because usually, you would just go back to sleep. The best part was when Ushijima got back from his jog and joined you in the shower for some pre-practice ‘endurance training’.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened today. You had to be a work kind of early too, so you had already taken your shower and done your makeup by the time Wakatoshi was back.

You were almost finished curling your hair when Wakatoshi came to wish you goodbye, wrapping his large arms around your waist as he pulled you into one of his kisses that never failed to take your breath away and leave you weak in the knees.

After he had gone, you finished getting ready in the bathroom and went to decide on something to wear.

You wanted to wear something nicer than usual to make a good impression on the team, even if Ushi wasn’t going to introduce you as his girlfriend. It was rare for Wakatoshi to see you in your work clothes, so you also wanted to wear something that would get his attention, and if you were lucky occupy his mind all day until he could rush home and fuck you.

You settled on a black lace blouse tucked into a pair of red slacks. Kuroo had told you that the two of you would get ‘bonus points’ with the bosses if your clothes matched the team’s colors. Plus you knew that Wakatoshi loved the way that the outfit looked on you. The top displayed an appropriate yet sexy amount of skin with its black velvet bodice and long lace sleeves and the high waisted slacks hugged your curvy hips and made your ass and legs look amazing.

You looked in the mirror, admiring your ability to look professional and badass at the same time. If only your highschool self could see you now. Highschool You wouldn’t have been able to see the way that the outfit complemented your plush form. She would’ve been focused on the small yet noticeable bump of your stomach underneath the slacks, or the way that the light hit the stretch marks on your arms, making them visible despite being covered in black lace.

It had taken a long time to love yourself, you’d gone through the first twenty years of your life despising how you looked. Finally, you learned to accept who you were and with the help of your friends and family, you learned that you were worth more than what YOU saw in the mirror.

You remembered the first couple of times you went out with friends after gaining your confidence. They convinced you to accompany them to a small sports bar. You remembered that night fairly clearly, you had worn a flowy maroon blouse with a pair of high waisted black jeans and a pair of 3-inch nude heels. It was one of the first times that you had looked in the mirror and liked what you saw.

You and your friends drank and watched the games on the TVs that were situated around the bar, a different sport playing on almost every one of them. You remembered that you were attracted to a volleyball game that was one. You had played volleyball a lot with your brothers when you were young and over the years, the fondness towards the sport never died. You took a seat in front of the television, sitting next to a tall, slender red-head who was nursing what smelt like a vodka cherry limeade. Your eyes were fixed on the TV, smiling as the players volleyed back and forth, admiring the strength and power it must take to perform like that.

“It’s impressive isn’t it.” The redhead next to you spoke, looking at you with wide, analytic eyes. You nodded, your eyes barely leaving the screen to give him a quick ‘hello’ smile.

“You like volleyball?” You asked, giggling a little as the man tilted his head at you.

“I used to……” He said wistfully, taking a long sip of his limeade that he happened to be drinking through a straw. “I played in high school. I quit cuz I knew that I’d never be serious enough to play like them.” He waved towards the players on the TV before continuing, “My buddy is still obsessed with it though. He’s in the bathroom right now.”

You nodded, you weren’t sure why the stranger was telling you so much, you figured that it was kind of due to the alcohol so you let him speak, plus you were enjoying the conversation.

“That’s cool.” You smiled, bringing your own drinks up to your lips as the two of you continued to watch the game in silence for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, he looked over.

“Listen,” He said, “my friend that I mentioned, the one in the bathroom…”

You nodded.

“He’s had his eyes on you the whole night.”

As soon as he said those words, your face lit up with the biggest blush you had ever had. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ before opening and closing like a fish. No one had ever looked, let alone stared! at you (to your knowledge). You had no idea how to react seeing as this was your first time anyone was so brash with you.

“I-I’m sorry- are you sure that it’s me and not one of my friends?” You asked, still in disbelief that anyone could find you attractive enough to stare.

“Of course I’m sure!” the redhead confirmed, his eyes scrunching as he looked back at you in just as much confusion as you looked at him.

He wondered if you were completely oblivious to all of the attention you’d been getting from the inhabitants of the bar. You looked gorgeous with your long legs, your thick thighs…..hell he would’ve approached you if it hadn’t been for his best friend expressing his interest in you first.

“It’s actually kind of a miracle that you sat here.” The redhead continued, “Wakatoshi isn’t very good at talking to people. Unless it’s about volleyball, which you also like!”

The blush on your face was unrelenting at the thought of a guy approaching you. A guy that you didn’t even know if they really existed. This guy you were talking to might have been a complete crazy who had gotten a little too much to drink.

“Well, I-” You started, only to be interrupted by possibly the deepest voice you’d ever heard, coming from behind you.

“Tendou, who is this in my seat?”

That’s how it all started. In those first couple of minutes, you were terrified of Ushijima. His face was so serious. Handsome, yes, but also very serious. Tendou had acted as a buffer that first night, giving you a smooth transition and kind of teaching you how to talk to Wakatoshi.

Over the next couple of months, you and Ushijima went on dates. Every week on Friday. He would pick you up at 7 pm sharp without fail. He never talked much, he much preferred to listen to you, always watching your face closely as you spoke. He made you feel safe and listened to and before long, five years had passed and the two of you were living in domestic bliss.

The sound of the phone broke you out of your little daydream, Kuroo’s caller ID flashing across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Where are you, Kitten? I’m at the gym. I see your super ace boyfriend here, but not you.”

“I’m coming” you replied, pulling a pair of black block heels on as you walked out the front door, “Also, I promised Wakatoshi that no one would tell the team that I’m his girlfriend so please behave!”

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

“Waaaah?? Girlfriend??” Hinata Shoyou exclaimed, leaning closer towards Bokuto who had just gathered the team while Ushijima was in the bathroom to tell them all what he had overheard from Kuroo’s phone call.

“She’ll be here today!” The owl-like hitter whisper shouted, excitement practically seeping out of his pores.

“I can’t believe Mr. Stone Solid has a girlfriend and I don’t” Miya Atsumu groaned, hiding his face in shame. As the team started to speculate about what she would look like.

“I bet she’s really pretty”

“Dumbass Hinata! Of course, she’ll be pretty! Why would Ushijima date her if she wasn’t!!” “The real question is, why would she choose Mr. no-emotion. He has the emotional range of a crayon!”

They all nodded at Atsusmu’s statement, even Iwaizumi, and Aran, who had been silent in the conversation regarding Ushiwaka’s mystery girl.

They all flinched at the sound of the gym door opening and sprang away from the huddle as they heard Ushijima coming into the gym. They all had quickly gone back to practicing as if they hadn’t just been gossiping like middle schoolers, and Ushijima being the oblivious idiot that he is, noticed nothing as he picked up a volleyball, wondering when his girlfriend would be arriving with her work partner.

Not even ten minutes later the gym doors opened again and in walked the coach, Kuroo, and you.

“Holy shit!” Atsumu whispered to Hinata, imaginary blood bursting out of his nose as he took in your figure.

The team was enraptured with you from the start, even Kageyama had stopped setting to look at you. They couldn’t stop looking at you, eyes drinking you in disbelief as to why you were with someone with Ushijima. And while you didn’t notice all of the male attention since you were currently talking to Kuroo and the coach, Wakatoshi did and a mix of possessiveness and jealousy burst into his chest.

His eyes roamed your body, fists clenching at how devilishly perfect you looked in your outfit. And even though Ushijima wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, he could figure out that you’d worn the outfit just to make him feel like this.

He looked across the faces of his teammates, even the athletic trainer’s eyes were on your body as you made your way towards the court, your heels clicking lightly on the glossy wooden floor.

No one was really listening to the coach’s words as he introduced you and Kuroo to the team. They hadn’t even heard the coach ask them to introduce themselves until Ushijima began to speak.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He said, shaking Kuroo’s outstretched hand and then yours, staring deep into your eyes.

‘Just wait till tonight’ his dark eyes read, making something in you keen in arousal.

“Well you all know me, this is my associate, Y/N,” Kuroo said, causing you to break Wakatoshi’s gaze. It jarred the others out of their dazes as well.

“Hello.” You said brightly, smiling. You and Kuroo then went down the line of them, shaking all of their hands and learning their names.

“Are you a model?” Hinata asked, his eyes wide as you towered over him in your heels. You almost looked like a goddess to the short spiker.

“No, but thank you Hinata.” You laughed, shaking his hand gently. You shook your head in amusement and moved to the man standing next to him. A dark-haired man with a blush dancing across his cheeks and his mouth turned down in an attempted frown.

“Y-you are tall,” Kageyama mumbled, holding out his hand to shake. You merely nodded and responded with an ‘it’s mostly the heels. It’s nice to meet you’

You continued to greet them one by one, feeling extremely awkward as they one by one stumbled over introducing themselves. You wondered what was wrong with them, painfully ignorant of the fact that they were all in awe of you.

‘I kind of see why he didn’t want me meeting them’ you thought.

“Aright!” Kuroo exclaimed as soon as the two of you had given all of them handshakes and introductions were finished. “Y/N and I will just be casually monitoring the practice and thinking of advertising strategies. Anything to add?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Sorry for the intrusion!” You said, smiling at all of them once again, “Please play like normal and do your best!”

Ushijima scowled, he could pretty much hear all of his teammates’ brains exploding.

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

It was a long but successful day, you thought, sliding your key into the front door of your apartment. Wakatoshi was home, the team was let out at 2:30 but you and Kuroo had headed back to the office for a couple of more hours before you came home.

“Toshi?” you called out into the seemingly empty apartment. There was no smell of dinner being cooked or sounds of the shower or sink running. You wondered where he had gone. Tendou wasn’t back in town, so unless Ushijima was out with the team you hadn’t the slightest idea where he was.

You flicked on the lights.

“AHH!” You screamed, hurling your messenger bag at the figure sitting in your living room. Your hands coming up to search for something else to protect yourself with. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you sighed. “Wakatoshi what the fuck? You scared me!”

Wakatoshi said nothing, a frown painting his face while his eyebrows were angrily scrunched towards the midline of his face.

“Toshi?”

“That is why I didn’t want you to meet my team,” he said, taking you completely by surprise.

“What?” you asked, confusion prominent on your face.

“I didn’t want them looking at you like that. You’re mine.”

“Woah, Woah, Woah. Toshi, they were just being nice to me. That’s all” you replied sweetly. A small smile worming its way onto your face at your boyfriend’s childish jealousy.

“You are mine.” He repeated, a bit more assertively this time, getting up and walking towards you.

“I know Toshi.” You whispered soothingly, your arms opening up and accepting his huge form into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your perfume as he sighed in content at your affection.

“I felt jealous as they looked at you. Why did you wear those clothes?”

“I wore them for you Toshi…” You whispered in his ear.

“Oh. I see.” He said, his hands slowly beginning to draw firm circles in your lower back.

“Why were you jealous Toshi?” You whispered sweetly, you couldn’t stop the sly smile from gracing your face. As mean as it was, you loved it when Wakatoshi got all possessive like this.

“They looked at you.”

“People are allowed to look at me Toshi, how would they talk to me if they weren’t?”

“They’re not allowed to look at you the way they did. Only I can. Only I own you.”

You felt your stomach twist with arousal at Toshi’s deep voice, whispering into your neck. You knew that he didn’t realize the effect that he had on you when he talked like that, but you couldn’t help the want from building in your core as your thighs pressed together.

“Show me Toshi.” You breathed out, your arms tightly wrapping around his neck, pulling his face even closer to your body, “Show me you own me.” Wakatoshi obliged, groaning lowly as his mouth began pressing bruising kisses to your neck. You tilted your head back, giving his rough lips wider access as you let him guide you into the bedroom, pressing you up against a wall.

His hands were gripping your soft hips, pulling you closer to him as his hips rolled against you. You could feel the hard outline of his cock through the thin sweatpants he had on, making your mouth water.

“Shit Toshi…” you moaned, your arms trying desperately to pull his body against you. You reached down between the two of you to feel him through his sweats. As you pressed your palm to it, his hands came down and caught both of your wrists before bringing them above your head.

“Did I say you could touch me?” He growled, his tone changing from the usually even, calm tone, to one of domination.

“Please Toshi….” You keened, a light whine of frustration slipping out of your lips.

Wakastoshi didn’t move, his eyes roaming down your body, taking in your heaving chest practically begging to be bitten and sucked, your thighs pressed together around his muscular leg that had forced its way between your soft ones. He couldn’t’ stop the surge of incredible pride that swelled in his chest as he looked down at you, hunger evident in his eyes. Your pupils were wide and blown out, lips parted and gasping for breath.

‘All mine’ he thought, slowly and firmly taking your mouth with his, demanding that you submit to him. He loved how pliant and submissive your body was beneath him. He loved how you trusted him with your pleasure. He knew he wouldn’t disappoint.

“Fuck!” you gasped as he pulled off of you, allowing your lungs to breathe in deeply, relishing at the feeling of air. Your panties were sopping wet, and you were afraid that if you didn’t take them off soon, your slacks would be in the same boat.

“Please……” You begged, your hips bucking pitifully against Wakatoshi’s firm grip. You needed relief, your brain was beyond clouded with want and the only end in sight was Wakatoshi fucking you hard and deep against the wall.

“What do you want Love?” He asked, his baritone voice invading your brain, making you involuntarily arch your back towards him, a breathy plea slipping from your lips.

“Fuck me Toshi…”

Without a word, Wakatoshi tore your blouse down the front. A small surprised shriek leaving your mouth.

“Toshi! Yo-”

“I will buy you a new one. Their filthy eyes ruined this one.” He growled before reaching down and doing the same to your slacks. You couldn’t even be mad at the incredibly hot strength of your boyfriend. Your shredded clothing fell to the floor as the super ace yanked down your soaked panties, his fingers sliding through the wet folds as he groaned softly against your ear.

“Open your legs.” He commanded, gently yet firmly grasping your thighs as he guided them apart. His fingers glided over the outside of your pussy, dipping in and pressing against your clit while his other hand fondled your breasts, pinching at the nipples.

“Toshi….” you whimpered, yearning for the feeling of his thick fingers inside of you and his mouth on your chest. He seemingly understood your pleas as his fingers slowly thrust into you, stretching you out with two straight of the bat.

“Fuck!” you squeaked, not expecting the brutally fast pace that followed.

“I will not be gentle tonight. When you see the team tomorrow, they will know you belong to me.” He growled, mercilessly finger fucking you with two fingers, using a third to draw small circles around your clit.

You were gasping for air as your head tossed back against the wall. There were no words to express how you felt, even if there were you wouldn’t be able to say them with how Wakatoshi was fucking every breath out of your body.

He didn’t let up, not until you were almost to climax, your nails digging into the meat of his bare shoulders. One of your legs was wrapped around his waist as three of his fingers pressed in and out of your g-spot at lightning speed. You could feel both of your thighs shaking under your body weight, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold your one thigh up around him.

“Wakatoshi....please….” you cried, raking your fingers down his shoulder blades, reveling in the way that they flexed against your grip. “I’m so close!”

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” he asked, taking his fingers out of you and turning you around before pushing your top half down against your vanity in the corner of the room. You could feel your dripping pussy exposed at a new angle as Wakatoshi quickly kicked off his own pants, stroking his thick cock in his hand before stepping up behind you and rubbing it against your slit, wetting it with your juices.

“Yes, please!. Pleasepleaseplease!” you babbled, the feeling of the head of his cock rubbing up and down your pussy becoming too much to bear.

With a single thrust, Wakatoshi was completely inside of you, ripping a scream from your lungs as his cock split you in half. Usually, he took his time, but you could tell that tonight he wanted to show you that you truly belonged to him.

“Fuck.” He groaned, thrusting his hips into you at an intermediate pace. He wanted to teach you who you belonged to, but he didn’t want to hospitalize you by going full speed right away.

“Mmmm….” you moaned, “love the feeling of your cock baby.” you tried to bring your hips back to meet his thrusts but were immediately stopped by his big hands pressing them into the wood of the vanity.

He continued his onslaught, snapping his hips and thrusting in and out of you, quickly building up to a seemingly inhuman pace. He wove his finger through your hair and pulled your head up to look at him through the mirror of the vanity.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He demanded. You opened your mouth in a silent moan as your eyes were met with the sight of him fucking you into the piece of furniture. Your face was red with exertion, your hair sticking with sweat. It wasn’t a superficially erotic sight (at least in your opinion) but the fucked out expression on your face was a dead give-away of how badly you enjoyed Wakatoshi dominating you like this.

Wakatoshi groaned, the feeling of his cock pushing in and out of your tight hole as he brutally fucked you was glorious. His eyes never left your form in the mirror as he stared at the way your pretty tits and stomach bounced with each push of his hips.

Fucking you in the mirror was his favorite was to take you, the ability to watch your face, your tits/stomach, and your ass/thighs all at the same time was quite possibly his favorite thing in the world. He felt himself getting close as his eyes continued to watch your blissed-out face through the glass.

One of his hands reached down and his fingers began to circle your clit again, making your eyes, that you hadn’t even realized were closed, spring open and another cry slip from your lips.

“Ooooooh…. Toshi…:” you panted. “I’m close…”

“Tell me who you belong to.” He growled, his free hand coming up and wrapping around your neck as his lips pressed against your rapid pulse. You could feel yourself beginning to lose yourself, you were so close to orgasm that tears began to run down your face.

“You! Toshi- only you!”

“Are you sure?” he asked meanly, flicking his thumb out maliciously over the oversensitive bud of your clit.

“F-fuck YES! Fuck yes Toshi….. p-please....let me cum!”

“Cum.”

Your body began to practically convulse as your orgasm ripped through your body, leaving your vision white as you shook with pleasure, you could feel yourself clenching around Wakatoshi’s cock as he moaned deeply and began to cum inside of you, letting himself be milked by your walls.

You cried as you came down from your high, your legs feeling like jelly as Ushijima’s strong arms wrapped around your body, supporting you and making sure you didn’t drop to the floor from exhaustion.

He gently pulled out of you and carried you to the bathroom. He set you down on the counter as he went to turn on the shower, the sight of his broad back covered in scratch marks making you bask in the glow of your orgasm even more.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked guiltily, concerned eyes sweeping your body worriedly. You let out a half giggle/ half hiccup and shook your head.

“I love you Toshi.” You whispered, opening your arms so he could pick you up and carry you to the shower with him, which he contently did, his thick biceps flexing against your back as he held your body against him under the hot stream of water.

“I love you too. You are mine.” He said as he lathered shampoo into your hair. You smiled, shivering at the feeling of his fingers against your scalp and his words of love in your mind.

“I’m yours.” You said sweetly, before turning in his grasp to return the favor.

[shorkbrian]

Jerk

Oh Jesus y’all I can’t handle these thirsts they’re making em flustered as heck oh no.

oh frick but really doe Bakugou is soooo mean and he’s probably the type that’s into degrading and humiliating his partner, totally has dacryphilia and can’t get off unless you’re crying big, fat, salty tears. He honestly likes you, likes having you around and enjoys your additions in class discussion. But you’re just so easy to bully, he can’t help himself. He tells you it’s your fault, if you put up more of a fight he’d back off. If you didn’t just take his insults and jabs at your character lying down, he’d leave you alone. But he never would. nasty dude.

(College au lol)

TW - noncon, NSFW, handjob, crying, Bakugou is not nice but what's new.

Sometimes he’ll corner you on campus, knows you have evening classes and waits to haul you behind the building as soon as your class ends. Talking to you in a quiet, dangerous voice as he forces you back there, his hot hands gripping your arm (far too tightly), his erection brushing against your ass with each agonizing step.

“Hey (Y/N), you little bitch, did’ya miss me? No? Too bad.”

“You better shut your whore mouth, don’t want the entire campus knowing how much of slut you are. Saying “stop” isn’t going to make me do anything but fuck you harder, stupid bitch.”

“What’re you gonna do, tell someone? Who’s gonna believe a pathetic little extra like you, hmm? I’m their quarterback baby, they can’t afford to lose me. No, you’ll fucking do whatever I say.”

Once behind the building, pressed against the wall, he’ll slap your face, once, twice. Red paints your cheeks, and you’re already crying at the sting. Bakugou just grins, enjoying every second as he squishes your face in his hand, bringing his face close to yours. So close, you can feel each hot puff of air on his every exhale. So close, you can see the beauty of his ruby red eyes, darker maroon flecking the bright iris. Pity Bakugou was so mean.

A beat passed, the two of you just looking at each other, breathing each other’s air. Then he kissed you, mashing your lips together, squeezing your jaw until you opened your mouth, let him inside like you always did.

When he pulled away, you were gasping for air, hand coming up to wipe at the tears streaming down your face. Bakugou huffed, before planting both hands on your chest and pushing. You let out a distressed cry as you were shoved backwards, loosing your balance and falling down into the dirt. You’d probably have bruises later. Who were you kidding, you were with Bakugou. Of course you’d have bruises later.

The blonde crouched down, cocking his head to the side as he watched you, eery smile on his face. You didn’t like that look. You scrambled backwards, pushing at the dirt and scuffing your hands until your back hit a wall. Bakugou stayed where he was.

“You’re so fucking stupid, only thing you’re good at is being a shitty little toy for others to push around. You realize that? That’s all you are. Nothing. Worthless little pussy on legs.”

His words stung, and you had to scrub at your eyes again, wiping away the fresh wave of tears. In doing so, you didn’t notice him stand up, stalk closer, until he was towering over your sitting form. When he “tch’ed” you jumped, looking up.

“Get the fuck up.”

You hesitated.

A hand grabbed your hair, Bakugou’s face twisting into a snarl.

“Now.”

You rose as quickly as possible, finding yourself face-to-face with your aggressor once again. Well, face-to-chest. Then you were flipped around, shoved against the wall of the building as hands began kneading at your chest.

“Mmm, shit baby, you’re always so damn soft.”

A gasp escaped you when he started pinching, grasp becoming firmer and more demanding until it hurt, the man pulling at your chest now. The hard, considerable bulge of his erection was humping against your ass slowly, as if Bakugou was savoring each little thrust of his hips.

“So easy. Bet you would bend over for anyone who asked, wouldn’t you? Slut. You’re just a little cockwhore, ain’t that right?”

He took a few steps back, pulling you with him until he could bend you at the waist, still grinding against you. But in this position, his cock was pressed against your clothed cunt, delivering delicious friction to your clit. You resisted the urge to wriggle your hips in order to chase that feeling. “Hey - “  A slap landed across your ass, and even through your jeans, you could feel it burn. “I asked you a question bitch. Answer me.”

You whimpered.

“Y-y-yes Bakugou..... I am.”

“You’re what? I didn’t quite hear that last part. ”

You could hear the sneer in his voice, wincing at the pressure as Bakugou groped at your chest.

“A-a cockwhore.”

“Fuck yeah you are, I can feel you getting wet down here.” He pulled away from your body, lending you relief for a half a second before he smacked your cunt, hard. “You’re so desperate!”

He was gleeful as he turned you around again, pushing you into the wall. He was always pushing. Pushing over your books the first time he met you, pushing your boundaries, pushing for you to come up to his dorm while his roommates are out, pushing your sanity.

You shuddered as the blond unzipped his jeans, groaning as the zipper pressed against his dick as he pulled it down.

Closing your eyes, you swallowed. You didn’t know what he was going to do next, didn’t want to see the manic look on his face as he decided which part of your body to get off on today.

You weren’t surprised when you felt his hands grab yours. He pushed himself flush against you, and you knew without looking that his cock was standing up proudly, bobbing against his stomach. If you breathed in too far, expanded your lungs, your could feel it twitch against your abdomen. You tried to take short breaths.

His hands guided yours to wrap around his dick, and the second you felt the hot flesh touch your hand, that’s when the waterworks really started. You were crying uncontrollably as Bakugou forced your hands around him, thrusting upwards shallowly, head dropping to your shoulder with a choked-off groan. He wasn’t squeezing your hands too tight, enjoying the soft, loose grip for now.

When the man grew impatient of this, he let go of one of your hands, reaching up at swipe at your face. He was trying to wet his hand with your tears.

‘C’mon (Y/N), keep crying.”

You were bawling, tears dripping off your chin, snot beginning to flow from your nose. Just like Bakugou liked it. He kept on wiping at your face, collecting the tears and snot and drool, before rubbing his hand on his cock. Then he’d make you jerk him, testing to see if it was wet enough for his comfort. The more time passed, the more tears fell.

It took a bit, but finally Bakugou was satisfied with the amount of wetness coating his cock. Grabbing your free hand again, he guided it back to his cock. When you struggled to rip our hands away, his grip just tightened, crushing your digits between his hands and his cock.

There was no preamble, no gentle beginning. Bakugou was thrusting like a mad-man, head once again on your shoulder. You could hear him moaning softly, above the slick sounds of the messy handjob. It was sickening. 

When his hips kicked up another notch, plump balls smacking into your wrists with each thrust, you knew he was close. It took just a few more frantic pumps of his hips before Bakugou was spilling over, hot cum dripping out, leaking onto your hands and dripping down to your shoes.

You tried to pull away again, letting out a desperate sob as Bakugou kept your hands anchored, his hips still moving, almost grinding himself up into your hands. His breath was stuttered, heavy and panting in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, oh that felt damn good.”

Finally he released your hands. 

Reigning back in your sobs, you looked at them, fingers dripping and palm wet and sticky with the mans cum. You hated him so much.

The sound of pants being zippered drew your attention, head snapping up to look at Bakugou. He was watching you intently, wiping his own hands against his jeans. A sigh of relief. Usually he tried to fuck you, or get you off. It looked like tonight he would be satisfied with just a handjob. You were going to go shower until your skin peeled off, then sleep for a day or two, classes be damned.

“Wipe it onto your slutty little cunt.”

...

“What?? B-b-bakugou you-”

“Wipe it onto your. cunt.”

He leveled you with a glare, hands crossing over his chest. You were frozen.

“Geez bitch, do I need to do it for you? Just fuckin’ wipe that shit onto your pussy, it’s not that hard.”

Trembling, you obeyed, wincing was you stuffed your hands past your jeans, past your underwear. You cringed when you felt how wet your slit was, how inflamed and puffy you felt down there from Bakugou’s teasing rutting earlier. Bakugou watched with a smirk as you pressed your hands against yourself, doing your best to wipe off his cum. 

When you finished, the man looped an arm around your waist, causing you to squeak in alarm. You recoiled from his touch, breathing hard, but he wouldn’t let go.

“What, you thought you were done? Thought a fuckin’ lame excuse for a handjob would satisfy me? God - “ He snickered loudly, beginning to pull you along, forced to walk beside him “ - You really are a stupid slut.”

You bit your lip, tears still wetting your lashes. It was uncomfortable to walk with the amount of wet in your underwear, the thought of Bakugou’s cum just sitting there making your stomach roll, tensing.

“Can’t wait ‘till we get back to my place; shitty roommates are gone for a few days, thank fuck. Can finally try edging you all night, use your body like a toy and shit like that. Fuck, I’m excited.”

You were going to throw up. 

[you-didnt-see-that-cuming]

Shy Glances | George Weasley x Reader

Summary: George Weasley was quite possibly the most perfect man to ever exist. He’s smart, funny, charming, and incredibly handsome. Pansy Parkinson has known about her roommate and best friend, Y/N’s crush on George for while, watching her do nothing about it. Pansy decides that it’s time for her to take matters into her own hands and quite literally pushes the two of them together with the help of Fred Weasley. All they really did was speed fate up a little bit. 

Warnings: Smut towards the end

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: This took me a while to finish, it was a request from an anon so I’m hoping that I did their vision justice! This ended up being over 28 pages so it’s a nice long one for you guys!

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Ever since Umbridge had taken over teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, spirits at Hogwarts were not exactly high. The only things that managed to put a smile on anyone’s face were the Weasley twins’ ridiculous pranks and the weekend trips to Hogsmeade. Occasionally, a loud explosion would go off in a nearby hallway, followed closely by the shrieking of Umbridge and the smiles of students who had witnessed whatever had happened.

Despite the twins being identical, Y/N had always had a crush on George. Fred always seemed to be the one to start the chaos that followed them around, but there was something different about George, he was more compassionate, he genuinely cared about other people. The Hogsmeade weekend before the beginning of the Christmas holidays was the subject of almost everyone’s conversations. It had snowed for almost two days straight and Christmas decorations were already being erected around the castle, only adding to the general feeling of excitement. 

Y/N was feeling excited for a whole other reason. The Hogsmeade trips were some of the only chances she had to see George. Being in different houses and years complicated things, and staring throughout mealtimes wasn’t exactly subtle. 

The morning of the trip to Hogsmeade, Y/N and Pansy were woken up abruptly to the sound of feet running down the hallway towards the common room. 

“Damn! What time is it?” Pansy grumbled. She wasn’t exactly a morning person and interrupting her sleep was not a good way to get on her good side. She stretched her hand out to the bedside table and blindly felt around for her watch. Bringing it up to her eyes, Pansy suddenly turned her face into her pillow and screamed in frustration. 

Y/N tried to blink the sleep from her eyes, staring up at the velvet green canopy above the bed. It was dark in the room, the heavy curtains that had been drawn the night before, blocking out the sunlight from the windows at the top of the high ceiling. The only light currently in the room came from the crackling fireplace in the corner across from their beds and the strings of fairy lights that they had taken from the Great Hall to liven the place up. Rolling onto her side to face Pansy, who had now waved her wand to light some of the lamps that were scattered around the room, Y/N yawned loudly and stretched her arms over her head. 

“It is absolutely disgusting that we have to be awake this early, absolutely no respect for other people,” Pansy continued grumbling about her disturbed sleep as she swept the covers dramatically to the side. 

The fire began glowing a little brighter once Pansy’s feet touched the rug covered floor. Y/N soon swung her legs off the bed before sliding out from under the heavy comforter. Pansy flicked her wand and the curtains swished open. It was snowing heavily, and by the looks of it, it had been snowing through the night. There was already a substantial layer of snow on the bottom of the window sill. 

“C’mon, we better get going before everyone leaves without us.” Pansy had already pulled on a pair of jeans and was sliding a black turtleneck over her head. Y/N walked over to her trunk and began pulling items out. 

“What should I wear? I was thinking a sweater, I want to stay warm.” Y/N held up a cream fisherman’s sweater for Pansy to look at.

“Ooh, you need to wear that one, you always look pretty in it. George is going to love it on you.” Pansy smirked at that last bit, dodging a rogue pillow that Y/N threw at her head. 

“We don’t even know if he’ll be at Hogsmeade today,” Y/N looked down and began fiddling with the hem of the sweater she was holding. “Besides, I heard that he was interested in Alicia Spinnet, they’re always at Quidditch practice together.” 

“Just get dressed will you? You’re being ridiculous. I’m going to brush my teeth, I’ll wait for you in the common room.” Pansy pulled a sherpa jacket around her shoulders and a knit hat before she swept out of the room leaving Y/N to herself. 

Y/N sighed and pulled the sweater over her head. Pansy was right, she did always look good in that sweater, especially when she wore it with something green to make her eyes pop. 

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

Pansy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Y/N finally walked into the common room. 

“Agh! It’s about time! Let’s go, the last group is leaving in a few minutes.” 

The two girls hurried out of the common room and up through the stairs of the dungeons. Once they had reached the courtyard where the last Hogsmeade group was congregating, Pansy pulled Y/N close to her side and whispered into her ear.

“Listen, I spoke to some people and they said that George is definitely going to Hogsmeade today. This is your chance to actually say something to him!”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond to Pansy when her eyes fell on George Weasley jogging into the courtyard next to Harry Potter and his brother Ron. He was laughing at something Harry had said as he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back carelessly. He was in a maroon sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his wand loosely grasped in his left hand. He began twirling them across his fingers before Y/N forced herself to turn around.

“You alright? You look like you’re about to be sick,” Pansy asked. She hadn’t seen George walk into the courtyard yet. 

Y/N shook her head and straightened her back. She put a smile on her face and turned to Pansy.

“I am absolutely fine!”

Pansy had a frown on her face as she studied Y/N’s reaction. Once she had seen George over Y/N’s shoulder, her face dawned in realization.

“You absolute idiot, I thought you were dying for a second, what’s wrong with you?” Pansy lightly punched Y/N’s shoulder. 

Y/N began making excuses when Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out around the courtyard. 

“Could I have everyone’s attention? Now, this is the last trip to Hogsmeade before the winter recess and I expect everyone to be on their best behavior. I don’t want to have to send an owl to anyone’s parents after today so let’s not ruin a nice holiday,” She gave a pointed look towards George, who only smiled brightly in response. “Alright, remember to be back at the castle by 6 o’clock, promptly!”

People began filing out of the courtyard and walking down the path to get to the main road that led into Hogsmeade. Pansy looped her arm around Y/N’s, pulling her close into her side. 

“I want to stay warm, I wasn’t built for cold weather.” Pansy was shivering, even through the heavy jacket she was wearing. She looked down at Y/N’s outfit with a hint of jealousy. “Ugh, I wish I had thought of wearing corduroy trousers, my legs are freezing. I like that color on you though, house pride and all that.”

Y/N was wearing some green corduroy pants, the cream sweater she had pulled from her trunk, and one of her Slytherin scarfs that her mother had knit for her a few years before. She unwrapped the scarf from her neck and placed it around Pansy’s shoulders. 

“Here, wear this if you’re so cold then.”

Pansy smiled and squinted her eyes shut.

“Ooh, thank youuuuu! You know I love you right? This is why we’re best friends.”

“Why, because I give you my clothes when you’re cold?” Y/N asked, laughing a little.

“Yes, was that not clear from the moment we met?” Pansy’s serious tone didn’t match her smiling face. Hogsmeade was slowly coming into sight down the hill. 

“C’mon, I want to get some Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs, we can go get a butterbeer to warm up a little after that,” Pansy started running down the hill, pulling Y/N along as they ran past the rest of the group and made a bee-line to Honeydukes. 

Honeydukes was one of the best places to visit in Hogsmeade. There was no better sweets shop in all of England, the entire place was filled to the brim with different assortments of candies and chocolates. For Christmas, the entire place was decorated in red, white, and green decorations and the air smelled like gingerbread and caramel. Needless to say, it was difficult to not be in the Christmas spirit once you walked into the shop.

Y/N was looking through the different flavors of licorice ropes when Pansy began drawing her attention to the two different types of chocolate frogs they had that she was pretending to be interested in. 

Pansy’s eyes glittered in the way they usually did whenever she was planning something mischievous, but before Y/N could say anything, Pansy’s hands collided with her shoulders and shoved her backwards.

Y/N stumbled back a few steps before she crashed up against someone.

“Oof!” Y/N felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. “Oh my god, I am so so sorr-” Y/N stopped apologizing as she turned around and looked up to see whose chest it was that she had just slammed into. To her surprise, she was soon staring into the eyes of George Weasley. 

George had a surprised look on his face before a mischievous smile took its place. Now that Y/N was this close to him, she could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Notes of evergreen and birch smoke wafted across his chest and Y/N felt her knees go weak. 

“Oh you don’t have to apologize, I should have been watching where I was going,” George’s eyes narrowed a little, the smile still present on his face. “I don’t think I know your name. I’m George, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh, my name is Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as the two stared at one another before Pansy suddenly appeared next to Y/N.

“Hey, are you ready to go? I want a butterbeer.”

“Um, what?” Y/N asked, a little dazed. She didn’t get an answer to her question before Pansy was dragging her by the arm towards the door. Y/N looked back at George, only to find him staring back at her, a confused smile on his face. The two made eye contact for a second before the door slammed shut and he disappeared from view. 

“Oh my god! What the bloody hell was that?! I shove you into him, hoping you’ll take that moment and seduce him with those bedroom eyes you make at him all the time, but no! Instead, you stare at him and become fucking Bambi!”

Y/N gaped at Pansy who was still dragging her down the street. 

“Wha- I do not make bedroom eyes at him!”

Pansy gave her an exasperated look.

“Now I really do need a butterbeer, and you’re paying.” Pansy sighed before they walked into the Three Broomsticks. 

After Pansy had gotten two steaming mugs of butterbeer, the two of them sat down at an empty table in the middle of the tavern. Madam Rosmerta had obviously spared no expense with the decorations and had put up evergreen garlands and red bows across the walls and beams. It was easy to feel comfortable and at home in the Three Broomsticks.

The two girls were chatting aimlessly to distract themselves as they sipped on their butterbeers until the entrance to the tavern blew open. Their eyes were drawn to the door as the Weasley twins walked in, followed closely by Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger. They were shaking snow off of their heads and stomping their boots when Y/N felt Pansy’s hand squish her cheeks and turn her head towards her. 

“Hey! You need to keep it together this time, alright?” Pansy let go of Y/N’s cheeks and went back to her butterbeer as if nothing happened. Y/N was rubbing her cheek when someone cleared their throat.

Standing next to their table, was George, who was towering over the two of them with a kind smile on his face. 

“Hey,” His voice was soft and reminded Y/N of melted caramel and velvet. “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye back in Honeydukes. I think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts, you’re in my brother’s year, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, I am, we’re in the same Potions class together I’m pretty sure. He’s really nice.”

The two of them stared at one another for a few seconds before Pansy finally broke the silence.

“So! Y/N here was actually just telling me about how much she liked your most recent prank on Umbridge with the firecrackers in her office.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, Fred Weasley appeared right next to George.

“Does she now? Well, I can tell you for a fact, that George was the brains behind that one.”

Fred and Pansy shared a knowing look with one another while Y/N and George both shyly made eye contact. 

“Um, yeah, I thought it was really clever of you guys, I heard that Umbridge was trying to get rid of the smell of it for weeks. She still smells like smoke sometimes in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

The twins smiled and laughed a little at your response. 

“Yeah, apparently Umbridge spent four hours trying to get rid of it before she gave up,” George said, a little bashfully. 

Fred and George pulled two chairs up to their table and the four continued talking, especially George and Y/N. By the time it was almost time to head back, the two were heavily invested in listening to the other’s voice. The entire walk back to the castle, George and Y/N both fell into a comfortable conversation that ended far too quickly.

They were talking about their favorite books when they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. 

“Unfortunately, this is where I have to leave you, Ms. L/N,” George said in a solemn, posh voice. Y/N smiled.

“I suppose so Mr. Weasley. Until we meet again.” Y/N gave a shy little curtsy in response. George grabbed Y/N’s hand and swept into a deep bow before kissing the top of her hand. 

The two then parted ways, heading to their respective house tables where they continued to sneak glances and stares at one another through the rest of the night. 

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

A week later, Y/N was still thinking about George. Occasionally, their eyes would meet from across the room in the Great Hall or as they passed by one another in the hallways. It was difficult to think about anything but George. 

However, on the last few days remaining before the winter holidays started, George stopped showing up around school. In fact, all of the Weasleys seemed to have disappeared from Hogwarts. 

By the time the Hogwarts Express came to take everyone back home for the holidays, Y/N had given up on looking for him. Pansy was good at distracting Y/N by coming up with different plans to see each other before school resumed. This distracting continued up until they reached Platform 9 ¾. 

The first three days of the break were peaceful and relaxing, a much-needed change from the O.W.L exams preparation the professors at school had them doing. On the fourth day, Y/N received a large barn owl carrying a letter. It had crashed into one of the closed kitchen windows during breakfast, completely missing the open one right next to it. After making sure that the owl was uninjured and able to stand back up on its feet, Y/N looked at the letter that the owl had been carrying. 

The front of the envelope was addressed to Y/N in a messy scrawl of blue ink. Once she had opened the letter and scanned to the bottom of the page to see who it was from, her eyes widened.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back, this is important.” Y/N quickly excused herself from the table and ran to her room where she leaped onto her bed in order to read the letter thoroughly.

Dear Y/N,

I hope your holiday is going well! I know I had to leave pretty suddenly before the break and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye or even spend a lot of time with you. Maybe we could spend a Hogsmeade trip together when we get back?

- George Weasley

Once Y/N had read through the letter another three times, just to make sure she had actually read it correctly, she turned and screamed into her pillow. 

After laying there for a few seconds, contemplating what to do next, she quickly ran over to her desk and pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from the drawer. Dipping the quill into the open inkwell that was sitting in front of her, she began writing a letter to Pansy. 

Dear Pansy,

I have just received a letter from George Weasley! He has asked me to spend a Hogsmeade trip with him once we get back to school. How do I respond?! What do I say?

-Y/N

Y/N blew on the page to dry the ink and quickly folded the letter into thirds before shoving it into an envelope and closing it with a wax seal. In green ink, she wrote Pansy’s name and address before rushing back into the kitchen. She would need to send the letter by the family owl, Athena.

“Mum, I’m going to borrow Athena, I have a letter I need to send to Pansy.” Y/N didn’t wait for a response before she opened Athena’s cage and let her hop onto her wrist. She held out the envelope and the owl took it in its beak.

“Take this to Pansy, alright? Make sure she writes back immediately.”

With a muffled hoot, Athena flapped her wings before taking off and soaring out through the window and over the treeline. 

Only a few hours later, Y/N received a response from Pansy. 

Dear Y/N,

I was going to send a Howler with Owlexander, but Mum said I couldn’t. Apparently, Owlexander would get too spooked if the Howler went off mid-flight. SAY YES!! Tell him that you would love to spend a Hogsmeade trip with him and that you are looking forward to it. Also, ask about how he is doing and stuff like that if you want to keep receiving letters from him during the holiday. 

-Pansy

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

Once it was time to return to Hogwarts, Y/N was filled with dread and excitement. On one hand, she would be seeing George for the first time since they had started writing letters to one another. On the other, Umbridge and the other professors would be piling on the homework and O.W.L.s preparation to the point that Y/N probably wouldn’t even be able to enjoy spending time with George. 

Y/N didn’t see George until they were disembarking from the train once they had arrived at Hogsmeade station. He was standing with the rest of his siblings, as well as Hermione and Harry. When the two had finally made eye contact, Y/N gave a shy wave to George. However, once George raised his hand to wave back, Ron’s voice spoke loudly.

“Is that the Slytherin girl you fancy, George?”

Y/N had to stifle a giggle as George’s face went red and he quickly elbowed Ron in the stomach. Y/N felt Pansy’s hand close around hers, pulling her off towards the carriages that were waiting to take the students back up to the castle. Once they had arrived at an available carriage, Y/N began looking around for a familiar glimpse of copper hair but was quickly yanked in. Pansy was yet again ill-prepared for the cold winter weather and was shivering so hard that the seat was almost vibrating. 

“Close the door, I want to keep as much of the warm air in.” Pansy’s sock-clad feet were pushed up against the small metal furnace in the middle of the floor. She gave a smirk as she leaned back against the cushioned seats. “You can invite Weasley to join us if he happens to ‘walk’ by.”

Y/N continued looking out the window, hoping for even the smallest sign of George, but the fogging of the windows only made it more difficult to see anything through the crowd of black robes. 

Soon enough, the carriage was filled with some girls from Ravenclaw who had managed to get a last-minute seat before the carriages began up the path. 

Pansy noticed Y/N’s defeated look and lightly poked her leg.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, you’ll see each other in only a few minutes, then you guys can stare at each other all through dinner.”

Throughout the feast, Y/N and George made eye contact several times which was closely followed by fierce blushes. Their glances couldn’t have been more obvious, and by the time Professor Dumbledore had cleared their plates and dismissed them from the Great Hall, both Pansy and Fred were shoving Y/N and George towards one another so that they could finally talk.

Their paths finally crossed when they walked through the large wooden doors that guarded the entrance to the Great Hall. George pulled Y/N aside and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Can I walk you back to your dormitory?”

Together, they took the long way down to the dungeons, talking quietly.

“How was your holiday?” Y/N asked once they had started the descent into the dungeons. 

George gave a strained smile in response.

“It was alright, I’m sure you must have heard about my dad and everything.”

Y/N felt a surge of sympathy, her parents had come home from working at the Ministry with the news of what had happened to Mr. Weasley.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry that you all had to go through that. I’m glad he’s alright now, Mum and Dad said that St. Mungos had discharged him.”

“Yeah, we were all really relieved to hear that he was going to be okay. But what about you, how was your holiday?”

“It was alright, nice and relaxing, you know? But it could have been better.”

George had a confused smile on his face at her last comment.

“Oh? How so?”

They had finally reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room when Y/N turned to answer him.

“It would have been better if I had been able to see you.” Y/N then entered the common room and left George with his mouth hanging open slightly in surprise and a vibrant flush across his cheeks. 

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

Sitting in the Astronomy Tower late at night was one of Y/N’s favorite ways to distract herself from the stress of assignments and exams. On nights when Astronomy classes weren’t being held, Y/N would lie on her back and watch the night sky through the enchanted ceiling. Focusing on finding constellations in the silence and stillness was meditative.

It was crisp in the tower, and Y/N choice of sleep shorts and one of Pansy’s silk pajama tops didn’t do much to fend off the cold breeze. Y/N was lost in thought when a sudden knocking on the side of the door alerted her to another person’s presence. She turned to see George leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed across his chest. He was wearing some plaid pajama pants and a loose, black t-shirt. He looked really good in casual clothes like this. The corner of his mouth was turned up slightly in a reassuring smile. 

“Hey,” Y/N said in a soft voice. 

“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” George asked, taking a few steps into the room. 

Y/N smiled and shook her head.

“Not at all.”

A comfortable silence surrounded them for a brief moment. 

“So what brings you up here this late at night?” George asked, now leaning against one of the window sills. 

“I like to come up and watch the stars, it’s a nice way to relax after a long day.” Y/N looked at him quizzically. “I could ask you the same question, what are you doing up here?”

George laughed quietly before pulling out a piece of parchment from his pajama bottom’s pockets.

“I received an owl at my window with this letter.”

George unfolded the parchment and read aloud.

“Y/N is up in the Astronomy Tower by herself. Go for it.”

Y/N turned to hide the blush that was forming across her face. There was no doubt in her mind that Pansy had sent that letter, she was the only one who knew where Y/N had gone to.

“You know, I wanted to ask you to Hogsmeade earlier, before we left for the holidays.” George was looking at his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I was too scared to ask you when we were in Hogsmeade, I didn’t think you would say yes.”

Y/N studied George’s posture closely. His shoulders were curled in, he seemed to be trying to make himself look as small as possible without being too conspicuous.

“Well now you know that there is nothing to be scared about,” Y/N hesitated before pushing herself away from the wall she was leaning on. “Come and help me get some blankets from the closet, I’m pretty sure Professor Sinistra keeps some extras in there.”

George had a bemused expression on his face, but followed Y/N to a small closet door. Inside the closet were scrolls of parchment, planetary charts, and astrological drawings for Professor Sinistra’s classes, some dusty telescopes, and rolls of blankets that were used for cold nights. 

Spreading the blankets on the floor, they laid down next to one another, staring at the sky above them. There wasn’t a cloud in sight and the stars were bright, the perfect night for stargazing. They watched the sky silently before Y/N broke the silence.

 “That constellation over there is Perseus,” Y/N was pointing to a cluster of stars above them, “I always loved hearing his story in class.”

“Why’s that?”

There was a beat of silence.

“He was one of the only Greek heroes who actually had a happy ending. That’s all any of us really want, a happy ending.”

“Well, what was Perseus’ happy ending?”

Y/N smiled to herself.

“He got the girl and married a princess.”

George was quiet for a moment before he responded. 

“Yeah, that does sound like a happy ending.”

Y/N felt George’s fingers brush against the back of her hand. She opened her palm and felt George’s hand clasp hers, their fingers intertwining together.

“You know, if you had asked me during that first Hogsmeade trip, I would have said yes.” Y/N spoke softly. It was quiet between them once again and Y/N turned her head to the side.

George had turned onto his side to look at Y/N. The usual mischievous smirk was gone, replaced instead by a look of relief and a gentle smile resting on his lips.

Y/N’s eyes flitted down to his mouth before looking into his eyes once again. 

George’s other hand came up to her face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before stroking her cheek. His thumb traced down her cheek and around the outline of her lips, parting them slightly. 

Y/N softly bit down on his thumb, a smile behind her eyes. George withdrew his hand a little before gently tilting her chin towards him. Y/N raised her hand to caress his cheek and pulled him into a soft kiss. 

His lips were soft and warm, and she felt herself melt into his embrace. The kiss felt sweet and comforting, almost like warm honey running down her throat. She hadn’t realized how pliant she had become in his grasp until he moved his hand to the small of her back and around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. Y/N could feel the warmth of his chest pressing against her own, fending off the crisp coolness that had filled the tower. 

Her hand that was resting on his cheek moved to the back of his neck and she tangled her fingers through his hair. A low moan resonated from his throat and he gripped her waist, pulling her even closer to him. 

Her heart was racing and she felt a spark in the pit of her stomach that was growing more ravenous by the second. George pulled back a little, breaking the kiss before he started kissing down her neck, slowly tracing a line to her collarbone. 

Euphoria couldn’t even begin to describe what Y/N was feeling as George’s hands slid underneath her shirt, his hands warm and comforting. 

With a sudden burst of bravery, Y/N took their still clasped hands and guided them to her sleep shorts. George froze for a second before slowly drawing back.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you into anything you don’t want to do.” His face had a nervous expression painted across it.

“I’m sure. Are you?” Y/N studied his face, his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure.” 

George pulled the sleep shorts down Y/N’s legs, who kicked them off carelessly to a corner of the tower. Y/N felt a shiver course down her body once her legs were fully exposed to the night’s air. 

George pushed himself up, his legs straddling Y/N’s waist, and pulled his shirt over his head in one, seamless movement. His body was toned, no doubt from the hours of Quidditch practice, and the way the silver light coming through the open windows glanced off his body made it look like moonlight was made just for him.

George’s head was cocked to the side, as if he was considering what to do next. His eyes looked heavy and dark, a stark contrast to their usual bright and lively expression.

“Why don’t you take that off for me?” 

He nodded to the sleep shirt that Y/N was still wearing. Y/N’s hands moved slowly, undoing the buttons carefully. After the shirt had been completely undone, George brushed the fabric off her shoulders. He paused for a moment, looking at Y/N, before he cupped the back of her head and pulled her into another kiss. There was something different about him now though, this kiss felt more passionate and heated. Y/N’s hands were embracing George’s cheek and the back of his head, once again tangling themselves in his soft hair. 

George’s hips were slowly grinding down into Y/N’s, setting off sparks deep within her stomach. Her reaction to his touch made her reflect for a moment, no one else had ever had this kind of effect on her before, no one else made her swoon just by looking her way, and certainly no one had made her fall apart under their touch. 

Y/N’s hand traced down George’s neck, down his chest, and down to the waistband of his pants. He seemed to understand what she was asking and wordlessly pushed the elastic band down, kicking the pants somewhere haphazardly. The sparks Y/N had felt in the pit of her stomach earlier were coming back in full force. 

George pushed Y/N’s legs apart and slotted himself in between them, pulling her hips closer to his face. There was a smile behind his eyes as he pressed a kiss to each of her hip bones, never breaking eye contact. 

“You know, I have been wanting to do this for ages,” George began kissing up the inside of her thigh. Y/N threw her head back, her eyes closed as she reveled in his touch.

Y/N didn’t have time to respond as George’s thumb found and slowly circled her clit. A low moan escaped from her and Y/N threaded her fingers through the fringe on his head. Y/N could feel his smile against her thigh.

“But don’t worry, I’m about to make it up to the both of us.”

His thumb drew back suddenly, and Y/N was about to groan in protest until she felt his tongue take its place. Her grip on his hair tightened between her fingers. Y/N’s breaths were shallow now as she tried to keep her voice down. But with each passing moment, she found it more difficult to keep the sounds at bay.

George’s tongue expertly moved, making Y/N fall apart with each passing moment. It was almost as if time didn’t exist, all that mattered was the pleasure that Y/N was experiencing and that George was the one making her feel this way.

Y/N felt the pressure in her stomach begin to rise and grow in intensity. Each breath was now a gasp for air as George became more fervent with his movements. His hands were tightly gripping her thighs and waist, pushing them down so that she could not writhe around. Her leg began to shake and Y/N had to bite down on her hand to stop the loud moans that were threatening to escape from her. 

“I-I’m going to-” Y/N couldn’t finish her sentence, but George seemed to understand. He increased his relentless pace, not giving Y/N a moment to fall from the high she was about to experience. 

Her vision went white and her back arched as the feeling of euphoria became all-consuming. With one final gasp, Y/N’s orgasm faded into a muted throb in the core of her stomach once again. Her grip loosened on George’s hair, her hand sliding down to his cheek.

The mischievous knowing smirk was on his face again, his tongue resting between his teeth. 

“That was-,” Y/N took a deep breath.

“Amazing? Wondrous? Phenomenal?” George had a proud tone to his voice.

“Aren’t you smug? I was going to say mind-blowing but you don’t seem to need an ego boost.”

Her hand dropped from his cheek and rested on her stomach, which was rising and falling with every deep breath she took. 

George pushed himself up onto his arms and moved so that his face was only inches from Y/N’s. Her hands came up to his bare waist, where they then slowly moved up his back, tracing over the lines of muscle, and finally to his shoulder and the back of his neck. Her fingers threaded through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, tracing light patterns that sent shutters down George’s spine. 

“You,” George leaned down and kissed the tip of Y/N’s nose, “are so,” a kiss on her left cheek, “incredibly,” a kiss on her right cheek “beautiful,” and finally, a kiss on her awaiting lips. 

“Are you ready?” George’s voice was soft, a vague expression of concern on his face. 

“Yeah, I am.” Y/N pulled his waist closer to hers, giving George the permission he needed to continue. 

George slowly entered Y/N, moving carefully as to not make any sudden movements. Once his hips were flush with Y/N’s, he paused, giving her a moment to adjust to the sudden pressure. Y/N let out a content sigh, which George took as a sign to move, and he slowly began pulling out.

His hips began to find an easy rhythm and Y/N pulled him down into a heady and meaningful kiss. Every movement was slow and deep, Y/N’s hips raising to meet George’s with each thrust. The cold breeze that was washing over them went unnoticed, the heat from their bodies shielding and keeping them warm. Y/N could feel George’s muscles flex with the rise and fall of his chest and the rolling of his hips which only added to the electric feeling in her core. 

Y/N’s back arched as George drove into the very spot that made her fall apart, soft moans falling from her parted lips in concurrence with George’s quiet grunts. With each thrust forward, George kissed along the line of Y/N’s neck and down to her chest, his lips grazing over her collarbones. 

“D-don’t stop,” Y/N gasped, tensing as his cock somehow drove deeper into her than it had before. Her request elicited a breathy laugh from George’s mouth.

“Does that feel good sweetheart?” his voice had a teasing tone to it, she could hear his smile in his words.

“Yes, yes it feels so good,” she moaned loudly, not caring anymore about keeping quiet. George pushed himself up in response, his hand tightly gripping onto her waist as he drove into her, pulling her down onto his cock with force.

‘Oh my god, right there,” Y/N continued babbling praise, her mind going blank. Each breath was a gasp for air, her legs were trembling violently as she began to approach her high once again. Once George’s calloused fingers came down to her clit, she felt her orgasm crash over her once again, loud moans falling from her mouth. 

Y/N felt herself tense around George and his hips began to stutter, the steady rhythm losing its pattern as he began chasing his high after Y/N’s. It only took a few more stroked before his orgasm finally washed over his body, his toned arms supporting his upper body as he fell forward. 

They were both panting, trying to catch their breaths in the wake of their climaxes. George carefully pulled out and laid down beside Y/N, his arms trembling slightly. Y/N turned to face George and rested her head against his chest, which was rising and falling rapidly. The only sound within the tower was their heavy breathing as they took a few moments to recover.

George’s fingertips brushed the tops of her thighs, following the curves and dips of her waist and hips. His hand finally came to rest on her lower back, where he began tracing aimless patterns. The light patterns sent exhilarated shivers down Y/N’s spine, keeping her in a state of bliss. If heaven was anything but this, she didn’t want it. 

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

After they had magically cleaned up after themselves and put the blankets back into the closet, they walked down the spiraling staircase from the Astronomy Tower, hand in hand. They were surrounded by a comfortable silence, the only sounds being their footsteps on the stone steps and the occasional whisper from the portraits on the walls. 

George noticed the hint of a smile that was resting on Y/N face. When they had turned the corner to an empty hallway, George nudged her shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“What are you smiling about?” 

She shook her head, smiling.

“I’m just really happy right now.”

“Me too,” he responded, squeezing her hand reassuringly. A smirk suddenly appeared on his face, “how long did you actually like me then?”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with heat.

“Well I’ve always liked your pranks and I’ve always thought you were attractive, but I think it was the Yule Ball where I realized that I liked you. I don’t know if you remember this, but you asked me to dance. No one had ever asked me to dance before,” she glanced up at George’s face, which was now dawning in realization.

“Oh yeah! I remember that, Fred dared me to ask the prettiest girl in the room for a dance. I asked McGonagall but she said no, so I asked you instead,” a teasing smile was on his face now, “Have you really liked me for all that time?”

“Yeah, I think Pansy became so fed up that she had to start intervening.”

“Is that why she shoved you into me that day in Hogsmeade?” George laughed, “I think Fred was getting fed up as well, he’s practically been shoving me towards the Slytherin table every day.”

They crossed through the entrance hall towards the grand staircase, where they would descend down to the entrance to the dungeons. A gust of cold air blew down through the halls from the Quad, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. George pulled her close into his side and they continued, his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. 

They descended the steps to the dungeons and past the Potions classrooms and down one final set of stairs to the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Most of the time, the cold and wet feeling of the dungeons before walking into the warm and cozy common room was unsettling for Y/N, but she didn’t mind it as much when she was standing next to George. 

“I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad you came up to the tower,” Y/N said, turning to say her goodbyes to George. 

“I had a nice time too,” his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Y/N looked up to the hair that was falling across his forehead and tucked it away from his face. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then? At breakfast?” she tried not to sound too hopeful, but it was difficult to not look forward to the next time they saw one another. 

“Yeah, I will. And then maybe I can take you out on a real date?”

“I would love that.”

They both leaned forward for one final kiss goodbye, then Y/N turned to the stone wall and uttered the password. The wall dissolved away and she walked through, looking back at George. As they brought their hands up to wave goodbye, the wall reformed and became solid between them once again. 

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

The common room was pretty much empty, with the occasional cat stretching out on the plush velvet couches, and the fire in the fireplace now a pile of crackling logs. Different patterns of light were dancing around the room, shining through the transparent ceiling beneath the Black Lake. The only thing that could be seen through the inky darkness was the rippling moon, which was hanging brightly in the sky. Even the lake seemed to be asleep at this hour.

Y/N quietly tiptoed up the winding stone staircase to the girls’ dormitories where she shared a room with Pansy. She attempted to silently slide the door open, trying not to wake anyone, but her efforts were abandoned as soon as Pansy crashed into her, a barrage of questions pouring from her mouth.

“Was he there? What happened? Why were you up there so long, I thought Filch had caught you for sure!” Pansy was pulling Y/N by the arm to her bed, insisting that she answer every question that was thrown her way. 

Once Y/N was situated on the bed, she began to tell Pansy about everything that had happened in the tower. Once she had gotten to the part where they kissed, Pansy let out a gasp and her hand flew over her mouth in shock.

“So he admitted that he liked you and he kissed you under the stars?” her voice was a whisper this time, her eyes rounding in shock.

“Mmhmm, but wait, it gets better,” Y/N giggled, leaning forward to continue her story in hushed tones. Pansy swooned at all the right moments and gasped encouragingly whenever a new detail of Y/N’s night with George was brought up.

It was almost sunrise by the time they had finished talking about George and sleep was pulling at their eyes.

“We better get some sleep now before we have to go down to breakfast,” Pansy yawned loudly, stretching her legs out before walking over to her bed. She looked at her watch as she crawled under the covers, “we should be able to get a few hours in before those damn first years wake us up again.” 

Y/N pulled the covers back and slid between the cool sheets, thinking about the next time she would see George and what she would say to him. The fairy lights above their heads dimmed slightly and the fire in the fireplace slowed to a soft crackle.

“I’ll see you in the morning then. Good night,” Y/N began to draw the velvet curtains around her bed closed. There was a smirk on Pansy’s face as she began to close her curtains as well.

“Oh, you definitely had a good night,” Pansy ducked, laughing loudly as a hairbrush was thrown her way, narrowly missing her head. 

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

Once they had gotten a few good hours of sleep, the two of them walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Y/N was fiddling with the hem of her sleeve nervously as they entered the entrance hall.

“Oh my god, will you stop futzing with it? Just act normal, you’ll be fine,” Pansy whispered, hooking her arm around Y/N’s. They finally walked through the large doors that entered into the Great Hall and were greeted by the loud chatter and clattering of silverware against plates. The hum only grew louder when Slytherin’s Quidditch team walked into the Great Hall wearing their emerald green Quidditch robes. 

“I completely forgot, there’s Quidditch today!” Y/N remarked to Pansy as they sat down. Pansy was already filling her plate with some bacon and scrambled eggs.

“What do you mean ‘you forgot’? They’re playing Gryffindor, I would have thought you’d have the Gryffindor Quidditch schedule memorized.”

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Y/N finally caught a glimpse of fiery hair walking through the entrance and over to the Gryffindor table. George and the rest of the Gryffindor team strode into the Great Hall to cheers and applause from the Gryffindor table. They were wearing their scarlet Quidditch robes, a stark contrast to the black school robes everyone else was wearing. George was carrying a brown paper parcel wrapped in twine in his hands which he slipped underneath his robes.

It was nearing the end of breakfast when George stood up and walked over to the Slytherin table, stopping in front of Y/N.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Y/N nodded her head slightly.

“Yeah,” Y/N’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She stood from the bench and followed George out into the entrance hall. Y/N could feel people’s eyes on her as she trailed behind George, it wasn’t every day that a Gryffindor walked up to the Slytherin table to talk to someone, let alone pull them aside for a private conversation. 

George pulled her behind a pillar so that her back was against the stone wall. He pulled the wrapped parcel up and held it out for her to take.

“I was hoping you would wear it at the match today,” George said as Y/N carefully untied the twine holding the brown paper together. The paper fell away to reveal a red and gold scarf.

“I know we’re playing Slytherin and all, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Y/N brought it up to her nose and breathed in, the scent seemed to envelop her senses. She glanced up at George’s face, a smile resting on her lips.

“I would love to,” Y/N wrapped the scarf around her neck, tossing one end over her shoulder, “how do I look?”

George cupped her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Wonderful. Really wonderful”

Y/N walked back into the Great Hall still wearing the scarf. She sat down next to Pansy again and casually grabbed a croissant from Pansy’s plate, the corners of her mouth upturned slightly. Pansy leaned forward, her elbow leaning on the table and an amazed look on her face.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” a smile was growing on Pansy’s face as she stole a few glances at the scarf.

“Oh nothing,” Y/N paused for a moment, the croissant inches from her mouth. She had a look on her face like she was contemplating something amusing before she spoke again, “I’m just really excited for Quidditch today.”

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage (Mycroft Holmes x Reader) Part 4

A/N- Hoping this one has come out a bit happier than the last instalment! I’m trying my best to not write Mycroft too out of character and focusing on how much more emotion he had displayed in season 4.. I have a few more chapters planned out so far and I am hoping to, at the very least, update weekly! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and, please, don’t forget to leave a comment letting me know what you think! Kind words or constructive criticism are always welcomed and inspire me to write more! Thank you!

Word Count: 4416

"Did you fancy doing anything else today? Well, this evening I suppose suits better." You asked Mycroft, clearing up the plates from dinner. Dinner here being a term used loosely- after the emotional turmoil only a few hours ago at the revelation of both yesterday's events and your inner attractions, neither of you particularly felt like cooking, or eating for that matter, and settled on a sandwich just to provide some energy.

The energy of the room had felt different now, now that everything was in the open, now that the pair of you had finally broken that barrier to move further in your relationship. It was nice, calming. The pair of you weren't children, the confirmation of shared attraction didn't mean you immediately jumped each other, or feel the need to be constantly touching in some aspect or another- but the mere idea of knowing that the attraction between you was mutual, and that you wanted to act upon that was more than enough for now. It felt incredible.

"Mmm, what did you have in mind?" He hummed back, standing from the small table in the kitchen to help you with the washing up- not that you weren't fully capable of doing so yourself, it just felt nice acting a little domestic- electing to wash the dishes himself and leaving you to dry them and put them back in the cupboard. You shrugged, closing the cupboard's door and leaning against the counter.

"St James' is just round the corner isn't it? We could go for a walk? The weather is oddly nice for September." You suggested, grinning as you watched Mycroft look down at his current attire of jogging bottoms and a band t-shirt. You didn't need the power of a Holmes to know what that face meant. "Compromise. You don't have to wear the joggers in public, but you also cannot wear a suit, I swore against it."

"If you're suggesting for me to leave my home in my undergarments you've completely lost your mind." You looked at Mycroft and allowed his brain to think a little more. "Oh bugger you can't mean-"

"You and I both know you have a pair of jeans in your wardrobe Myc. Joggers or Jeans, the choice is yours." Mycroft opened and closed his mouth multiple times before rolling his eyes and muttering something under his breath that sounded Latin. "Oi at least have the decency to do it in French so I have a chance of understanding what you say when you swear at me." You quipped, jokingly throwing two fingers up at him as he gave in and sulked up the stairs.

"Tu seras la mort de moi." His voice was still quiet, but loud enough for you to understand him.

"Et pourtant tu serais perdu sans moi." You shouted back, teasing a little. Mycroft didn't answer but smiled to himself as he walked into his bedroom, agreeing with you completely but too high in his pride to admit it. Downstairs, you rummaged through the other bags from Anthea, feeling thankful as you saw that she had equally bought you some hoodies too, pulling on a maroon one before grabbing and sliding on your boots. A few minutes later you heard Mycroft's voice from upstairs, muffled completely excluding the 'goodbye' that sounded as he left the bedroom and made his way down the stairs. "Planning my arrest were you? Should I be expected to enter the park to MI6 agents dragging me into a car and shipping me off somewhere for forcing the British government into denim?" You turned around and saw him in his change of attire, whistling approvingly at the sight of him in the dark grey pair of jeans you had bought him a few years ago- 'because you cannot walk into a pub wearing anything purchased on Savile Row, Mycroft'- and the navy blue blazer he had chosen to match with them; the small evidence of The Who's logo peeking out slightly between the lapels. It was seldom Mycroft wore such casual clothing, but feeling welcomed by your reaction certainly made him more comfortable. Maybe at some point you'd tell him it's because those jeans make his bum look incredible. Mycroft's cheeks flushed and he shook his head, ignoring the noise of encouragement you had made.

"MI5, actually, but do not be too alarmed- I've insisted they only use force if absolutely necessary." He teased, hoisting his scarf from the coat rack by the front door and expertly wrapping it around his neck. You jabbed him lightly in the arm, knowing he was joking but equally wanting to make sure the phone call wasn't from Sherlock already pestering him about something or another. "It's fine, truly. Nothing to cause government upset.. only public." You went to question what he meant but was instead caught off guard by him eyeing you up. "Are you really going out.. in that?" Mycroft gestured to your clothing and for a brief moment you felt a little insecure, frowning slightly at him. He caught on immediately and apologised. "No- I mean.. You will likely get cold, will you not? A hooded sweatshirt isn't the warmest item of clothing I can offer you." You grinned at his concern and just passed him his beloved umbrella (it wasn't raining, but that didn't make a difference) before opening the front door.

"Myc I have pulled bodies out of the River Thames wearing nothing more than a pencil skirt and a blouse, I will be fine." You grabbed his hand and tugged him outside, shutting the door behind him. He wanted to argue back but he knew any attempt would be futile- you both knew that you could be more stubborn than Mycroft and so he didn't wish to cause harm on what could be a splendid evening. You took your normal position beside Mycroft, your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, while his rested in his pocket, the other holding onto his umbrella handle. The chill of London's air brushed the back of your neck, leading you to pull the hood of your jumper over your head before continuing your walk, not allowing Mycroft to have the pleasure of knowing he was right. but also not missing the smirk that tugged at his lips as he noticed- of course he bloody did.

The short walk to the park was in a comfortable silence. Mycroft found himself thinking over today's events, how even he couldn't have predicted that this would be how it would end. He was certain you would have left earlier, he'd even prepared himself for the chances of a punch to his nose in anger, and so never in his right mind did he expect you to stay, let alone embrace him while he cried, forgive him for the unforgivable, to... kiss him. He felt childish thinking back on it, but he kept replaying that moment over in his mind. It wasn't a proper kiss, it was barely there at all, and yet, if Mycroft thought hard enough he could still feel the light pressure of your lips on his, and it left him eager for more.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Your voice distracted him as you walked down the final street before the park. He blinked, looking down at you, at your joint arms and offering a smile.

"Just that I didn't expect today to happen the way that events turned out." You opened your mouth to make a comment about how Mycroft knew everything but he cut you off. "I deduce, I cannot predict the future, Y/N."

"But you can mind read?" He raised his other hand, one finger to his mouth in a 'shhh' motion and you grinned.

"Penny for yours?" You hummed in response as you looked at yourself in the reflection of a car window and pouted, rounding the corner to walk through the park's gates.

"I look like an egg." Mycroft let out a rare laugh, caught off guard by your answer. "That you do, my dear. But a rather beautiful egg." It was your turn to flush now. Getting any form of compliment from Mycroft Holmes was a rarity, and when they did come to surface they were usually on one's intellectual skills, or the times where you'd go out to a fancy restaurant and he would claim 'your dress' was beautiful, but never you directly. Your lack of response made Mycroft nervous and he spoke again. "Apologies, upon reflection that was a very backhanded compliment." You squeezed his arm and nudged yourself in closer, welcoming in the warmth his body was emitting.

"No no, I am incredibly flattered to be deemed a beautiful egg." You laughed. "It would make a lovely epitaph don't you thi-." He tensed. "Yeah, sorry, bit soon." You continued your walk for a little further before something clicked in your mind and you stopped in your tracks. Mycroft stumbled a little at the sudden cease in movement and shot you a confused glare. "Myc.. There's nobody else here."

"Excellent observation, Y/N. I now understand why you're so well respected down the Yard."

"Git. I meant.. we're in one of the most tourist centred parts of London, in the early evening, and there's nobody here." Mycroft raised his nose a little in the air, a movement witnessed by anybody else that would be mistaken for smugness, or being pretentious. But on Mycroft you knew it meant he felt a little embarrassed, raising his head ever so higher so you couldn't see the dusting of red on his cheeks. "The phone call... Mycroft bloody Holmes did you abuse your power as a government official to rent out the entirety of St James' park so that nobody would have to see you in your jeans?" He avoided your gaze and you began to laugh, removing your hand from his arm as you wiped a tear that spilled down your cheek out of amusement before tugging him over to a bench that was a few feet away.

"Should I not have?" His tone was light, relaxed knowing that you weren't mad with him and that you found the situation entertaining.

"It's not that.. It's just that nobody else WOULD." You rubbed your numbing fingers together and tucked them inside the sleeve of your hoodie. "You. Are an extraordinary man, Mr Holmes. You never cease to amaze me." He smiled softly, tentatively reaching over to take your half sleeve covered hand into his own pale one.

"And you, are freezing." He commented. You dismissed his assessment and instead focused on the view in front of you, the slight appearance of the London Eye poking above some trees from across the Thames.

"After living here for so long, sometimes I forget how beautiful London truly is." You spoke, shuffling the rest of your hand from your sleeve to lace your fingers between his. He hummed in agreement as he watched on. "And you stole this view from thousands of visitors this evening for the sake of your own dignity and so we could be alone. What do you have? People guarding every entrance? A few loitering around somewhere to make sure there were no stragglers? Christ are they armed? It just so.. so.." Mycroft felt himself become uncomfortable.

"I can be a very selfish person Y/N, you know that."

"I was going to say sexy but now I feel as though I'm not being as sympathetic to the tourists as you were expecting me to be." Mycroft tensed again and you leant to rest your head on his shoulder. "You should probably try to get used to that. I've been waiting a fairly long time to actively be allowed to say things like that to you and it not sound really weird, so I'm making up for lost time."

"How long?" His voice was quiet, likely his mind recovering from you, for the second time that day, calling him such a thing. It wasn't that he didn't like it, he was extremely flattered, but he just found it very hard to believe that you truly thought that way about him; that anyone could. You thought for a moment, childishly using your fingers to count.

"How long since I realised I had a thing for you? As of today it's been 5 years, 3 months and 17 days.. or, in less creepy terms to not make it seem like I've been counting, 2 weeks before I broke up with Thomas. It didn't feel fair to keep dragging him along, especially when I started to look forward to meeting you for dinner much more than I did meeting him for our weekly date night. He's a lovely guy and deserved more than that. I tried for those couple of weeks to get over it but I couldn't." Mycroft stayed silent but you could practically hear his brain whirring. "How long did I wish that you somehow felt the same way about me? Probably 5 minutes after the last thought." You laughed, feeling ridiculous for sounding like a school girl with a crush. "What about you? Pining after me for long or just spontaneously after I kissed you?" You joked, trying to make the whole ordeal feel a little less embarrassing. Mycroft shifted in his seat, laying his focus in the warmth that he could feel spreading to your hand that he held in his. He wasn't the type for large exclamations of emotion, or really speaking about the way he feels at all. But, upon hearing your revelation, he bit the bullet and spoke.

"I have never been the kind of man to experience typical human emotion. Until yourself and Gregory came along, I hadn't even the experience of having acquaintances, let alone.. friends." His eyes stayed forward, watching as the London Eye rotated slowly and focusing on its movements. "Approximately 6 months prior to the time you have mentioned, I began to realise that the way I felt towards you was far different to the way I felt about Gregory, and not the same way I feel towards Sherlock. I pressed the thought into the back of my mind for the better part of a year, before Sherlock told me that you were 'obviously' experiencing some kind of affection towards me, which I told him was preposterous, but from then the thought of you in that aspect felt welcoming. I had never expected in my life to have those kinds of emotions for anybody, let alone have them reciprocated, but I still chose to ignore them. I chose to keep you as my friend rather than risk losing you at all.. Then Eurus happened. Seeing you on that.. screen. Knowing what they could do.. Knowing I could lose you anyway.. it flicked something inside of my brain that made me regret not talking to you about it sooner. I was trying to work out the right way to bring it up, but then you did it for me." The side of his mouth flicked up into a small smile and disappeared, the embarrassment of talking so much on emotion taking over.

"You still look cute when you're embarrassed." You commented, not wanting to elaborate on his wordings more. It meant everything to you that he had even said that much, so you weren't going to push him further out of his comfort zone by pestering on. "Though as much as I'd love to look at your little flustered cheeks in this moonlight, I have to admit that you were right and I am bloody freezing, can we go back?" You took your hand back from his briefly to rub against your other one, a feeble attempt to bring warmth back into your fingertips. Though warmth soon enveloped round your neck as you felt Mycroft begin to wrap his cashmere scarf around you, folding and wrapping it expertly until you felt comfortably warm, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of his cologne that loitered in the fabric.

"I'm always right." He grinned smugly, standing from the bench and offering his elbow out to you once more. You nudged it away, missing the disappointed look on Mycroft's face, before instead grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers between his and tucking them into his pocket for warmth, your other arm folding over your body to hold his arm.

"I'll prove you wrong on that at some point, mark my words." You beamed, starting the walk back to Queen Anne's Gate and relishing in the warmth of the taller man beside you. Mycroft couldn't hide the small smile that appeared on his face from your action, choosing himself to push closer and close the gap between you even more. He swiftly pulled his phone from his pocket, leaving his umbrella dangling from his wrist, as he made a quick call to Anthea.

"I suppose we better let the tourists have their park back.. at least for now." He spoke, more to you than to Anthea but nonetheless she relayed the message to security who began to pack up and reopen the gates to the public. It had barely been a minute before they had all left, all except the PA in question who watched on fondly upon seeing the pair of you leaving, fighting the urge to text the man that it was about damn time.

***

The walk back was incredibly quick and you soon found yourselves walking back through the front door, discarding layers of warmer clothing, Mycroft opting to put the sweats back on in place of his jeans.

"I'm thinking we have a cuppa and then head to bed? I'm knackered." You proposed, flicking the kettle on and settling back to rest on the edge of the kitchen counter. Mycroft hummed in agreement, reaching to grab the necessities. You quickly kicked off from the counter and wandered back into the front room, pulling Mycroft in tow. "Seems as good a time as any to have some music on, Greg made me this mixtape a few weeks ago. He said it's some classics I already love, and a bunch that I'm going to, so it sounds pretty promising." From behind you Mycroft opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. "If you're about to chastise me for calling a CD a mixtape, don't waste your breath. Mix-CD just sounds horrendous." He stayed silent, inwardly amused at the fact you hadn't even seen his face and yet knew exactly what he was going to say, and you called him the 'mind-reader'. The Kinks began to play quietly through the speakers, 'Have a Cuppa Tea' fittingly being the first song to play on shuffle. Usually you despised any type of mixtape, or 'best of' albums, claiming rather strongly that they defeated the point of artists bringing out the original albums, ruining the story behind each one. But when it came to Greg you trusted him completely with music taste and had never been disappointed thus far. The click of the kettle in the kitchen sounded, making you walk into the other room and prepare your drinks- you hadn't bothered asking Mycroft the way he had it, you had that burnt to memory years ago. Perching back onto the sofa besides Mycroft, you handed him the beverage and sighed in content.

"You missed the Sex Pistols. Forgive me if I cannot hear you for the next 20 minutes, I have a feeling that my ears have bled." He teased, taking a sip of his tea and settling it on the table beside him. Before you had a chance to answer, another Kinks song began to sound in the room, the slower rythm of Waterloo Sunset.

"You're going to pay for saying those things, you know I love the Sex Pistols." You pouted, moving your own tea to the coffee table. "I think, Mr Holmes, you need to dance with me in ways of apology." You grinned, standing up and holding your hand out to him. "It's a rare slower song from Lestrade's musical repertoire so I'm not expecting you to start headbanging or anything.."

"Do people slow dance to Rock music normally?" He asked, smiling.

"No they don't.. but when have you ever been a man who follows the rules of normality?" He took your hand at that, standing himself up and leading you to an emptier part of the room, tea forgotten. You softly placed your hands on his shoulders and rested your head on his chest, his reaching round to settle on the small of your back as you began to sway together slowly, the only sound that could be heard was the music and Mycroft's erratic heartbeat that he was sure meant he was going to have a heart attack. "See, this is nice." He hummed in agreement, the vibrations of his deep voice reaching his chest and vibrating against your cheek. "We could have done this years ago.." You commented, thinking on all the lost time you had with Mycroft, all of the years you had listened to music together and could have danced, holding each other as close as you were now.

"We'd have struggled being as Gregory only gave you this CD a few weeks ago.." You laughed and swatted his shoulder.

"You know what I mean.. oh the power of cowardice and fear." You closed your eyes, holding onto this moment as though you had never wanted it to end. Alas, the song began to come to a close, and yet neither of you made an attempt to move. The instrumental introduction to your favourite Clash song began to play and you grinned. "Now this is a song. I'm surprised Greg put it on here, I'd have thought he'd be sick of it by now with the amount of times I play it at work." As the vocals began you felt Mycroft stiffen in your arms, the fingers on the hands on your back began to dig into your skin slightly, not painful, but protective and his heartbeat picked up pace even more.

"Could we skip this one? Please?" His tone of voice was different this time, not the calm, relaxed voice that he had earlier, nor the playful one he had only moments ago. He sounded.. unsettled.

"You're joking right? Mycroft this relationship will have a rocky start if you force me to turn of The Clash at all, let alone bloody 'Death or Glory.'" He tensed again hearing the song's title.

"Please.. it's the one.." Your brain began to piece together his words and you lifted your head from its position on his chest, looking up and seeing the pained expression on his face. Of course, out of every song in the world, this was the one you were listening to when Mycroft said he saw you on the screen, inches away from death. You closed your eyes and sighed.

"I'm not letting this happen. I'm okay, I'm here, alive. This is my happy song, and I have so many wonderful memories from it." It wasn't a lie. The sound held memories of countless car rides with Greg, it was the song that played when you had the phone call about your promotion at work. It had even been playing when your sister phoned up to let you know that she was pregnant with your niece. Both times. It was a bloody good song. "I understand why you don't like it, but you just need to associate it with something better, give it a new memory." You moved your arms from his shoulders to wrap around his neck, shifting one hand to place onto his cheek as you reached yourself up on your tiptoes to become closer to his height.

You caught his focus, making his eyes land on your own rather than being dazed as his mind went back to you dancing on that screen. You leaned yourself in closer, just enough for your lips to ghost over his own, before closing the gap. Unlike the last peck you had given him, this was a far more passionate kiss, giving him the emotion you had kept pent up for the last five years. His grip on your back softened, one hand reaching to your upper back to push you closer to him, his lips moving against yours beautifully. His body began to relax, the tension in his shoulders disappeared as he leant himself forward, easing you back flat on your feet. Had you have not known any better, you would have never guessed that Mycroft had never kissed somebody before; he was just a bloody quick learner. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip softly, grinning as he let out a quiet moan. The need for air soon took over and you allowed yourself to separate, not moving any further than leaving your foreheads touching. "There. Now when we hear it, that's what you need to think of instead. Christ knows I will be." You laughed, your hands guiding themselves from his neck slowly down his chest and pushing him back slightly. "I'm going to go shower, so meet me upstairs? I know I promised more Hardy but I would really like to go to sleep if it's all the same to you." Mycroft only nodded, feeling you peck his lips once more before disappearing out of the room. The song had finished by now, having been replaced by who Mycroft believed were The Rolling Stones, but he wasn't really listening.

He stood still in his spot, mind replaying over the moment as he smiled fondly to himself. He could hear the shower running upstairs along with your voice, muffled but clear enough to understand that you were still singing along to the last song. Placing his fingers against his lips, Mycroft tried to imitate the pressure you had placed on them moments ago, thinking about how your lips felt against his, properly this time, not just the two second thing on the sofa this morning. His chest felt warm, stomach flipping and in a rare moment Mycroft felt genuinely happy. In all his life up to this moment, caring had never been an advantage, had always led to him getting hurt. But maybe, just maybe, you were right about how you were going to prove him wrong one day. And he hoped to whatever sentient being that may or not be watching over him that you were going to prove him wrong about that.

[hello-everyfandom]

"For a moment, listen silently, what does your heart say?”

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Words: 4k

Summary: Suffering lovers and hearts to be mended and stitched back together

Part One “I love you more than the sky and the ground but I can’t do this anymore.”

Part Two “No, it’s over. She ended it.”

(This one is quite long! How hopes and dreams turn into the most painful writing one could ever print. Please, I wish for my own heart to mend as Sirius’ will.)

The next few weeks were nothing but tragic. Lily could barely get you out of your bed nevertheless to class. It seemed that the fight, the breakup, the hurting wore down your stamina until you were not able to stand. It was worse after the party. Before, you could numb the pain of losing Sirius by distracting yourself with rewriting notes and organizing your room. But after the party, after seeing the love of your life lip-locked with another girl, kissing her the way he should kiss you, something in you broke.

Lily sat gently on your bed, placing the cup of warm tea on your table. She whispered kindly, “We have class in an hour, you missed breakfast but I brought you a cuppa.” She moved the duvet that covered your face to see your innocent watering eyes looking up at her. She sighed and smoothed out your hair, feeling the shutters of cries leave your lips. “You need to go to class, Y/N. I can’t keep telling McGonagall you’re sick without her sending you to St. Mungos.” 

“I don’t want to go.”

“Think about it this way,” Lily continued to run her fingers through your hair. She was thankful she had been able to get you to take a warm shower yesterday and change your pajamas, “If you go, you get it done and over with. Then you can come back and we can lay in your bed all afternoon.”

“I’m tired.”

“That’s why I brought you tea. Come on, love, it’s really time to get up.” Lily said gently, pushing the duvet so it was only covering your torso. Instead of sitting up, you blinked back tears before sputtering out.

“I made a mistake, didn’t I?” you covered your mouth, clutching your eyes shut to let out a cry. “I made a mistake breaking up with him. I’m an idiot. I’m a fool.”

“No, no,” Lily cooed, moving your hand from your mouth and petting your cheek, “No, you didn’t. You did what you thought was right at the time.”

“Then why does it hurt so bad?”

Lily didn’t have the answer, she could only reply with the utmost sympathy, “because you still love him.”

“Get up, you sad sack of shit. We’ve got charms in twenty minutes.” James flung the covers off of Sirius. His nose wrinkled at the sight of crumpled tissues that littered his bed. “That’s disgusting. Those tissues better not be from what I think it’s from.”

“You’re a right prick,” Sirius tried to smile, his lips cracked and chapped. 

“You’re not staying in bed anymore, and frankly you smell like shit.”

“It’s true,” Remus chimed in, straightening his tie and his hair. 

“So what? Leave me here. I don’t want to go anyways.”

“Right. Listen, Pads, we’ve been kind to you for a while now, but now, and I say this as sweetly and as loving as I can, we’re getting quite sick of your sulking.” James rolled his eyes.

“Oh wow, thanks,” Sirius said sarcastically, buttoning his shirt up. “You really know how to rip the plaster off, yeah?”

“Maybe if we obliviate you, you’ll become yourself once more,” Remus said wittily.

“I’ll permit it if it allows my memory to forget kissing that girl at the party.” Sirius nearly threw up at the memory of that girl’s lips on his.

James shrugged, throwing a tie at Sirius, “Well, we mean it with love and we know the break up has been hard but-”

“But?”

“But we miss our friend.” Peter finished. Remus nodded in agreement.

“It’s not easy, is all,” Sirius mumbled after brushing his teeth. 

James slapped his hand on his shoulder and said confidently, “No, it’s not. But that’s why we’ll all go through it together, as brothers.” and swiftly lead him out of the dorm room.

As Lily locked her arms in yours and the two of you walked from the Great Hall to class, you were distracted by the open windows of the corridors. The courtyard, which had just been littered with brown, orange, and red leaves, set a moment of comfort in your bones. You always enjoyed autumn, mostly because it was in fall when Sirius had first told you he loved you. You shook that memory out of your mind and looked at the hallway instead. Coincidentally, much to both Sirius and your demise, the marauders and Lily had accidentally crossed paths with each other on the way to class. Eyes like magnets were drawn close together as Sirius looked at you with storming emotions. He looked as if he hadn’t slept, and if he did manage to close his eyes, nightmares in the forms of memories followed him. To be fair, you didn’t look all that right either. Though you didn’t have as prominent bags under your eyes, underneath your loose clothing was skin and bone. Your appetite had lost you and eating became difficult as most of the time you felt sick to even think about food. Sirius looked at you, lost and longing, and you stared with the same intensity, wishing to be in his arms, to sleep for years and kiss until the sun explodes.

“Ms. Y/L/N, will you please stay after class?” McGonagall’s voice rang out in her sharp tone. You froze and looked at Lily worriedly who shrugged.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry. Meet me in the common room after,” Lily whispered, squeezing your arm before leaving the classroom. It was loud and full of chatter from the students who excitedly were headed to dinner. You waited, pushing hair behind your ears nervously as the students collected their things and filed out of the room. Then, it was silent. You approached McGonagall’s office in the back of her classroom slowly, dreading whatever scolding she would give you. As you pushed open the door, you thought in your head quickly, you had handed in the homework, taken notes in class, raised your hand when asked a question, you couldn’t place anything you did particularly wrong and yet your palms began to sweat.

“Yes, Professor?” you asked with a small voice. McGonagall looked up from her desk and peered at you from her glasses. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Do you think you have done something wrong?”  

“I don’t reckon so, but I’m open to hearing any criticism if need be.” you focused on keeping your voice steady.

“Although, I’m sure you know the answer already, do you know what my particular job is here at Hogwarts?”

You bit your lip, “You’re a professor, perhaps one of the best ones here, of my favorites as well.”

“While I enjoy your compliment,” McGonagall sighed, “I am also the head of the Gryffindor house.”

“Yes, of course.” you nodded.

“And, with such a job comes the responsibility of looking after my students as if they were my own.”

“I’m not sure I understand, Professor.” 

“Sit, please, Ms. Y/L/N.” McGonagall motioned to the seat in front of her desk, a nice plush armchair with maroon velvet. “Despite the belief of my students, I do care, and I notice especially when a particular student seems out of place.” 

You sat on the edge of the seat and played with the threads of your sweater. “If it is my work that is not up to standard, I am sure I can revise or revisit whatever it is that has gotten low marks.”

“Your school work is hardly of the matter here,” Professor looked at the small girl in front of her. Once fiery and loud turned into a pebble on the floor. She admired and quite enjoyed having you as a student and took great pride in knowing you wore the Gryffindor sigil on your robes. But, like your friends, she had noticed an extreme change in demeanor in the past few weeks. “Are you doing alright, Y/N?” she asked kindly.

You looked up in surprise, “Yes, Professor. Though I will say, I will be disappointed if any of my homework or essays have been less than acceptable. I seem to be going through a little bit of a rough patch, I suppose.”

“I noticed,” you froze as McGonagall spoke, “Does this have anything to do with Mr. Black?”

“I-” you couldn’t think of an excuse. McGonagall put her hand up to stop your from speaking,

“Please, I may be older and I may be a teacher, but the students here seem to forget the Professors hear everything.”

You began to beg, “Professor, please, I promise whatever had happened will not affect my school nor my studies-”

She cut you off, “Have a biscuit, Y/L/N.” she motioned to the biscuit tin in front of her desk. When you showed signs of being wary, she opened the top of the tin and pushed it closer to you. Your hands shook as you took one and began to nibble on the edges.

“I do not speak of this, and I trust whatever I tell you and whatever you tell me stays in this office,” she started, you nodded furiously and she continued, “when I was younger, much much younger, perhaps about your age, I too fell in love.”

Your mouth fell agape.

“Dougal McGregor. I met him after my years at Hogwarts before I began my position at the ministry. It was, as most would say, a teenage love affair. We were much like you and Mr. Black. We argued senselessly, but we nevertheless loved each other. When he proposed, I was delighted. I accepted immediately.” your eyebrows rose to ask questions, however, McGonagall merely pushed the biscuit tin towards you again. You complied and took another.

“However, at the time, marriage between a muggle and a witch was proven more difficult than current times. Spouses of magical descent were forbidden to tell anyone of their skills in the wizarding world, and it. Well. The idea of living in a world without magic was unbearable. I had to make a decision.”

“What happened then, Professor?”

“I thought rejecting his proposal would be right for both of us, Dougal and I. I thought it was unfair to be kept in a magic-less marriage whilst Dougal would, in turn, be lied to every day. I made a decision and as a result,” her voice became low, almost sensitive, “I broke his heart and mine as well.”

“Oh Professor, I’m so sorry.”

“While it is in the past, I do think about him often. But, I suppose the feelings you are currently experiencing are what I felt when I left for the last time to London.”

“I see. Forgive me, Professor, why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I want you to know the consequences of decision making. The difference between truly thinking with your head and with your heart.” 

“Did you regret leaving?”

McGonagall pursed her lips in thought, the wrinkles shown prominently near her eyes, “Yes and no. I am overjoyed and proud to stand as the witch I am today. Becoming a professor and working with students, no matter how particularly unenjoyable some are, is a passion. However, it would be ignorant to say I did not frequently think about if I had stayed and married Dougal.”

“What happened to him?”

“I received a letter numerous months later, my mother had told me, Dougal married and was expecting his firstborn.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

“I find it humorous to sit here,” McGonagall gave you a wrinkled small smile.

“How so, Professor?”

“Because when I was heartbroken, the first person I told was my own teacher, you may know him now as Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“Really?” you asked in surprise.

“Yes, we sat here at my desk whilst I told him of my heartache. And now, I sit here, with my own favorite student, discussing hers.”

“I’m not sure if I would call it heartache, Professor,” 

“Then what would you call it?”

In class, Professor McGonagall was strict, sharp spoken. Instead, in her small office, she wore a sympathetic smile and her gaze was warm. You felt as though life and its troubles would cease their crimes against your broken heart the second you stepped in the room. But, still, you looked at her with lost sights, emotions swarming in pupils.

“I don’t think there is a word to describe it. All I know is I ache tremendously and nothing seems to fix this pit in my stomach. I. What do I do?” you begged for an answer.

“I’m afraid I cannot answer that. What I can say is, you’ve been thinking your entire life at Hogwarts with your head. You are a bright witch with a wonderful future ahead of her. You are hardworking and studious, and kind. But, you only seem to listen to your head for answers, you look for the logical position for your chess pieces. Stop your thinking. For a moment, listen silently, what does your heart say?”

Professor McGonagall looked at the time before sighing to herself, “I do suppose I’ve kept you too long, I trust you can find your way back to the common room?”

You nodded and stood, brushing off your skirt. “Of course. Thank you Professor for the biscuits. If it means anything, I’m sure Dougal loved you very much.”

“Y/L/N,” Professor called before you left, “You are welcome any time here, I was not lying when I said you were one of my favorite students.” 

You smiled back, “And I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of my favorite Professors.”

As you walked back to the Gryffindor common room, Professor McGonagall’s story repeated in your head, pounding against your brain and begging to be analyzed. If you thought carefully, letting go of Sirius was equivalent to McGonagall’s separation with Dougal. If you chose your studies and your career, Would you miss out on a life with your soulmate? There was no doubt in your mind that your heart belonged to a certain long-haired beloved. As the Fat Lady looked at you with great pity, you entered the common room, peaking around for Lily. The fire seemed to be the only source of warmth as it lit up the room, leaving shadows cast along the walls. You figured Lily must still be at dinner considering the common room was empty. You rubbed your tired eyes and sat on an armchair facing the fireplace. 

Sirius had decided wallowing was doing nothing but driving him across the wall. He threw a shirt over his shoulders and bounced down the stairs to meet the boys at dinner when he saw you. He could spot you from miles away even if he were blind to the bone. He recognized the old sweater you wore, one that had previously been owned by him. You loved the sweater despite threads coming loose and the smell of Sirius’ cologne fading away. He saw your hands curled up in fists, something you did when you were quite emotional or tired and the low messy bun you had pulled your hair into.

“I thought you were at dinner, Lils,” you spoke quietly, making him freeze. It had been so long, so many minutes and hours since he’d last heard your voice. “If you are here to drag me to the Great Hall, I have to decline as I’m morbidly exhausted from that emotional conversation with McGonagall.” 

Sirius attempted to find his voice, begging his vocal cords to say anything to you but all he could do was stand there, dumbfounded and aching to hear your voice once more. 

“Lily?” you expected to see your red-headed friend but instead made eye contact with him. “Oh.”

“Just Sirius,” he said awkwardly. You stood so you could face him, holding your hands in front of you.

You swallowed harshly and wished you had at least looked somewhat more manageable. “Sirius.”

“Y/N.” he answered. It was hushed, noiseless, painful. “Say something,” he begged.

“What do you want me to say, Siri?” he flinched when you used his nickname. You hadn’t even meant to use it, it just slipped off your tongue before you could realize it.

“Just. Say anything, yell at me, anything. Be angry at me!”

“Why would I be angry?” You weren’t angry. You were hurt.

“For...”

“For what?” you creased your eyebrows. 

“For kissing that girl at the party.”

You pursed your lips and Sirius only held sadness in his eyes. “Sirius...”

“I kissed another girl that wasn’t you, and it is absolutely tearing me apart. I want you to be angry with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Be mad! Yell at me!”

“Sirius,” you stopped him, putting a gentle, small hand on his arm, “We broke up.”

Sirius threw his arms in the air and ran a finger through his hair frustratedly, “that doesn’t make it okay.”

“Doesn’t it? We broke up,”

“No! It doesn’t because I told you, I promised you, I swore I would never kiss another person. I promised I was yours and yours only. And I am. I mean... I was.”

“Sirius, please,” you choked, “It’s hard enough to be around each other already.”

“Don’t you miss me? Miss us?” Sirius had to stop himself from gathering you in his arms and rubbing the small of your back. Biting your lip and eyes beginning to water, you said as quietly as you could,

“Of course I do. I miss you more and more every day. And yes, it... it hurt to see you with that Ravenclaw girl, but it doesn’t matter. We aren’t dating anymore.”

“I don’t know. I think.” He laughed humourlessly, as if the air escaping his lungs were nearly painful to feel, “I think I would’ve gone mental if I had seen you kissing someone.”

“I...” you stopped and sighed. You sat down on the couch, moving slightly to the left. Sirius looked cautiously before sitting next to you, facing you as you looked towards the fire. 

“We can still talk, can’t we? We used to talk all night until Moony would shush us like an old librarian.”

“I don’t know, Sirius. It’s hard. Isn’t it? It’s hard.”

“I know. But, I miss talking. Won’t you just tell me how you’re doing?”

You debated on lying, telling him you were fantastic, but something in you begged you to tell the truth even if it felt like magma on your tongue. “I’m not doing well.”

“Are you stressed about school? I’ve told you many times, you’re the smartest witch in our year, I doubt you have anything to worry about.”

“That’s not it.” you bit your lip, turning from the fire to look at those eyes you so deeply longed for.

“Then what?”

“It’s difficult.”

“Try me.”

“It’s difficult... with us, or without us, I should say.”

Sirius slightly flinched hearing those words and swallowed harshly, “I get the feeling.”

“How have you been?” you asked curiously, studying the way his eyebrows creased and his fingers threading through his hair.

“Same as you, I suppose.”

“Really?”

“Prongs and the boys, they’ve been on my back lately. Say I’ve been moping too much, I’m a downer it seems.”

You giggled under your breath and wrapped your arms around yourself, “Lily says the same. Though, I guess she’s just worried.”

“Worried?”

“I haven’t been sleeping as well, I’m sure you’ve noticed the bags under my eyes,”

“No,” Sirius said truthfully, “I think you still look as beautiful as ever.”

Your lungs stopped breathing, every airway and vein in your body closed as you began to shut down. You stood abruptly and began racing towards the dorm staircase.

“Stop!” Sirius shouted making you freeze, your hand still on the banister. “Stay. Talk to me.”

You wiped angry tears from your face that you didn’t even notice dripped down your cheeks, “And say what? It. it’s torturous, it’s beyond excruciating to be around you.” You thought about your chat with McGonagall, begging your heart to speak, scream anything to make to stop your head from making decisions.

Sirius’ lips frowned, hurt at your tone and your words. “Baby...”

“No! I. It’s too difficult.”

“Why?”

“Because when I look at you, when I see you, when I feel you around me, everything tells me I’ve made a mistake. Is that what you wanted to hear? I made a mistake. I fucked up. I fucked up because I was terrified of us. I was scared of driving you away, scared of you deciding you didn’t love me anymore. And I can’t. I can’t do it! I can’t. I made a mistake.” you spat out breathlessly. Sirius watched in horror as you began to hyperventilate and dove to put his arms around you. He had seen your panic attacks and held you through every one, but this time it felt different. Your breathing began to rapidly increase as you couldn’t hold back broken sobs. 

“Breathe, breathe, love. It’s okay. It’s all okay.” he held your face in his hands, cupping your cheeks like he used to. Your eyes searched his desperately for any buoy that could save you from the drowning you felt. As he blinked, you found your life vest, holding on for dear life as you breathed fresh air into scattered lungs.

“Breathe, okay? ‘M right here, not going anywhere.” he whispered low, kissing your forehead and wiping your tears.

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed, “I made a mistake. I love you. I do. I’m so sorry. What have I done? I love you. I love you more than anything, and I’ve ruined it all.” you threw yourself at him, arms gripping tightly as he caught you. Sirius’ arms snaked around yours, pulling you back to life, back to the earth. He was yours. He knew it. He’s never been anyone elses and he never plans to. How stupid he had been to let you go, to kiss another girl, to pretend he was okay when he was truly devastated. 

“We’re okay, yeah? Take care of each other, now, yeah?” Sirius rocked you slowly, feeling your cries die down in the comfort of his arms. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, darling.” Sirius guided you slowly to the couch, setting you comfortably on the cushions, “sit for a while,”

You nodded loosely as you leaned on his chest, hiccuping with cries. “I thought I was doing the right thing, leaving you. Had I known how wrong it was, I would’ve thrown myself off the Astronomy tower before ever breaking up with you.” 

“Don’t say that,” Sirius hushed, “I know, you thought it was the right thing. You were trying to protect yourself and me.”

“I’m a fool. A stupid, foolish girl.” you muttered, still catching your breath.

“Don’t say that either. I made mistakes too, perhaps one I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

“Oh, Sirius.” you began to cry again, “I don’t care if you kissed another girl. I don’t. I just care that I’m the girl you want next to your side.”

He turned your limp body so he could cup your cheeks again, rubbing with the pads of his thumbs. “You will always be the girl. Always. Nothing will change that.”

“Sirius,” you whispered, looking at his lips.

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.”

That was all Sirius needed to hear. For days, weeks, endless hours, the two of you, broken hearted souls walked the earth wondering when the pain would end. Sirius tried drinking, you tried swallowing textbooks whole. Nothing seemed to work. Nothing seemed to mend the hurt you felt panging your insides, sending waves of heat down your spines. Nothing could distract you from the absolute shattering sadness that your bodies felt. Two broken hearted souls. Two souls joining for a kiss. A kiss that would last centuries as Sirius vowed to marry you the minute your lips connected. Togetherness, the touch of a soulmate. He moved his lips against yours slowly, tasting, memorizing and wishing this moment would never end. Salty tears and content smiles, at last, the two broken souls found what truly mended, what stitched your hearts back together. Each other. Forever in eternity, never drifting apart for long as fate, the universe and every good hearted soul brought you two together. 

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S’wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around,  “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

[froggyfroo-art]

For most of 2021 I've been teaching myself Welsh, and because it was the first time I've ever managed to consistently study a language for a significant amount of time (301 days as of today, woo!) I decided to also try and pick up Spanish for like the fifth time since I started learning it like 15 years ago. This led to the problem of having two notebooks I needed to differentiate, so I designed these two stickers for the front covers. If you're curious about the characters I've used for them, I'll put it under the cut bc of the long ID!

[ID: Two sticker designs featuring some of my comic characters holding up some flags of countries. In the first one, Bufo is shown looking fretfully down at a sheet of paper that says "mutations cheat sheet" and the acronyms SM, NM and AM. Next to him a very small mint green frog with freckles, brown markings on her face and limbs and curly brown hair, wearing dungarees over a white long sleeved shirt. She is holding a white and red book and is smiling up at a toad who resembles Bernard but is taller and older, with wavy, cropped brown hair and a maroon cardigan. She is holding up the flag of Wales in one hand and a green and white book in the other, which she is reading aloud from. In the second image, Hakima is seen with a red and yellow book under her arm, helping the Dalmatian next to her hold up a flag of Spain. The Dalmatian is holding both the flags of Spain and Mexico, grinning at Hakima, who is giving him a bemused half smile in response. The Dalmatian has loosely slicked back blonde hair with a single magenta streak, and is wearing a burgundy Jacket with black lapels and a matching burgundy cravat. end ID.]

On the Welsh sticker, Bufo is standing beside little Cecilia (the future child of a couple of my other characters, she literally isn't born until after the events of the comic so this is probably the most you'll see of her), and Beryl, who is Bufo's mother and the namesake of my Call of Cthulhu player character you'll have seen me post about before! Despite the way I wrote him in my comic initially, Bufo is actually Welsh, but he doesn't speak much of it at all, Beryl is the only OC I have who speaks it, hence her inclusion on the sticker. I will admit Bufo being Welsh is absolutely a retcon purely made bc I wanted one of my characters to be Welsh lmao

Fun fact: the sheet Bufo is holding is referring to grammatical mutations in Welsh (though I believe its very much a Celtic Thing and exists in other languages like Irish Gaelic), and they the absolute bane of my existence and I was THIS CLOSE to including the full mutation chart instead of Bufo and Cecilia because I cannot remember them for the life of me vbdsvb

The character on the other sticker is one you may actually see more of in future art I make because he and Hakima have sort of become a package deal. His name is Ignacio Emiliano Salvador Rivera IV (Naci for short) - I cannot take credit for this incredible name, as he was in fact designed by my bestie @battychaichilla, who is Hakima's number one fan and wanted her to have a friend (who also has a crush on her and I admit I'm kind of in on the ship myself now jvbvhb). He moved to the UK from Mexico under the pretence of training to be a firefighter abroad (it's a family tradition to become a firefighter) but really he wants to be a fashion designer! He befriends Hakima because she's actually a firefighter, but she can immediately tell he doesn't want to be one and encourages him to follow his dreams :3 He's not the only STS character who speaks Spanish but he's the only one who speaks it natively so I HAD to include him (also the image of two friends learning Spanish together is pertinent because I'm doing that too cx)

[raibebe]

Hi!!! Ten + eyes pls?! Thank you!! 💕

[19:24]

“Let me do it.”  “Hm?” Ten turned around where he had sat down at his vanity that he would never in a million years actually call a vanity.  “Let me do your makeup.”  At that his face softened and he scooted over on the little bench in front of the mirror. 

It wasn’t often that he let you do it which made you cherish the opportunity even more.  “What are we going for?”  “Just whatever,” he shrugged, “I haven’t decided on a outfit yet.”  “You’re giving me free reign?”  “Nothing can disfigure this face, baby,” he grinned as you cringed at the nickname. 

“Do your worst,” he sighed before closing his eyes.  “I have free reign?” you asked again just to be sure while picking up a brush and your favorite eyeshadow palette he owned.  “Hmm,” Ten hummed, his nimble fingers playing with loose threads on your jeans.  “You’re going to look stunning,” you promised, dipping your brush into a maroon shadow to gently brush it along his eye, trying to accentuate the feline shape you adored so much. 

You slowly build up the color until his eyes were lined by a beautifully smokey mess of black and deep red shadow.  “Look up,” you said softly, rubbing the pigment away that had fallen onto his cheekbones.  “Are we done?”  “Lips?”  “I’m good, it’ll rub off anyways,” your friend grinned. 

“You planning on making out with someone?” You asked while he was looking at himself in the mirror.  “You did a good job,” he evaded the question, “A little dramatic maybe.”  “Suits you.”  At that he just giggled. 

“Are you going to match me?”  “Me?”  “You’re coming with me,” he stated.  “I am?”  “Yes, you are darling. With who else should I dance?”  “I don’t have any clothes with me,” you argued.  “I have some that will fit you just fine. Now close your eyes,” Ten grinned, a fluffy brush already between his manicured fingers. 

Sighing in defeat, you did as your friend asked. Guess you wouldn’t have a study night tonight. 

This might or might not be in the same universe as the Ten + Thighs drabble