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biggest-stupidhead · 4 years ago

Note

Heyy!!

I dont think there's such think as semen donors in aot cannon?

BUT WHAT IF Captain Levi agrees to be the donor to squad leader (or just cadet) reader in a platonic relationship/eventual romance?

Just cute ackerbabies!

Lmao you’re probably right, no semen donors in canonverse. But I honestly love this idea so much, I feel like it would be hard for Levi to make that romantic connection so I could see him making that choice, and maybe it developing into something more!

Summary: Levi can’t wait any longer to start a family, and you are willing to take that step with him.

Word Count: 1.7K

You choked on the small sip of tea that you had taken. Catching the small drops of liquid that had escaped your lips.

“Come again now?” You managed to form words after a moment, Levi seemed uninterested as always, those charcoal grey eyes dull and apathetic.

“You heard me just fine, you know that I hate repeating myself.” He scoffed as he shifted so that his leg was crossed over his opposite knee,

“Yes I heard you but....marriage?” You were shocked to say the least. Levi had never shown any prior interest in any long term relationship with anyone, although the two of you had hooked up a handful of times.

“I don’t see why not. We already share a room, not to mention that we-”

“Okay I get it, just...it’s a big commitment and I’m not sure that I’m-”

“Oh please, what else do we have to look forward to anymore? No more fighting, no more political issues to deal with might as well settle down and...” He trailed off, his gaze cast downwards into his cup of tea, which was probably cold by now. You sighed deeply, placing your cup down gently and leaning back into the sofa that the two of you were seated on. His arm was slung casually across the back of the sofa, his finger tips ghosting over your shoulder.

“I know but Levi...marriage?” you were a bit disappointed. He had said it so casually, as if he was asking you if you wanted to run to the market to grab apples.

“If you don’t want to then just say no.” He snapped, clearly getting frustrated, he rose to his feet and began to march towards his desk. You chased after him, catching his wrist. You knew it was difficult for him to express himself, to put things lightly or being considerate to your feelings.

“It’s not that...I’m just a little caught off guard.” You admitted as you held his wrist gently. He let out a breath that he had seemed to have been holding in, he turned and laced his fingers through yours, his other hand diving into his pant pocket. You waited patiently for him to say something, but he only pulled out a small black box. Your heart skipped a beat, this was more how you had pictured being proposed to. He fell onto his knee and opened the box slowly, revealing a modest silver ring with a small diamond embedded in the ring.

“Oh Levi...” Your fingers were still laced with his as he knelt down, you squeezed his hand affectionately.

“I already bought the damn ring, just say yes.” He grunted, averting his gaze as his thumb glided over your knuckle.

“You have a point there.” You chuckled as you gave him a small nod, which was enough of a yes for him.

You were married by the end of the month, a simple court house wedding with Armin and Mikasa as your witnesses. Afterwards you had gone home and eaten dinner as usual. Just another week, except now the sex that you and Levi occasionally had, became a hell of a lot more regular. You had no complaints, or at least that was until you were hunched over the kitchen sink puking your guts out. You had missed your period as well, and it didn’t take a genius to know what that meant. You decided to wait until you were certain to tell anyone this however, seeing how difficult pregnancy could be, and the unlikeliness of carrying to full term seemed high.

So you made sure to go to the doctor twice before telling Levi that you were pregnant. He’d had a very similar reaction that you’d had when he had asked to marry you.

He choked on his tea, his hand flying to his chin to catch the liquid.

“Pregnant?” He repeated, and you nodded, leaning against the table where he was sitting.

“H-How long until...”

“Give or take seven months.” You shrugged, trying to put on a brave face, after seeing how frazzled he was you wanted to make this as casual as the rest of your relationship.

“So...we should probably start cleaning out that spare room and-” You cut him off by kneeling down and placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“We’ve got plenty of time for that, for now let’s just...enjoy not being responsible for a helpless shitty baby.” You said softly as you slowly sank onto his lap. He hummed his approval, but still seemed rightfully on edge.

“We can start cleaning the room in few weeks, there’s no rush.” You assured him as you scattered kisses across his sour face.

“I’ll start tomorrow.” Levi hummed as he tilted his head to the side.

Turned out that you were both in way over your head. Around 12 weeks into your pregnancy Hange was pressing her stethoscope to your rapidly swelling belly when she froze. Levi tensed when he noticed this, and you frowned.

“What is it?” Levi asked as he gripped the back of the exam table.

“Nothing’s wrong...just-”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” Levi scowled as he watched Hange continue to feel around your stomach.

“That’s cause it isn’t nothing, I’m hearing two heart beats.” Hange told you as she stood to her full height.

“Two heart beats?” You felt feint at the news, you had known that twins ran in your family but you had never expected to have them yourself.

“Yes, it appears that you are having twins” Hange said with a wide smile as she folded up the stethoscope. Your vision blurred, the worry that you had been experiencing prior to the appointment had doubled along with the number of children you were having.

“No shit.” Levi replied breathily as he held your shoulder firmly.

“If I were you guys I’d go clean out that room now.” Hange advised as she cleaned up the space that you had been using as a makeshift exam room in her office.

“I’ll get right on that.” Levi said, shooting you a concerned look as he helped you up onto your feet.

The twins were born premature, the labor itself wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. But you realized that it wasn’t that bad because of how small they were. The only reason that they both survived was thanks to the Marleyan medical equipment that had been shipped over courtesy of Zeke and Yelena. You and Levi spent countless hours in the hospital as you awaited for the twins to be discharged. In that window of time you decided on names, it was difficult but you decided on Harrison and Harper. You weren’t surprised to find that they both took after their father, dark bluish grey eyes with a full head of black hair. The one thing they seemed to have gotten from you was your facial structure and your complexion.

It was a massive relief to bring them home, now instead of staying up until the wee hours in the hospital you could do it in the comfort of your own home.

One particular evening you were walking laps with Harrison, gently patting his back as you bounced off of your heels as he cried. On your third lap around the entire cottage, you peeked into the nursery to see Levi reclined on the rocker with Harper fast asleep. His eyes were closed, his naked chest rising and falling evenly as he slept. You envied him as you rubbed circles on Harrison’s back once more. His cries slowly died out and you managed to drag yourself to your bed and place Harrison down gently. Using the extra pillows, you managed to make a small barrier between him and yourself as well as the edge of the bed. It wasn’t often that you got to do this, seeing as you usually slept with Levi. But Harrison seemed content with laying in his dad’s spot for the night. His big blue eyes were watching your hair sway over his face as you adjusted the pillows. He cooed and babbled for a few minutes before falling silent, his tiny breaths putting you at ease.

It couldn’t have been but an hour later when the sound of Harper crying woke you once more. Levi was pacing around the same way that you had been earlier before he finally managed to put her at ease. He returned to your room to see you sitting up, Harrison fast asleep at your side.

“Care to join us?” You asked, voice gruff with sleep, or rather the lack there of.

“Would I ever.” Levi groaned as he placed Harper in the pillow barrier with Harrison who was still fast asleep. He managed to squeeze onto the bed, laying on his side like you were as the two of you watched Harper sooth herself into sleep. His gaze left the small baby in favor of studying your features.

“What would you have done if I had never asked you to marry me?” The question caught you off guard, your fingers were tracing the soft features of your babies. You hummed in thought but the answer was already on the tip of your tongue.

“I’d have asked you to marry me.” You said with a wry smile and Levi rolled his eyes at your cheesy reply.

“That’s not what I meant...well not really.” Levi grumbled, you paused again in thought. What would you have done? Certainly no more military work, that chapter was over for you.

“Maybe I’d open a bakery. My grandmother left me all of her recipes. What would you do?” You asked, finger running along the soft dark locks of hair that were growing from Harrison’s head.

“I’d open a tea shop.” Levi answered quickly, his own gaze back on the babies, his hand resting on Harper’s stomach, rising and falling with her breathing.

“Why don’t we just say fuck it and do it?” You asked, not sure if you were serious or if it was the lack of sleep talking.

“There was that space for lease last time we went into town...” Levi offered thoughtfully.

“Yeah, we could fix it up and open a cafe.” You said excitedly as you leaned over the sleeping babies in hopes of coaxing a kiss from Levi. He nodded in agreement before leaning over and planting a kiss to your lips.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning. Go to sleep.” Levi sighed as he stretched out on his side, and closing his eyes. You smiled and mirrored him, your hand resting on Harrison’s stomach now as well, your fingertips brushing his.

You knew that you’d made the right choice. Marrying Levi was the best decision that you’d made in a long time. It may not look like the typical love story, but you knew that it was real, realer than most relationships. And you wouldn’t want to have it with anyone else.

#hange zoe #levi ackerman #levi aot #aot fanfiction #levi x reader #armin arlert #eren jeager #eren mikasa armin #erwin smith #mikasa ackerman #levi fanfiction #levi is a dad #levi x y/n #levi x pregnant reader #levi x reader insert #levi/reader #levi x fem!reader

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hongism · 4 years ago

Text

touch of the devil - k.hongjoong 18+

↣ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader | ao3 version (mxm seongjoong) ↣ genre: angst, fluff if you SQUINT, nsfw, fantasy, supernatural, demon!hongjoong, emo rocker!hongjoong, there do be plot tho. ↣ wc: 9.0k ↣ summary: you came to make a deal with a devil sure, but this is the last thing you were expecting out of a night in a dingy bar. ↣ warnings: explicit smut, mention of death, demons, it’s actually really heavy on plot and angst and less focused on the smut ↣ a/n: again i know it’s my birthday but this is my present to you guys, i am a person who prefers to give rather than receive on my birthday and this was the first thing i wanted to work on during my hiatus!! i’ve got so much inspo and motivation rn that it’s crazy and i can’t wait to have everything all set out for you guys when im back :3

﹊﹊﹊

Everything about the air around you is heady and thick in a way that chokes you as you step through the fogged bar. This isn’t your sort of scene – not one you would typically find yourself frequenting on a Friday evening without even so much as the company of a friend – and yet here you stand with hands pressed into the pockets of your black leather jacket. There remains a dull thrum in the atmosphere of the club, a steady rhythm of bass and vibrations that makes your ears ring but you do your best to ignore it in favor of reaching the bartender.

“Just a rum and coke please,” you murmur, hand sneaking out of your pocket to lay a few bills flat against the wood counter. You tug your ID card out as well and flash it in the man’s direction when he raises an eyebrow at you, but upon seeing it, he relents and steps away from you to get the drink.

The question remains of why exactly you are in such a dismal and hopeless scene full of people too drunk off their rockers to even fumble around the bar with some sense of dignity. You, who is neither dismal or hopeless yourself nor are you drunk in the slightest (at least not yet).

The answer is simple. This is a breeding ground, a festering cesspool of desires and greed, and it is the prime place to find what you are looking for in terms of deals with the devil. Maybe not one specific devil, but certainly whatever demon you can get your hands on tonight. And you have quite the lot to choose from it seems, because as you glance around the neon-lit building, you can spot many pairs of red eyes glinting under the lights. You know you have no right to be picky — any and all of them will get the job done — but you can’t help but to note that none of them are as appealing as you imagined they would be. When your friend said that these demons thrived off of lust and appeal, you figured that meant they would purposefully up the ante in terms of physical appearances.

The disdain must show on your features as the bartender begins to speak again as he sets your drink down before you on the counter.

“None of them are for you,” he utters, and you twist back to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, chin tilting to the side in question, and the man huffs out a small laugh.

“They have their prey already. Picked ‘em the second they walked through the door. All it takes is one look to figure out what these needy people crave from them, what appearances they need to take, what voices to use, what outfits to wear. For people like you, though, something more is required before the real games begin.” He points a single bony finger at your face, staring you down over the length of his digit like it’s the barrel of a gun, and that has you shifting in your seat a bit.

“Something… more?”

“One must have a particular level of certainty before coming to make a deal with a demon, ma’am. But you — you don’t seem to truly know what it is you want. And for that reason, the King will see you with no ruses or deception.”

On the contrary, I wouldn’t have dared set foot in here if I didn’t know what it is I wanted, you want to say. However, your attention is held rapt by his final sentence, the one that held unspoken promise to it.

“And by that you mean physical alterations?”

“You catch on quickly, Miss.” The man leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip, and you glance over the motion only once before pushing away from the counter. He notes the slight annoyance in your features a moment later. “The King will like you quite a bit.”

“When can I expect for this ‘King’ to present himself?” You prop an elbow up on the counter and give one last forlorn glance around the bar in the hopes that someone will come over your way, but it’s to no avail.

“Patience, human. The show hasn’t even begun yet.” He motions towards the middle of the bar, the starkly empty space with a glossy stage set in the center with only a microphone held delicately in its stand and nothing else. You had been hoping to make this a speedy trip — a quick in and out with your deal made and nothing else — but it seems you won’t be having that luxury. And it is a bit frustrating, honestly, to come to this place with the expectation of having a demon cater to you and your wants only to be told that you aren’t certain enough for these supernatural beings, so you’ll have to wait on a demon who won’t cater to you or come to you immediately.

You take a quick swig of your alcohol with the desperate hope that perhaps drinking will make you more certain of what you want, although you already know it won’t. The bartender offers a shrug in response to your annoyance then pulls away to tend to other customers, and you take it as an invitation to swivel in your stool and face the stage. It’s still fucking empty, but at least it gives you a better view than the old wood of the counter that now sits under your elbows.

“Leave it to men to make me wait on them, demon or not,” you mutter under your breath, breath fogging the side of your glass a bit.

You nearly choke on the liquid inside in your next breath because the swirling red neon lights come to a halt on the center of the stage, and the suddenness of the shifting lights startles you so much that you have to sit up straight and inhale deeply to keep from coughing on the alcohol in your mouth. The hazed mist hovering above the floor of the bar seems to swirl towards the stage under the beams of light. You watch the movements as though in a trance, slowly leaning forward until your elbows come to rest on your knees. Out of everyone in the bar, you seem to be the only one interested in what’s going on at the center of the room. Mind you, everyone else is preoccupied: demons with their humans, and humans with the mask-wearing demons who cater to their desires. And while you have no reason to be so intrigued by the scene before you, you truly cannot bring yourself to look away, especially as the dull thrum of music in the bar heightens and gains momentum.

There is no way of describing the sounds rumbling around you. Perhaps if you were fully in your senses, you would be able to distinguish the instruments and beats of the song, but the bass clogs your mind and leaves you squinting at the hazy stage. It could be poetic, the way a lone figure pushes his way through the crowds of the bar like he holds all the power in the universe, studded black leather jacket slung around his shoulders. And as the red lights come over him, you can see his features better. Dusty brown hair that shines a bit, one side exposed and cut shorter than the other, which has bangs that hang loose over the side of his face. Metal bars line both ears, another near the end of his left brow, and a final more intricate one that loops around the middle of his lip and connects to two long metal chains. You follow the path of those chains with your eyes, watching them trail downwards until they loop around his chest and disappear behind his jacket. It’s just a black turtleneck that he wears underneath the dramatic leather regalia and chains but somehow he makes the garment look expensive. You dare glance a bit lower, just enough to make out the frayed and distressed jeans that cling to his skin like a vice, leaving hints of enticing skin underneath to peek through. You can’t see his feet thanks to the fog, but you can practically hear his footsteps drumming in your ears with the rise and fall of his shoes.

Simply put, you are entranced by the sight of this man — if he can even be called that, because you wouldn’t find yourself at all surprised should he reveal himself to be a demon on the tail end of this encounter. He barely looks up from the floor on his trek to the stage, only stopping when he comes before the mic stand and exhales against it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s hardly reasonable for any creature to hold your attention in the palm of his hand the way this one does, but there is no chance of you looking away now, especially as his voice begins to drawl through the microphone and coat your ears like honey. There are words, you recognize enough in the music to know that it should be a song you’re familiar with, but none of them truly process in your daze.

It’s all you can do to just sit there and watch his performance. Between the gentle sways of his shoulders and hips, the teasing drag of his tongue over his lower lip whenever there is a break in his lyrics, and the overall intoxicating nature his aura exudes, you are hooked on every breath he takes. You don’t realize how relaxed your body has become under his spell until it’s too late, and that happens to be the last note of the song as well. It is accentuated with the drop of the glass in your hand and a sharp shatter of the cup against the floor. And just as you inhale a startled gasp and break out of your reverie, his deep crimson eyes flicker over to find yours across the bar. Those twisting lips churn something ugly in your gut. You can’t find the strength in your body to move.

“Mine.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as the word leaves his lips, and while you can’t hear it grate against your ears, you can clearly read his lips enough to know what he’s saying.

His eyes glint a bit in the darkness. It shouldn’t leave you wanting more, but that bitter taste of curiosity is nipping at the back of your throat, and you are far too intrigued to turn back now. You just want more. If he seems to understand that at all from the gleam in your eyes, he makes good on it, stepping off the stage and letting his hand drag over the mic in a way that is almost tantalizing. Step after step, he comes closer to you with his lips still curled into a smirk, and the way the lights hit him makes him seem to glisten and glow in the darkness. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until he breaches your personal space and you release a shaky exhale that seems to fog in the air between you. He stretches a hand out to close the space between your bodies and curls his index finger under your chin. The touch is simultaneously hot and cold — your whole body seems to light on fire under it, yet at the same time, the chill in your bones deepens to an alarming degree.

“What is it you desire above all other things?” You can hear him now, loud and clear, and whilst you heard his singing beforehand, the simple rasp and lilt to his regular tone is something that has you unashamedly weak in the knees. “I can give you everything,” he whispers as he presses closer to you. Your knees brush against his form but he keeps on pushing forward until he’s slotted himself between them. The chain hanging from his lips rattles like a chime, singing its unknown song like church bells in the night, although you are far from God and heaven now. “All you need to do is ask.”

You cling to some semblance of reason while you can, knowing full well that it will all leave you soon enough, but for now, it lets you choke out a single statement that has the demon before you laughing under his breath.

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who are you to tell me how it works?” His finger curls a bit harder at your chin, and you can feel the blunt of his nail scraping over your skin. Your eyes are glued to his, so enamored and consumed that you can’t even think to look anywhere else.

In that moment, it is as though the universe is nothing but a speck of dust in the corner of your vision. Something so raw and whole like the man standing before you is all-powerful and vigilant in a way that has every nerve in your body at full attention, ready for whatever his next step might be. And that turns out to be quite the curveball as it seems because he leans closer to you, breath intermingling with yours, and you subconsciously curve your back into his touch to reach him closer. Still, even though you physically show how ready and desperate for the touch you are, he waits and glances over your features.

“What is it you desire from me, human?”

You have to vehemently restrain yourself from simply saying ‘you’ and getting on with it.

“Your name.”

“Is that all you would have from me?” As a demon, it is his life’s work to know the inner-workings of the festering desires of humans. You have no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what is it you want, even if you are not sure of it yourself, and you do not doubt that he won’t use that to his advantage either. But that’s what you asked for in coming here, and that is exactly what you both expected and wanted out of this.

Perhaps it is shameful, but just for once, you wanted to surrender control. Too often are you asked to have everything set out and planned and under control, and too often do you find yourself wanting someone to just tell you what it is you should do. That could be why the bartender labeled you as ‘uncertain’ because even in this moment of vulnerability, there is still the thinnest thread of thought tethering you to that control. And as of now, you want nothing more than for this demon before you to break that thread.

“I would have your name before I asked for anything else from you. Calling you demon over and over would certainly wear out its welcome, no?”

“That all depends on the context, my dear. But… you can call me Hongjoong, if that’s suitable to your tongue.”

“Hongjoong,” you try, testing the way the name rolls off your tongue in such a delicate manner that the demon before you flutters his lashes a bit.

“Sounds so pretty coming from lips so innocent.” He tilts his head to the side, and the movement flashes the pretty expanse of skin below his jaw. You aren’t shy in the way you let your gaze slip over it before trailing back up to meet his eyes again. “Would you close your eyes for me, doll?” He doesn’t have to ask. He could just make you do so with no resistance but still, he asks as though you could say no if you wanted to. You don’t though, and as such, your eyelids fall shut and your vision turns to black for the time being. “Do you know who I am?”

“Th-The bartender called you the King.”

“And do you understand what that means? Truly understand with every fiber of your being?” The question is heavy on your bones, and it is one that you feel like you should know the answer to yet you can’t find any response to his inquiry. Perhaps he means to confuse you because you hear the soft huff of a laugh fall from his lips. “King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead. Some would call me Pluto, others Hades, it varies from religion to religion and in every culture. Sometimes I pick up rather banal and common names, other times I find myself seeking something extravagant and luxurious. Now… Hongjoong will be a good middle-ground for us.”

You should be falling to the floor in absolute shock due to his words, but the steady finger under your chin keeps you steady. That and the growing fear in your gut as you come to realize that this man holds so much power in just his pinky finger and could absolutely crush you under his heel whenever he wishes. What are you to a god besides an insignificant fleck of dust on the pavement?

“And what of your appearance? Is that… manifested as well?” You dare to ask.

“I have many faces, yes, but this one is one I wear boldly and frequently. You could say it is my natural form. After so many millennia of fantastical myths and legends, however, I’m sure that would seem odd to you.”

“Are you truly a demon then?”

“King of demons, yes. Whether I am truly a demon myself is something that could be ambiguous, I suppose, but if they are all part of my creations, then would that not make me one myself? Though you could say they are all fragments of my own being, making them all mythical gods. It’s all a matter of perspective; however, I doubt that you came searching this place for a lesson on perspectives.”

“No, I came for…” You trail off, and that blossoming uncertainty from before presents itself again.

“There are two things your heart wants right now. One, I can give you with ease and grace, only if you would allow it. That desire is a fleeting one, however, and I do not think it is what you are truly after in being here. The second… that is a wish I cannot deliver, and I think you are more than aware of that. The reason everyone left you to me is because of what you want. It is a domain only I could ever touch.”

You blink your eyes open in haste, searching his deep crimson gaze for some sort of confirmation of the words. The demon dares to look forlorn and lets his stare drop to the floor rather than looking you directly in the eye. Confusion blossoms in your gut. Yes, you figured there was a slim chance that your wish could not be granted, but still you clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was just a small window of opportunity for such a wish to be granted.

“Death is irreversible,” the demon, Hongjoong as he wishes to be called, says in a quiet tone. “I cannot give that which you want more than anything else.”

“Then what can you give?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible to keep your emotions from slipping out the corners.

“One of two things: I can give you time to speak with him once more or I can make you forget the pain.”

“And if I choose the latter?”

“It would make you forget everything about him and leave you with no memory of him at all.” Hongjoong exhales a small sigh, the bouncing rhythms of the bass rumbling against your ears along with the sounds of his breaths. “You need not decide right this instant. The payment will be the same either way, so we can settle that first if you’d like.”

“W-Wait,” you stammer. You dare to open your eyes once more. “How would I be able to speak to him if you can’t bring him back?”

“I cannot bring him back the way you want. He… he is gone, and though I am the King of the Dead, there are powers even I do not have. Bringing him back to life is impossible, but I can create a doorway for the two of you to speak through for a short period of time. I have no control over how long it would be, just a forewarning. That is all up to him and his willingness to see you.”

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to see me,” you murmur, but the pang in your chest tells you otherwise.

“Sometimes, death and the underworld change fundamental parts of people. They are no longer alive, after all, and as such, those human vices and personality traits dissipate. How you knew him in life could be vastly different than the spirit who now resides in my domain. It is all a matter of weighing risks, my dear. What matters most to you? Remembering him or him remembering you?”

“So if I ask to see him, I would remember him but there’s a chance that he would have no recollection of me? And should I ask to forget, there will be no way of knowing whether he remembers me in the afterlife or not?”

“Precisely.”

That is a hefty bargain to weigh. It is almost too much for your shoulders just to think about it. One is starkly more selfish than the other, but if he’s dead, what good will selflessness do you? It won’t bring him back, that’s for sure. Either you are left with the painful realization that he does not have any memory of you in the afterlife, or you forget it all to avoid that pain. Maybe thinking about the payment before deciding would be a good idea after all.

“As for the payment? How many years do I owe you?” Demons have no use for human currency or trinkets that could be traded for favors. You can barter the only thing you have — years of life. Whether it shortens your lifespan or turns you into a personal slave for a certain amount of time, that is a price you must be willing to pay for such services. You are more than prepared to barter it all off right now if need be.

“None,” Hongjoong answers coolly, and you quirk a brow upwards at the nonchalance in his tone. “I do not deal in years of life. Not often, at least. My abilities are bound in… passion. Lovemaking, fornication, sex, fucking – whatever you wish to call it. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be that exactly, should you not desire that. The other option is a blood pact, a ritual that would take hours to complete, although both could take quite some time depending on your stamina.” There’s a breath of silence that allows Hongjoong’s lips to twist into a suggestive grin, and heat brushes the base of your neck as you fight off waves of embarrassment. “I cannot guarantee that the blood pact would be painless. With sex, I could at least provide some comfort that the pain would only be temporary; however, the choice is yours. Both are binding and would mean that you could never make a deal with another demon again, and you would be marked as mine for eternity.”

“What does being yours entail?”

“Nothing diabolical or unsavory, I promise. Just… when the time comes for you to pass on and join the Underworld, you would take a place at my side.”

“How many people have you laid claim to? Did they all agree to the same terms? How can I trust your word?” The questions tumble from your lips without relent.

“For what you desire, the cost is far less than what I would usually ask for. Those lucky enough to deal with me in the past paid less for their debts. The blood pact… the fornication… both are binding elements. The real cost is your service. Most have agreed to give me their servitude in the afterlife, all with their own places in my domain. That is what you would be offering as well. You will live just as long as you would without making this deal but make up for it after your death.”

“And that’s it?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle a bit under the lights above your heads.

“What did you expect from me, doll? Savagery? Unfairness? Everyone deserves a fair price for what they want, regardless of station in life or status in society.”

“Deal,” you utter without any more hesitation, blinking up into Hongjoong’s dark orbs. There lies a lingering sense of regret in your gut, one that you cannot chase away no matter how hard you try, but you do not need to dwell on it any longer.

“And how would you like to bind our deal, my dear? Neither can be handled immediately. The blood pact requires special preparations for the ritual, but the other — I would not have you in such a place as dirty as this.”

“I-I, um, sex will work just fine,” you bite out, the skin of your cheek caught between your teeth.

“Then when the time comes that you are ready with your decision on what it is you truly want, all you need to do is take this—” Hongjoong retracts his hand from where it rests gently against the column of your throat and digs into one of his pockets. He pulls out a gilded card, one that is black and gold with flecks of red across the surface, but there are no other adornments to the material. “Tear it in half and it will bring you to our meeting place, and I will join you there to seal the deal. Should you decide that you do not want this after all, then all you need to do is burn the card. The decision lies in your hands, and yours alone.” He has to lift one of your limp hands and forcefully place the card into your waiting palm, closing his fingers around yours to make you cling to the item.

“I – th-thank you,” you stammer as you blink from your closed hand to Hongjoong’s features.

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

Those are the last words you hear from the demon before he slips away from you, the dense fog lingering in the air swirling up around his body, and within moments, his shadowy form disappears entirely from sight. The air grows cold around you once more. You are left with only the fleeting desire for that warmth to return, for you to feel less alone than you are in that moment, and even if it’s the briefest visit ever you just want one last chance to tell your lost lover how you feel without mistakes this time.

///

The night, as per usual, is cold and unforgiving. It allows for too many opportunities to be alone with lost feelings and thoughts. It has been weeks (if not months) since you visited that dingy club and your fateful meeting with none other than the King of the Dead. Yet you are still here, wallowing in the memories that you’ve been left to suffer with alone, and the gilded black card sits in your nightstand untouched. You open the drawer just to stare at it from time to time, when the nights are particularly rough, and it already had begun collecting a thin layer of dust the last few times you looked at it.

It isn’t that you haven’t made your decision about what you want from your deal with Hongjoong. The more terrifying fact is that you are fully aware of what it is you want, and you simply cannot rectify the guilt that comes along with the pure selfishness of your decision. The feeling is so potent that it swarms your every thought. You know it wouldn’t be an issue once you meet with Hongjoong; the demon will take it all away and leave you with nothing. You won’t even know enough to be guilty any longer, but the pain of committing to the decision is strong enough to make you sick to your stomach.

Wooyoung — the one who suggested you go to the club and make the deal in the first place — will not shut up about how worried he is about you. You won’t recall the deal or why you made it, so what’s holding you back? A temporary guilt that won’t exist longer than a few seconds once you’re actually in Hongjoong’s presence? As he said, you just need to swallow the feeling and get on with it. Prolonging the regrets any longer won’t do you any good.

You huff out a quiet laugh in the silence of your darkened room. The black gilded card taunts you again now, gleaming up at you through the shadows with its faint hints of gold and red. Maybe Wooyoung is right and the only way to get rid of missed opportunities is to forget about them entirely. Yeosang was but a chapter in your life, one that is past and gone now, and as Hongjoong said, there is no reversing death. Seeing him one last time won’t give you anything but pain.

You stretch a shaky hand towards the card in the drawer. It’s cold to the touch, dust billowing up with even the slightest touch of your fingers. You have to dig your nail under the material to pull it up, and once it’s safely set in your palm, you drag your thumb over the surface to brush the dirt away. No words on the surface, no sign that it has been touched by a demon, and not even a hint as to what it could possibly be for.

It is surprisingly flexible, at least moreso than you would have imagined, and you give it a few testing bends to see how easy it would be to break. Hongjoong simply gave you the instruction to tear it in half and that was all. You don’t expect him to suddenly materialize before you on a whim, but surely such a creation is bound by some sort of magic on his part. It is hard enough to believe that demons are real living creatures, but magic as well? Maybe you’ve passed on and just don’t realize it yet. Still, you exhale one last huff of air into the darkness before letting your eyes flutter shut. Taking the card between your hands, you begin to slowly rip the material until it separates with the force, torn in two mismatched pieces.

Nothing fantastical happens.

That fact alone is so overwhelmingly disappointing that you really think for a moment that Hongjoong was just some goth rocker in a stoner bar who pulled an elaborate trick on you. It can’t be too difficult to get your hands on some weird red-toned contacts and weave some elaborate story about being the King of Hell. You could do that yourself. Why did you think he was incapable of such a charade?

Because he knew what you wanted without you having to say it.

Yes, well, Wooyoung claimed that your regrets and grief were evident in your features every time he looked at you. Maybe Hongjoong could see it as well.

You fall back onto your bed, flattening your back against the mattress with a small shout of frustration. The urge to cry is strong; if you’ve spent all these weeks uselessly worrying over something that could all be a farce, you don’t even know how you would react. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, blinking away the tears that blossom in the corners there as best you can. The rolling emotions in your system distract you from the sudden shift in temperature, and before you know it heat washes over you and fills the void of cold in your body. You jerk but refuse to sit up quite yet, eyes flying open in your shock only to choke on air as a bright golden light fills your vision and swarms you with warmth. The cushion under your body doesn’t feel the same either; it is not your bed, it’s too plush and soft, too warm under you, and you feel like you are absolutely drowning in the sensation.

Gold flickers above you, twinkling lights that glisten like small stars above you, and the ceiling is so dark that you nearly think it’s just an opening to the night sky. You sit up in a mad panic. The gold and red decorations littering the far too lavish room barely process in your vision as you look for a way out, and you don’t even see the figure coming up along your side until he’s upon you. A hand stretches out to brush over your forehead. You nearly shriek in your state of terror, but the sound is all but stolen from your lungs instead.

“It’s only me, doll. You’re safe.”

Hongjoong. Ah, Hongjoong. Then… he was telling the truth. It wasn’t a farce or a deception meant to be a game. He claimed to be the Devil Incarnate, and here he stands before you in a room too rich and exquisite for words. You can’t find it in you to think he’s lying now.

You dare to glance up and meet his gaze, finding it so soft on your face that you have the audacity to blush under his stare despite the things you’ll be doing with him soon enough.

“Have you made your decision then?” He asks, tone soft and light. It isn’t one that demands an immediate answer. You know he could ask what took you so long to decide, complain about your hesitance, say that you kept him waiting for far too long — instead, he exudes patience with you, hand slowly combing over your forehead down to your cheek and brushing over the skin there with a touch so featherlight that you almost don’t realize it’s there at all.

“I-I have,” you whisper like the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room and it’s a secret meant only for your ears.

“What would you have from me first then? As I told you before, the payment is the same regardless of your decision, and as such, we can bind the deal first if you’d rather.”

You swallow around nothing. There is no harm in going through with the decision now, but your nerves are so frazzled and out of sorts that you almost desire the sex simply as a means of stress relief. Hongjoong steps in front of you, fully coming into view, and you are shocked at how… mundane he looks. You blink fervently at the man — demon, rather — and take in the gentle part of his hair, the soft glow of his skin that makes him look simply ethereal under this light. He hardly looks like a demon to you; his features are too smooth and perfect for that, from the curves of his lips to the even line of his nose. Although you suppose that’s all he wants you to see, yet it still seems oddly intimate to a certain degree.

“You aren’t worried that I’ll try to run away after my wish is fulfilled?” You ask. Hongjoong arches his brows at you, and his neutral expression slips into one of momentary shock.

“Where are you going to go, my dear? I brought you to this place, and you will need me to send you back once we’re done here.”

It sinks in at that moment how you are completely at his mercy right now. Not that you had any plans of running away, but the question was moreso just to test the waters, see if he is truly as merciful as his features make him out to be. The underlying danger in his tone proves your point and sends a chill down your spine.

“Is that something I ought to be worried about, doll? Should I claim you now to make sure you keep your end of the bargain?” The question sits on your ear like warm honey. It chokes you, fills your senses with Hongjoong’s scent, and you almost find yourself leaning into his curling lips before catching yourself. That seems to pique his interest in the very least, and his smile twists a bit more. “The decision is in your hands as always. I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to do.”

“Permission granted,” you mutter before catching a hand on Hongjoong’s collar. “Do it all.” You aren’t too worried about damaging his clothes as he’s not wearing anything drastically fancy or expensive-looking, and thus you twist your fist into a ball around the fabric of his black tee and yank him down to your height. He bends at the waist, hands catching on the mattress before his forehead can smack hard against yours. There’s a bit of tension in his neck, and that keeps him far enough back so that he doesn’t kiss you quite yet. It’s almost as though he is waiting for something else, eyes carefully tracing your features with great care before he settles on your lips, and a sharp inhale of breath follows before that thin line in his composure snaps.

His lips hit yours with a surprising amount of force, and the kiss isn’t at all what you were expecting — well, to be more accurate, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting in the first place. It’s much more pleasant than you could have imagined though, and Hongjoong isn’t shy with the touch at all. His tongue is quick to swipe over your lower lip, hands darting upwards to brush over your sides before reaching your face, and he brings a knee down on the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you. You follow the motion when he pushes forward and lean back until you have no choice but to scoot back on the bed. Hongjoong moves with you with the same amount of fervor, still pressed to your lips without relent, and you don’t even think to stop as he completely drapes himself over your body, knees still up and supporting his weight. The cushion of the mattress dips by your head, a telltale sign that he’s placed his hands there, and you use that as your opportunity to stop for air. Hongjoong surely has no need to breathe like you do since he is undead, but he still pants above you, chest heaving as a pretty flush rises to his cheeks.

“Putting that much power in a demon’s hands is dangerous, is it not?” He mutters. You let your lashes flutter shut as he moves back to your lips, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t like,” you murmur, opening an eye to peek at him. He meets your gaze with a soft laugh, but your answer seems to please him enough to bring his attention back to your lips. You inhale as his tongue breaches your mouth and pushes into the wet cavern inside. There’s no chance for you to fight back for any sort of dominance because he only thrusts deeper and coats the inside of your mouth with his taste until you can feel his tongue brushing over your palate. A quiet moan reverberates through your throat and against his lips. You feel the barest hint of a smile in the kiss, then his lips are suddenly gone from yours. You gasp for air with the freedom. Heat pools in the depths of your gut, a pleasant one that leaves you wanting more, and you aren’t sure if it’s simply been so long since you last had sex or if Hongjoong truly has that effect on you.

He returns to touching your body a moment later, hands trailing to the row of buttons on your nightshirt, and one by one, he pulls them apart until the material is barely clinging to your skin. His lips replace his fingers then. First at your jaw placing a wet trail of kisses and soft nips that leave you with goosebumps. Then he reaches the midpoint of your sternum and rests the flat of his tongue there, tasting and teasing your skin until you can do nothing but writhe under him because he is taking so damn long. Your impatience is laughable to him, as evidenced by the quiet huff of air that leaves him next.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he mumbles against the skin of your stomach, hands pulling your nightshirt away to expose more of the skin underneath. He makes good on his words, and that damn tongue traces lower and lower until he reaches the band of your pants and underwear. You instinctively dart a hand down to tangle in his hair. “F-Fuck.” The curse slips out when you give an accidental tug to the hair close to his nape, and you nearly think that you’ve hurt him in some manner until you catch sight of the blissed-out expression on his features.

“D-Do you — can I…?”

“Do it harder while I eat you out,” he growls. His fingers close hard around the remainders of your close, and you don’t even have time to nod before he’s yanking both your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. It leaves you more than a little exposed — you’re suddenly nearly nude before the demon who is still fully clothed, and that realization draws your thighs tight together in a sudden rush of embarrassment. You swallow hard around nothing, eyes darting away from Hongjoong’s prying gaze.

All of a sudden, he shrugs your hand off his hair and sits back on his heels. You don’t understand what his reasoning is until you settle your eyes back on his body. He’s leaned back to start stripping layers of clothes off in a rush, hands fumbling and struggling to pull them away in an orderly manner. There is no composure to his actions, only a hastened fervor that has him tossing his shoes far from the bed along with random articles of clothes until he’s laid fully bare before you. You really try your hardest not to glance down at his… you know, but the urge is overwhelming. Before you can even catch a glimpse, however, Hongjoong is on you again, hands latched around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he kneels before you on the floor. The sudden movement has you squealing in surprise, and that noise is broken off into a startled moan when Hongjoong’s lips brush through your folds without warning.

“O-Oh god,” you gasp out. Hongjoong’s tongue gives a long and dragging pull through your heat, teasing some of the juices out of you with little restraint.

“Far from it actually,” he replies against your clit. A cheeky grin eats away at his features, but it quickly disappears as he returns his focus to your cunt. Your hand finds its way back down to his hair once more and tugs hard at the strands. Each tweak of his tongue through your folds has your legs jerking a bit, and he has to tighten his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving so much under his touch.

“I’m not — I w-won’t last, pl-please, I–” You can’t even finish the sentence as Hongjoong flicks the tip of his tongue right over your clit and cuts you off. He repeats that same motion, again and again, brings you right to the precipice of an orgasm only to tear you back down from it with soft kisses pressed to the outside of your folds. You can’t keep track of how many times he repeats that process, but it is more than enough to have you shaking from exhaustion and desperation even though you haven’t even been able to come yet.

“Are you going to beg for it, doll?” Hongjoong hums after what feels like hours of pleasurable torture. “I promised to make you feel good, did I not? You just have to tell me what you want.” His words are so taunting that it burns you with embarrassment. The need for that orgasm hangs on every nerve ending of your body, and you could cry just out of the need to come.

“Please,” you whisper in a tone broken from constant moans and cries.

“Be more specific.” It’s so cruel. He dangles the promise of pleasure before your eyes again, this time nipping ever so gently at your bud, and you really do cry this time, fingers digging harshly on his scalp. That draws a prolonged growl from his lips, and it reverberates against you so nicely that you could come from that. Hongjoong pulls his head back too soon though and the sensation is dashed away.

“N-No, no, please. P-Please, Hongjoong, I — please let me come. I need it, I need it so badly. Shit, just – just please let me come,” you wail as tears slip out the corners of your eyes and spill onto the sheets under you. That’s the breaking point for him as well, or so it would seem, because the next time his mouth brushes through your cunt, he doesn’t relent. You come undone on his tongue, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm as he fucks his wet muscle into your heat. He won’t stop chuckling either — a low noise that just prolongs the pleasure and makes you quiver from overstimulation. He doesn’t let up until a dry and choked sob pushes past your lips.

Suddenly he is back up on the bed, bent over your body to be eye to eye with you. His fingers trace over your wet cheeks then clasp hard around your jaw.

“Too much?”

“N-No,” you stammer through the wet cries. “So good. So so good.”

“Mm, can you take my cock too, doll?” He all but purrs the words against your skin. His soft and trailing kisses return to your skin, peppering the line of your jaw just past his fingers.

“Yes, please, I c-can. Please. I want i-it all.” You never thought you could sound so overwhelmingly desperate, but the tumbling sensation that swerves through your stomach as Hongjoong’s demeanor shifts has you falling into absolute shambles. He shifts your position, pushing you up higher to rest against the pillows, and you start to drape your legs around his waist. That must not be the position he had in mind though, because his hand clamps down hard on one of your calves and pushes it to the top of his shoulder. Before you can even blink, he does the same with your other leg, effectively folding you in half and into a position you weren’t even aware that your body was capable of. That shock is momentary as you feel the tip of what must his cock rubbing over your pulsating hole. You can’t do anything but ball your fists around the sheets under you and cling to them like a vice. It’s the only thing that can prepare you for his girth; the stretch may not be as much as you thought it would be, but it still stings like a bitch even after he bottoms out in you. That pain must be showing on your features – in the way your brows are tightly knit together and your eyes are screwed shut so that excess tears from earlier slip out.

The soft caress of lips touches your forehead. It’s so gentle and delicate that you nearly miss it in your efforts to grow used to the sensation between your legs, but Hongjoong repeats it time and time again until your breathing steadies and your chest stops heaving as much. It’s only then that he dares to resituate his hips. You crack an eye open to look at him, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s trying his hardest to hold back and keep from fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“I’m okay now,” you whisper, pulling a hand off the bedsheets to brush some loose strands of hair out of Hongjoong’s vision. “Please fuck me as hard as you’d like.” You snake the same hand around the back of his neck. When he still doesn’t move, you offer a sharp tug to the hair that falls over his sweat-slick nape, and that spurs him into action. His hips snap roughly against yours, pushing your back further into the crude curve it’s already in. Now that the dull throbbing pain has dissolved into a sensation of pleasure, you drown yourself in the drag of his member inside you. It’s quite possibly the best feeling you’ve had all night with the way his tip rubs over your bundle of nerves at just the right angle.

Hongjoong drops his elbows to the pillow under your head, and you greet him with a kiss that is mostly just an awkward clash of teeth for the most part. He gains enough composure to shift the angle to one that’s easier for both of you, hips still working hard as he rocks into you with the same force and speed as before. You are so lost in the euphoria that you can’t even feel your next orgasm sneaking up on you, but when it does, it pulls a noiseless scream from your lips. Hongjoong mouths at the corner of your lips as you ride it out. He still seems far off from his own high, even as he slows the pulses of his thrusts. You claw your way back from the high of your orgasm to grip his hair tighter and pull him closer to you.

“In me. I need you to come in me or not at all,” you demand through a huffed out sigh. It’s a moment of throwing caution to the wind, one that is quite worth it thanks to the expression of hunger and lust that fills Hongjoong’s face.

“You can��t just say things like that, doll,” he growls into the shell of your ear. You try to laugh but he interrupts you with a thrust harsher than any of the ones before. Every sound that falls from your lips now is stuttered and broken at the seams, and you let him fuck you with that same level of passion until he finally seems to tire and lose his rhythm. The only warning you have that he’s about to orgasm is the slight whine to his tone when he moans next. You push what strength you have left into clenching hard around his cock, and that is ultimately what tips him over the edge and pulls a delightful moan from his lips as he spills into your tight heat. He releases his hold on your legs, letting them slip away from his shoulders and back into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he refuses to move off your body.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like that: with Hongjoong continually mouthing small kisses to the underside of your jaw and you just staring blankly at the glittering ceiling with a mind nearly empty. However much time passes doesn’t quite matter because once you recover your senses enough to be coherent again, you recall what is supposed to come next. Shaky hands find their way to Hongjoong’s arms and trail up to rest atop his back.

“Take it all away,” you exhale through a pant, hands clinging desperately to the milky skin of Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I don’t want to remember him anymore.” His chest heaves against yours, and a few loose strands of dark hair fall forward to stick to his sweat-slick forehead. This time when he kisses you, it is hot and searing, a brand against your lips, one that burns the inside of your mouth and sets your tongue alight. The sensation slips down the back of your throat, fills your gut, burns you from the inside out, and all your thoughts go hazy under the touch of his lips. With that one kiss, Hongjoong takes it all away. He gives into your desires, heeds your wishes, and grants you the ultimate peace and serenity you so deeply craved. He continues to cling to you like he’s never held something so desperately or lost in his infinite existence. You return the embrace in full while you can, strength already leaving you in the afterglow of your fornication, and you rake your nails down over his back if only to leave him with some sort of trophy to leave with. He is already leaving with your memories though, a trophy to hold close to his heart should there ever be a time when you ask for them to be returned to you. Perhaps in your afterlife, you’ll ask for them back, and Hongjoong would gladly give them should it be what you desire.

That is what he is, after all. As much as he takes, the Demon King of the Underworld gives in return, where he can with what he can. His duty, his bond, the sole purpose for his existence is to maintain that balance between giving and taking. But if it’s for you — a creature so lost, dismal, and hopeless — perhaps he can tip the scales a bit further in your direction.

At least, that’s what he thinks as you curve your body into his and press your lips with more fervor than before. That maybe, just maybe, endless years of his own hopelessness and confusion were all meant to lead him to finding this: a purpose in his undying life.

﹎﹎﹎

#atzinc #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong scenarios

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xxreader-writerxx · 3 years ago

Text

Found

Word Count: 3.7k

Dad! Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader (Granger and mum too)

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of food, sort of sad, abandonment issues, pregnancy, vomiting, not a lot but tell me if I missed any.

A/N: I'm obsessed with dad fred ok?

Y/N= Your Name L/N= Your Last Name Y/H= Your House, Y/N/N: Your Nickname

"I'm sorry! I-It's just that between the shop, and Umbridge, and my mum- It's all too much and I can't also-" Fred says as I feel tears drip down my cheeks. "You also can't have me? I didn't know that I was such a burden Fred. If I knew I wouldn't of burdened you for three fucking years." I say and he looks at me hurt. "No- No! I didn't mean that- Baby" He begins but I let out a choked laugh. "You can't call me that. No not when you are breaking up with me. That's not fair." I cry and he tries to move closer but I take a step back picking up the clothes in my closet. "W-What are you doing?" He asks and I throw his shirts at him as I grab his things on the bottom. "I can barely face you now. I'm not facing you to give you your things back." I tell him and I hear a choked cry. "Please don't do this. We can still be friends." He tells me and I laugh through my tears. "You can't call me a burden and say that shit line." I tell him. I turn around to see tears strolling down his face, barely any because of the fight he is putting up.

I finally cry and wrap my arms around him. He places his hand on my head and the other on my back, holding me where I was. "I'm so sorry" He whispers in my hair and I just sob into his shirt. He finally leaves when George calls him and I watch from my window the fireworks off in the distance. I sit down on my bed and feel myself break mentally. 'I don't know how I will do this on my own.' I think to myself staring at the pregnancy test I took yesterday. I was planning on telling him but when he clumped me in with his burdens, it was too hard. I just curl up into a ball crying until I fall asleep.

***

"HERMIONE HE'S DOING IT AGAIN- FINN" I yell as the baby flings his lunch at me. "SWITCH!" She yells back in the same worried tone. I grab Ginger my other newborn as she grab my spoon and place her on her tray. She fights me as I try to swaddle her and I plead her silently. I hear the doorbell ring and Hermione perks up. "Don't you dare-" She begins but I place Ginger in her cot and run out to see who it is.

I open the door and my breath hitches lightly. "Hey Y/n..." George says nervously. He looks up and does a double take. "A-Are you alright?" He stutters at my appearance. "Yeah just work getting ahead of me." I explain and he nods. "So... Watcha doing here? For the first time.. In a year..." I mumble the last part and he looks around confused. "Where's Hermione. She invited me saying something about needing to tell me something." He explains. "HERMIONE" I groan and she walks out and smiles at George. "You made it!" She exclaims and I point at her. "You're dead." I say and I run towards her angrily.

"WHAT THE HELL YOU CALLED GEORGE?!"

"LOOK I CAN'T TELL YOU ENOUGH THEY NEED A MALE INFLUENCE AND SURE AS HELL FRED WON'T BE IT SINCE YOU HAVE NO GUTS, HE'S THE BEST OPTION."

"I CAN DO THIS ON MY OWN" I yell back and she sends a firm smack to the side of my head. "YOU ARE 19 YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TO!" She yells back and George finally made it over to us confused as hell. "As much as I love the Granger sisters fighting over me... This is not what I had in mind." He points and I groan at the sound of Finn crying. "Look what you made me do." I tell her and she gasps starting to rant again. I walk into the baby's room. I smile sweetly at the boy crying in his cot.

"Hi baby..." I whisper and he gurgles at me smiling. I walk over and pick him up, rocking him lightly. I sit down on my rocker and he swiftly falls back asleep. I reach my free hand to poke inside of Ginger's cot, her hand wrapping around my finger. I smile at the two and hear a gasp. "Y/n-" He begins and I shush him softly, not taking my eyes off my baby boy. "He's asleep." I whisper, too distracted by my ginger baby to register what's going on.

"W-Who are the parents?" He asks kneeling in front of the rocker to rub a knuckle against his head lightly. "They're mine..." I whisper and look up, a tear dripping down my face that clearly gives away my happy smile. "What do you mean? Its only been a year since you two-" He stops realizing what happened. "Is this my nephew?" He asks smiling softly at him. "Maybe." I whisper and he looks at me smiling with tears sliding down his cheeks. "C-can I hold him? Or her?" He asks, guessing at the colors of their sleeping sacks. I smile sweetly getting up. I hand him Finn softly and he gasps at the size of the baby in his hands. "Y/n- You're 19. How- Why?" He asks and I sigh, rubbing my knuckle into Finn's chest lightly. "My sister has helped but honestly I don't know. It's been a crazy year." I explain. "I'm willing to help. Especially now." He tells me and I smile.

***

I pick up Ginger trying to put her shoes on her as she gurgles in protest. "Hey baby you gotta wear shoes now that you're walking, that's the deal." George explains and she gurgles lightly as if she understood. He's fighting Finn to get his shoes on and I finally put on Ginger's. "Tough ones we got here." He says, wiping sweat from his brow. His arm getting hit by a flying tantrum going on next to him. He looks at him and shakes his head chuckling. He scoops up the almost two year old in his arms and laughs. "He is a kicker." He tells me and we finally get them dressed. "Ugh we really need to stop bringing them to the shop, its getting risky." I tell him and he laughs as if I said the best joke ever. "There is no way these kids are being raised without knowing the joke shop, and plus Fred is off on Wednesdays." He explains and I nod curtly.

We walk to the shop talking about the kids who are settled on our hips. "So I will take up cleaning tomorrow if you bring them to the park the next day and I think there might be a Hermione visit. And I bought some baby food with solid because I don't know if they will still like it-" I begin but get cut off by George chuckling. "You are overthinking this. You are a great mum and if they won't eat solid, you have a blender." He explains and I nod. He's been amazing at calming my anxiety when it come to the kids. He took the role as helpful uncle and comes over all the time but makes sure he doesn't overstep. I make my way inside the shop and he makes his way to customers. I get to the till having Ginger in her stroller next to me. Every hour he switches with me saying they need time with their mama.

The shop finally closes and he helps me with the stroller up the steps. We quickly make our way to the room and Ginger gets up waddling to his bed. I fold his clothes as they play on the bed. I hear a muffled conversation as me and the kids stay quiet. He walks in and Finn gasps reaching out for him. He hands him the milk and Ginger whines until we pass the milk quickly to her. She lays on her back playing with her feet as she drinks her milk.

"These kids..." He laughs. He grabs Finn and opens the door. "Fred's gone don't worry. He will be for the next hour." He tells me to my worried expression. I nod and he comes back with Finn in a new diaper and hands him to me. "He has been kicking me lately. The little bugger." He says rubbing his arm. I laugh and nuzzle my nose against his. "He's obviously like his father." I state and he nods smiling.

***

I make my way into the shop searching for George as the two toddlers point out everything. I hear Ginger gasp and bolt. I run after her clutching on to Finn. I look around scared as shit I lost my baby. When I hear someone talking to her.

"UNCLE RORGE!" I hear her squeal and I laugh realizing she found her uncle. "What sweetheart? Where's your mother?" I hear a voice ask laughing. "Uncle Rorgeeee. You promised me you would bring treats!!" She complains as I look for the aisle they're in. "I'm sorry little one but I'm not George. I'm Fred. What's your name?" He asks and I freeze. "Isn't Red daddy's name?" Finn asks and I can't answer. He slides out of my grasp, obviously knowing where Ginger is. I yell after him and see the man Ginger was talking to. I gasp lightly and she's giggling.

"Uncle Rorge that's not your name! Your name is Rorge. R-O- MUMMY! I FOUND UNCLE RORGE." She points out. "There's your mum. Hello ma'am- Y/n?" He asks confused. "C'mon Ginger. Uncle George is probably somewhere." I say not answering I pick her up as she cries saying Uncle George is right in front of her. I quickly scoop Finn up and quickly walk to find George. "Y/n! What- Crap its Wednesday." He says shocked. He grabs Finn from my hands and bounces him lightly. "UNCLE RORGE TEL-TELR- HE USED A PORTAL" Ginger tries and I nod rubbing her hands. "You- Oh no- Oh shit- Oh sorry-" George stutters. "I'm going to hide in your office now-" I state and he grabs my hand. "You need to face him. He is their father." He tells me and I wipe a tear from my eyes. "I can't George. Not yet." I say and he drops my hand nodding. "C'mon then." He tells me and I walk to the office with him.

I hear banging on the door and it finally opens. "Y/n-" He gasps and I ignore him playing with Ginger. "Y/nnnn" I hear him say again. "Yes Fredrick?" I ask and he tugs my shoulder playfully and George walks in. "Great, your on babysitting duty." I say and George tries to protest but I try and bolt. Fred stops me. He moves carefully so I can't get past him. "A-Are you sheep dogging me?" I ask and he shrugs. "If it works. Now when did Y/n Granger start babysitting?" He asks and I try to move past him. "Two years ago. When you broke my heart, remember that?" I ask and his smile turns into a frown. "I've been trying to get a hold of you. Every day for an hour I question Hermione or someone." He tells me and I laugh. "Anyways- I need to-"

"MUMMY FINN 'OOK MY BLANKET!!!" Ginger screeches. I turn around and George is trying to help the best he can. "I- They fight over everything-" He tries and I laugh walking over. "C'mere baby." I say to Finn. I take the blanket from his hands and he sobs. I grab the dummy and pop it in his mouth, calming him instantly. "Mummy?" He asks and I sigh. "They're two." I explain. I watch the gears turn in his head. "I- No- Wait- Are- What- No-" He stutters, shocked. "Yep. Meet Ginger and Finn Weasley- Well Granger-Weasley. Felt wrong to take the fathers name out." I explain and he collapses to his knees. "UNCLE RORGE! THERE ARE TWO!!!" Ginger states, finally looking around.

***

"Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. Mummyyyy." I hear Finn complain next to me. "Yes light of my life?" I ask sighing. "When's daddy coming? And when's dinner? And why are bananas curved? And why are me and Ginger's hair red when yours is brown? Do we get that from Daddy? Where is daddy?" He questions. "Finny- Baby- Daddy is coming in twenty minutes. Dinner will be done in an hour. I don't know, I need to google it. Yes daddy gave you ginger hair. And on his way." I explain turning so we can google it together. "Ok so bananas are curved so they can get sun." I explain. He nods and slides out of my lap. "Thank you mummy!" He yells behind him as he runs.

The doorbell rings and I open it to see Fred. I give him a quick hug as we all sit down for dinner, Fred answering all of Finn's wild questions as I listen to Ginger tell me its paghetti not spaghetti. We all finish and I clean the dishes while Fred reads them a story. He walks out and sighs laughing. "Ginger just had a long ass argument about how an elephant not a giraffe was in Africa. She does not realize that she can't read." He tells me and I laugh. "She refuses to admit it. Yesterday she tried reading to Finn. Pride and Prejudice was a ballsy move." I explain and he laughs. "My girl would do that." He says. "Want to watch a movie?" He asks and I sigh. "Fred you need to head home soon." I tell him and he nods sighing. "I know... But can't two friends watch the thrilling and sexy adventure of- Aurora?" He says picking up a random tape.

I laugh and take the tape shaking my head. "I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea Fred." I tell him, poking his nose. "Then let's make it the correct idea." He boldly puts. I chuckle taking the blankets from the couch. "What do you mean Fred?" I ask and he moves to hold my arms lightly. "I want to be yours. And- And I want you to be mine." He states and I look at him shocked. "Don't do this Fred." I whisper and his smile falters for a second. "Do what?" He asks softly.

"Don't do this." I say circling my arms between us. "Fred I love you but based off of three years ago, you don't love me. And I finally found my peace with that. But please. Please do not say you love me when I know you don't. I love that you are such an amazing father that you would throw yourself into an unhappy relationship just for them. But I can't. I don't want fake. I want your real love. And I won't allow myself to accept the man I love to say he loves me when he doesn't." I rant and he pulls me closer. "That's not why I'm saying that. Please." He whispers the last part, placing his forehead against mine. "Fred. I'm not going to be a burden again. That's why I couldn't tell you about those two amazing kids in there. I'm not using them as a way to have you again." I say and he looks at me with hurt eyes. "At least allow me a movie. Just a movie. I don't care if you say I don't love you when I do. But I just want to hold you again." He whispers and I sigh. "A movie."

I sit down on the couch and he slides next to me. "I do love you, more than the world." He whispers and I feel my eyes sting from tears trying to leave. I hear Ginger cry and I get up instinctively. "She's been having bad dreams lately." I tell him wrapping my jacket around myself. "Sit down. I got her." He tells me and I nod sighing.

I hear the baby monitor register him entering their room and I grab it to see what's going on.

"Daddy!" She sobs clutching to her fathers shirt. "Hey little one. What's wrong?" He asks calmly, wiping her face. "I had a bad dream. I got up and Finn was gone and mummy and you. Then there was a dragon and it chased me!" She sobs and he holds her close nodding. "Look baby. There's Finn. And mummy is right in the living room." He assures her. "But every time I wake up you aren't here anymore. You always leave. Why can't you stay? Mummy makes pancakes every Wednesday and she tells us they used to be your favorite. And- And why don't you stay?" She cries into his shirt, breaking his heart. "I'm so so sorry baby. I would stay. I would. But I can't right now. But I promise I will be one day." He tries. "Why don't you and mummy have rings?" She suddenly asks and he looks at her confused. "What do you mean baby?" He asks and she digs her face into his shirt more. "Sophie's mummy and daddy have rings. And they always hug. Why do you and mummy not do that?" She asks and he smiles at her softly. "Because mummy and daddy are a little different than Sophie's." He tells her and she pouts. "Don't you love mummy?" She asks and he sighs. "I do baby. Very much. But some things are harder than others. But I promise. I will always be here for you. And I am so sorry for all that lost time but I promise, I will make it up to you." He whispers. They stay there quietly hugging until Ginger finally drops her head, quietly sleeping. He smiles laying her on the bed assigned to her and tucks her in softly. "God I love you. More than the world." He whispers, almost exactly how he said to Y/n moments before, with the same look in his eyes. Love.

I wipe my eyes hearing him walk out. His eyes are puffy but he shows no sign of sadness on his face. "Fred?" I whisper and he looks over smiling. "Yes?" He asks and I sigh. "Make me a promise." I tell him and he nods confused. "If I do this. You have to promise me. Do you actually love me or do you just love our children?" I ask and he laughs. "I love you all. Y/n you are the love of my life. Why are you asking this?" He asks and I finally kiss him. He perks up in surprise but he slowly melts into it. "God I love you so much." He whisper in between the kiss. Finally we break away chuckling as he smiles at me. "Want to watch our movie now? I was told there are some sexy adventures in Sleeping Beauty." I ask and he chuckles sitting down on the couch. "I also wanted to say, I might have promised a ring in the future." He suddenly says and I laugh holding up the baby monitor. "Shit I forgot we had that." He laughs and I kiss hiss jaw lightly. "Guess I caught you." I whisper and he laughs.

***

I wake up in my bed thinking last night was a far-fetched dream and smell smoke. "Fuck he is too much like his father." I whisper to myself. I run out and the twins are no where to be seen. I see Fred and he is throwing toast in the trash sadly. "Watcha doing?" I ask and he looks up sighing. "Trying to make breakfast..." He groans sitting down. I walk over and rubs his shoulders as he hums lightly. "Its Wednesday you blessing of a man." I whisper and he chuckles nodding. He turns, puckering his lips and I kiss him quickly. "Get the two arsonists awake please." I say as I grab a pan. He groans moving closer to me. "Why ruin the fun so early?" He asks, his hands sliding around my waist. He kisses my neck as I lean my head away slightly. "Mmm... As much as I would love to, the muffling spell is going to drop at any given moment and Finn is a light sleeper. The boy will tell Ginger we didn't wake them up and they will plot." I explain and he laughs at the thought.

"DADDY!" I hear Ginger yell and Finn runs out to find me. "DADDY'S HERE!" He tells me and I gasp. "He is?! Does that mean we should make french toast?!" I ask and Finn tugs my pyjama bottoms. "NOOO WE NEED TO MAKE PANCAKES!!!!" He whines and I laugh nodding. "FINN! CMONNNN" Ginger yells as she pulls Fred behind her. "COMING! WE'RE WATCHING TV WITH DADDY!" He tells me and I smile. "Go on then!" I tell him.

I finish making pancakes and we all eat together. Fred gets up and Ginger grabs him. "What baby?" He asks and she shoves her face into his leg. "You're leaving aren't you?" Finn asks and he smiles at Ginger, picking her up. "Just to the bathroom. Me and mummy thought you two would like a daddy day. I'm staying here for the whole day." He says winking at me. They all cheer and he moves over to kiss the top of my head and walking to the bathroom. "Mummy..." Ginger whispers. "Yes?" I ask in the same hushed tone. "Daddy kissed you." She tells me and I nod. "Yes he did." I whisper and she giggles happily.

***

I wake up to feel Fred moving around. "What are you doing?" I ask sleepily and he kisses my head. "Finn peed his bed, I got it though." He whispers and lays down next to me. "Does he need a bath?" I ask and he laughs. "Covered." He tells me and I smile nuzzling into his arm. "My hero." I mumble and he chuckles. I start to feel woozy and I rush out of bed. "Darling?" He yells behind me. I throw up into the toilet as I feel my body shake. He rushes in and grabs my hair into a ponytail. "Darling! Oh my god this is why you don't let me make meals." He tells me and I laugh weakly.

"I feel like now is a brilliant time to tell you. I might be pregnant." I tell him smiling. "Surprise..." I whisper doing weak jazz hands.

#fred weasley #canon #george weasley #fred and goerge weasley #fred and george #hermione granger #ron weasley #Fears #hogwarts #gryffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #slytherin #smut x reader #fred weasley x reader

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

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Book Club - 90s!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie books a gig at a suburban mom’s book club and Luke takes full advantage of the situation to flirt with you.

A/N: I’m literally writing two other Luke fics right now 😭😭

Julie and the Phantoms Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The third Thursday of every month belonged to your mother. It was her day, when she demanded not to be bothered, when she spent hours out of the house socializing with the women’s group that she belonged to. And, out of all those Thursdays, there were always the very special few when it wasn’t her leaving the house but everyone else. The group rotated their meeting time, everyone for a blue moon meeting at your house, meaning, of course that you were expected to stay out. Staying out was not a difficult thing to do, in fact you relished the opportunity to spend a few more hours with your friends. 

It was one of those Thursdays, when all the ladies that your mother loved to lunch with were spending the afternoon at your house and you were making yourself scarce, that arguably the weirdest but maybe best thing happened. Your mom had told you before you left for school that morning that she expected you to stay out, and you would have, if you had remembered your wallet. But you’d left it in your room, on the edge of the vanity, and you didn’t want to be the one owing money when your friends went to lunch. A quick stop home should’ve been easy, the stairs were right off the kitchen and the side door was right there, giving you the opportunity to shoot upstairs and grab your wallet without her being the wiser to it. 

The whole thing would’ve gone off without a hitch except that when you walked through the side door and into the kitchen you came face to face with four boys from your school. You recognized them more for the fact that you didn’t hang out in the same circle; most of your friends held a certain level of contempt for the four guys that made up Sunset Curve. You didn’t necessarily dislike any of them, you didn’t necessarily even know them, though you would be lying if you said that the lead singer, who occasionally sat in front of you in math, was seriously making you rethink a deep dive into all this rock music. Luke, Reggie, Alex, and Bobby were standing in your kitchen. They were the Green Day/Nirvana worshipping, head banging rockers that ditched school regularly and got into worlds of trouble and they were standing in your kitchen.

Bobby was the only one who looked up from snacking on leftover hors d’oeurves, saying your name in surprise as the other three all stopped to look at you too. Alex gave an awkward little wave as he set down the small sandwich he was eating.

“Uh...what are you guys doing in my house,” you asked, looking between the four of them.

“Your mom tapped us to perform for her ladies club.” Luke explained, dropping his food on the plate and wiping his hands against his black pants.

Your mom had invited these four to sing for her conservative ladies’ group? You tried not to but you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face when you thought about it. Whatever your friends said about the guys, you weren’t ashamed to say you had taken one of the free demos that Reggie handed out and had been listening to it on repeat for a while now. “My mom wanted you guys to play a gig for her and her friends?” You clarified.

“Until we started playing,” Reggie replied, and you couldn’t help laughing.

“I bet...you guys aren’t exactly...suburban mom rock.” You joked, “though I totally would’ve loved to see their faces when you guys started singing.”

The grin on Luke’s face was unmistakable though you missed it as you nabbed one of the sandwiches on the plate near Alex. It was probably some really stupid cliche, him liking one of the popular girls. Cute, cheerleader, future prom queen. You hung out with people who listened to Britney Spears and Spice Girls, any knowledge of the rock scene they might’ve actually had was only for the sake of making dumb jabs at him or his friends. Still, Luke had a massive crush on you and he wasn’t so embarrassed to admit it. Bobby joked that he wanted to “bring you over to the dark side” and maybe that sounded cynical but he thought he wouldn’t mind seeing you look a little less perfectly put together if it had something to do with him. Hearing you mention his music almost had him doing a back flip from excitement.

“So you’ve listened to our music?” Luke asked, moving closer to you, leaning on the counter beside you. Behind him, Alex rolled his eyes.

“Reggie gave out demos like...last month.” You shrugged, trying to play it off. You’d been excited to listen to their music, see if it was any good and had discovered that you actually loved it. They were talented guys and you felt surprisingly connected to the songs. “I might’ve listened.”

“I did!” Reggie piped up, “I gave demos to all the-” he stopped, mouthing instead, as if you wouldn’t understand him when he said ‘all the cute girls’.

“I hate to ask but...don’t you think like, actual clubs would be better places to promote your music? I don’t think the middle-aged moms are really a target audience, unless you’re into that kind of thing?” You said, peering down the hallway when you heard the familiar squeak of a floorboard. If the boys were still here than there was no doubt in your mind that your mom had told them to stay for some reason or another.

“You gotta start somewhere.” Luke replied, unfazed by the hint of judgement in your voice.

“My living room?” You asked, jokingly.

He smiled, “actually, we’re playing a club on the strip tomorrow night, we could, maybe, get you on the guest list?”

“We’re opening for someone else,” Bobby cut in, bringing Luke back down to reality, “I’m pretty sure no one’s ever even heard of the band we’re opening for.”

Luke glared at Bobby, sticking his finger in his mouth and then jabbing it into Bobby’s ear, a smile of success immediately lighting up his features when Bobby recoiled in disgust. “So what’d ya say?” Luke asked.

“I mean, I guess technically every band deserves girls screaming for them, so sure…I’ll go.” You agreed, eyes on Luke the entire time.

The last concert you had been to wasn’t even for you, your mom had dragged you to a Beach Boys concert up in San Francisco for her birthday weekend when your father refused to indulge her so-called ‘terrible taste in music’. “There are just some things we will never agree on and music is one of them.” He had insisted back then. It was the same thing you felt like telling your friends when you declined a party invitation in favor of heading down to the strip to see the guys play. You could’ve maybe played it off casually, as if you were heading down there anyway and Sunset Curve just happened to be opening but Bobby was right, you’d never heard of the band that was performing after them.

Not to mention Luke decided to show up for a least a quarter of the day just to mess with your head. You had spotted him in the hallway between classes and smiled when he looked your way, a split second before the sea of students scrambled to get to their lockers. Your own best friends appeared by yours, looking more and more like carbon copies of the Heathers every day. You kind of hated them, truth be told, but you didn’t have too many other options.

They were badgering you about the party as you tried to wrack your brain for an excuse that sounded convincing when Luke stopped, right in front of the three of you.

“Hey, I’ll see ya tonight?” He asked, whole body turned to face you and completely ignoring the looks of disdain and shock cloaking your friends faces.

You felt like a deer in headlights. Say yes and your friends would probably ostracise you, say no and you could just imagine the look on Luke’s face. Anything but this absolutely sincere and hopeful smile was something you didn’t want to be responsible for. You really liked him looking at you like that.

“Yeah, can’t wait.” You nodded.

When he stepped back out into the traffic of the hallway he touched your waist, as if he was anchoring himself for a second and you bit your lip, letting yourself watch him disappear before turning to face the firing squad.

“Luke Patterson?” Both of your friends spoke in unison, one breaking off to elaborate, “you’re ditching a party at Max Turner’s house for Luke Patterson?”

“His band is playing at some club on the strip.” You replied, shutting your locker and heading toward your next class. “They invited me to come watch the show.”

“And you’re going?”

You hadn’t been to anything smaller than a stadium concert before and the implication of a concert at a local club venue, right on the strip with all the ‘riffraff’ that were hanging around trying to make it big like their 80’s punk rock idols wasn’t exactly your scene but, Luke had looked so cute asking you to go and you had the tiniest, maybe delusional, feeling that he’d come to school just to remind you that tonight was the concert. How could could even consider some suburban house party to that?

“Yeah, why not,” you shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing, you could see your social status flashing before your eyes and your mom’s voice desperately begging you to reconsider. “Besides, Luke’s hot.”

“Did you have some kind of Freaky Friday switch when you woke up this morning? Luke is not hot.”

“Okay,” you drew the word as if disbelieving. He wasn’t some 90210 reincarnate but he was definitely one of the hottest guys in school, not to mention the sleeveless shirts were an added bonus. “Well, I said I was going, so I’m going.”

And, despite the continued protests of your friends throughout the day, you did go. You promised your parents you were spending Friday night studying at Terri’s house and took the bus down to the strip to wait in line for Sunset Curve and whoever was headlining. You stood there twirling your fake ID in your hands, listening to the two girls in front of you (who didn’t need fakes) talk about some drummer that wasn’t anyone you’d ever heard of and tried to look as mature as possible. If Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby could play this venue, surely you could get into it.

Whether the ID worked or the bouncer at the front door just didn’t care, he let you through, admitting you into a pulsing crowd of people making their way through the small vestibule and into the venue. You slipped your way through the crowd until you made it to the front, pressed against the railing and inches away from another bouncer who seemed just as disinterested in you. The drumkit that was already on the stage had the Sunset Curve logo on it. You ran a hand through your hair and fixed your shirt, maybe it was silly but you were sort of hoping that even in the silhouetted lighting of the venue you Luke might see you. Maybe a little pathetic groupie on your end but he had invited you.

And he did see you. Halfway through Now or Never when he looked down over the crowd, he caught you, dancing along to their music, the smile on your face as you mouthed the words was infectious. It was the combination of seeing someone singing all the songs back to them and that person being you, mixed with the adrenaline of the performance, that had him pushing to give his absolute all. You’d actually come and he was determined to make this a great concert for you.

Alex was the one to announce that they would be in the vestibule during the lull between bands, they got the occasional straggler who dared to leave their post long enough to say hello or great job but usually it garnered nothing more than the four of them splitting some pizza and relaxing by their merch table. Tonight, as they headed off stage to an enthusiastic crowd, Luke chanced a glance back but he couldn’t find you in the sea of people. Reggie grabbed his arm, pulling him the rest of the way off the stage and throwing an arm around his shoulder, going on about how awesome the show was, Luke quickly returning the jovial compliment.

“We were fire, man, that sounded so rad tonight!” He cheered, following Alex and Bobby as they made their way through the small hall that wove back into the vestibule.

“It was insane!” Reggie agreed.

You had made your way back through the venue after Luke mentioned being at the merch table, slipping back passed the bouncer at the inside door, flashing your stamped hand. Their table was set up in the corner, a little way away from the headlining band’s. You stepped into the vestibule at the same time as the boys, waving at Alex when he looked your way. He nodded, reaching over to tap Luke’s chest with the back of his hand.

“That was incredible.” You admitted, walking over to their table. Luke’s smile instantly widened as he walked around to your side, not even thinking as he hugged you, your shoulders hunching at the feeling of sweat that encompassed you. “Ew.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Luke apologized, pulling away and putting his hands on your upper arms for a second before dropping them to his sides. “Still going off the adrenaline.”

“That’s okay,” you promised, “you’re cute enough to get away with it.”

“Yeah?” He leaned against the table, trying to look cool. He felt like he was grasping for words and he didn’t want to start stuttering or sounding dumb, Bobby would never let him live it down if he made a fuck up of himself. The other three tried not to laugh and ruin his moment.

You seemed to recover from the moment first, glancing at the other three before landing on Luke again. “You guys are totally a live band though...like that was so good.”

Reggie came in with a save, letting Luke off the hook for a moment, “Are you heading back in to see the headliner?”

You grimaced, “don’t really know them...not really interested.” You replied, keeping your eyes on Luke, hoping that was hint enough that you’d come just to see him.

It clearly was because, as a few girls stepped into the vestibule and looked like they were coming your way, Luke grabbed your arm, nodding toward the doorway for you to follow him. You did, walking with him into the hallway so that it was quieter, the sounds of the house music and the chatter of people outside being drowned out in the small corridor.

“So, uh, sorry I’m still wigging out that you came.” He admitted.

“I said I was going to, twice. Did you seriously think I was lying?” You asked.

“I mean, I heard your friends giving you a hard time when I walked away, figured you might back out.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, seriously Luke, you guys are amazing. You’re so talented.” You replied.

“Guess I was right when I told Reggie to take that book club gig huh?” He said, fiddling with the rabbit’s foot on his keychain.

“Why’s that?”

“I thought maybe if I was lucky, I’d catch a glimpse of you...having you come here and watch us though? Better than I could’ve imagined.” He replied, grinning at you.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, don’t act so surprised.” He said, “you gotta know how insanely cool you are. And you look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you bit your bottom lip to try and keep your composure, “I uh...damn, you’re making me super nervous.”

“Yeah?” He stepped a little closer to you, his hands brushing against yours as if he was going to hold them. You couldn’t help wishing he would.

“I should probably let you get back to your fans,” you pointed out, glancing back out the door to where a few more people had gathered. If you stayed in this hallway with him any longer there was no way you were letting him back out.

“Hang out? We could grab some pizza or something after?” He asked.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

When he walked back through the door you followed behind him, hanging back so you weren’t hovering around them as they chatted with and signed stuff for the group of people that had ventured out between sets. It didn’t matter though, as he talked, he kept looking back at you smiling as if you were both in on some sort of secret.

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson x you #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfic #luke patterson fanfiction #luke patterson fic #julie and the phantoms fic #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfictions #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #jatp fic #jatp imagine #collecting stories imagine

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years ago

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strike

part 3 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2k

warnings: extremely mild mentions of sex, unwanted advances that don’t get far (not by Frankie)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball au - trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, we learn that a ‘strike’ is when a batter misses the ball when he swings, even though he shouldn’t have. And some strikes don’t just happen during baseball.

“Jimbo, I'm here!” You called as you kicked the door closed behind you, arms heavy with grocery bags. Your grandfather would be in the living room, no doubt impatiently waiting for you to unload so you could watch the baseball game together. It was a few states away, which meant the two of you could enjoy evening on the couch with affordable snacks and air conditioning. Games in person were more exciting, but climbing all those stairs wasn’t great for his knees, and it was nice to chat with him without the roar of the crowds.

There was a faint squeak to his favorite rocker, and you unloaded half the bags onto the coffee table – his favorite treats – before tossing the rest haphazardly into their places in his little kitchen. You raced the commercials, listening to the final advertisements with one ear as you hurried to get yourself settled, even though he was always happy to chat with you during the game. For these times with him, you hated to miss even a moment. The chair to the left of his was yours, newer and softer and it would have been the perfect evening, eating and catching up with your favorite man.

Except this was the first real opportunity for him to grill you about your unexpected lunch with his heroes.

There had been laughter in his voice when you had tried to call him afterwards, and he had told you he would wait to hear the story. To him, even over the phone you couldn’t hide how flustered you were, just moments after Francesco’s eyes had been in yours. All things considered, he had been more than patient, so as you fidgeted and you kept your eyes on the screen, you told him what had happened as casually as you could.

It was the top of the first inning – the very beginning of the game, and his boys were mostly crowded into the dugout. Their fingers were grabbing fistfuls of sunflower seeds or pulling on batting gloves or hanging on the wire, watching as Will walked up to bat. There was a fun country song playing, and it was surreal, thinking it had just been a few days since he had tossed a chunk of fried food into the air and his brother had caught it in his mouth. James thoroughly enjoyed you story, laughing and for once not lecturing you about leaving them alone to live their lives. He seemed approving, proud of you for taking a change, and proud that the boys from his favorite team did his favorite granddaughter well. You answered this questions and indulged his excitement over the little things, trying not to reveal too much of your own daydream fodder. Thinking of Francisco’s eyes as he laughed at the Miller boys, you grabbed a pillow to give your hands something to hold onto, to ground yourself.

The camera panned over to Tom adjusting his cap and without thinking you winced. When you realized that James had caught the movement, you winced again.

You had to explain, then, the biggest detail that you had glossed over – the only one that would disappoint your grandfather. The outfielder had looked at you with confidence and hunger in his eyes. His fingers on your hand left cool, invisible lines, slimy like residue of the stadium cup holders.

James listened with sad eyes, before he was reaching over, gently squeezing your hand, and asking about Will’s family in town to find out if he knew a relative. It was kindness - changing the topic, rewarming the memory as he coaxed out more details of their interactions with you and each other, making you blush and laugh and smile.

The discomfort that had been lodged in your heart regarding the athlete lessened as you remembered that they were all human. It had been clear the other players respected him, maybe even looked up to him, and that had to be good for something. Even though it had just been a lunch, a single moment in time, the assessments of a group of open hearted baseball players already held weight on your opinion.

As you began to tell James about a joke Santiagio had told, you noticed that Tom’s turn had come and gone, and he had struck out.

Every professional sports group had a second team, full of people who pushed papers and cleaned locker rooms and handled press conferences. One of these people was a woman who was in charge of sorting through and organizing special fan appearances.

Flipping through applications and mail, she would have hardly noticed the broad shoulders and hazel eyes of the man who entered, had he not kissed her breathless the night before.

For all they were on and off and she knew he was a player in all senses of the word, she couldn’t help but stand, and let his hands find her hips as he pressed into her.

“Hi, Tom,” she whispered, already dazed and adoring as his beard scraped at her neck, warm and insistent.

“Hey, babe,” he returned, absentmindedly, squeezing her hips before pulling away. There was something about his eyes, the way he held his head, like his shoulders were comfortable bearing the weight of others, like he’d prefer it that way, that made him seem like a natural born leader.

She knew him better. He had the crowds and the rookies and the managers and even his brothers on the team wrapped around his fingers - the perfect mentorship allusion, but she knew. There was another side to him, a darker side, filled to the brim with pride and arrogance and power. Of all the men who flashed smiles as they shook hands and carried kids on their shoulders for photos – he was the one who preened the most. There was a hunger in his eyes, even greater than when he’d love her, when a chance came for him to do an extra interview, put some senior input in, or take a newbie to his first after party.

Still, she loved him. Too much, maybe, but her mind whispered not enough, and she hungrily took what ever he would give her. There were always flowers and jewelry and coveted high-status sex in his apologies, anyway, and she knew he’d always come back to her, eventually. She knew better than to guess.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, star stuck in spite of it all, but knowing there must be something. His “cousin” had stocks in the team, or a certain string needed to be pulled. There was always something.

When he asked for the number of a girl from a few weeks ago, there was an all-too-familiar twist in her gut.

“Tom, you know that information is confidential,” she whined, masking her fear, turning back towards her desk. It was infuriating how disarming, intoxicating, and how solid he felt behind her, how smooth his words felt on the shell of her ear.

“It’s for Benny, babe, he’s got it bad for her,” it was a lie, but she didn’t know it, and the knot in her stomach loosened a little. His hand slipped under her blouse and it came undone, submitting entirely to the façade.

“Let me help the little guy out.” For all his charisma, she wanted desperately to believe he was sincere, so she did. Her hands started steady as she opened a thick binder and began flipping through the glossy dividers. She moved as slow as she could, hopelessly savoring his touch, knowing when it was gone, the unpleasant feelings would be just as strong.

But it didn’t take long to find you number and hand it over, and exchange more heated kisses and half promises before he slipped out.

The woman settled in her chair again, fingers tracing the letters of your name, the knot reforming below her breastbone. She reached for her phone, telling herself it was a courtesy, to give you a heads up.

When a player was about to steal second base, you always wondered if Santiago Garcia could tell, without even looking. If he could feel it in his bones, or if the hairs on the back his neck rose, against his sweat.

If he could, that was exactly how you would feel now, walking into the bar to see only Tom Davis waiting for you. The building was dim, strategically chosen by Will, allegedly, so they could drink in peace. As before however, there was no hiding the silhouette of a man like him, not when he was oozing confidence like sap from a tree.

When he had called you, it had been so shocking you had agreed without thinking. It was surreal, but like following a trail of candy through a forest, not at all like the knights in shining armor of before.

He swung his arm around, cocky smile across his face, and you shook his hand.

There could not have been a more awkward boundary made, but he laughed it off as you considered turning tail and running. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help how guarded you felt alone with him, so you turned to the polished woof of the bar and ordered a lemonade. It would buy you time, anyway, to reassess.

You had always thought of baseball players as beer guys, but he had a short glass of something gold and expensive, as if he were trying to prove a point. Slipping onto the stool next to him, you set your bag in between you like a wall. He was broad and he pulled close, making you almost press against his side, giving you the opportunity to realize his skin almost cold. Slow sips reminded you that there was no basis for your feelings, and you were the one being strange.

It wasn’t bad, talking to him. You chided yourself internally, thinking you made unfair assumptions. Really, he was a nice guy. He talked highly of his friends, even defending their lateness, taking the blame for the mix-up. It felt like one of those interviews your grandfather would watch sometimes, the way he could go on about himself and somehow tell you nothing at all. Fighting your instincts to give short, guarded answers, you found yourself sharing about your life more than you expected. Not a lot, but not nothing either.

It was awkward and nice, not unlike a first date and when his large hand covered yours, it didn’t feel half as slimy as before.

A spider’s web was feather-light, so subtle it was almost impossible to feel until it was too late.

His eyes were sharp and deep and certain as he shifted closer, and you felt dazed, despite all the alcohol you hadn’t consumed.

When he leaned in, though, a thought struck you. With his deep hazel eyes, the perfect beard, and tanned skin, he looked like a prince. Not our prince, though, it was just someone else’s fairytale.

Clarity and your own confidence warmed you like a jacket one rainy day, and you touched Tom’s cheek, holding his face at enough of a distance. You shed the web before it stuck and something flickered in his eyes – doubt, maybe, or something like fear, as you spoke the most prominent thought on your mind.

“What about Molly?”

When he heard you, again speaking words that weren't meant for his ears, warm pride shot through his chest.

That’s my girl.

Of course you weren’t, but it felt like you were.

You turned to him like you knew he was there, hand leaving Tom’s stunned face to wave at the grinning catcher.

Frankie had been at war with himself across the bar as he looked towards the two of you, heart wrenching. He had seen from the far side the room first how close you were to the other man. It was unreasonably terrifying to see that you weren't immune, to see you consider his friend. Then he saw how non responsive you’d become to Redfly, how politely you regarded him as he lathered on the charm. By the time he reached the two of you, he found you fully awake, handling it yourself.

When the woman had called you, her voice had betrayed something. It was formal conversation, just admitting she had shared your contact information, and disclosing that it was Tom, and he’d made it clear you guys were friends. Her tone, however, told you she was territorial and jealous, but also desperate, longing. It felt right to get out of the way – that’s what you and she wanted and you sort of thought that’s actually what he wanted, too. He was moving away from you, still processing, trying to play off the moment, and even more than pity, you felt a touch sad for them.

Still, you were impressed you were able to manage yourself. It was the same confidence that had filled you when you stood up for James, a confidence that came from a feeling that whispered something good was coming, something well worth the boldness.

When you felt a warm presence at your side, you felt even more sure. It felt wonderful, the way Francisco was looking at you. It was too early to read into it, but you were sure you wanted him to look at you like that again - like you were capable of telling mountains to move.

You smiled up at him, relieved, and he couldn’t help but beam back, wanting to hug you. He wasn’t feeling quite brave enough yet, but there was a resolve settling in his heart. There was no way he was going to leave your side tonight.

The other guys came quickly. Each of them was excited to see you again, and you pretended not to notice them shooting confused glances at Redfly when he slipped outside to spit on the ground and stare at the sky.

It didn’t take long for him to rejoin you, anyway, and his shoulders seemed lighter, his eyes just a little more thoughtful.

The group as a whole accepted you into their fold like they needed you, like each one of them had missed you when you were gone, like you missed them, like you belonged there from the start.

You had no idea how long the daydream would last, but in that moment it didn’t feel like it mattered at all. Collecting stories for James even faded as a priority as you just enjoyed the feeling of the glass in your hands, the laughter in the air, and teasing the men like they were just boys. Even after the last half hour, it was easy to trust Will’s sincere tone, and Ben’s eager blue eyes. The others were grounded at your side, steady and comforting - you felt yourself open like a flower to the sun.

There was something about the shape of the catcher at your side, safe and warm, like his presence was reaching for yours, aching with yours. Through the stories and the jokes you relished it, and his eyes made it clear that you weren’t alone. And even though the universe made it abundantly clear that you had no idea what would happen next, you didn’t feel any need to hurry. Fate seemed to know what she was doing.

In the darkness of the bar, only Santiago’s eyes saw Frankie’s hand find the small of your back.

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#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #baseball au #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

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sunjaesol · 4 years ago

Text

my sweet romantic teenage nights

juke | high school + diner au | title: scenes from an italian restaurant // billy joel

Magenta’s Palace was an artefact from the glorious American Dream; a fluorescent gem wrapped in that 60s architecture and old-fashioned uniforms. It was also the hang-out spot of most LF Arts students, right in the heart of Los Feliz and on most kids’ path.

Luke used to roll his eyes at the place, thinking it was corny and certainly not the place a punk-rocker like him would go… until he tasted their gnarly waffles. And burgers. And milkshakes. His love for good food trumped his desire for street cred and ended up like the rest of his peers: a regular at MP.

Alex and Reggie never had qualms with it. The former was rather happy Luke got over himself and Reggie was simply pleased to spend more time with his friends. It became tradition to eat there every Friday after school. Sometimes they stayed until the early hours of the night talking, sometimes it was to fuel up before a gig.

Settling in their booth (theirs - Luke has made sure to carve the underside of the table with their names), Luke sighed contently. “Boys, this gig is gonna be fire.”

“I still don’t know how you convinced the guys at Raven’s Nest,” Alex mused, glancing around for a waitress in a candycane-coloured uniform.

Reggie nodded gravely. “Yeah, they’re scary.”

“Used my charm,” he smirked. “Dialled it up like I always do.”

The blonde snorted. “Sure.”

Luke’s face crashed. “Fine. I used our fake’s when he didn’t believe we were eighteen.”

His friends grinned, Alex snapping his fingers. “There it is.”

The chipper Nora glided towards them, slaloming between tables with her notebook. Alex’ remark didn’t bother him, crossing his arms with a shrug. “Does it matter? I got us in. They’re gonna love us. Nay! They’re gonna eat this set up!”

“You better be right - hi, Nora - cause it’s a bar for bikers. Real ass bikers,” Alex replied, shooting Nora a smile.

“Hello, boys,” she greeted, her signature red hair tied in a messy bun. Reg used to have a crush on her when they first visited, until they realised she was twenty-three and in a committed relationship with a guy from USC studying medicine. Yeah, he had no shot. Luke had to console him by buying five chocolate shakes and blasting Elvis Presley in the car.

Despite this, Reggie still had a soft spot for her, smiling kindly at the waitress. “Our usual, please.”

The notebook got tucked in her apron with a bright nod. “Coming right up!”

As Nora swiftly returned behind the glossy bartop, parlaying the order to the kitchen, the entrance opened. The bell above chimed, three girls appearing beneath it.

Oh, shit.

When Luke enrolled into LF Arts as a green fourteen year old, he had planned to only focus on music and nothing else. He’d blaze through his classes and become the best in music and then, with his obsessive nature at a peak, would launch the band into the next stratosphere. That was the plan. Music, music, music. (And food from Magenta’s.)

Fourteen year old Luke wasn’t aware girls like Julie Molina existed though. That changed on the first day. She came to the front of the class, blew everyone away with a Taylor Swift cover and shot a toothy smile when she finished - like it was nothing. Like she didn’t have the voice of the century. (Like she wouldn’t mess with Luke’s plans of becoming the best, damn it!) Though his initial reaction was envy, he quickly realised it was rather a disgruntled crush than actual dismay.

She was cute. Still cute. After every summer break, he expected her to be less pretty so that his nerves could calm down for once. Nope. Julie Molina was pretty as hell.

He has never seen her here on Friday’s. Why now? Why now when they were mentally preparing themselves for a gig that could get them their asses kicked if they didn’t perform well? Luke needed to focus! Not think about where she’d sit and what she’d talk about and what she was going to eat.

His eyes tracked as Julie, Flynn and Kayla were in busy conversation, barely aware of their surroundings. Her head rolled back in a laugh at something Flynn said, eyes shut in glee. Luke flushed red, averting his gaze to the scratched up table. His friends were snickering, Alex muttering a ‘Jesus…’ under his breath.

Luke snapped his arm. “Stop being a dick.”

“Why don’t you just ask her out?”, Reggie pondered, absentmindedly making origami with the thin napkins.

“I think he needs to talk to her first to do that,” Alex teased before Luke could respond, earning another glare.

It wasn’t like he and Julie never spoke. They were seniors, they had multiple classes together and spent many hours cooped in the same music classroom. He was even part of her group project in junior year! They’ve talked! But it never lead to anything, his lingering stares falling for her oblivious profile, her never once looking back at him.

The connection Luke always craved hasn’t been there, though he always felt like they could have that. Musical spirits were alike, right? At least his crush wasn’t as hopeless as Reggie’s on Nora.

The girls chose a booth right next to theirs, Julie in his direct line of sight. Alex was buzzing in his seat from stifled laughter, visibly trying to not turn his head and address them. The guitarist felt like dying, not even the steaming plates of burgers set in front of them enough to lift his mood.

Luke leaned forward, voice a hiss. “I can talk to her. I just… haven’t felt the need to.”

Reggie patted his shoulder sympathetically. “It’s okay, buddy. You don’t have to lie to us.”

Frustration began simmering his skin, the scowl deepening. He wasn’t lying! Maybe a little! He’s been waiting for the right time to approach her, say and do the right thing to sweep her off her feet like the fucking rockstar he was. Had he been preparing his lines since he was fourteen? Also maybe. They were being revised.

Alex often told him he shouldn’t put Julie on a pedestal. That she was just a girl. It made him wonder if he was the only one that first day of high school that felt it. That awestruck whooping in his chest from seeing her curls dance around her almond eyes and hear how each lyric was laced with a passionate smile. Even at fourteen was he aware of how special that was. Julie wasn’t just a girl. She was the coolest girl he’s ever met and he didn’t even know her that well. He couldn’t imagine actually becoming friends with her, uncovering all facets of her personality and not get overwhelmed by her Julie-ness.

Huh. His crush went deeper than he thought. Yikes.

At the end of the day, Luke could admit that he was simply a teenage boy nervous to talk to a girl. ‘Nervous’ was like a curse word to him though, that admission a secret he’d take with him to the grave.

“Eh,” Alex quipped, egging him on. “Luke’s a terrible liar. He doesn’t have to tell us for us to know it’s true.”

His hands slammed down on the table, words spouting from his lips. “Girls! Can we get your napkin dispenser?!”

Fucking fantastic, Luke.

All three perked up in surprise, Flynn twisting in her booth to curl her nose and tilt her head. “Why?”

“It’s empty,” he bluffed.

Kayla craned her neck and instantly caught Reggie’s handiwork scattered across the table. “No, it’s not.”

Julie sat next to her, blinking in confusion. “Why do you need our napkins?”

Her smooth voice directed right at him caused a thrill up his spine, a grin involuntarily tugging on his lips. “Cause Reggie needs them for his crafts.” Playing along, the bassist lifted a janky frog with a wink. “I’m very dedicated.”

She matched Luke’s smile, amused. It was the most interaction he has had with her in months, the utter euphoria of it all bursting at the seams. Propelled by her smile, he slid out the booth and into Alex’ side, throwing his arms over the seat right next to Flynn’s head. The girl remained deeply unimpressed by him, gaze flicking past his physique. Damn. If he ever wanted to get anywhere with Julie, he had to get in Flynn’s good grazes. Kayla seemed chill though.

“What’s with the frown, Felicity?”, he joked.

Kayla giggled at the mention of Flynn’s actual name, the girl in question rolling her eyes. “All I’m wondering is why you have to bother us about napkins, Lukas.”

“Flynn,” Julie shook her head with an exasperated grin, “maybe wait for your strawberry shake? I think you’re being hangry.”

Her friend loosened up, sinking back in her seat with a playful pout and mumbling a resigned ‘fine.’

Luke took that as his sign to continue. His gaze fell back on Julie, hoping he wouldn’t sound too eager. “You guys come here a lot? I haven’t seen you here on Friday’s.”

“Who’re you asking?”, Julie asked, looking between her and Kayla. Oh, man. Small talk really wasn’t his forte. He couldn’t charm himself out of this one with music jargon or fake IDs.

His smile turned stressed, flailing his hand around. “Uh, all of you.”

“Sure,” Flynn snorted.

Alex slapped a hand on his mouth at her retort, almost in pain of not laughing his ass off. The prize of ‘Worst Friends Ever’ went to Luke’s - for fuck’s sake, couldn’t the drummer at least try and help him out?!

“Just wanted to celebrate Kayla’s good mark on her new song,” Julie continued, wilfully ignoring the other’s behaviour. Slinging an arm around her friend, she shot her a bright smile. “Her bridge was amazing, right?”

All three boys nodded fervently as Kayla ducked her head bashfully, murmuring a ‘thank you’ and then relieved from all the attention when Nora walked up to them. Luke’s body didn’t twist to sit normally again, too invested in finally speaking to them, finally having that contact, that he didn’t even care if he seemed like a weirdo. Julie and him! Conversing!

“Speaking of music,” he casually uttered when Nora was off again. His signature smirk crawled on his lips. “We’re playing a gig tonight.”

This peaked Flynn’s interest. Perhaps the prospect of food made her more amicable. “Where?”

“Raven’s Nest,” Reggie proudly proclaimed.

Kayla frowned, worried. “Isn’t that the bar with all the bikes outside?”

“Thank you!”, Alex exclaimed with a sigh. “It’s insane!”

“It’s not,” Luke bit back. If Sunset Curve wanted to make it big, they had to play big! Gigs like these would get them on the stages they dreamed of. Soon, it was goodbye, Raven’s Nest and hello, The Orpheum! “Real Californians go there to hear real fucking music.”

To his surprise, Julie hummed in agreement. “My dad says it used to be where the subculture kids hung out before MP got cool.”

“Yes!” His grin was huge now, overflowing with joy. This was enough adrenaline to get him through three gigs at once! His finger pressed into the cracked leather. “Exactly! And we’re gonna slay it. You should come watch!”

The latter blurted out without wanting to, his eyes growing wide in panic as Reggie and Alex stilled in their seats and Flynn peered up at him with laser-focus. Shit. Was he telling on himself? Did she pierce through the charisma that this was just a poor attempt at flirting? God, he really should’ve prepared his speech for impulsive moments like these.

Luke still needed to endure some growing pains before he got good at flirting.

Julie chuckled, a hint of red appearing on her cheekbones. It enthralled him. Was she embarrassed or flattered? “Uh,” she bit her lip, “I don’t know if I can get in. Don’t you have to be eighteen?”

He raised his brow. “C’mon, you don’t have a fake?” At those words, Alex dropped his head on the table with a thud. Luke had enough of his own shit too. ‘Mortified’ didn’t even come close to how he felt about his blabbering mouth.

Levelling his challenged look, however, he realised he wasn’t lost quite yet. Julie’s eyes glittered with mischief. “I do, actually.”

Breath caught in his throat. Yup. Coolest fucking girl in the universe. Julie Molina had a killer voice and a fake ID and probably did a whole lot of other dope stuff he hadn’t found out yet.

“Julie,” Flynn but in. “It’s a biker bar.”

“Where our classmates are playing,” she argued. “I can always try.”

“You’ll die.”

“I think I’ll be fine. Like Luke said-” No. She could not say his name and expect him to keep his cool. His fingers gripped the conjoined couch tighter. “-everyone’s there for the music.”

A careful smile slowly grew on Kayla. “We can tell your dad you’re with us.”

Flynn gaped at her. “We-?! I- okay.” Lifting her hands in surrender, she added: “Fine, we’ll tell Ray you’re at the movies with us.”

Wait, was Julie turning down a movie night with her friends to see him play? Did that mean something? Has he been so focused on trying to find or create a ‘vibe’ that he forgot to actually look for signs of her own? Damn. Now he really couldn’t screw this set up. Sunset Curve was gonna play until their hands bled, hopefully impressing her just a little bit.

It was settled then. After both groups had eaten, Julie separated from hers and joined them on their trek to Raven’s Nest. She was mostly talking to Reggie behind Alex and Luke, animatedly recounting a story about Carlos nearly crashing his drone in her keyboard. Jitters began to tingle his skin, that building excitement right before a gig mixing with Julie’s presence. It felt like one of his dreams materialised out of thin air.

How many times has he dreamt about catching her eye in the crowd as he crooned love songs he never dared to write? Granted, those dreams were centered in a hazier setting, Raven’s Nest quite unromantic opposed to that, but he would take what he got.

(And after, they’d worm their way through the masses of people, meeting halfway, and she’d sling her arms around his neck and he’d pull her into a kiss and it’d be electric. She’d kiss like she sang. It was a recurring dream that left him in a good mood for hours.)

Without much hesitance, the bouncer let Julie in. Luke, unable to keep his giddiness at bay, squeezed her shoulder as a dazzling beam was glued to his cheeks. Julie got in! Julie was going to see him play!

Raven’s Nest was expectedly filled with bearded, burly men. It reeked of beer and strong liquor, raucous chatter spilling from ever corner. They all probably looked like babies in comparison to these dudes, but he supposed his unfaltering confidence made up for it. Luke would get his boys (and Julie) through this. The stage was already prepared for them, amps and mics set up, Alex’ drums waiting in Reggie’s van behind the establishment.

“I’ve seen you play before, you know,” Julie mumbled beside him.

His heart soared without trying, its rate going a mile a minute as his jaw fell slack. All his nerves intensified till a blush crept on his cheeks. “You- you have?”

Her curious eyes flitted from the people to him, sheepish. “Yeah. At Ecliptica. You guys were good.”

A clammy hand raked the ends of his hair. Holy fucking shit. “You sounded like you never heard us before.”

“I didn’t want to seem like a fangirl, or something.” A secretive smile formed on her lips as she leaned into his side. “You know how school is. Everyone trying to be the best, but then act super casual about it?” Her eyes sparked in the yellow lighting, too close for him to think straight. “I didn’t want it to inflate you guys’ egos.”

Luke sputtered out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re doing it right now, Julie.”

“Then you better kill it,” she teased, nodding at Alex and Reggie hauling the drums onstage from the back door. “I think that’s your cue.”

There were two things he thought of right as he ascended the stage.

One, Julie was fat better at this whole back and forth than he was.

Two, he had to direct at least one song to her from their thirty minute set. Just one. Just so that his feelings might come across. Where words ended, music bled from his soul instead.

And so, the band exploded into what they knew best: burning the fucking house down.

So we’re taking the long way home 'Cause I don’t wanna be wasting my time alone I wanna get lost and drive forever with you Talking 'bout nothing, yeah, whatever, baby So we’re taking the long way home tonight We're taking the long way home

The giggly teenagers ended back in the diner after the incredible gig, shouting from the adrenaline and jostling arms to get points across. Even Julie joined in, much to his delight, tucked between him and the wall as she had a heated debate with an excited Reggie - harmonies versus basslines. Lemonades filled in condensed glasses gave them sticky fingers, hers once pushing his chin away when he told a particularly dumb joke and leaving an imprint. Luke was on fucking cloud nine.

Taking the upper hand in the debate, Julie sang a bit of one of their songs (“Let's seize the day, let's run away, don't let the colours fade to grey!”) with all the tricks in the book, silencing Reggie just like that. Alex high fived Julie, the bassist admitting she won this time. Deeply relishing the sound of her singing voice, Luke barely caught what she was saying after.

“This time?”, she laughed. “There’s another time?”

“Why not?” Reggie wiggled his brows, unsubtle as hell when he shot Luke a wink. “Diner Friendship Memories Still To Be Made!”

Alex blinked. “What?”

Her eyes tracked past the boys, the smile turning more timid. It settled on Luke, the boy unable and unwilling to look away. He wanted this night to never end. Clasping her lemonade, she nodded firmly, as if signing Reggie’s silly Friendship Contract.

“Yeah… why not.”

Magenta’s Palace became Luke favourite place in the entire world. Every Friday, Julie joined the boys at their booth, sometimes Kayla and Flynn too. Huddled in those red leather seats with mountains of fries, they shared the first slivers of newfound friendship. Luke has always been very cautious about who he let in his circle (Sunset Curve against The World), but six people in a booth felt cosy rather than suffocating. Like it was always to be like this.

Reggie found an equally enthusiastic jazz lover in Kayla. Alex confided with Flynn that he followed her playlists on Spotify and was obsessed with her DJ skills.

Luke and Julie created their own bubble without trying to.

It was weird. Maybe Alex was right and Luke did put her on a pedestal for so long. Julie was genuinely chill and easy to talk to, probably turned off by him before cause he had been acting like a blubbering idiot. Simply being himself was, surprisingly, more than enough for her. It lit a fire inside of him. Snarky banter about music that challenged him to keep up, overt flirting from him that kept her blushing, sudden ideas about lyrics that threw either for a loop. He wouldn’t admit it at first, but she made him a better songwriter.

Who knew his best songs would be found on stained paper napkins?

One Friday night, long past midnight, the group stood outside as they bid each other a good weekend. Bathed in the pink glow of the LED lights, Luke felt it in his gut. He had to tell her. These past weeks his feelings had only grown tenfold, this incessant buzz rippling every atom of his body whenever she was close. Whenever she smiled, talked, sang. Stealing his beanie, eating his fries, sharing AirPods. Luke loved it all.

It was a lot more than a simple crush.

After Julie hugged Alex, Luke grabbed her into a tight hug. She instantly responded, wrapping her arms around his waist and burrowing herself in his red hoodie. His infatuated smile was hidden by her curls, so fucking happy he’d been impulsive enough to ask for a dispenser that day.

“Hey, Julie,” he whispered.

She looked up, eyes alight with an emotion that left his shivering. “Yeah?”

“Uh…” A smile trembled on his lips, unsure whether he wanted to drown in the pretty brown of her irises or continue talking. Now or never. “You wanna get breakfast tomorrow? With me?”

He didn’t have to live in the fear for long, a smile stretching across her cheeks as she shyly nodded. It was the first time he’d ever seen her this flustered, their hold on each other securing with quiet glee. Had he not been so mesmerised, the awestruck Luke would run a mile from the adrenaline rush.

“Yeah,” she grinned, nose scrunched. “Sounds fun.”

They found themselves in the same spot the next day, the taste of syrupy pancakes melting with his as he kissed her on the parking lot of Magenta’s Palace. Julie’s lips curled into a smile and Luke figured there was no better feeling in the world then that.

(Yeah, he could get used to this.)

Saturday’s mornings had never been sweeter.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @unsaid-emily @ourstarscollided

#juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better

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sdvvillagers · 4 years ago

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Fic - Marnie and Gil

Received a writing prompt in a Discord server I’m in that assigned me two random SDV characters to build a story around. How screwed did I feel when I got Marnie and Gil? 😂I ended up remembering that awhile back I’d answered an ask for Marnie and Marlon which can be found HERE and it inspired me to write a follow-up. The first part isn’t really required reading, but I figured I’d include it in case anyone wanted to check out the first part as well. I hope you enjoy some very unexpected Marnie and Gil interaction! It was very challenging but very fun to think outside the box for this one!

It was a long walk across town square and up the mountain to the lake but time somehow flew by in Marnie’s excitement. The day before had been the spring Flower Dance and for the first time in over a decade, Marnie actually enjoyed herself. Hopes of enjoying the Flower Dance had been dashed very early on by Mayor Lewis and when it seemed as though another lonely, miserable Flower Dance would pass, she was rescued by the most unexpected savior; Marlon. Marlon showed her kindness and empathy while Lewis had only shown her callousness and disdain. Though Marnie had always wanted a partner to dance with at the Flower Dance, it was actually okay to spend an afternoon with Marlon in a secluded corner of the forest clearing.

Time spent talking and laughing with Marlon seemed to fly by and before she knew it, the event was over. Marnie was actually quite disappointed when the festival had ended, Marlon wasn’t someone she often saw day to day in town. In fact, she only ever saw him at town festivals. As Marlon was leaving the forest to return to his secluded home in the mountains, Marnie made a bold move and asked if she could see him again sometime. Though he was very caught off guard by her request, it brought a warm smile to his heavily scarred face and the eye that was visible had crinkles in the corner from his happiness. Marlon invited her to visit him in the mountains the very next day and Marnie was eager to see him once more after they had spent such a lovely afternoon together. She had been hurt too many times to allow herself to feel too hopeful, but even she couldn’t subdue the small glimmer of hope she felt deep down that Marlon could be someone in her life that would treat her right and appreciate her. It was sad that these were how low her standards had fallen over the years.

Marnie stopped outside of the cabin when she arrived, taking a moment to lean against a tree to catch her breath. It was a trek across town that took over an hour and Marnie certainly didn’t want to appear winded and short of breath when she entered. It was no wonder Marlon very rarely came into town, the walk up and down the mountain was difficult enough one time let alone multiple times a week. By the time Marnie finally caught her breath, she took an extra few seconds to flatten her hair and straighten her dress before knocking on the door to the cabin. From the other side of the door she heard a gruff response of “come in” that didn’t quite sound like Marlon, but the door was so thick that his voice was coming across distorted.

When Marnie stepped into the doorway of the small cabin, her eyes scanned the room. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that she’d never been inside of the mysterious Adventurer’s Guild in the mountains. It was never often she found herself in the mountains anyway and the few times she made the trek there, she only went as far as Robin’s cabin. Inside was a small, rustic room that matched well with the exterior of the building. Marnie’s eyes traveled to the counter at the back of the room with a lopsided frown. It was difficult to remember that Marlon was a business owner himself, his services weren’t exactly anything Marnie required. In fact, the more she thought about it, she couldn’t really think of anyone in town that would require Marlon’s services and she wondered how he was able to keep such a niche business running. Before she could think on it any longer, she heard a low rumble to her right of someone clearing their throat loudly for the purpose of catching her attention. They certainly had it.

“You just gonna stand in the doorway and let the bugs in?” a gruff voice called out to her right. Marnie jumped in surprise, she hadn’t seen the figure in the rocking chair until he spoke. “Close the damn door!”

“Oh, I-uh, I��m so sorry,” Marnie sputtered, rushing further into the room to close the door behind her.

The rocking chair to the right of the room stopped moving and the figure whose face had been hidden under the brim of his gambler hat tilted his head upward to reveal not much more of a face than was visible before. The majority of this man’s face was covered by a bushy grey beard. However, now his intense blue eyes, flanked by wrinkles and creases, were visible as he stared at Marnie. Marnie had known that Marlon lived with someone else in his secluded cabin, but there were many that thought this other person couldn’t possibly exist. He had never been seen anywhere in town in decades despite Marlon mentioning him every so often at town festivals. Marlon alone was barely seen in town but this other man almost seemed like a ghost story.

“You must be Marnie,” the man remarked. He made no effort to rise from his rocking chair, though he nodded in Marnie’s direction as a small show of welcome. At least Marnie hoped it was welcoming.

“Y-yes I am,” Marnie stammered, still very put off by this man’s intense gaze. “I apologize, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Gil,” the man spat in reply.

“Well it’s a, uh… it’s a pleasure to meet you, Gil,” Marnie replied kindly. She crossed the room to shake Gil’s hand but pulled back when she noticed him subtly recoil. Perhaps he wasn’t fond of strangers, especially considering he’d supposedly lived in the valley for decades but never made it a point to visit town. She glossed over her almost handshake by looking around the room in search of Marlon. “Is Marlon home right now?”

“In the mines,” Gil answered shortly. This short answer seemed a decent enough explanation for Gil, though it only raised further questions for Marnie. Marnie didn’t dare ask any, though. Gil seemed bothered enough already by her presence.

A silence passed between them as Marnie stood between the empty counter and Gil, unsure of where she should linger while she waited for Marlon. Though Marnie was incredibly uncomfortable by the silence, Gil didn’t seem to mind it at all. He sat back in his rocking chair and tilted his head down once more to cover his eyes, resuming the gentle back and forth rocking of his chair. With each motion, a high pitched creak came from the seat of the old wooden chair. Weathered strips were worn onto the hardwood floor beneath the rockers as though this were a very regular activity of his. To pass the time Marnie glanced along the walls of the small room, but there wasn’t much to see. A few weapons were displayed along the wall but for the most part, the room was very minimalistic. Marlon and Gil seemed to live a modest life in their home. After what felt like an eternity, Marnie finally couldn’t take the awkward tension in the room and had to break the silence.

“How long have you and Marlon been living together?” Marnie asked casually.

The rocking of Gil’s chair stopped and he tilted his head up once more to look at Marnie with his same harsh gaze. It really was difficult to tell if this was just his usual expression or if he was legitimately annoyed by the disruption. Gil was a difficult man to get a read on. His brow furrowed as his face screwed up in thought and he silently mulled the answer over for nearly 30 seconds before speaking to her.

“‘Bout 50 years,” Gil finally answered plainly. He answered as though there was nothing at all astonishing about five decades spent living with the same person.

“Oh!” Marnie called out in surprise. She knew that the two of them had lived in Pelican Town together for quite some time, but somehow hearing out loud just how long the two had lived together put it into greater perspective. It hadn’t occurred to Marnie until she really thought about it that maybe their relationship was more than anyone had ever considered before. “So… are you two…”

Though Gil was never social with anyone in town, he certainly wasn’t ignorant to social nuance and could tell right away what Marnie was attempting to ask. Marnie was surprised to hear a gruff bark of laughter from Gil and see him smile for the first time since she’d met him. It seemed he was incredibly amused by her question.

“I always wondered what everyone in town must think,” Gil mused.

“No, I wasn’t trying to- I didn’t mean to-” Marnie sputtered, but Gil barked in amusement once more.

“Frankly I don’t give a damn,” Gil went on plainly. “What we have has worked for this long, don’t really matter what we call it. I ain’t much for caring what other people think.”

“As well you shouldn’t,” Marnie answered casually, though on the inside she was starting to feel very confused.

Gil hadn’t exactly answered her question but at this point, she wasn’t about to ask for clarification. Already she was thinking back to the day she and Marlon had spent together the day before trying to make sense of it all. Silence passed as Marnie tried to interpret every conversation they’d had, every compliment he gave, every good feeling she’d felt. This time it was Gil who broke the silence, clearly noticing the distress that Marnie was feeling.

“Marlon’s quite fond of you, Miss Marnie,” Gil finally spoke up. “Thinks you’re a real nice friend.”

The word ‘friend’ put all of Marnie’s thoughts into harsh perspective and she could feel her small glimmer of hope extinguish. Without meaning to, Marnie audibly sighed and hunched her shoulders forward, her head hanging low in disappointment. She was unlucky in love yet again.

“S’matter, you all filled up on friends?” Gil asked bluntly. Marnie immediately straightened her shoulders and lifted her head high. She felt rude for reacting the way she did.

“N-no, that’s not it, I-” Marnie answered, but Gil clearly hadn’t finished speaking yet and barreled on without even acknowledging Marnie’s answer. It was certainly clear that he was out of practice socially speaking.

“Personally, I ain’t got a need for friends,” Gil went on, a subtle look of disgust on his face at the word ‘friends’. “Not Marlon, though. Marlon’s always wanted to be a little more social than I am. ‘Specially now in his old age. Talks about you a lot, Miss Marnie. He thinks highly of you.”

“I think highly of him,” Marnie answered honestly. At the very least it was flattering to hear the kind words that Gil spoke to her. She couldn’t exactly imagine him being the type to make something up just to cheer her up so she had to assume his words were genuine.

“You probably didn’t come here today hopin’ for a friend but I can promise you won’t find a greater friend out there than Marlon,” Gil said sincerely. “But if that’s not what you’re interested in, well, you know where the door is.”

Gil was blunt and most certainly hadn’t developed the social grace necessary to sugar coat anything, but in this instance Marnie appreciated his honesty. He was correct, she hadn’t shown up today looking for a friend, but it was nice to know from the very start that this was all she was going to get. It was better than whatever she had going on with Lewis which she still couldn’t make sense of even after all this time. Marnie couldn’t blame Marlon for giving her an incorrect impression, if anything the blame fell on her for being too eager. But having a kind man like Marlon in her life, even as just a friend, sounded wonderful.

“I think I’d like to stay,” Marnie answered with a nod.

“He should be back any minute now,” Gil remarked, leaning back against his chair to resume rocking. “‘Til then, try not to make too much noise. You’re already interrupting quality time with my best friend.” Gil patted the arm of his rocking chair and laughed to himself at his little joke before tilting his head low once more to resume dozing off.

Marnie smiled at Gil as he rocked back and forth in his chair, already tuning her very presence out. He was such an odd man yet she found him to be incredibly fascinating. It was made very clear that he would never be in a position to want or need anyone in his life beyond Marlon, but the thought that she would likely see much more of him as her friendship with Marlon blossomed made her oddly excited. Today was proving to be a day full of pleasant surprises.

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv marnie #sdv gil #marnie #gil #my fic #sdv villagers

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theroomofreq · 4 years ago

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Personality Before Punctuality

In honor of #Jilytober2020 I decided to rewrite this fic from four years ago! It’s a meet-cute Muggle Au because I am a sucker.

AO3

Lily was lucky, she thought, that her boss adored her to no end. Horace Slughorn owned The Hallows bakery where Lily was recently hired. Her interview lasted all of two minutes before Slughorn announced, “You’re a real gem Miss Evans. It would be a shame not to have you in our midst here at The Hallows.”

Lily was an hour late on her first day but somehow, she charmed the unnaturally stiff bakers to love her, they had to kick her out of the kitchen though.

Lily Evans had many talents but fell short –extremely short- when it came to baking. She did much better as the face of the store greeting and assisting customers. Lily still arrived late every day two months into the job. It was also every day that her personality came to the rescue with a witty joke and a smile.

personality before punctuality. personality before punctuality.

Lily rehearsed the mantra in her mind over and over again as she bustled through the crowds. She was going to be late again, and if she didn’t have something hilarious to say those bakers would really take the mickey.

Her walk to the bakery was usually busy about this time, and almost all of her fellow commuters would gather together before one street crossing.

Lily doubted there was a time that this place wasn’t crawling with pedestrians. The traffic light here had a sick sense of humor, it always made Lily late. In fact, it made everyone late. Her watch turned to 09:11 and the scowl on her face intensified with each passing second. 09:12. Lily turned her glare up to the light again and sighed. Instead the face of a crooked nosed man interrupted her view of the offending light. Due to her bad morning ‘tude she managed to deepen the glare, and Mr. Nose snapped to face forward.

Honestly.

Lily shook her head at the ill-mannered man, that small shake of her head brought her attention to the persons to the right of her. All of whom were blatantly staring at her, with strategic accuracy she sent a glower in their direction.

The whole situation seemed uncanny to Lily and particularly creepy. As she whipped her head round and around the crowd, she found almost every person to be staring at her.

By the third time she sent daggers to a gawking bunch of teens she noticed there was only one person who wasn’t staring directly at her. It happened to be the bloke directly to her left.

She couldn’t gather much from his appearance, because hello staring is rude, only that his right arm was lined with tattoos. The man seemed not to notice nor be bothered by the fact that everyone was apparently obsessed with Lily today.

So, she decided to inform him of the situation, “By the way everyone is staring you’d think they’d never seen a red head before.”

Tattoos let out a low chuckle before he said, “Honestly. People these days.”

“They are starting to flock like vultures.”

“Look out,” he gasped, “that girl at 2 o’clock might get drool on you if she comes any closer.”

Lily shifted closer to him before she said, “If this goes on, I might be able to start charging for autographs.”

Tattoos choked a bit, “Well err,” Nervous. He sounded nervous; Lily could work with nervous. “I do hope I could secure your autograph before prices skyrocket.” He finally managed.

Lily smirked and turned to face him before replying, and the tables turned. Tattoos wasn’t marked on his right arm, but on his left arm as well as his neck- Lily choked.

His neck was inked from the base to the edge of his jaw, with a stag’s antler.

Tattoos was not just tattoos, he was famous.

James Bloody Potter.

Lily was not the type to be star struck, really, she wasn’t. But let’s be real.

James Bloody Potter.

Lead guitarist to The Marauders, a band that recently rose to fame. Lily loved their sound and their original lyrics, and it seemed that a lot of others in London did too. And it might help that each member was exceptionally fit. James Bloody Potter included.

His hair was a right mess, his curly locks were inky and seemed stubbornly stuck in a messy mop atop his head. Did Lily mention the tattoos yet? They should be high on the list. Really high. His specs were important to notice too, they didn’t exactly seem to be the type found on a rockers face. But somehow Potter had them tilted at just the right angle that it didn’t matter.

So, go ahead sue her, she’s a bit enamored with a terribly fit guy in a band who’s smirking down at her.

Deal with it.

Seeing him came as a bit of a shock, it wasn’t exactly every day Lily ran into a witty guitarist on the way to work. It definitely wasn’t every day that she spoke with famous attractive men. Hopefully she could change that.

It took her a moment to realize she needed to reply, “Perhaps we could work that out” she tried to add on a smirk, but undoubtedly failed.

James Bloody Potter. She could stare at him all day.

OH.

oh oh oh oh oh.

Shit.

Lily suddenly caught on. No one had been staring at her.

They’d been staring at him.

James Bloody Potter.

The famous musician from a up and coming band. The ruggedly handsome man next to her was catching all the attention, not her.

Apparently, her ego was unnaturally high today.

It wasn’t her at all, it was the bloke to the left of her. Lily was turning redder with each new thought.

She was so wrapped up in the embarrassment of her blunder it took her a second to realize that Potter was talking, “Ever think about getting a bodyguard? I hear those are dead useful.”

Only barely recovering Lily said, “Not really.” She gestured vaguely around her, “This is all new to me. I was hoping to be sneaky.”

“Just between you and I,” he said behind his hand, “Sneaky doesn’t seem to be working.”

Lily rolled her eyes, “Like you’d be doing any better.”

Potter threw his head back laughing, “Love, in my experience it’s usually the drastic measures that handles these things best.”

Lily heard the shuffle of footsteps and reluctantly pulled her eyes from him. The light had switched, and her fellow pedestrians were moving to cross. Lily took a step forward with the crowds and turned back to Potter. But he was gone, she looked ahead to see him surging ahead in the crowd, pushing and shoving to the front.

“Drastic?” Lily called after him.

The guitarist sent a nod over his shoulder to her before turning completely around to walk backwards. His hands shot into the air as he announced, “Alright people. I know Red here is devastatingly attractive,” Lily felt her jaw drop. “But all this staring is a bit excessive. So, if you all could kindly go back to your business that would-”

“Oi,” Lily interrupted, “Don’t think I don’t see you two trying to snap a photo.” She sent daggers to the two girls about to record Potter’s display, “I’ll be having none of that.”

In response Potter sent Lily a grin, “Yes ladies, sorry, she will be having none of that today.”

At this point the commuters safely crossed and started making their way down 12th, “Thank you all very much. Have a beautiful day!” he yelled out to them with a wave and a smile.

Lily continued straight instead of turning with everyone else, the bakery was just ahead, and was pleased to see that Potter did the same.

“I don’t think I’ll be needing a bodyguard as long as you stick around,” she said.

“Well,” he pulled his hand up to splay across his chest, “I do specialize in the drastic and dramatic.”

Lily laughed, she supposed it had worked, he earned credit for that. Not to mention the fact that it was the most entertaining thing that happened to her all week.

“Shall I scout ahead then?” He asked her.

Lily turned to face him with a quirked eyebrow. “What?”

“Scout, ya know. Race ahead determine if the area is safe. It’s what I think a bodyguard might do.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, somehow, she didn’t quite believe any bodyguard would race at all. But there was something about this Potter fellow that made her curious. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

A small smile appeared on his lips before he spoke, “Err, I was actually supposed to turn back on 12th.” He began to card his fingers through his hair while he watched the ground below.

“Ahh. I see.” Lily could feel the ridiculous nature of her smirk, “Go on then. Scout ahead.”

Potter’s head snapped up at that last bit, pulling his hand out of his hair and into a salute he said, “Copy that,” and took off.

He ran straight down the walk and into a collection of people, Lily figured a good scout would have ran around them in order to avoid detection.

Potter was not a good scout.

He took on the group by twisting and turning between each person. As he completed a full rotation he called out, “Spin move!” Lily was positive that spin moves were not stealthy enough for a scouting bodyguard, although his efforts did make her lips tug upwards.

After making his way through the disgruntled bunch Potter took off in a dead sprint, blowing right past the bakery. It was then that Lily decided that James Potter was the biggest dork she had ever met in her life.

He skidded to a stop a few paces past The Hallows Bakery and approached a lamppost. Lily laughed as he began to slink around it. His back pressed flush against the pole he slowly lowered his legs into a squat and made his way around to the other side. To him the movement was athletic, sneaky, and clever. To Lily it was ridiculous, unnecessary, and hilarious.

Lily shook her head as Potter took off once again down the walk, in a fashion that was none to sneaky, her head movement caused her to realize she too had passed the bakery. She wasn’t sure what exactly had distracted her from missing the bakery just a few storefronts back, she just knew she was later than ever.

personality before punctuality. personality before punctuality.

“POTTER!” Due to the fact that he was still sprinting away Lily determined he hadn’t heard her. “HEY POTTER.” She yelled again, this time she caught his attention, he whipped around with an eyebrow raised at her. Lily simply jerked her thumb over her shoulder then turned back toward at the bakery. Potter dropped his brow and ducked his chin as he ran to catch up to the red head. Lily heard his chest heaving as he fell into step beside her.

“Took it a bit far that time, eh Potter?”

“Never can be too careful love,” his hand was in his hair again. “That lamppost looked rather shifty to me, had to check it out.”

Lily couldn’t bite back her smile. “That’s exactly the type of dedication I’d like to see in a full-time scouting bodyguard.”

“Aye aye Ma’am,” his hand snapped toward his hair, but remained solid in his salute.

Lily snorted into her laugh at his attempt to hold still. As she glanced sideways his salute broke to run his hand down through his hair. Unfortunately, along with the glance to Potter she realized they had come upon the bakery again. Lily stopped and began gathering enough charm to hopefully make up for her tardiness.

personality before punctuality. personality before punctuality.

“Err…could you perhaps, well if you don’t,” Potter’s stuttering pulled Lily back to the guitarist in front of her, “I was hoping. Well as long as it’s all right. It would just be such a shame.”

“Potter. Get on with it already.”

“Can I getyourautograph, it might not seem like it but I really do-”

Lily stopped him with a sigh, “Fans, can’t escape ‘em.” She held out her hand, “Got a pen on you?”

His eyes lit up with his grin, “Funny you should ask that,” he said, “Recently I acquired the habit of carrying one around with me.” One hand went to rub his neck while the other sank into his back pocket and produced a black marker.

“Fancy that,” Lily hummed as she took the marker from him and uncapped it. Lily reached out and snagged Potter’s wrist and ran her eyes around his inked arm trying to find a spot for herself. Finally, she settled on a blank section along the inside of his forearm. Lily held fast onto his wrist as she wrote her name along his arm, ensuring to take up as much surface area as possible.

Lily Evans.

“Wouldn’t mind if you put a number to that name love.” His smirk was audible in his request.

“Don’t push your luck Potter.”

“Course not,” he began. Lily pulled back from her handy work, capping the marker before she turned it back to her fan. His eyes lingered on her name a bit too long before he pulled his eyes up, “Evans.”

Lily couldn’t hold back her smile as he looked down at her with wide eyes.

“Wear a hat next time,” she said as he returned the pen to his pocket. “Perhaps that might prevent the need for drastic measures.”

Potter looked gob smacked, “And ruin my hair? Not a chance.”

Lily shook her head at him as he plowed through his hair yet again.

“Whatever Potter,” she dropped the line from the corner of her smirk, spinning toward the doors.

As she reached for the handle, she caught a, “S’later Evans.”

Lily didn’t need to turn around to know there was a huge grin on his face, but she did anyway. However, the grin wasn’t pointed her way, instead it faced down on his arm where she had left her name. And if it was that grin of his that made her so exceptionally late to work that day, then perhaps she would like to be delayed by James Potter far more often.

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