#they kisss your honor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

just-some-random-blogger · 7 months ago

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CONTRARY TO MY USE OF MEME I FEEL LIKE IVE COME ALIVE. TITI NG AMAAAAA IM SUCH A SLUT FOR ANGST THAT IVE FORGOTTEN HOW LOVELY IT IS TO MAKE AND CONSUME FLUFFF RAHHH 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹

You recognized your lord husband instantly: the delicate silver interlace of his steed’s armor and the auburn glow of his hair in the sunlight were as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

Incredible artistry. The way you describe is lovely

You screamed until your voice was hoarse, but you were forced to watch in horror as Gwayne continued his conversation as though nothing was wrong, even flashing that charming smile that you knew and loved so well.

I SEE IT. YOUR HONOR I SEE IT SO CLEARLY. THE BEAUTY AMIDST HORROR UGHHHH 😫😫😫😫

Instantly, you turned to your side, and let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Gwayne sleeping peacefully next to you. He was here, he was home, he was safe – you both were.

OH TO WAKE UP NEXT TO GWAYNE HIGHTOWERRRRR IDC IF ITS AT THE COST OF NIGHTMARES IN DAEMON AT FUCKING HARRENHALING THAT SHIT

“You were there, though,” he responded, smiling gently, “and you did help.”

EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP ITS HAPPENING ITS HAPPENING SHUT THE FUCK UO STOP PANICKING JES SO DARLING SHUT THE FUCKING FUCK UO THE FUCK FUCK YOU

Now, in the dim light of your shared chambers, he held the little ring out for you to see. It was slightly more battered now than it had been, and though its original shine was gone, it still seemed to glow with a warm coppery light. Reaching out, you took the small circle in your fingers, feeling all the tiny knicks and ridges it had acquired over time, each one of them proof of Gwayne’s promise to always return to you – an unbroken vow.

EVERYDAY I WAKE UP A PEASANT AND NOT MARRIED TO GWAYNE HIGHTOWERRRRR

Ducking your head away, you tried to hide the tears that were now threatening to slide down your cheeks as his words. But before you could wipe them on the sheets, Gwayne’s hand caught your chin, gently pulling him back to you, the rough pad of his thumb banishing the tears from your face. His eyes sparkled with affection and mirth, and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from echoing his smile.

THEYRE SO SOFT FOR EACH OTHERRRRR THEYRE SO FUCKING SOFT

“Hmmm… it’s more serious than I thought,” he said with mock-concern, tilting your face as though he was examining it, “you appear to be desperately and madly in love with me – a very serious condition indeed.”

I SCREAMMMMEEDDDDD I SCREAAMMMMMEEEEDDDDDDDD INTO MY PILLOWWWW WHAT ISSSS THATTTTTTTTT RAAAHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭👹👹👹🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️HE SAID ITS MORE SERIOUS THAN HE THOUGHHHHHHHTTTT IM SOBBBBINNGGGGG

“Then this is indeed one of the most serious cases I’ve ever seen.” He pondered for a moment, then his eyes lit up: “There is one more cure, but it’s risky. You could try true love’s kiss. One does read about those sorts of things working miracles after all.”

EVERYDAY I WAKE UP AND IM NOT GWAYNE HIGHTOWERS WIFE

“That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take,” you breathed as he reached out to cup your face and bring it close to his.

KISSS HIMMM KISSS HIM HARDERRRR KISS HIM FOR ALL OF USSSSSS

“No,” you responded happily, your fingers once again finding the thin metal of the little circular charm, “I fear I’m even more madly and desperately in love with you than before.”

ITS FINE IM FINE

“Well, I like to think of myself as chivalrous, but I don’t think I can find it in myself to regret your condition,” he whispered, a teasing smile on his face as he reached a hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

YOUR HONOR

“This is what I imagine,” Gwayne said softly to the darkness, “when I’m on the road without you, and all I have is this small charm to remind me of what it feels like to rest in your embrace. This is what I dream of.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and squeezed your hand where it entwined with his on the necklace. “You’re always right here.”

GAGO WHAT IF SUMABOG AKO WHAT IF I GNAW MY ARM OFF WHAT THEN HES SO SOFT IM BARKING

“But thank the gods I don’t have to imagine right now,” you felt his words as his lips moved against your forehead, “because I am right here.”

*THROUGH VIOLENT TEARS* PSPSPSPSSPSPPSPS FOXY FOXY FOXY GWAYNEEEE COMEEE HOMEEEEE *CRYINGGGGGGFFFF BASHING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL* COMEEEE BACKKK HOMEEEEE

Thank you for your service 🫡 the hotd fandom does not deserve you. Gwaynism is better because of you. I pray you are treated kindly no matter how far you tread into this world. Sana masarap ulam mo which translates to I hope your viand is delicious

i'm here (ser gwayne hightower x reader) 💚💚

Summary: you have a nightmare, but gwayne is there to comfort you 💚

Warnings/Tags: spouse!reader; gn!reader; established relationship (marriage); nightmares; angst/anxiety brought on by the nightmares; absolutely catastrophic levels of tooth-rotting fluff; let me know if I've missed anything! ☺️

Words: 2870

Author’s Note: as I mentioned in this post, gwayne hightower has absolutely consumed my life and I am down sooooooo bad for him rn, so voilá, this fic has emerged as a result of that! 💕 as I also say in that linked post, I'm not super familiar with hotd, so I'm sorry if any of the terms I use aren't canon-accurate (I watched game of thrones a few years ago and I tried my best to make it feel authentic to the world of canon, but something may have slipped through 😅). and I hope this feels in-character to gwayne! I've rewatched the scenes of his that I have access to many times for...... uhh ~Research Purposes~ but I haven't seen all his scenes yet, so I apologize if it feels ooc at all – I did my best to make it feel like him! 🥰

oh and this is key: we've all seen the necklace, right?? we know about the necklace, right????? that fucking necklace makes me absolutely feral so I've given it a backstory, because it truly has me foaming at the fucking mouth 😌 (also, if you haven't seen the necklace, may I please direct you to this incredible gifset so we can descend into madness over it together?)

as always, I hope you enjoy!! 🥰🥰 (also please feel free to share any gwayne thoughts you have – I'd love to scream about the precious man with y'all! ☺️💕)

The memory was not yours, but in this moment, it felt like it was. Gwayne had only told you the story once, with hushed words and averted eyes. You had asked, and he could never find it in himself to keep anything from you, even if it made his chest seize with shame. He told you that the whole ordeal had been a result of foolishness on his part, something he would admit only to you. He said that he recalled the memory with great embarrassment now. But you felt nothing but terror.

You stood on a large, grassy plain ringed with trees, a few wispy clouds scuddling across the blue sky above you. This was a place you had never seen, never been – but one thing was familiar. As you struggled to gain your bearings in the strange location, you saw a group of men on horseback just a short distance ahead. You recognized your lord husband instantly: the delicate silver interlace of his steed’s armor and the auburn glow of his hair in the sunlight were as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

You called out to him, but he didn’t respond; he seemed to be in conversation with one of the other men. You ran toward the small group and cried his name again, but even at close range he appeared not to hear you. Panic grew in your chest by the moment as you hurried closer still, coming near enough that you could almost reach out and touch Gwayne’s mount. You stretched out your hand to do just that when your arm was stopped by some invisible force. There was nothing in front of you, just empty air that you should have been able to move through with no difficulty. But you were trapped mere feet from your beloved, unable to reach him.

Something was terribly wrong. You screamed his name this time, desperation compressing your lungs with the force of your yell. But it was clear that he could not hear you, since neither he nor any of the gathered men so much as turned toward the sound of your cries. Real fear gripped you now, shooting ice through your veins as you cast about you for something – anything – that you could do. And that was when a new kind of fear crept over you, one so old and visceral you could feel it down to your very bones. Shudders wracked your body as you turned your eyes toward the sky, suddenly certain that you were being watched. But not just watched – no, you were being hunted.

At a loss for what else you could do, you renewed your efforts to alert Gwayne to the danger that you could feel but not yet see. You screamed until your voice was hoarse, but you were forced to watch in horror as Gwayne continued his conversation as though nothing was wrong, even flashing that charming smile that you knew and loved so well. It was just then that the other man finally noticed that something was wrong. He cast his eyes toward the sky as you had mere moments before, saying something to the gathered men. A wave of fear seemed to run through the horses, as there was a flurry of shifting hooves and nervous snorts. You could only watch in terror as realization washed over Gwayne’s face, twisting his handsome features into a terrifying expression of horror.

You screamed at him to run just as everything burst into motion, the horses tearing off across the plain toward the cover of the trees. You found yourself moving along with them, though you had no mount of your own. Instead, it was the same terrible invisible force, dragging you along, forcing you to watch as the scene unfolded before you.

And then you saw it: the dragon. It swooped down from the sky as though it had erupted into existence from nothing, filling the empty air with huge grey wings that seemed to blot out the sun. You screamed again, but this time without the intention of forming any coherent words – the noise that escaped your throat was an expression of the fear that was buried deep in your bones upon the sight of the creature. Its lean body shot across the plain toward the fleeing men with a kind of focus and intention that proved what you had thought from the beginning: the dragon was hunting. And worse than that, it was hunting Gwayne.

Voice rubbed raw from screaming, and realizing your cries to him did nothing anyway, you watched in terrible silence as his steed thundered across the ground, its legs eating up the distance as fast as it could. And yet the dragon gained. If this was some cruel trick played by the gods, you couldn’t think what you could possibly have done to deserve this kind of torment. You could do nothing but watch, utterly powerless, as Gwayne – your Gwayne – fled for his life, his beautiful face contorted into an expression of fear that cut you to the core like a knife to the stomach. You held your breath, fearing each moment would be the one when you were forced to watch your love be consumed by dragonfire, ending both his life and yours in one swift blow of unimaginable anguish and heartbreak from which you knew you would never recover. Just as you had resolved to try calling to him one last time – if nothing else, to assure him of your love – the treeline broke around you and the horses cantered to a stop beneath the cover of the forest.

The world was still again, but the fear lingered. You could sense the dragon above you, even hear its thin, unearthly cries as it searched for its hidden quarry. Your eyes instantly found Gwayne, needing to make sure he had survived the ordeal. Indeed, he still sat upon his steed, and you watched his chest heave as he attempted to steady his breathing. The fear that still permeated the forest remained etched on his face as well, changing his features from those of the man you had courted and married to those of a young boy, trembling and horror-struck and so helpless and small.

You longed with every fiber of your being to run up to him and pull him into your arms, to feel his warm breath on your neck as he folded into your embrace. You ached to hold his face in your hands and wipe away the single lingering tear he likely didn’t even know was still glistening on his cheek. You yearned to kiss the terror away from his brow and his nose and his lips, to tell him he was safe – to tell him that you were here.

But you were trapped just feet from him, all these longings locked into your body as you pressed toward him as far as the strange invisible barrier would allow. You watched as the fear slowly faded from his face, his features once again becoming warm and familiar. You couldn’t help but smile as he seemed to return to himself somewhat. Turning to one of his companions, he opened his mouth to say something when both of their eyes snapped up to the sky, reacting to some sound you must not have heard. You followed their gaze, and didn’t even have a chance to scream as a column of fire descended from above, ready to devour you all.

You woke with a gasp. Your heart was pounding loudly enough that you could hear it in your ears, and you pushed yourself up into a sitting position as you struggled to calm your ragged breathing. The darkness in the room was soft, and your eyes adjusted slowly to your surroundings, only to find them all comforting and familiar – this was your room, your home. Instantly, you turned to your side, and let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Gwayne sleeping peacefully next to you. He was here, he was home, he was safe – you both were.

When your breathing had calmed back to a normal rate, you eased yourself back down under the covers, burrowing into his arms as he sleepily adjusted his position to accommodate you.

“Hmmm—is everything… alright?” he muttered, blinking his eyes open.

“Everything’s fine,” you assured him, “I just had a nightmare.”

He seemed to waken a little more at your words, propping himself up slightly on one arm as he reached the other hand out to stroke your cheek.

“Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?” his voice was still thick with sleep, but you knew the questions were genuine.

“It was about you,” you reached up to cup his hand that still rested on your cheek, intertwining his fingers with yours. “And the dragon,” you added, your words barely above a whisper. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, you were certain he was reliving the memory himself, and instantly regretted your words.

“But it was nothing,” you hurried to assure him, “I just—I just wish I had been there. Or that I could have helped or—” you were distinctly aware that your jumbled words made very little sense, even to you. “I just felt so helpless,” you ended with a sigh. Gwayne watched you with soft eyes, his fingers squeezing yours in reassurance.

“You were there, though,” he responded, smiling gently, “and you did help.” You just stared at him incredulously, wondering if he was the one who was dreaming now. He read the question in your eyes with a small chuckle and disentangled his hand from yours, pushing himself up to sit.

Pressing a hand to his chest, his fingers found the chain of the necklace that he always wore. The charm was a delicate circle of beaten metal hanging from a simple coppery chain. You had bought it in the market one day when the two of you were still courting. The rich auburn sheen of the metal had reminded you of Gwayne’s hair, and you were determined to have it. The seller assured you that the little ring symbolized unending love and devotion – a never-ending cycle, an unbroken vow. You were doubtful that had been the original intention of the maker, but rather a ploy on the seller’s part to drive up the price after he realized you intended it as a gift for your beloved. Had it been that obvious how love-struck you were?

Regardless of whether it was intended or not, you liked the idea of the simple circle as a token of promise and loyalty, as well as a celebration of one of Gwayne’s most striking features. You had given it to him wrapped in a carefully-embroidered handkerchief when he had gallantly asked for your favor before a tourney. You cherished the memory of him asking you to help him put it on, and the fleeting touch of his skin and flaming hair you were able to steal as you clasped it around his neck. He won the tourney, and insisted that his victory was due at least in part to the precious charm you had given him, imbued with your affection and devotion. To your knowledge, he had never taken it off since.

“See, you’re always with me, right here,” he gestured to the charm in your fingers. The feeling of the metal against your skin and the sweet memories that swirled through your mind caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes, chasing away the lingering cobwebs of fear that the nightmare had spun. Gently, you released the ring and Gwayne’s fingers replaced yours on the circle, guiding it back to where it always sat on his chest, just above his heart. He pressed it there, emphasizing his words: “right here, right where you always have been – and always will be.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of your mouth as you nudged him playfully, causing him to break into bright chuckles of his own. Your chest, which just moments ago had been compressed with terror, was now so full of love and happiness you were certain it might burst.

“And tell me, Ser Gwayne, what is the cure for this most dire of conditions?” you matched his tone of feigned worry as your laughter subsided.

“Hmmm,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, unable to hide to hide the dimples forming on his cheeks, proof of his barely-suppressed smile, “perhaps marriage? I have heard many esteemed lords claim that the institution of matrimony is bound to cure an ailment such as yours.”

“Oh, but I fear I’ve tried that,” you exclaimed, “and it has only made my condition worse.”

“What’s the risk?”

“The risk is that the kiss renders your condition utterly uncurable by any other means.” Gwayne’s lips tilted up into your favorite lopsided smile as he grinned at you, dimples glowing like twin suns, sending the delicate freckles on his face colliding into each other like falling stars.

“That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take,” you breathed as he reached out to cup your face and bring it close to his. You closed your eyes as your lips met in a burst of warm sunlight that seemed to fill your whole body with its radiance. You weren’t sure how long you remined pressed against him, feeling his heartbeat against your skin, his auburn locks twisted in your fingers, his necklace hanging between your entwined forms.

“Did it work?” he whispered when he finally pulled away, his forehead still resting against yours.

“No,” you responded happily, your fingers once again finding the thin metal of the little circular charm, “I fear I’m even more madly and desperately in love with you than before.” You met his eyes, finding them bright and soft and just as madly and desperately in love as you were certain yours were.

“Nor can I,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

He pulled you fully into his grasp then, maneuvering you both back under the covers without relinquishing his hold on you. You rested on his chest, head tucked under his chin as he wrapped both arms around you. Your fingers found his necklace, and you clasped it in your hand. He echoed your motion until both of your hands were intertwined around the metal circle, resting just above his heart. You could feel it beating against your skin, and you snuggled yourself even closer to him.

“I’m always right here,” you echo, your words a promise, a vow.

“But thank the gods I don’t have to imagine right now,” you felt his words as his lips moved against your forehead, “because I am right here.” Gwayne wrapped his arms even more tightly around you, and you gladly tucked yourself further into his warm embrace. You felt yourself drifting back into a pleasant sleep in the comfort and safety of his arms. You heard his words echo softly in the gentle quiet of the room:

“I’m right here.”

#FINE ILL WRITE FLUFF AGAIN #FINE FINE FINE FINE #my brain has been altered #gwayne fanfic #gwayne my beloved #gwayne hightower

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albino-whumpee · 4 years ago

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Demon Angel AU: A frozen heart

I polished this one a bit for a super late day 1 of @summer-of-whump “freezing”

I will be posting this one on the other blog soon too!

Hope you like it!

Taglist: @orchidscript @giggly-evil-puppy @haro-whumps @as-a-matter-of-whump @whump-tr0pes @grizzlie70 @rosesareviolentlyread

CW// Hypothermia, magic whump, major character death (temporary), demon whumpee, angel caretaker, aftermath of torture, angst, blood and situational whump.

When the harvest season ended, the humans went back to their homes and the world withered as it began to be covered in a carpet of snow, it was announced with a freezing chill up his spine that he was running out of time.

They had been traveling for months now. Nightmares from that night lingered vaguely on the back of Sann’s mind, not strong enough to frighten him about his companion any longer. The demon however, wouldn’t be capable of hiding his secret much longer.

The first chill was small, a warning. A breeze that carried the promise of blowing stronger the longer he walked. He kept silent about it, but his pace grew quicker and quicker as the chilling was enough to make him shake.

In the last nights the pair would settle down to sleep, the angel pulled him close and covered him with his wings. Maybe it was his healing what soothed the shaking into stillness, or simply his warmth, but it wasn’t enough and so, the angel would flop in the ground, exhausted from nonstop walking, only to forcefully lift himself when the demon rushed forward.

At the setting of the second day, a shiver ran down the demon’s back and stopped him dead on his tracks. When he saw it, Sann jumped to scan their surroundings.

“Are we being followed?” The angel asked, the sharpened knife made from his own horns in hand. Wielded tightly over his chest, expecting for a group of humans or hounds to jump out of the thick woods at any moment and attack them.

“I won´t make it on time” the angel heard him say in a broken whisper.

“What?” He turned to face him without a chance of scanning the bushes for threats, noticing instead the haunted look on Albus´ face as the hood slipped off his head when he began to run. “Al?!”

The demon had made them new clothes to wear and was terribly insistent in making boots for the angel, worrying about if it was insulating enough and provided enough coverage of the ground. The angel didn’t need to ask why his friend had such insistence in wearing thicker shoes than he did. He remembered well enough the color they took when he danced for the gods. Besides, if their objective was the underworld, such measures weren’t overly exaggerated. The angel thanked such a gift as he tried to follow him through the harsh terrain that surely must have hurt the bare feet of the demon again, yet didn’t seem to be enough to stop him.

The reason for the rush of his companion being simple eagerness to get to the woods of his Anshe as quickly as possible crossed the angel´s mind. He had said he was excited about seeing her again after so long, to show him the place he grew up on, but it wasn´t until Sann began to trot behind the now sprinting demon that he noticed something was terribly wrong.

“Al, slow down! What ’s wrong?” Sann shouted, trying to follow him through the rocky road slowly being covered in snow. The last bits of twilight illuminated their way to let him catch how the demon’s tail swung wildly, trying to find balance in a floor that turned slippery by the second with the falling snow.

“Al! Stop! Wait!” Sann kept calling without an answer.

The demon didn´t seem to hear him and didn´t stop despite crashing into trees or drifting and falling on his knees before desperately pulling himself back up and kept on running. So Sann opted for another approach.

His wings lifted him off the ground and with a strong push forward, he caught the demon by the shoulders and pinned him with a dry thud into the trunk of a tree, ripping a surprised yelp out of him.

In between pants the angel looked at him, “I said stop” the angel snarled, swallowing to settle his drumming heart while locking red, terrified eyes with his “What´s wrong?”

The demon took shallow breaths, trying to not panic when looking beyond him, at the woods direction and realizing he could smell his home, but it was nonetheless out of his reach.

The demon shook his head “We are not there yet!” Albus revolved, trying to break free before Sann squeezed his shoulders.

“Albus!” The angel shouted, making the demon flinch. Seeing him stiffen underneath him, Sann let go, lifting his hands in surrender “Listen to me, relax. Where do you have to go?”

The demon pressed his back further into the tree, his nose filling with the smell of pine when chewing his lip.

“I didn´t know it was today” the words rolled out his tongue with ease “I- I´ve gotta get there before the sun sets”

“Why? Where?”

The demon whined in exasperation, looking at the darkening clouds above them blocking his view of the sun’s position. He began to pant quicker when another shiver crossed his body. Stronger this time “The c-circle” he said, eyes widening at the force with which his teeth chattered. Freezing cold swept him over as he clenched his jaw and peeled himself off to take long strides.

Sann caught his arm, but Albus shook him off.

“I, I d-don’t have ti-time for this, Sann!” He yelled, showing his fangs a little before hugging himself trying to keep his body warm and walking further into the woods.

“Why not? What´s the hurry?” Sann asked following behind noticing his stumble and tail falling limp behind him “Al!” he yelled, catching his wrist “Please. I can carry us wherever you want, remember?” he squeezed, releasing it after a second, seeing Albus frown unfold, “You can tell me what’s wrong in the way” he said, extending his hand for him to take.

Albus looked at him for a long moment, eyes moving from the woods that extended over the mountains to Sann’s face, before moving back to look up at the sky. As the darkness of the night began to cover them, he stopped walking to take his hand.

“You’re freezing!” Sann jumped, alerted by the coldness in his thin fingers.

Selflessly, the angel quickly took off his own cloak and wrapped the demon on it. He had no way of knowing that wouldn´t help much, but Albus tried to focus on the warmth of it over his back, pushing himself to say it.

“Sann, in a few minutes I won´t be able to talk with you” he admitted, controlling the shivering as much as he could. The angel frowned and opened his mouth, but Albus interrupted him “Please, listen to me. I won´t be able to explain when I turn back, so please…listen” he said in a laboured huff, watching him frown in confusion as he swallowed “I am a human born. I wasn´t born a demon and that means, one night every year, I turn human again” he explained, slurring the words as a violent tremble took over him and his tail slowly began to dissipate in thin air.

Rendered speechless, Sann watched his horns begin to dissipate too.

“But my human body wasn´t alive when I became a demon. So I have to…” he breathed in a shaky breath, “I have to remake the ritual to become a demon every year. U-u-using wood from my Anshe´s trees before midnight”

“And what happens if you don´t?” Sann asked, noticing he got colder faster than he could warm him. Terrified of his silence when he watched his ears round up and his claws disappeared, Albus simply smiled back at him. The marks on his cheeks lifted up like dust as Sann´s heart sank.

“I live in a borrowed body, and every year, I pay for a little more time” Albus explained, falling to his knees when he gave in to the violent shivers rattling his body.

He could hear the soft sizzles of Sann trying to speak, trying to ask him more questions as he always did, but the spell he had casted over them both when they fell to Earth, when he was caught by the soldiers, that allowed them to understand the human language and each other, wore off.

Sann cupped his face and the air sizzled with what he supposed was Sann asking him what to do “I´m sorry… I don´t understand you” he whispered back, finding it hard to keep the cold air in his chest, before Sann realized talking was useless “I´m sorry…”

For a moment there was only silence and the soft breezes that sent chills up his spine, only making his body colder and colder as snow fell over their heads and tangled up in their hair. But a moment later, there was warmth.

Sann covered him with the hood of his cloak and pulled him closer to his chest, wrapping him in his wings and giving him enough warmth to stay conscious for a little more. Then, Sann drew something on the snow. It took his drowsy brain a second to understand it was a compass.

His mind fought the numbness of his fingers to point out a direction, battling the violent trembles so Sann´s grip on him wouldn’t weaken when he flew off. The breeze of flying brought back the memory of when he was a child.

The very first time he had felt those chills and had ran to his Anshe as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He remembered his limbs growing heavier as he tried to run, strength lifting off him as he got lost in the woods, imploring for her to find him before the cold made him fall over and curl not himself in crying desperation.

That time his Anshe had come flying to aid him when he was too weak to cry anymore. He barely had even felt her lifting him off the ground to carry him back to the circle of trees to carry out the ritual.

He knew over and over again, he would exhale one last breath before gasping back awake, body swarming with his Anshe’s warm embrace as he regained sensation.

Looking back on it, the demon fighting to keep his eyes open with blue lips leaning on the angel’s chest thought that was the only time he saw Anshe cry.

The world soon became a blur that only threw warnings to his brain that he was freezing, too numb to move. Desperately, sending signals that he needed to keep himself awake and moving, but he felt so heavy, and it was so hard to breathe, and he was sure Sann was screaming something at him too, but when he tried to open his eyes, his eyelids were too heavy and only fluttered before he gave up.

He was so sleepy…

When he quickly began to lose the sensation of Sann´s hands on his face, of his arms carrying him somewhere, the world seemed to be quieter, slowed down and suddenly, strangely warm.

He recognized the sensation and buried his face closer to Sann´s chest, hoping to catch the smallest warmth of it. That warmth after freezing, was a sensation deeply ingrained in his memory that he had always tried to make sure not to feel again.

He had managed, learning the hard way the first time without his Anshe. When he had grabbed enough wood from the trees that granted life and kept it on his clothes, close to his heart, above the seal on his chest and on his pockets just as she had told him to, so if he fell unconscious during his travels, the ritual would still carry on.

“Anshe…”

Right before Albus lost consciousness in his withering human body, the wind carried his muttered call for help to the ears of the ancient being patrolling her woods. The ancient then turned on her steps to aid once more, the albino boy who refused to join the song lost souls sang in her forest every night.

“Al! Albus! Albus please wake up!” The angel screamed, pushing his already tired wings to go faster. Barely avoiding the trees that were almost glued together and intertwined one over the other. “Al! Wake up! Wake up, please!” The angel screamed without response.

The boy in his arms labored, spaced out breathing was the only sign that he was indeed still alive. But the way only the fur on his clothes was warm injected even more adrenaline into the angel’s veins.

He darted his eyes around, scanning for anything that looked similar to Albus, but it was useless, there was nothing but trees and birds that flew away startled when he passed through cutting the air. He stopped abruptly when he only met a wall of stone covered on snow.

“Where am I supposed to go, Al?!” He shouted at the unconscious boy in his arms. Tears rolled down his cheeks when he got no response. He hugged him tighter then, hands glowing trying to stop the cold from finally freezing his heart “What am I supposed to do?” He sobbed.

As the snow began to cover his wings and time excruciatingly passed without him knowing where to go, the weight of loneliness began weighing him down.

At that moment, he realized he was completely alone and how little he really knew about the demon he held so tight in his arms. There were so many things he wanted to ask him and hadn’t had the chance to yet. There were so many things he wanted to know about him, about his culture, about the demons and their realm, about how he seemed to know so much angels and the person he had learned all of that from: Anshe.

He gasped in realization.

Names held power over the bearer, but he had said it was just the way he called her. Would it work just the same?

He looked down at him. A grim pale extending over him gave him the courage to drag air into his lungs.

“ANSHE!” He screamed. “ANSHE!” He continued screaming as he zoomed back into the woods, following a trail of roots without realizing the marks on the trees. “ANSHEEEEE” he yelled until his voice cracked.

He soon found himself in the quieter place in the woods, not a single bird chirp, nor a single frog croaked. The sudden silence seemed to swallow him whole, forcing him to stop in the middle of a clearing filled to the brim with snow.

More of his tears fell over the boy’s cheeks when he felt him breath so, so slowly he might as well had stopped breathing. Sann cradled him in his arms then and wailed.

“Please, don’t leave me” the young angel cried as his wings wrapped them in a cocoon. Light glowing intensely and leaking through the gaps of his wings, Illuminating them in such a way, they looked as a small sun, kneeling in the ground in the dead of night. “You still have to show me your realm, Albus. I-I want to learn more about you. I want to spend more time with you” he said in a choked sob “You can’t do this to me. Please don’t do this” the angel’s chest wobbled, swallowing through the lump on his throat “Wake up. Please wake up”

When Sann looked at him again, Albus face had relaxed. His blue lips hung slightly open and his chest didn’t go up again. Without resisting, tears flowed down helplessly as his frown deepened and slowly let out a shaky breath. Sann hugged him tighter and let himself cry, before shoving the bags off his face.

He looked as if he had just fallen asleep.

Sann exhaled a long breath before pressing his lips to his forehead. No burn appearing made his heart clutch tighter in his chest.

“Albus…” he called, cupping his face in his hand as a soft breeze blew, carrying the sound of steps.

Sann felt nothing. Suddenly he wasn’t worried about the humans that might had been pursuing them or had heard him call for help. He let the cocoon of feathers unfold before him exactly the moment a ray of moonlight shone through the treetops. No longer caring if he was captured.

His mind was completely blank as the steps grew closer. He only nuzzled the boy’s face in grieving longing as the last step sounded right behind him.

“I heard your call, angel” a soft voice told him while setting one giant hand over his shoulder. His frowned tightened and with tear stained cheeks, he turned to face an skull with glowing empty sockets. “Thank you for bringing back my child. You made a good job finding this place all on your own” she said in a warm voice. However, Sann was aghast, completely lost in her eyes. Their glow so dim and calming he couldn’t move at all as she reached down to stroke Albus face. “Welcome back home, Albus”

“Anshe..?” The angel’s tongue rolled out the words as the skull nodded.

He watched her stretch her long, ebony black limbs to pick up Albus and then cradle him into her chest before she walked to the middle of the clearing and gently put him down, pulling his stiff arms over his chest and forcing his hands open before pulling off the hood and roughly sewn shirt as Sann stood up to follow her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, he is already…” his voice cracked.

“Still alive, dear child of the skies” she declared, picking a bottle from the belt hanging off her hip and pulling out what seemed to be chips of wood.

“What?”

“Younglings like you are always rushing. Time goes so fast in your lives, you barely can afford to enjoy it as it passes. Always wanting to stop time, when the beauty stands in letting it be” a soft giggle permeated Sann’s ears as she drew a seal on Albus’ face and palms in rich red. “Albus himself refuses to let it catch up to him. My reckless son…has the stars given up on their curse over you?” She sweetly said.

“Come forth, child. I want to see you” Sann doubted moving for a second, but his feet pulled him closer to her long, clawed fingers. She examined him for a moment. Fingertips gently holding his chin in place when she hummed “So it was you the stars told me about. The path of your choices took you to indescribable horrors, I can see, but will take you to a rightful peace you would not found in any other road. Thank you” she looked back at the body laid over the snow. Unmoving and gray under the shiny moonlight, “His fate was sealed before he stepped into life, however, I’m glad it was you, Sann, The fallen angel, who met him in the darkest time” she said in genuine gratitude.

“How do you-?”

“I have known your creator for longer than this mountains have stood. Curious one. Shame they despise to be proven wrong. Knowing that temperamental child, they should be around the thirty…thirty third? Companion. So, “Sann” is simply written all over your face, dear”

Sann chewed on his lip before looking back at Albus. The hole on his heart growing bigger at the sole sight of him laid on the floor getting slowly covered in snowflakes.

“He is gone”

“He has always come back. Today is not an exception, Sann” she reassured him without looking back at him “A simple demon who has not lived even a blink of what I have, gave me the name you called me by. How graceless, to have the audacity to name me” as she spoke the moonlight fell over them and Anshe pulled away, putting an arm over Sann’s chest “I can not lie I’ve taken a liking to such a name. Enough to make it mine” she said, eyes nailed on the boy whose chest puffed as he gasped for air and then twisted in pain.

“Albus!” Sann shouted, finding Anshe’s arm on his way “Please, move!”

“It’s not over yet. Don’t interrupt if you care, angel” Sann’s eyes slid back to now a screaming Albus.

“Al!” The angel revolted, but Anshe kept him in place.

“Do not. He will definitely join the lost souls if you touch him” Sann froze and let out a frustrated whine as he watched Albus curl and twist into himself, growling and screaming into the ground as if something was burning him alive.

The thousand voices came back and whispered Sann’s name. Calling for him in all directions, but when Sann turned around to find the moonlight dimmed drastically and pulled everything into shadows. His legs began shaking when he noticed the thousand black figures hiding behind the trees with big white eyes and sharp teeth, mocking from the top of trees and and under his own shadow, stretching their small hands to reach for him, whispering unintelligible things that made Sann’s senses burst, unsettled. Panic overtook him when he felt a shadow grasp on his pants and began climbing up his leg.

His knees and wings locked, however, making them completely useless. He wouldn’t budge even if the desperation of escaping to safety made his ears rang along the cacophony of sounds melting into Albus’ hollering.

With one last wail, the shadows vanished and when Sann looked up, horns bursted through the demon´s forehead while a tail ripped his clothes. Nails grew larger and larger, scratching the snow below him before he spit out fetid red blood that slowly turned black when a pair of teeth fell into it and dissolved.

Hewhipped his torso back, face up at the moon. As soon as his eyes opened, the marks on his cheeks appeared again, ever so slowly before he fell backwards into the snow.

Sann pushed the ancient´s arms away and rushed to collect him in his arms, rushedly covering him with his own cloak yet again.

“Albus, Albus!” The angel said stroking the demon’s face harshly, noticing the warmth spreading through his cheeks and into his figners, painting his cheeks a furious red as Albus opened his eyes.

A soft exhale left his lips, but inside his head, Sann could feel his soothing voice calling for him. Calling him by his name.

Not able to hold back any longer, Sann pulled him into a tight hug and cried into his chest. When Albus passed an arm over his neck and nuzzled his face the angel wailed harder, chest wobbling with his sobs.

Anshe kneeled next to them and Albus small hand wrapped around hers as a smile formed on his face.

“Welcome back, Albus” she said squeezing his hand.

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elvish-dragon-moved · 7 years ago

Note

Anonymously send me something you’ve always wanted to tell me: I love you so much. You are the light of my life, my sweet angel girl. You've truly been the best thing that's happened to me in my 2017 and I've never been happier than I am now with you. I promise to keep you close to me and love you unconditionally as we go into this new year and all the years that follow. You're my amazing, sweet, beautiful and talented girlfriend and it's an absolute honour to be all yours ,,

Hey guys look at this nice anon,,,,,,,,,,,,,,!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#fffffffffffffffffffffffffFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFIRST OF ALLL #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA A A A A A A A A A A A AAAAAAAAJKASDHSDHASHAF ? ?? ?? ? ///?/ /?#LLAAAURIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#IM C RYIGN IN THE CLUB M MAN I CANT HANDLE THIS PURITY #H H hho hhh #ohhh my gosh #i need to calm down but oohhhhhhhhh goooshh #oh gosh !!!!!#i need to kkiss you #i need 2 kisss u right now u just have no idea man #lauri u realize ur my dream girl. literally anything i could have wanted is you..#you're so kind and so so very beautiful and jsut the sweetest angel on this earth #im gonna fuucken holler for real man . im shaking youre just so perfect #every thing about you i just cherish..#and the day i get to hold and kiss my beautiful wife for the first time will be the happiest day of my life...#only second to the day i get to wed such an angel... . ..#man #im just.. .. so incredibly lucky to have you..#im still so baffled that someone like me gets the honor of belonging to a literal goddess #im going to sob. i love you so much lauri please dont ever forget that #laurisu

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eddiesghxst · 1 year ago

Text

HIIII BAE

YES I HOPE U DIDNT MIND ME ADDING U TO THE LIST I JUST DIDNT WANT U TO MISS OUT BC I LOVE UR FEEDBACK IT MAKES ME LAFF AND SMILE🤭😭

HOT BOY JAMES !!! I LOVE IT, hot boy james would listen to thee hot girl meg and idk but i think just bc of that, he’s giving eddie a run for his moneyyyyy🤭💀

LMAOO YES THE SCENE WHERE HE WAS “TALKING” TO READER IN THE CROWD😭when i was writing that i cackled and was like “this is so wattpad core” IM SO GLAD THE GIRLIES PICKED UP ON THAT

and when is eddie not coming around at the worst times, he’s so annoying he just WAITS to catch reader doing something he can bitch about later lol

maybe he is flirting🤭 he said “where’s ur cute little journal” AS IF HE WASNT DOGGING THE SHIT OUT OF READERS TASTE IN JOURNALS LIKE FIVE DAYS AGO, he’s a pest your honor

LOOK IM SORRYYYY U KNOW I HAD TO MAKE THEM BRING UP THE KISSS, like listen sure eddie is a rockstar now and whatnot, but deep down he’s still that same loser from high school, so obviously when he kisses a pretty girl he (sort of) likes he’s gonna be twirling his hair and kicking his feet like “..so did u like it or what hehe🥰🤭”

BIRDIE R U IN MY BRAIN ?! LEAVE ME ALONE RN U KNOW NOTHING🤫 MAYBE THAT WAS THE REASON WHY THEY DIDNT GO FURTHER, IDK, THATS A SECRET ILL NEVER TELL🫣

THANK U SO MUCH BAE ILY AND THANK U FOR SENDING UR LOVELY FEEDBACK IT ALWAYS MAKES MY DAY

PRICE OF FAME (PART 5/?)

HEHEHE THIS ONES PACKED W LOTS OF... STUFF, ENJOYYYY!!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie doesn't think he hates you anymore and you can't figure out eddie's game

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, masturbation (f), maybe a little kith (hehe), flirting, and eddie being a jealous boy <3

word count: 6.5k

| previous part | next part | -masterlist- |

The four-day break seems to go by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it’s show day again.

As always, everybody is busy and filled with pre-show jitters. Although Eddie and Gareth have yet to speak with one another and resolve their dispute, breakfast is not as tense as last time, and you assume the time away from each other has aided in that realm. But then again, you have an inkling that Eddie is only putting up a nice front for Wayne since it’s his last day in New York.

Eddie is stiff and rigid throughout the morning, taught as a guitar string and vividly battling something he has yet to announce. He’s quiet at breakfast and only speaks when directly addressed, and he doesn’t taunt any back and forth that could transpire between him and Gareth. Jeff’s girlfriend joins the table for the first time, and you sit beside her.

Naomi is kind and bubbly with tight, curly brown strands that smell of honey and lime whenever she brushes past you. She’s from a small town in Georgia, where she spent most of her life before going off to college and getting a bachelor's in fine arts. She tells you about her most recent projects and showcases and even invites you to attend if you’re ever in town, and you take her number to keep in contact.

Jeff has radiant energy throughout the meal, and you think he and Naomi make a fine couple with how they seem to complete each other.

After breakfast, you make a few calls for work and fill in Anna on your progress. She informs you that they’re working on setting a date for Corroded Coffin’s photoshoot for the magazine and should be in contact with Richie sometime soon. When Anna asks how the trip has been so far, you lie and tell her it’s been seamless and fun.

You never told Anna about Eddie hating your guts, and you don’t even debate telling her that you’ve somehow stirred the pot between two of the band members or that you kissed the lead singer.

You’re still having a hard time convincing yourself that it was even real.

For a moment, when you woke up this morning, you thought you’d dreamt of kissing Eddie, but no dream ever feels as vivid as that.

You could feel the warmth radiating from Eddie’s body, the coolness of his rings stinging your cheeks when he placed his hands over your jaw to pull you in. The taste and smell of weed mixed in with the worn-down scent of his cologne from the day. And the kiss was so quick, and you were so sleepy you barely had enough time to memorize what his lips felt like or how the feeling of his warm breath against your upper lip sent shivers down your spine.

It left you in a daze for most of the day. Every time you remembered what had happened, your heart raced and the back of your neck heated— and you wanted to ask Eddie what the fuck that was about, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

After breakfast, Eddie practically falls off the face of the earth. Nobody hears from or sees Eddie, and he doesn’t even show up for rehearsals, which is when Richie becomes suspicious.

“Has anybody fuckin’ seen Eddie, for the love of god?” Richie exclaims. Off to the side, the bass player plucks a deep tune in boredom. Standing center stage, Jeff looks at Richie and shakes his head before glancing at the other two members. Gareth sits behind his drum set, twirling the thick drumsticks between the knuckles of his fingers, lower jaw promptly working a piece of gum as he shrugs. His eye looks better, you note.

And that’s another thing. Gareth has been avoiding you like the plague. You didn’t talk to him much before, but now it’s as if you don’t even exist, and fuck is it making your job more complicated than it already is. How are you supposed to write about Corroded Coffin when half of the said band hates your guts?

Wayne had been spending the day at the hotel, preparing to fly back tomorrow morning, so you doubt he knows where his nephew went. Richie asked an assistant to check if Eddie was being a hermit in his room, but to nobody’s surprise, Eddie wasn’t there either.

By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, the doors to the venue have opened for fans to flood in, and Eddie is still yet to show up. You stand in front of the barricade, a perfect and obstructed view of the stage where you can see everything, including the hustle backstage.

Wayne has opted for a seat next to the sound booth in the crowd, claiming he’d rather not spend the next few hours standing on his feet, “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He claimed.

You enjoy the opening act, bopping along and singing to the lyrics you know, and before you know it, the band is leaving, and the clock for Corroded Coffin’s appearance is ticking— still, no word from Eddie.

You’re busy watching the stage crew set up Corroded Coffin’s display when a familiar face approaches you. “How’s the article coming along?”

James, one of the three tour photographers for Corroded Coffin. You sat next to James on day five of breakfast. James is kind, and with your little snippets of conversation, you’ve come to peg him as not exactly what you’d expect.

James’ skin is littered with tattoos, sleeves up both arms with intricate ink slithering up his neck. You’d ask him how many tattoos he has in total, and he’d confessed that he lost count a long time ago and has now resulted in just throwing out a random number when people ask, to which you laughed.

He has jet-black curly hair that you’ve only seen at breakfast because he likes to slick it back most days, and he has piercings in each ear and one on his right eyebrow.

He’s a character, James. Intimidating from the outside, but nothing but soft, fluffy teddy bear warmth on the inside.

“It’s… well, it’s going. I’ve still got a bit of work to do, but so far, so good.” You nod. James smiles and nods, “I’m excited to see the final product. I won’t lie, after we spoke at breakfast, I did a little digging,” he responds. You raise your eyebrows in interest, “Digging?”

“Yeah, you know, looked at some of your past work and whatnot— which, by the way, the piece on the Cocteau Twins was insane,” He exclaims. Your eyes widen, “Really? Not many people talk about that one; I didn’t think it got around.” You laugh.

James tells you about his favorite pieces of yours he read, and he asks questions about each one of them. What your favorite interview was, who were you most excited to write about, and which of your works is your favorite piece so far.

You eventually end up talking about James and his current projects aside from the tour. He tells you about the new exhibit he’s partnering with in downtown LA. It’s an immersive piece, something new in the art world where the audience, for the first time, will get to experience art in a more tangible way. It’s more interactive and fulfilling for those who struggle to grasp the full context behind the art, and James seems more than excited about it when he tells you to stop by if you have the time.

However, before you can respond, the lights in the venue dim, and the crowd roars.

This has always been your favorite part of a show, that moment when the lights cut off and the arena comes to life with a shared excitement. It’s exhilarating and pulls you to the edge of your seat, no matter how often you’ve seen it.

Through the smoke-filled venue and the dark atmosphere, you can see each of the boys file out onto the stage, Gareth spinning his drumsticks between his knuckles as he steps onto the drum riser while the other two grab their instruments. Three members are on stage, and you remember that Eddie has been missing in action for the entire day.

The crowd grows louder when they see the shadows of the boys on stage, screaming their names and chanting in anticipation. And as he shreds the first chords to the opening song, you worry that Eddie really might’ve skipped out on tonight’s show.

You’re happily mistaken, however, because soon you see another figure step out, and the crowd goes deafeningly loud.

Beside you, James smiles and shakes his head, “Shit never gets old,” he yells over the screams.

And your heart is racing for some reason as you watch the tall figure walk in the darkness, curly mane of hair akin to a halo as he steps up to the mic, electric guitar strapped across his body.

He leans into the mic and says a few words, words you don’t even hear due to how loud the crowd is, but you feel the gruffness and bass of his voice booming through the speakers, and you nearly mistake it for your heartbeat.

Because when the song finally starts and the stage lights go up, you’re at a loss for words.

Eddie is gorgeous, undeniably so; he always has been, and you never thought he wasn’t. The only thing that got in the way of Eddie’s beauty was his shitty attitude towards you. But this… the way Eddie looks tonight— you’re a speechless and wavering mess of mixed feelings.

Tonight, Eddie is beautiful.

His hair is down as usual, curly and healthy strands sitting pretty atop his shoulders, and he’s opted to play the show in nothing but leather pants and his usual boots.

His upper body is on full display, broad shoulders, and muscles flexing with each strum of his guitar, back muscles working overtime as he trashes along to the music. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, tattoo-covered skin glistening beneath the lights, and you want nothing more than to run your hands down his chest and watch the way it smudges beneath your fingertips.

When the second song finishes, Eddie’s chest is heaving as he pauses and looks out into the crowd, scanning the rows with a lopsided, smug grin.

You can hear faint pants leaving his lips as he leans into the mic, jewelry-wrapped fingers hugging the fret of his guitar. He gazes in silence for a moment, listening to the cheers of the crowd that pull the corners of his mouth into a wider grin. And you don’t even notice the rest of the band on stage because all you see and hear is Eddie.

You hold your breath when his eyes find yours, and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of his dark eyes shining beneath smudged, black eyeliner.

“Fuck,” he breathes with a smile, softly laughing when the crowd screams at his voice, “Do you look good tonight, New York.”

And he’s saying this and looking at you.

He is staring at you like he can see through to your soul, and it makes your head dizzy with a whirlwind of emotions and greedy wishes.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Eddie finally looks away from you and into the crowd, “Are you ready to have a good time, New York?”

Eddie has never, in all his years of living, played as well as he did tonight.

He’s not sure what exactly caused this; maybe the fact that Wayne is in the crowd tonight, or perhaps because he’s still pissed with Gareth, or maybe because he can’t stop thinking about kissing you, or probably because he hates the way you and James won’t stop fucking talking to each other.

Eddie doesn’t know why it pisses him off to see you laughing and enjoying the company of James, but it does. It ticks him off to no end, and he can’t help the feeling that brews in his chest when you lean forward to hear James over the music or when James innocently squeezes your bicep to get your attention before he says something.

By the middle of the show, Eddie has had enough. He’s four shots of tequila in, and he’s feeling bold with the crowd's energy, so when his infamous guitar solo in one of the songs comes, he doesn’t stand center stage as usual.

No, Eddie makes sure to walk over and stand right in front of where you and James stand and play his solo like it’s the last time he'll ever play.

It’s a sinful view, and the crowd goes wild, the big screens zooming in on his skilled fingers dancing across the frets, the flexing of his wet torso, the flutter of his lashes when he closes his eyes and tosses his head back. His lips are slick and parted in ecstasy from the adrenaline high.

And Eddie can feel your eyes on him. Can feel the heat of your gaze burning through every inch of his body, rolling over every movement he makes and taking him in like he’s a prized possession in a museum. He thrives off of it, and he plays harder.

When his solo ends, Eddie doesn’t bother looking at the crowd or James or his band; no, Eddie only looks at you, making sure you understand what he’s trying to say through his eyes. And for a moment, Eddie wishes James would turn the camera away from him and capture your beauty instead— because you look like an angel under red lights.

Eddie has only allowed himself small moments to appreciate the sight of you, but now, he is greedy with the upper hand he has. He takes in every piece of you; your hair, your eyes, your lips, the delicate necklace kissing the skin of your collarbones— and Eddie wants to run his tongue up the side of your neck and hear you whimper for him. Wants to dig his teeth into your skin until you keen and whine and beg him for more more more.

The skirt you’re wearing, god, it’s fucking short, and Eddie imagines the way your skin would feel beneath his fingers, pressing into the fat of your thighs and marveling when the skin gives way to the pressure. Hot and messy fingerprints all around your hips and ribs. Teeth bearing marks across your stomach and chest. Eddie is dizzy with lust and need, and he feels like a fucking animal writhing and waiting to pounce.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

He wants it all.

The rest of the show goes back and forth like that. Eddie catches glimpses of you and James talking and takes it upon himself to direct your attention back to the stage— back to him. Near the end, James finally focuses on his fucking job and busies himself with taking pictures instead of flirting with you, and Eddie walks off the stage feeling satisfied.

The band does their meet and greet backstage and signs a few autographs before they can do their usual post-show rituals: drinking, playing games, and making plans to go out.

Despite his love for post-show rituals, Eddie wants nothing to do with it tonight because he can only focus on you.

You’re standing with James and a stage crew member, talking about something Eddie could care less about, given how he cuts into the conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyes are wide and bright when you turn to him, shocked by Eddie’s ability to even acknowledge you, and Eddie thinks about last night and how your lips felt against his. “Um… talk?”

Eddie’s still high on post-show energy, and he doesn’t like that James is standing so close to you, so he takes a leap of faith and wraps a hand around your wrist, gently tugging with a short nod, not even waiting for an answer before he turns and drags you out of the green room.

He doesn’t know at what point his fingers traveled down your wrist to slip between your warm and gentle fingers, but he becomes hyper-aware of it as soon as you both step out into the hallway, the slam of the door echoing behind you, “Eddie, where are you taking me?”

Eddie glances back at you, fingers subconsciously squeezing yours, “Dressing room. I wanna do the interview.” He answers.

You halt at his response, heels digging into the cement floor and tugging Eddie back, “What?”

The heat of your palm is burning through Eddie’s skin, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop himself from what he wants to do if he continues touching you, so he lets go. “The interview.”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes, “No, I heard you, but… I mean,” you pause, “why? And why now? This can’t wait until—“

“Look, if you don’t want to do it now, that’s fine, but I’m not doing it any other time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning around and continuing to walk towards his dressing room.

You silently watch for a moment, clearly confused by the sudden change of heart, but you nod either way and follow after him.

Eddie hardly pays any mind to you when you walk in behind him, busying himself with walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself a glass of the first bottle he sees. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie notices you awkwardly standing near the door and snickers. “You can take a seat, sweetheart; I didn’t bring you here to, like… chew you out or something.” He jokes.

He makes you a glass despite not asking, and when he turns around, you’re now seated on the light brown couch in the middle of the room, hands fiddling in your lap as you silently wait for Eddie.

He sits on the opposite side of the couch and places the second glass on the coffee table, wordlessly nudging it toward you before leaning back in the seat and taking a long sip.

“Where’s your cute little journal?”

You’re confused.

You don’t understand the game Eddie is playing, and it’s driving you insane the longer you look at him, leaned back against the plush couch, smug smirk kissing the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip, brown, hazy eyes glazing over your nervous figure. The sheer button-down top he now wears is fully unbuttoned to reveal his sweat-glistening torso, leather pants hug his thighs, snug and tauntingly, the button popped open and zipper pulled down to show the sinful sight of a trail of hair that leads to places you’ve been trying so desperately not to imagine. You don’t mean to stare, and you catch yourself when he shifts his hips upward to get more comfortable, the sight of his lower stomach flexing and tattoos coming alive on his skin sending shivers up your spine.

You clear your throat and turn to grab your journal out of your bag. You haven’t had the time to buy a new journal after you ruined the binds by tearing out those pages for Eddie, so you must handle the remaining structure carefully.

You take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, clicking your pen once before glancing at Eddie, “Okay, I guess we’ll… start.”

Eddie smirks, and you want nothing more than to wipe it away.

You open your mouth to ask your first question, but Eddie cuts you off, “I have a proposition,” he begins.

You look at Eddie, blinking once and thinking over if you want to indulge in whatever trick this is. You relent, “Okay?”

Eddie smiles triumphantly and leans forward to put his glass on the table, yours still untouched. He grabs the pack of cigarettes lying to the side, picking a single stick and grabbing the lighter before leaning back onto the couch, lighting the cigarette before shifting to face you. He drapes an arm across the back of the sofa, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking, “I get to ask you questions as well. Like a trade-off, for each question you ask, I also get to ask one.”

And it’s not as bad as you’d thought, really. Knowing Eddie, you had expected him to propose a game involving stripping or drinking of some sort, and you had prepared to immediately shut him down— but this, you can settle for this.

So, you shrug, “Okay. We can do that.”

Eddie hums in delight, taking another drag of the burning stick and nodding for you to begin.

“Okay,” you sigh, shifting to get more comfortable. In the distance, you can hear the chaos of backstage rituals happening, and you fight through the noise to focus. “We’ll start light. What made you choose music?”

Eddie twiddles the cigarette between his fingers, silently thinking, “I don’t know. I grew up with music, never went a day without it, so, in a way, I guess you could say music chose me.” He responds.

You nod, “What are some of your first memories with music?”

Eddie smiles and gazes up at the ceiling, and you watch as he seems to wander down a road of memories. “When I was younger,” he begins, “before my mom died, I remember waking up and going to the kitchen to watch her cook breakfast,” he pauses as if trying to see through the fog of time to explain it clearly.

“And she had this small green radio that sat on the window sill, and she would play all of her tapes; The Mamas and Papas, Jefferson Airplane, Sam and Dave— you know… hippie shit.” He says. “I knew Surrealistic Pillow like the back of my hand by the time I could talk, I swear.” He jokes, smiling when you softly laugh. He looks at you, a glint flashing in his eyes, and you can tell the memory brings him a joy he misses.

And you find yourself thinking back to a few days ago, when you were walking beside Wayne with Richie and Eddie a few paces back. You remember what Wayne had told you then; you remember the tone in his voice and the careful thought he’d used behind each sentence.

“Give him time,” Wayne softly says. You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Eddie and Richie sharing a cigarette. You turn back to Wayne when he adds, “You’re a nice girl, and Eddie… Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice.”

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek, chest tightening at the pained gaze in his eyes when he speaks, “He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

“I know you don’t owe it to him, but just give him some time… he’ll come around.”

Eddie glances at your empty page before gazing back into your eyes, “You gonna write something down? I’m not repeating any of this, just so you know.”

You nod, snapping out of your daze to begin writing. Eddie patiently waits as you jot down your thoughts and conversation, burning through his cigarette and watching your every move.

You look back at him when you finish, and fight the urge to shy away when you realize he hasn’t looked away from you this entire time. “Um, okay, tell me about—” “I believe I get to ask two questions now.” Eddie cuts in with a smirk.

“Oh,” you pause, “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

Eddie ashes his cigarette and grabs his drink again, “When did you start writing?”

And Eddie keeps surprising you. For some reason, you thought Eddie would ask something dumb, inappropriate, or condescending— nothing of this matter. You didn’t think Eddie was interested in actually learning something about you.

You sigh as you think, “Well, the first time I ever wrote for myself was around middle school; I had a diary.” You respond, and Eddie’s eyebrows raise in interest, “It was lilac with a gold lock on the pages, and I carried the key around on my necklace because I was so afraid someone would get ahold of it.” You shake your head as Eddie laughs.

“Now, what in god’s name was little middle school Birdie writing about in her secret diary?” Eddie pries.

You scoff, “Like I’d ever tell you that.” You roll your eyes, and Eddie makes a sound of protest, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pokes. You raise an eyebrow and glance at Eddie, “You’d be surprised by what goes through the mind of a twelve-year-old girl on the precipice of puberty. I’m taking those pages to the grave.”

Eddie laughs loudly at that, head tossing back with the action. You find it beautiful, the way his neck stretches and his skin molds against his bones— kissable and enticing.

“Okay, well, aside from your secretive diary. What made you choose this,” Eddie nods towards the journal in your lap.

You hum and purse your lips in thought, “I’ve always loved writing. I loved reading too, still do, and I tried writing fiction, but there’s something about writing people’s stories that just… feels good.” You respond.

“I know how easy it is to become misunderstood in this industry, so I want to hear the truth and help the audience see things from a clearer perspective. I want to help create an understanding if that makes sense.”

Eddie nods, eyes soft and smiling within his gaze. “That’s neat.” He comments, and you smile.

He sips his drink before speaking, “So, how did you end up writing for Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You laugh, “A shit ton of groveling, I’ll tell you that.”

You reach forward and pick up your drink for the first time, taking a sip before speaking, “I’d been trying to get an interview for the longest time, and then I finally just gave up for a while, but then my friend saw an opening a few months later and sent in one of my writings and… I guess they liked it enough to hire me,” You shrug.

“But,” you hold up a finger, “I spent a good year just running errands and shit for the managers; it was awful,” you admit. “So, how’d you end up with the big guys?” Eddie asks.

“Well, I wrote a hell of a paper and blew their fuckin’ minds.” You jokingly say, smirking over the rim of your glass as you take a sip. Eddie softly laughs and takes a sip of his drink as you place yours back down on the table in exchange for picking up your pen.

“My turn,” You remind him.

He nods, and you glance at your journal, thinking about what you want to ask next. “I know in the past you’ve mentioned that you don’t particularly release songs about your life, but you rather opt to tell stories within your music,” you mention, and Eddie nods in confirmation.

“What’s the reasoning behind that?”

It’s a slightly more in-depth question, and Eddie has to take a few moments of silent pondering before he answers. “Well, for starters, I’ve always considered myself more of a storyteller. I like to create different scenarios and characters and find ways to bring them to life,” He begins.

You quietly jot down notes as you listen to him speak, “When I was in high school, I got really into Dungeons and Dragons, and I still love the game, but I guess you could say it stems from that— the storytelling aspect, I mean.”

“But as for why I don’t release more personal songs… I don’t know; I guess I just like to keep a part of my life private to some degree. However, that doesn’t mean these made-up characters and scenarios I sing about aren’t in some way correlated to me,” He hints, and you nod in understanding.

“That’s neat.” You copy his words from earlier, and you both smile.

You and Eddie go back and forth with questions for a bit, touching base with topics like childhood, friendships, current projects, and such. It’s nice to have a decent conversation with Eddie, and for a moment you forget that you’re even doing your job because interviewing Eddie feels like any normal conversation you’d have— lighthearted, smooth, and innocent. Until—

“Alright, my turn. This one’s good,” Eddie starts.

You’re both two glasses in, and your cheeks feel warm from the drinks as you gesture for Eddie to go on. Eddie gazes at you and studies you briefly before speaking, “What’s going on with you and James?”

You blink in confusion, “James?” You question. Eddie nods, “Yeah, James. The photographer.” Eddie explains.

Your face twists in slight confusion as Eddie sips his drink, “What about him?” You ask.

Eddie laughs, “What’s up with you two? Are you guys together or something?”

And there it is. The game that Eddie’s been playing all along, revealed in all its true nature.

Your eyebrows furrow in defense, annoyed with the sudden shift in demeanor, “Is that any of your business?” You question, and Eddie laughs, tapping his ring against the glass of his drink with a soft clink, “Sweetheart, it’s my business if I’m cutting the check.” He snickers.

You narrow your gaze at him, clearly irritated with his words. You don’t know why you ever gave him the chance. Eddie has only ever shown you his true colors, and he’s, more than once, told you that he doesn’t take you or your profession seriously. This has reminded you so.

“You don’t pay me,” you snap, “And I doubt you’ve even touched a check in the last three years.”

Eddie smirks, amused by your sudden frustration, “Maybe you have a point,” he relents, “But you still haven’t answered my question.” He points out.

You roll your eyes, “Why do you care, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m curious.” He smugly answers.

“I don’t ask you who you’re fucking, do I?” A lousy attempt at dodging the question.

Eddie shrugs again, “You could if you want to, I don’t mind. I bet you’ve been curious to know anyway, haven’t you?” He replies.

You don’t like the way that makes your insides squirm with heat.

And you could tell him the truth. You could tell him the simple and honest answer that, no, nothing is going on between you and James. But as you look at Eddie sitting across the couch, you can’t find a single reason why Eddie should even care or why he should have the satisfaction of an answer. “Ask something else.” You say.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second to spit out his next question, “Did you like the kiss?”

“A different question.” “Those are my questions, princess.”

God, you don’t even know why you’re putting up with this. You could easily just get up and leave, but you hate to give Eddie any room for thinking he’s won whatever stupid battle this is.

You shut your journal, refusing to stay another minute, going back and forth with Eddie. You stand and grab your bag, shoving your journal in before looking at Eddie and finally answering his original question, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” You admit. And you think Eddie will leave it at that, but you're sadly mistaken.

“And the kiss?” He asks.

“What about it?” Your composure is beginning to falter and your frustration is seeping into your tone. Eddie’s eyes glint with mischief, gaze never leaving your fidgety frame as he speaks, “Did you like it?”

“No.”

A lie. A terrible one that Eddie can see right through.

You begin making your way to the door, but Eddie catches you before you can even lay a finger on the handle, turning you around to face him when he speaks, “You’re a shit liar.” He points out.

And he’s so close you can barely think straight with his overwhelming presence. You find your footing through the haze, gazing into Eddie’s eyes when you speak, “Did you ask me to come in here so you can answer my questions, or did you just want to waste my time?”

Eddie is silent for a long moment, eyes dancing between your wide and sharp gaze, darting down to your lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lightly lick across his bottom lip. You can smell the smoke on his breath, reaching out to mix with your liquor-coated exhales.

“Did you like the kiss?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie has you cornered now, pressed against a wall so tight you have no choice but to admit defeat, moving forward to press your lips against his liquor-slicked lips.

It’s hasty. Messy, greedy, drunk, and needy, and it rids your mind of all rational thought as Eddie presses himself against you.

Eddie kisses you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, pressing into you so close you’d think he’s trying to jump into your skin. And the taste of Eddie is addicting.

You crave for more, and you’re hesitant to push, but Eddie understands the second he feels your tongue lick against your lips. He takes it upon himself to push his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth, and you happily let him. All clear thinking has gone out the window at this point, and you let your bag slink off your shoulder to plot onto the floor, busying yourself with sinking your fingers into the curly strands of his hair and gently tugging at the root. Eddie moans against your lips, and you pant, your brain going dizzy at the heavenly sound.

Eddie’s hands are eager and hungry as they rest against your hips, sneaking up your torso to squeeze and grab at your skin. And he hates the fact that there are so many layers of clothes between you, and he wants them gone.

His hand travels down the side of your body and digs into the thick of your thigh, dipping lower to catch the back of your knee and hitch your leg around his waist. You keen, pitching your hips forward into Eddie’s, and he moans, greedily squeezing your skin and gliding up your leg. Cool rings send shivers up your spine when he slips under the hem of your denim skirt and kneads the fat of your ass.

If breathing weren’t a necessity, you would kiss Eddie forever, but your lungs burn with the lack of air, so you find yourself pulling away with a wet gasp, “I—“ Eddie presses a kiss to your lips, cutting you off before you can speak and you whine, fingers moving to dig into the soft material of his open shirt, “Eddie, I can’t… I can’t breathe, I gotta breathe,” You pant.

Eddie laughs, and you smile as he trails his kisses down to your neck, licking against the base of your throat before sinking his teeth into the skin. You moan, whiney and loud in Eddie’s ear and he hums in appreciation, grumbling into the skin of your neck as he speaks, “I wanna fuck you.”

His teeth scrape against your pulse, and you gasp, head dropping back against the wall with a soft thud as your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder. “What?” You hazily blink.

Eddie moves back to see you, lust-ridden eyes darting all over your face. And he looks so pretty, hair messy, shirt skewed against his lean frame, lips swollen and pink from kissing, and you want him. You want him to a dangerous degree.

He kisses you, muttering his words against your lips as he squeezes your hips and pulls you closer, “I wanna fuck you.” Eddie repeats.

You pant, opening your mouth against his and preparing to speak, but you’re interrupted by the door opening, the two of you jumping at the sudden intrusion, your hand swiftly shoving at Eddie’s body to push him away.

And you think you might die because who better to walk in on you and Eddie practically devouring one another than fucking Jeff.

“Oh, shit, uh,” Jeff looks the other way as soon as he sees you and Eddie. You hastily pick up your bag and tug your skirt back down to a modest length from where it had ridden up to your hips.

You and Eddie are still breathing heavily from your extremities, and Eddie— fucking Eddie; he snickers when Jeff glances back at him and makes a lazy attempt at holding back a laugh. Your face and neck heat up in embarrassment as you shift in your spot, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“The car is here, man, let’s go,” Jeff snickers before leaving.

And truthfully, you don’t currently have the confidence to look Eddie in the eye and register what’s just happened between you two. So, you grip the strap of your bag and flee before Eddie can say or do anything.

You’re not sure how that happened, and you’re not sure why it makes your stomach twist in a way that makes you blush, but you like it.

And you can’t believe yourself.

You can’t believe that you spent the entire drive to the hotel thinking about how Eddie’s hands felt on your body, his lips against the skin of your neck, or how you could feel him pressed against your thigh, begging to be touched.

When you shower, you try to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs when you think of those words Eddie whispered to you. You try to ignore it as you get ready for bed and ignore the toe-curling sensation of the cool hotel sheets brushing against your hardened nipples when you slip into bed. You try so hard; you really do.

But you can’t help it when you begin imagining how Eddie’s hands would feel across your chest, the light and rough feeling of his calloused fingers ghosting over your nipples to watch as you writhe beneath him.

Fuck, you really try to ignore it.

But you can’t. It’s annoying, the way Eddie clouds your mind. And you feel like a bitch in heat when the only thing running through your mind and body is the burning desire to cum. And if you stuff your hands between your thighs and bring yourself to cum to the idea of Eddie and the feeling of him pressed against you with your name on his tongue, who’s to judge you but yourself?

Because despite everything your mind is telling you, you can’t help but find yourself wanting Eddie.

But all of that flies out the window the following day.

You’d decided to order breakfast to your room, and the hotel sends the daily newspaper with each meal, and you like to read it while sipping on a hot cup of coffee on your terrace. However, when you see the newsletter cover, you’re not sure you have much of an appetite for coffee.

A picture of Eddie from last night with a familiar red-headed girl wrapped around his arm and a caption that makes your stomach twist in knots. The caption, ‘Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!” in bold and italicized letters.

And you don’t know why, but your stomach sinks. You should’ve known better.

————

part six

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a/n: HIII YOU MADE IT TO THE END!! i know i said there would be drama drama in this part BUT it started getting too long for my liking, SOOO THE REAL DRAMA WILL COMMENCE IN PART 6 HEHE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND AS ALWAYS, I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS SO PLS LMK IN THE COMMENTS OR REBLOGS HOW YOU FEELLL <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly

#FOREHEAD KITH #pof talks

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sweeethinny · 4 years ago

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DUDE WHATTT!!!! I just read ur jilly reacting to hinny first kisss. Dude it was amazingg. But imagine if jilly were alive and James finding out that his daughter in law got a contract to be a professional quidditch player. HE WOULD FREAK. If u have the time pleaseee write thisss.

OMG thank yooou, i love Jily so much, and i love write them alive!

i hope you liked <3

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It was early August when the Potter decided that they needed to take a vacation, James claimed that it had been so busy years and that they almost never took advantage of the Boat he bought almost five years ago, when he started to take an interest in the subject and see various programs who were dedicated to naval practice

"Does your dad really think he can do it?" Ginny asked as soon as she finished closing her bags, smiling at Harry lying on her bed, sprawled as he waited, arms crossed behind his head and following her with his eyes

''He found a pilot. After my mother convinced him, of course, that he would hardly know how to fly a boat just by watching TV shows''

The two had been dating for a while, since the end of Harry's fifth year, and Ginny had been practically adopted by the Potter family, who included her in absolutely every outing, dinner and any celebration.

Lily and she spent hours talking in the greenhouses, sometimes the mother-in-law said about how the studies she had been doing had been improving and giving results, and that it would not be long before the patients who wounds caused by curses, finally healed. Sometimes they just talked about trivial things, like the gift Harry had bought her, or some gossip they heard.

James was also a big fan, Ginny suspected even more than Harry, hers. They flew and played almost every vacation, and the father-in-law made sure to include her in everything related to Quidditch, always reminding her how good Ginny was.

"Even more than I was, and I was considered one of the best of that time"

So traveling with the Potter was not something new, but traveling with them in the same week that might or might not arrive at the letter that would tell she about the final decision on her contract with the Harpies was too much.

''You'll be accepted, I don't know why you're so nervous'' The two of them had just stepped into the Mansion - even though Harry insisted it wasn't one - and Ginny could barely count the anxiety that was eating at her bones, rhythmically tapping her fingers against the thigh and trembling feet when sitting

''Because everything can go wrong. If they think not ...''

''..They liked you'' Harry stated, squeezing her shoulders and forcing her to stop ''Everything will be fine''

Then, the four embarked for the trip to the port, Lily drove spectacularly well, laughing and having fun with the songs that played on the radio, pretending not to notice how restless her daughter-in-law was, who spent more time looking out the window than playing along with James.

''I think all of this will be good .. We need time out of communication. Of course owls can still find us, but only the most important matters'' Lily smiled in the rearview mirror, winking at the redhead in the back seat.

As soon as they arrived on the boat - named Euphemia, in honor of James' late mother - Ginny thought she would throw up right there, before they started moving through the calm, clean waters. The fear of being rejected and not being able to join any team, made her lose sleep and become more and more anxious, which made Harry worried and spent the nights by her side, talking and telling stories that she had already heard but who asked again just to distract her mind and laugh at boyfriend.

When they started the real boat trip, she felt calmer.

The island they were going to stay on was wonderful, with clear, calm waters, and a sun that made Ginny have to wear sunscreen every hour. But it was totally worth it.

The boat ride was also magnificent, with all that wind in her face, the feeling of freedom and happiness that made her forget the tests she had done six months ago, and the most beautiful landscape she had ever seen in her life.

''I said, Lils, buying that boat was the best way to invest the money '' James said as they prepared to jump into the water, with Muggle equipment needed so they could dive deeper and deeper into the water kingdom who lived there (the pilot would never let them jump with only they bathing suits on, and Lily forbade them to bewitch the poor boy so they could use magic)

"Do you feel better?" Harry asked her as soon as they sat down to lunch, the sun at the top of the sky and the birds singing everywhere; the table was full of light, delicious foods that would not make them throw up as soon as the boat started up again, and Ginny almost moaned when she tasted the salad that Lily made with mango and pineapple.

"Yep’’ And it was true.

[...]

On Sunday morning, Ginny almost jumped out of bed when an owl hit her and Harry's bedroom window. The boyfriend was still sleeping peacefully, too tired from the past few days, much more tan than he had a week ago, and looking even more handsome. Already she had a beautiful burnt shoulders, in addition to the red cheeks that her boyfriend said made she look like a cute child.

“Mrs. Wealey.

It is with great pleasure that we inform you that Holyhead Harpies is honored to announce that Ginevra Molly Weasley, 18, is officially part of the team, and that, if she agrees, the new member should pass by the Human Relations office without fail for effect the hiring until Tuesday, 08 of 1999 ...... ''

They accepted her

''Gin?''

''I came in'' She was still gaping at the letter ''I came in Harry'' And then her realized, dropping the long letter with all the rules and terms, she started jumping with joy, smiling from ear to ear '’I was accepetd’’

After the celebrations with Harry, which were based on many congratulations from him, and sex, the two left the room. The in-laws were in the kitchen, James seasoning the fish they had caught the night before, while Lily prepared a dessert pie. Ginny had always thought that the fact that her boyfriend was an incurable romantic came from having parents like that.

Molly and Arthur were in love with each other, there was no doubt, but Ginny always admired the way James treated Lily, always zealous, making sure she had everything she needed around her, paying attention whenever she started talking, as if Lily was the only person in the world.

''Urgh, you guys give me a toothache'' Harry kissed his mother's head as soon as she noticed them both, smearing his finger with stuffing and licking it, and running when Lily tried to hit him with a wet towel for touching the food

''How are you? I saw that an owl arrived earlier today ... any problem?'' James asked, without looking at any of them, focusing on the knife he used to clean the animal in front of him

''A letter from the Harpies arrived'' And as if Ginny said she had won the lottery, her in-laws turned to look at her, eyes wide.

''And ...?'' James looked more anxious than Harry, when she told him that she had entered

''You are talking to the newest player, reserve, from the Holyhead Harpies team'' She could barely contain her smile, almost jumping with joy again. Saying it out loud made everything more and more real.

''Oh Merlin! Ginny this is amazing!'' Before Lily arrived at the daughter-in-law, James ran over her, passing in front and hugging the girl with all enthusiasm

''I knew you could do it, I knew it! I told Sirius, you play so well! Jones would be being blind if she didn't accept you on the team. Oh dear, have you told your parents yet? Harry, we need to have a party when we get back! We will all wear green, in her honor'' He spoke without stopping, looking at her with happiness ''Now I will have to cheer for the Harpies, I cannot be against my daughter-in-law'' Ginny knew she was red, but it was impossible to try to hide enthusiasm when James was like that ''I knew, since Harry told us that you had learned to fly alone, I said that you would still play professionally ... Oh Merlin, we need to celebrate''

''James dear, don't choke her'' Lily pushed her husband away, and Ginny could see that she and Harry were laughing, looking amused by the moment ''I'm so happy, I saw you were nervous earlier, but I didn't want to meddle ... You will look so beautiful in green''

After the hugs, James decided that they shouldn't spend time cooking, and that he certainly wasn't seasoning that fish properly, so they went out to eat, in a restaurant not far away.

''Your father looks happier than me'' She whispered to her boyfriend when they got home and saw that, somehow, they had ordered a cake decorated in Harpy colors and with her name on top

''He loves you a lot more than he loves me .. You had to see it when I told him I asked you to date''

''I think he'll fall back when we have a son'' Harry laughed, kissing her head and nodding

''You know, you're the daughter he never had ... I don't doubt that he would trade me for you. For free'' James came back from the kitchen, Lily and him seeming to discuss what the best drink for the celebration, if wine, beer or Champagne

"To Ginny! The future star of the Holyhead Harpies'' They toasted - each with a chosen drink.

And Ginny was happy that, on that rainy afternoon in her fourth year, she was in detention with Harry. Because she would certainly never find a second family better than that.

#harry X ginny #ginny weasley #Harry Potter #harry one shot #james x lily #jily prompt #jily lives #jilytober #hinny #hinnyprompt #hinny au #hinny fluff #hp prompt #hp couples

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