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bokuroskitten · 4 years ago

Note

Okay so my request. 🥺

Poly relationship between Ushijima x reader x Bokuto. Reader feels super neglected due to both of them having super busy volleyball schedules. Of course she knew this when she started dating them. But she still gets lonely and needy. Both himbos don’t realize it due to them being well himbos. It’s not until they notice her clingy to a player from one of the teams who gives her attention. They confront her and she breaks down and spills her heart out to them. They give her the long awaited attention she needs. Can it possibly be smut please? 🥺🥺🥺

I hope this is everything you’re looking for love. Thank you for requesting and sorry it took a couple days. Please, enjoy. ❦

𝔇𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢

〈You know Bokuto and Ushijima are busy men, but the longer you’re away from them, the larger the ache becomes

�� This piece contains haikyuu time skip spoilers 〷

❈ genre: Angst/Comfort, NSFW 18+ (Minors DNI)

❈ warnings: anxiety/insecurities, Poly Relations (Reader x Bokuto Koutarou x Ushijima Wakatoshi), size kink, dom/sub dynamics, make-up sex.

It wasn’t like they were ignoring you on purpose. Bokuto and Ushijima would never do such a thing. Usually, they were so good at giving you all the attention you needed, checking up on you and asking about your day even after long practices or games.

But things had gotten really busy for your two boyfriends as volleyball season was back in full swing. Playing for the Japanese national team left little time for leisure, leaving you to an empty house that usually was always filled with Bokuto’s laughter or the sound of Ushijima’s rock music. Your days were filled with checking empty group chats, rushing home to make dinner only to find you were the only one eating it, and barely managing to stay awake when the front door finally opened.

It was starting to be too much for you. And you needed them oh so badly. Some night you tried wearing Bokuto’s shirt with your fingers buried deep between your thighs only to find they weren’t long enough to reach your good spots. Or you’d call out Ushijima’s name louder and louder hoping it would bring you closer to a high but it always fell flat.

You started to give up from frustration, actually felt yourself avoiding mirrors or even their touch. You didn’t deserve it, didn’t want to see. Maybe they were doing this on purpose, maybe this was their way of telling you that you weren’t enough for them anymore. Maybe there was someone else, prettier and younger and more bubbly.

There was that one pretty girl who was always conveniently at their practices...

The thoughts began to weigh on you. Made you feel like in your little house of three you didn’t really belong. But you weren’t sure how to bring it up to the boys, not when they were working so hard, and certainly not when they were exhausted every time they came home. So you just kept it all in your chest, letting it build and grow and spread.

All you wanted to do on your day off was stay in bed, allow the covers to swallow you whole so you didn’t have to think about anything. But Bokuto insisted you get up, that grin on his face that usually had you grinning right back.

“Cmon Birdy! Come watch us today! The rest of the boys will be happy to see you too!”

Normally you would have been thrilled at the opportunity, spending the whole day watching your men do what they loved so much. But with everything you’ve been feeling it was hard. Still, you tried your best to match that grin of his, rolling out of bed and getting ready so you could go to their joint practice.

You sat where you usually did, on the first bleacher, front and centre. You were usually so engaged, cheering them on when they hit a particularly good spike or bringing them water when they needed, but today you found yourself distracted. Eyes wandering to the ceiling or fiddling with the hem of the skirt you wore.

You hadn’t even noticed the stranger that sat beside you, just how close he’d gotten. You were taken more back when he spoke so close to your ear, making you jump a little in your seat.

His laughter was so warm. Smooth and thick like honey. You didn’t recognize him, but boy was he handsome. Dark features, light eyes, a smile with a perfect set of teeth. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you pretty.”

Pretty— did he really think you were pretty? Not wanting to seem more like a dunce you forced words from your lips, a little nervous giggle following suit. “I-I was totally zoned out, you didn’t scare me too bad, promise.”

He was staring, and normally this would have made you uncomfortable. Normally you would have told a handsome stranger right away that you were happily taken. But the longer he stared the tighter you pressed your thighs together, the deeper your flush became. You basked in it, the attention you were so craving from your two boyfriends...

“You must be new, I’d recognize a beautiful face like yours.” Another clench of your thighs. You were biting your lip and then his hand was on your thigh. This is where you’d usually slap someone, or call your much larger partners to handle it. But you couldn’t take your eyes off his. And right now you didn’t want to, not when his thumb felt so smooth on your skin.

“What’s your name? And phone number, if your willing of course.”

He was wearing a jersey, one didn’t recognize. Maybe from an opposing team? You just giggled again, tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Words were on the tip of your tongue when a heavy hand fell on your shoulder. The male's hand all but flew off your thigh, his eyes a bit narrowed as the all too familiar voice sounded behind you.

“Baby, come with me.” Ushijima’s voice didn’t waver, in fact, it was deeper than usual, laced with an emotion you couldn’t quite point out. Looking towards the court you saw Bokuto too, thick brows furrowed and arms crossed. Your lips twisted in a thin line as you stayed still a moment, only for Ushijima to easily haul you to your feet.

“W-Wakatoshi—“

“I said. Come.” There was a demand, one that had the frustration bubbling on your features. You tore yourself away from his grip but still stormed out of the bleachers. Bokuto was quick to follow, easily picking up with your pace and walking to your side.

“Baby... what was that...”

“Right in front of us too? Just disrespectful.” Ushijima spoke, now on your other side.

You could feel them, the hot and angry tears that began to swim in your gaze as you stormed towards an empty room. The two continued to talk, trying to understand. You never flirted so openly with others, especially didn’t let them touch you. They wanted answers, needed to know why.

But as soon as the door closed behind you, you snapped.

“It was nice getting attention for once you know!”

That shut them up quickly. Bokuto looked downright shocked, lips held open in a silent gasp while Ushijima still held that blank expression of his. He was going to be the first one to speak but you cut him off, finally letting the tears slip-free.

“I know you two are busy! I know that I signed up for it. But it’s been too much— I’ve been so so lonely... and no one ever seems to notice! Neither of you! I just— I miss my boys, I miss you two so much and it’s not fair... it’s not fair to feel this lonely when I have you both...”

Your voice faded with a small crack, the tears now pooling from your eyes. You tried your best to wipe them away, body beginning to tremble as all the feelings hit you at once. You felt bad yelling at them, seeing their looks of shock. But it was now or never, you had to get it out.

Arms were around you, and you had to blink out a couple tears to realize it was Ushijima who had pulled you in so close. One of his large palms cupped the back of your head, pressed you into his chest with a small little hum.

“Love... sorry you’ve been feeling this way—“

“Why didn’t you just tell us Birdy! We love you so much you know!” Bokuto was quick to follow suit, joining in on the hug which only seemed to make you more emotional. Finally being encased in their warmth, feeling their arms over yours. It was everything you had been wanting.

“I-I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.. and then I just got in my head... I thought maybe you two d-didn’t want—“

“Shush...” Ushijima murmured, not even allowing you to finish that sentence. He pulled away just enough so you could look both of them in the eyes. Bokuto was giving you a small little smile, hoping it would make those tears of yours go away, while Ushijima just sighed, smoothed his palm over your cheek to wipe away tears with his thumb.

“Baby, we love you so much, please don’t ever doubt that okay?” He made sure you nodded before continuing. “We’re sorry, sorry for making you feel unwanted.”

“So so sorry Birdy! I just love ya— well of course we both do but, I just love ya so so much!” Bokuto said with enthusiasm, his smile growing when you let out a little giggle. You wiped away the remainder of your tears, chest a bit shaky as you looked between your two boys. You could see, how genuinely sorry they were. You knew deep down that they would never stop loving you, but hearing it, seeing it on their faces, made the weight that had been sitting in your chest lift.

“I love you both... love you, Bo, love you Ushi...”

“Tonight will be all about you pretty bird, all night just for you,” Bokuto said, pulling you back into a hug that you happily got swallowed into. Ushi nodded in agreement, his palm smoothing over the back of your head as you swayed in Bokuto’s embrace.

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

The evening really had been all about you. From the way Bokuto carried you bridal style into your shared apartment, to the way Ushijima had slowly stripped you in front of the full-length mirror, murmuring in your ear all his favourite parts of your lovely body. Now you were situated in Ushijima’s lap, naked body covered in a light layer of sweat as your chest rose and fell at a quick pace.

“P-Please Sir, want more, need more.” Your voice was nothing more than a whine that was easily shushed by Ushijima. His thick thighs tensed a bit around your own, pulling your legs further apart in the process. “Be patient baby girl, want you to feel every inch of Daddy’s cock.”

Bokuto was struggling to go slow as well, the urge to just thrust wildly into your perfect cunt filling his chest. The look Ushijima shot him told him to keep up this slow pace, for you. So he went in just another inch, making the two of you groan in unison.

“That’s it...” Ushijima’s voice was huskier than usual, large hand palming at your chest as he nodded His eyes were glued to your splitting pussy. “Another inch Bo, just one.”

And it went on just like that until Bokuto’s hips kissed the backs of your thighs, his head rolled back in a pleased moan as you squirmed in Ushijima’s grip. “Beautiful...” Ushi mumbled, his palm slithering down your body to rest on the bulge left in your stomach by Bokuto’s cock. You whimpered at the touch, cheeks feeling hot as his hand slid down to your pussy, traced the way your lips stretched around Bokuto’s throbbing length.

“You’re so stretched around Daddy’s cock baby, you see that? See how Bo can just split you open?” He took hold of your jaw with his free hand, making sure you were looked down at your full pussy. “S-see it Sir, and it feels so good.”

“Fuck yeah it does, this pretty pussy was made for me.” Bokuto rumbles out, his muscles tensing as he suddenly jutted his hips, his tip slapping against your cervix and making you yelp. Ushijima tsked at that, brows furrowing a bit as he snatched one of Bokuto’s hands, made him press it into the place where you and him met. “You need to be patient to Bo, just appreciate how little our baby is, how her perfect cunny stretches just for us. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Bokuto was basically drooling, his fingers pressing along the bulge on your tummy, the one he made. He licked his lips, before a grin curled on his handsome face. “It’s so so wonderful, the best fucking cunt ever. Going to fill you up over and over again tonight pretty girl, make sure you're stuffed absolutely full of Toshi and I so you never doubt again just how much we love you.”

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arrowflier · 3 years ago

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if you still take prompts: ian coming out to the rest of the gallaghers causally or dramatic i'm just curious how he'd do it

It's been a bit but I'm thinking the show gave us Fiona, Lip, Frank, and sort of Monica? So I went with the other siblings and an extra

Clayton

He didn't mean to come out to Clayton. His dad? His uncle? Well, whatever he was, he didn't need to know that Ian dreamed about muscled biceps and short dark hair and sinking his teeth into the back of strong shoulders.

Unfortunately, Clayton happened to stop by the house just in time to see Mickey leaving it wearing Ian's shirt, the neck stretched out enough to show off an impressive hickey on the side of his own.

Mickey had scurried off with nothing but a glare--and a double bird when Clayton didn't avert his eyes quick enough--but the damage was done.

"One of your sister's boyfriends?" Clayton asked lightly, maybe serious, maybe giving him an out.

Ian knew he should take it. Mickey would kill him if he ever found out he hadn't, even if Clayton had no idea who he was.

He should have taken the out.

But he didn't.

"No," he answered simply, "one of mine," and watched his something's eyes widen.

"Oh, um." Clayton coughed. "Well, it seems like a bad time, so I'll just..."

He backed away down the sidewalk. His clean shoes scraped against cracked concrete, his neatly hemmed trousers just skirting the dirt.

"Yeah," Ian said, "Okay."

And he pretended it didn't hurt when Clayton walked away. Why should it? The man was nothing to him anyway.

Debbie

It was early afternoon on a summery Tuesday, after Ian got home from an early shift. Debbie was sitting on the front steps as he walked up, idly braiding yellow dandelions into a crown.

"Hi Ian," she said as he tried to sneak past, "you're late."

Ian winced, halfway up the stairs, looking down at her fair red head.

"You keeping a calendar or something?" he asked, reaching down to ruffle her hair.

She pulled out of reach, and frowned up at him, green stems twisting between her fingers.

"I do when you were supposed to help with the daycare pickup," she countered, and oh. Oops.

Ian sighed, and turned to plop down on the step next to her.

"Right," he said lowly. "Sorry, Debs."

He put an arm around her shoulders, and she hunched over, but let him.

"What were you doing?" she asked, eyes on her hands.

Ian shrugged, the movement making her sway in the curve of his arm.

"Nothing," he tells her. "Just hanging out."

"Are you cheating on Mandy?" she asked suddenly, going stiff, and he stared at the side of her head in shock.

"What?" He says. "No, why would you ask that?"

"Because she came over to help me when you didn't show up," Debbie muttered, "so I know she didn't give you that hickey."

Ian's free hand flew to his neck, slapping over the spot Mickey had bit a little too hard less than twenty minutes before.

"Uh..."

"You are cheating," Debbie said morosely. "I knew it. Boys are all awful."

She started to rise, flowered weeds falling from her hands to the steps. Ian had only a split second to think, to decide, and then he was pulling her down again by a thin arm.

"I'm not cheating," he forced out as she collapsed back down with a huff. "No, really," he insisted when she rolled her eyes. "It's more complicated than that."

Debbie raised her eyes to his, then looked down again, biting her lip.

"Is it because you're gay?" she asked, and the wind went out of him again.

"Do you even know what that means?" he questioned, gathering himself.

"I go to public school," Debbie answered with a huff. "Of course I know what it means."

Right. Fair enough.

"Yeah," he admitted on an exhale. "Yeah, it's because I'm gay."

"Does Mandy know that?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, she does." Then he rubbed a hand over his face. He had to ask. Had to know how he had given himself away.

If not for himself, for Mickey, who had just gotten over their last scare.

"How did you know?"

"Mandy," was the unexpected answer. "Carl is always drooling over her, it's gross. But you look at her the same way you look at me."

And what a thing to be outed over. Being a decent guy.

But at least he didn't get Mickey outed with him.

His heart rate settled, and Debbie settled against him. She picked up her half finished flower crown, and set it on his lap.

"You finish that one," she ordered. "For your boyfriend."

Ian took it with a fragile smile, and didn't bother to correct her.

Carl

Carl had a lot of questions when he came back from care. Questions he liked to ask indiscrimate of time, place, or person. Questions that really weren't appropriate for the dinner table, with the full family around, right after they had all dished up.

"Does gay sex hurt?" he questioned absently, dragging his fork through the mess of gravy-covered meatloaf on his plate.

The table went quiet, except for the sound of Lip choking on lukewarm beer.

"Well?" Carl asked, directed toward Lip this time as the one with the greatest reaction. "Does it?"

"Asking the wrong brother," Lip muttered under his breath, and Ian kicked him under the table.

"Lip," Fiona hissed, then looked apologetically at Ian. As if that were somehow less obvious.

"Why are you asking that?" she directed to Carl, and the boy shrugged.

"Saw some videos at that fancy house," he told her. "The guy seemed to like it in one of them, but in the other one he was crying."

Fiona hesitated, eyes going to Debbie, to Liam. To Ian again.

"Well," she started, "they probably just--"

"Yeah, it can hurt," Ian cut in, suddenly feeling tired. Tired of lying, tired of hiding, tired of everything. "If you don't do it right."

Carl's attention was on him immediately, and so was everyone else's. Except Liam's, at least.

"Have you done it?" Carl asked eagerly, leaning over the table toward Ian.

Ian shrugged.

"Yeah."

Like it was no big deal. Like his heart wasn't racing. Like he wasn't thinking of what had happened the last time he said it out loud.

Carl's face twisted as he came to a belated realization.

"Does that mean you're gay?"

"Yeah," Ian said again, and held his breath.

Carl nodded.

"Okay," he said, looking back to his food.

And...it was.

No one continued the conversation. No one even looked at him again. And Ian felt himself relax, felt himself calm...until Carl spoke up again.

"Is that why you always hung out with Mickey?" he asked, and the blood drained from Ian's face.

"No," he answered shortly, then pushed back, the legs of his chair squealing on the floor. "Mickey isn't gay."

He looked back on his way up the stairs, ignoring Fionas outstretched arm as he passed.

"And don't ever let him hear you say that," he added, "or he'll kick your face in, too."

Months later, when Ian was back, Carl asked him again, in his own way.

"Is Mickey gay?" as he walked up to the makeshift pull up bar in the doorway. "Do you love him?"

And Ian wanted to answer, that time. He really, really did.

But he honestly didn't know anymore.

"I like the way he smells," he said instead, and ignored the way his stomach clenched when Mickey glared on his way to the bathroom.

Liam

It's not like he ever told Liam, not really. At least, not in any way that counted.

He didn't really have to; Liam had grown up in the middle of it all.

He had been there when Mickey stayed, the first time. Sat watching them wake up in a too-small bed, share the bathroom, share breakfast, share all of it.

He had been there when Ian left, too. Gone to live with Mickey in the dreaded Milkovich house. He'd still seen him plenty--stroller rides with Yev, the odd babysitting gig--but more often than not, Mickey had been there too.

And when Mickey was gone, and Ian found others, it just didn't seem so important.

By the time Caleb came around, and then Trevor, he just figured Liam kind of knew. Obviously he knew when the whole Gay Jesus thing happened.

But they had still never talked about it.

"You love Mickey?" Liam asked when they were both back. When he wandered past their bedroom to see Mickey sound asleep under the covers, head pillowed in Ian's lap as Ian tapped away at his phone.

Ian was transported. To another time, a different brother, a different self that couldn't say the words.

He could say them now.

"I do," he answered, voice soft but sure, hand stroking through Mickey's hair as the other man hid his face against Ian's thigh.

Liam shrugged.

"Okay."

Simple. Anticlimactic.

Perfect.

And maybe they didn't need to talk about the specifics. Because it wasn't about Ian anymore, that he was gay. It was about them: Mickey and Ian. Together, no matter what their labels were.

That was how Ian wanted to be see, now. As part of a whole.

Mickey mumbled against him, and Ian looked down, and smiled.

He'd never have to come out alone again.

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #fanfic #debbie gallagher #carl gallagher #liam gallagher #clayton gallagher #coming out

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lis-likes-fics · 3 years ago

Text

A Witch Thing | Chapter 6

By the time they finally got back to the house, the entire family had to come help bring in the bags because, if Alice and Rosalie weren't as good as storing the bags in the back, they could have filled two cars worth of bags in the back.

Y/N wasn't sure if she'd even get to wearing most of those clothes by the time she died, which is saying something since witches had a very long life, and with the right favor with the spirits, possible immortality.

Carlisle walked with Y/N, holding two arm fulls of bags as he said, "Shopping with Alice, are you? You got lucky this time. They once had to take two cars because Alice felt she had to renew her wardrobe."

Y/N shivered as she continued to bring the bags in. When the last bag was placed in Y/N's room, she stared at them in exhaustion, "This is going to take forever..."

Jasper leaned on her door frame and shrugged, "Good thing you have vampires to help you." She shook her head, "No, I couldn't ask you to help me. You've all done so much, I think I can take care of this on my own."

Jasper walked in, "You don't have to ask." He flashed her a little smile and picked up the first bag. Y/N bit her lip in thought for just a moment before getting to work with Jasper. They both had everything out of the bags and laid out on the bed in about ten minutes. They were sorted out by shirts, pants, skirts, dresses, and so on.

Alice walked into the room, ready to get to work and stopped short at the door. "What on earth are you doing?!"

They both turned to face her. "Sorting." They told her. Alice shook her head, "Well, you're doing it wrong! You're supposed to sort by color, type, and fabric type!" She rushed over, opening another door that Y/N thought to be the bathroom and was really a large, large closet.

She was a blur as she began putting hangers on everything and laying them out separate. She stopped and said, "Now, everything needs to be sorted by their color. Chop, chop. I'm going to get more hangers from my room."

Alice left the room and Jasper mumbled, "I'm surprised she has free hangers." Alice shouted down the hall in her chirpy voice, "I heard that!"

Y/N and Jasper laughed together and got to work sorting the clothes out. It took an hour or two, but the work was finally done and there was nothing else to do, Alice admired her work and left Y/N with promises of a dress up day to go through all of her clothes.

She watched as Alice left the room, half terrified, half grateful that she would have Alice in her life now. Jasper chuckled, "Yea, you're going to have to get used to that..."

Y/N shrugged with a laugh, walking over to her closet, "Yea, I'll never get used to that." She started going over everything to see if she could actually memorize where everything is. Jasper walked over, a little too quietly. He touched her shoulder and Y/N jumped a little. "Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you."

Y/N shook her head, "No, it's not you. I get really jumpy."

Jasper started, "My school's prom is this week and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me."

Y/N laughed nervously, scratching the back of her neck as she said, "I mean, would they even let me in?"

"Yeah, the school isn't really good at keeping students out of prom. You could come with us and, even if they did stop us, we'd be able to get you in." Jasper explained.

She bit her lip and nodded, "I would love to go."

Jasper smiled, "Great. Um, fair warning, you might end up going back to the mall for dress shopping..."

She mocked fear and laughed. "Hopefully, I'll live." Jasper smiled and said, "I'll be in the living room if you need me." He left her to herself and she wandered her room to see what else was hidden in it.

A knock came to her door. She turned around quickly, giving a smile to Carlisle as he took a step in, a book in his hands. "Hi." She greeted.

Carlisle smiled as he walked over, "Hello, Y/N. I had this in my office and decided to keep it. It's a book on magic, I thought it was just some sort of fictional thing to read when you got bored, but going back to it, it looks more real than I thought. I was wondering if this could help."

He handed her the large book. The spine was a little worn out and the edges of the book looked a little ragged, but the pages seemed in perfect condition, almost as if the cover was just for show.

Y/N smiled and thanked Carlisle, "Thanks. I'll see if it works. Thank you." Carlisle nodded and let her be.

She sat on her bed, the book in her hands. She opened to the first page, reading the shiny, goldeny silver gradient text on it.

'Read and beware The pages are no lie The words in this book Are not for human eye

This is very real There is no need to jest Open this book And prepare for a test'

"Test?" She asked herself, slowly flipping to the next page. On the next page was a riddle, a strange one that she did not quite understand.

'Centuries old, a story untold, only the true will know and behold. Great magic we are from, and greater we become, for better or worse others are better than some. You have three guesses, three tries, be quick, be wise, or what you will read will all be lies.'

Y/N bit her lip as she thought of the riddle. At the bottom of the page was the number three written in the same golden text as the rest of the words. She guessed, "Spells."

The three at the bottom of the book became a two, a symbol that the guess was incorrect. She thought again, hoping to get the answer right. After a moment of thinking, she spoke, "Familiars?"

The number went down again, the one on the page slightly threatening. She thought again, nervous about whether she'll get it right or not. "Great magic... better than some... centuries old..."

Suddenly, it hit her, "Centuries old and a story untold... Of course!"

She took a breath and spoke clearly, confident in her answer, "The Sun Children."

The one disappeared and she was scared she'd gotten the answer wrong. The book suddenly snapped shut. She dropped the book, startled by the action. It fell to the floor with a loud thud and Carlisle and Jasper suddenly ran up to her room.

"What happened?" Carlisle asked. A shimmer seemed to peak out from the pages, followed by a white flash. They looked at the book, not sure whether they should stay away from it or finally pick it up.

Y/N gave a look to Carlisle and Jasper before slowly walking over to pick up the book. Jasper muttered, "Be careful..."

She bent down, picking up the book slowly and carefully. Y/N opened the book and, read the text at the top corner of the new page in the book.

'Grimoire of Y/N Y/L/N.'

There was a thumb print underneath the words. The two vampires at her side looked over her shoulder and at the book. Carlisle held his hand out, motioning to hers. She gave him her hand and he looked between the thumbprint on the book and her own. "It's the same one." He said.

She looked back at the book, "Cool." She continued to flip to the next page, a note scribbled on it. She read it aloud, "'If you are reading this, it means you are a witch that solved the riddle on the first version of this book. Well, that's a relief. If you didn't get that riddle solved, you would be reading fake spells and things approved by knock off human roleplay stuff. Thanks for getting it right, the other stuff is kind weird and makes no sense. Here's some legitimate stuff.'"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh a little. There were some witches and warlocks who always wrote like fairytale creatures or old sorcerers, then there were others who spoke like normal people. It was refreshing to have a taste of both.

She moved on to the next page and saw a bunch of spells and drawings and witchcraft of all sorts. There were a couple spells Y/N were familiar with, but most of the spells were ones that Y/N had never even thought of, or had to think of. Her parents didn't study magic, afraid they'd be exposed and killed by the Volturi, and their old coven was very strict on the magic that was used, so no one there knew much either. Ones who wanted to learn more magic broke from the coven and joined ones that did more, but most of the witches and warlocks decided to turn away from magic to stay safe.

There were spells on different kinds of strength, familiars, if a witch had one, aging, communication, and much, much, much more. Carlisle was intrigued and Jasper was interested. Y/N, on the other hand, was absolutely mesmerized with the things inside of the book.

Carlisle, of course, was enthralled by the things written on the pages, but he didn't understand any of it. Y/N could understand, read, and even already try some of the spells, but the others required practice and more experience that she would build. "Oh my gosh. This is...amazing." she said, completely absorbed by the things in the book.

"I've never seen so many spells and so much magic before. The only thing that could come close is learning of the sacred history of witches we get on our fourteenth birthday." She continued, slowly closing the book.

"Thank you, Carlisle. This will help tremendously. Thank you so much." She said with a large smile. Carlisle returned the smile, "It's no trouble, Y/N. I look forward to seeing what you learn."

He looked at the book again, eager to see what she might get from it and turned to leave. Jasper smiled, "I can't wait either. Maybe you'll find a spell that will help you find the right outfit." She laughed and nodded, "Maybe. I can't wait to learn more about my magic."

Jasper looked at the large smile on Y/N's face, a smile of his own growing on his lips. He unknowingly took a step closer to her, whether he was drawn in by her magic or her feelings, he didn't know. But he couldn't care less. He just wanted to be close to her, around her, it felt safe and calm. He liked that about her.

He soon let her be to study her magic spells. There was so much to learn about her magic and the spells in the book and she intended to learn a lot.

#jasper hale #jasper cullen #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale x you #jasper cullen x you #twilight fanfic #twilight fanfiction #twilight #the twilight saga #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #witch au #cullen x reader #fanfiction

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xmint-conditionx · 4 years ago

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⊹ lava cake ⊹ birthday sex | myg

✜ pairing: yoongi x reader; yoongi x fem!reader; dom!yoongi x brat!reader ✜ word count: 3.4K ✜ summary: your friend dragged you to this huge house birthday party for some guy you don’t even know, and she disappears with her boyfriend, leaving you alone in the crowd. while trying to find her, you lock eyes with a handsome stranger across the room who looks like he could use some company. ✜ warnings: 18+ only, light slapping, casual sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, sex w/ a stranger, unprotected sex (pls be safe y’all), rough dom, slight public sex?? (idk y’all are behind closed doors but at a party so?????), oral (f), slight degradation. ✜ a/n: hiya! bringing this gem back a day late for the best boy's birthday! wrote this for his birthday a year ago, and one day it will get the sequel it deserves. yoongi w mint hair is my inspiration for my name, so this holds a special place in my heart.

i really hope you like it! thanks, luvs, enjoy!

<3 minty ✧

The crunch of ice in your mouth from your now empty drink is a welcome distraction from the overall din of the loud party guests and even louder music. You scan the large open living room of the house again for your friend and her boyfriend, but they’re nowhere to be found. “Wait right here, we’ll be back in a minute” Micha had said as Taehyung took her over to another part of the house, presumably to meet with another friend of his. That was half an hour ago. You impatiently begin searching the room once more for any sign of Micha’s bright pink hair, furrowing your brows in frustration as you come up with nothing.

As your eyes are rapidly moving from face to face, your search is halted by a minty haired man who is staring directly at you from the other side of the room.

He’s nestled in by the foot of the staircase, back leaning against the railing, red solo cup in his hand. The ends of his hair caress his tiny ears, which are decorated with long and dangly silver earrings, alive in the colored lights of the party. By the time you’ve assessed the man in full and return to his eyes, his eyes are still locked on yours. Unwavering, like a challenge.

You hold his gaze almost threateningly, but he doesn’t flinch away from your heavy eyes. While maintaining eye contact, he gently sips out of the red solo cup before brazenly eyeing you up and down and raising one of his brows in response. After he finishes his sip, he again makes deliberate eye contact with you and runs his tongue over his bottom lip, collecting the drops of drink that was left there.

Your friend is nowhere to be found, so you might as well go and make a new one.

You break away from his lingering stare to fill your cup, and then you make your way through the crowd to the challenger on the other side of the room. You expect him to be looking at you when you return into his line of sight, but are shocked to discover the opposite.

Where his gaze was full of intention, it is now lackluster. Where it had been on you, it now seems to be looking at nothing at all. The empty space in the middle of the room. You walk up and say the only thing you can think of that will get a conversation going.

“Lame party, huh?” you say, taking a sip of your drink and leaning into his direction.

“Yeah,” he says, still looking out into the distance, “I’m not really enjoying it either.”

“I don’t really know anyone here. I’ll be honest with you; I don’t even know the birthday boy. My friend’s boyfriend is a friend of his or something and she dragged me along so she ‘wouldn’t have to go alone’ or whatever.”

“Why aren’t you with her, then? You’d probably be having more fun.” he says as he finishes another sip.

“If she hadn’t disappeared on me an hour ago, I would be! This place is huge and I don’t want to go wandering around some strange man’s house. You’d think with all the money he has he’d at least be able to have better taste,” you say as you point to a bookshelf by the fireplace. “I mean look at that lava lamp! The 80’s called and want their aesthetic back, right?”

The man next to you just shrugs, “I don’t know. Some people like them I guess.”

You move your pointer finger to another corner of the room next to the bar. “That piano too? It looks so beat up! It doesn’t make sense with the rest of the decor at all. I wonder if this guy is alright. His head can’t be right.” you say and the man next to you snickers a little. You turn to him and meet his gaze again. It’s playful and a little dark; it makes you want to continue. “He could literally just buy a much better looking piano.”

His expression darkens further to a playfully scrutinizing one. “You’re awfully bold, insulting the host while you’re still at his party. If I were you, I’d watch that pretty little mouth before it gets you into trouble.”

This is going to be good.

“Oh yeah? And what if I don’t?” you fire back, staring up at him through your lashes. “Doesn’t seem like anyone is trying to stop me.”

He lets out a drawn out sigh and scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah, you’re right. And what a shame that is. I’ve got about a million ideas about what you could be doing instead of running that mouth. More… productive things.”

You raise your eyebrow at him. “Who says I’d actually take you up on your little ideas, hmm?” you tease.

His eyes darken further, and you know you’ve got him.

“Well, it would be your loss,” he says.

You dramatically roll your eyes for maximum sass, “Yeah right, I’m sure.”

“Is that a challenge, little miss?” he asks, his gaze narrowing and his body closing in on you, trapping you against the railing of the staircase. You begin to feel like prey, a sensation that only dampens your panties further. At this close distance, you can just begin to smell his aftershave. His free hand brushes up your exposed thigh and starts to slowly ascend up past the hem of your short skirt. Your heart begins to pound and your legs start to tingle as you hesitantly meet his gaze again. He leans in closer.

“Aww, cat got your tongue?” he sings in your ear, making you bite your lip. You can feel the heat flushing your cheeks. He can likely feel the warmth that is spreading to other places, because his hand stops just outside of the cloth of your underwear.

“Mmm, let’s see if you can stay this quiet when my tongue is in your slit. Now, be a good girl and follow me.” he says, suddenly backing off and walking up the stairs. You wince slightly at the lack of warmth, but don’t hesitate to grab his hand as he leads you up.

He brings you to a set of double doors to the immediate right of the top of the stairs. The light is already on and you can see that the ensuite bathroom’s lights are on as well. He turns back to shut both of the doors and you hear the faint click of the lock.

“Is this the master?” you ask, taking in the details of the room. “I don’t think the birthday boy will want people fucking in his bedroom.”

He’s back on you in an instant, arm around your waist, pulling you up against his chest. “I guess you had better keep quiet then.”

Your lips are suddenly being pressed against his. He immediately deepens the kiss, receiving your tongue into his mouth with sloppy enthusiasm. He starts backing you up towards the side of the bed. Once you get there, you’re shoved down onto the mattress, bouncing slightly as you recover from his kiss. You watch dumbly as he deftly strips off his leather jacket and yanks off his plain t-shirt. Once his stomach is exposed, you find your mouth open and watering at the sight of the little happy trail under his abdominal muscles. You don’t have time to process any of it though, because in another instant he’s on top of you, straddling your hips.

He hooks his thumb into your gawking mouth, holding it open and says, “I’m going to rip you to shreds, little girl. If it becomes too much, say genius. Do you understand me?”

You nod sheepishly and swallow hard.

“Let’s hear you say it then.” he demands, removing his thumb from your mouth.

“Genius?” you say in almost a whisper and he begins to grin.

“Good girl. Remember, stay quiet. We wouldn’t want to disturb the party,” he says, removing his weight from on top of you while shifting you up the bed so that he can situate your hips under his face. He doesn’t bother taking off your skirt; he just forces the fabric up, exposing your already soaked panties.

“All this for me? I haven’t even touched you yet,” he teases.

You huff in frustration. “Yeah, you should probably get to that already.”

He responds with a smart little smack on your still covered clit. You clench and moan at the sensation, looking down at him with your best puppy dog eyes. He is unimpressed.

“What did I say about watching your mouth, brat?” he says as he hovers right over your heat, just close enough that you can feel his breath when he speaks.

“I’m sorry,” you groan out as your legs begin wiggling in hopes of getting his lips to make contact.

“That’s better,” he says, teasing your entrance outside of your panties with his thumb, sending sparks up your spine. “I just don’t know if you want it badly enough, princess.”

“Ugh,” you scoff, “I don’t know what else I can do! Pleeeeease?”

“Please, what?” he asks with a smirk, sending you a look that is filled with fire. “What is it that you want me to do?”

“Please taste me,” you beg with fistfulls of the comforter, and in that instant, he rips off your panties and is busy sucking on your clit. You let out a silent scream at the new sensation, hands pulling even harder on the blanket. He licks down your slit and then into it, sending another wave of pleasure through you. You’re already so wound up that you’re close to the brink, almost teetering over the edge when you grab his hair and start to buck your hips into his mouth, chasing your release.

He pulls away, much to your distaste, earning a whimper from you.

“Whyyyyy did you stooooppppp?” you whine, and he shoots you another dark look right before he slaps your clit again, this time much harder. You let out a yipe as you involuntarily clench around nothing. “I was about to come…” you say in the most adorable voice you can muster, poking out your bottom lip for full effect.

“Who says you get to come?” the man replies, your slick coating his lips. He plunges two fingers into you and starts a slow, teasing rhythm.

“Please, move faster, I–” your voice is cut off when he starts flicking his tongue on your clit, bringing you dangerously close. You know better than to tell on yourself, and you clench in anticipation of your orgasm… but he quickly stops everything and leaves you to come back down slowly, agonizingly.

You’re desperate and dizzy with desire, on the verge of tears with how badly you want to come. He’s kissing your inner thighs, leaving little marks here and there where he sucks and bites. It’s like he’s comforting you through the torture, by somehow making it worse.

“Ple– Please just let me come. I’ve tried to be good,” you plead, consumed with want.

He stops his little kisses and looks up at you. He says, “One more, you can do one more. I know you can. Then I’ll give you what you want. I think you might have learned your lesson.”

He takes the fingers that were just inside of you and puts them in his mouth, drinking up every bit of your wetness that he can. There’s no resistance when he reinserts them. He sets a menacing pace, curling up his fingers to hit that sweet spot, his lips fixed on your clit and his clouded gaze fixed on you. Before long, your release starts to build again, and you try to hold it back as best as you can. He comes off your clit with a wet popping sound and says, “Not yet. Don’t you dare come,” his fingers still pushing you ever closer.

His gravelly command makes you clench and that does it. You’re rocketing through your high and he fingerfucks you all the way through it. He pulls his fingers out and gets off the bed, leaving you to come down from your climax with closed eyes and labored breath.

Before you’ve fully recovered, you’re suddenly being hoisted up. He’s got your back up against the headboard, that much you can tell. When you open your eyes, you can’t believe what’s in front of you.

The mint haired man’s lips are mere inches away from yours, and he has pinned your arms down at your sides. You’re straddling his lap, which is now only covered by a pair of black boxer briefs that aren’t doing much to hide his erection. The outline of his dick with it’s tiny wet spot at the head makes you swallow, hard.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, I told you not to come, princess,” he teases. “It seems you need a different approach to learning your lesson. Since you wanted to come so bad, you’re not leaving this room until you’ve done it three more times.”

Your mouth hangs open; your eyebrows shoot up. You don’t even know if that’ll be possible.

“But this time,” he says lowly in your ear, “you’re going to come on my cock.”

He takes your hands and puts them on his waistband, indicating for you to remove them. As you do and his cock springs free, you can’t help but to lick your lips at how utterly delicious it looks. If he didn’t have other plans, you would have gladly taken it in your mouth that instant.

He takes his member in his own hand and teases your entrance with the head, mixing his precum with your leftover wetness from before. Just that touch has you ready to go again. You take matters into your own hands, literally, by taking his shaft and lining him up with you. As you sink down onto his cock, his breath hitches and you’re glad that you’re not the only one who is being tortured tonight.

His hands are tight on your hips, your skirt having rode all the way up a long time ago. His eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, and before he allows you to start, you see his eyes dart to your cleavage and back up.

“Take off your shirt for me,” he says.

“Why should I?” you snark back.

He quickly pulls out and thrusts all the way up into you, filling you completely up, sending a cry past your lips that was likely too loud. You’re suddenly more keenly aware of the ongoing party right outside those doors. You comply with his request, and he seems pleased that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath your blouse.

“Number one,” he says and unleashes a cruel pace. The lewd sounds of your bodies slapping together only heighten your arousal, and you’re not surprised when you get close to your next orgasm. Sensing this, he grabs your jaw in his hand and directs your gaze to meet his.

“I’m– I’m gonna–”

“Come for me, brat.”

Your second one of the evening shoots fireworks all throughout your body and you clench all over, relishing in being able to fully ride it out. You can’t hold all of your noise in this time, but neither of you seem to mind. As you come down from this one, you notice that he hasn’t slowed his pace at all. What was once the most pleasurable thing has now crossed over into being a little too much, but in a good way. Your sensitivity was almost painful, but this new sensation had enraptured you. You were ready to try for another.

There’s a banging at the door, and you both freeze. A voice comes through the other side.

“Yoongi, was that you in there? We’re about to light your cake. Come out so we can sing to you!” the voice says over the din.

“Give me 5 more minutes, Namjoon-ah! I’m in the middle of something,” the man, apparently named Yoongi, apparently the birthday boy, apparently the one who you’ve been insulting all night, yells back.

You stare up at him in shock, and try to figure out what to say to apologize. He wants none of it, because he covers your mouth with his hand and flips you down onto the mattress. He resumes his unrelenting pace this time with more force behind his thrusts, all while his hand is fast against your mouth.

“That lava lamp,” Yoongi said, “that was the first thing my mother bought when she got her first apartment. She passed it down to me when I got mine.”

You’re moaning against his hand, the embarrassment you feel fueling your arousal even more. He really was out to punish you.

“Number two.”

He grabs your hip with his free hand and digs his fingers into you so firmly, you’ll know there will be bruises there the next day. Yoongi is glistening with sweat, his eyes staring straight through you. All it takes to send you over the edge again is for a smart nip on your nipple.

You scream out into his hand, thankful you can at least be a little more vocal. He still has kept up his pace, and as you come down, it starts to become too much. You’re so wet and sensitive that it’s borderline unbearable. You start to tear up at the feeling, and he removes his hand from your mouth. Without stopping, he leans into your ear and tells you how beautiful you look taking his cock. He tells you how good you’ve been for him, and how he loves the way you taste. He tells you about how he knew he had to have you when he saw you across the room, looking like sin in that short skirt and revealing top. He says he knows you can take one more, because after all, it’s his birthday.

“This time, I want to hear you say my name,” Yoongi says sweetly before taking his thumb and pressing it against your overly sensitive bud. You cry out and then stop yourself, afraid of who can hear.

“Don’t hold back on me; be as loud as you need to,” he says, “this is my fucking house.”

You begin to let yourself whine out, the overstimulation reaching a breaking point. Your mascara is definitely a mess, but the way he was looking at you made you not care.

“Number three. Last one. You can do it.”

He increases the pressure on your clit and deepens his thrusts. He takes his hand from your hip and traces your bottom lip with the thumb before he plants a kiss. The kiss deepens and you allow him to lightly graze his tongue over yours, which he follows up with a little bite on your lower lip. You’re groaning up into him, feeling your next release sneak up. He locks eyes with you, and you can tell he’s holding himself back from his own release.

“Come, beautiful. So I can fill you up.”

At that, the coil snaps and you’re sent reeling into easily the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. As his name spills from your lips, he too meets his own end and you both ride out your climaxes together.

_____________

After you’ve cleaned yourself up a little in the ensuite, you deem it safe to return back downstairs. It’s been long enough that you’ve just heard them sing, so you’ll likely go unnoticed with all eyes on Yoongi as he blows out his candles. You walk down the stairs towards the crowd of people surrounding the birthday boy and his giant chocolate cake. He’s smiling and hugging some of his friends who are encouraging him to cut it open. Once he does, chocolate sauce oozes out and everyone cheers. It’s a lava cake.

He laughs and hugs one of his tall friends wearing an apron, whose laugh sounds like windshield wipers. Yoongi scans the crowd and meets your gaze. He scoops up a bit of chocolate sauce on the two fingers that had been inside you only moments ago and smirks at you as he licks them clean.

Why do you feel like he isn’t done with you yet?

#bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #dom!yoongi #brat!reader #fem!reader #happy birthday yoongi!#xmint-conditionx #bts imagines #bts scenarios #emperor!yoongi

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morgana-ren · 3 years ago

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SUBMISSION: How about a nasty sweaty incel shiggy waiting everyday for his dad to go to work so that he could have his relief with stepmom?

Excellent submission! Love that. Love that a lot! I find it only fair to warn you, however, that I won’t be doing mommy kink for it. Mommy kink is one of my squicks, and one of the very, very few I have. I’ll do the closest thing to it though: Daddy kink. Also I find the irony of him making his little stepmom call him daddy to be absolutely hilarious.

Also this one is a great concept and I love it but it’s going to have to be a multi-parter cause it got a little bit long. Lemme know if you like the concept and I’ll continue it. Also this posted under anonymous for some reason so cheers to tumblr and its endless fucking glitches that it never fixes or seems to make any better.

Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, sexism, really gross incel behavior, nsfl things, masturbation, violent sexual fantasies, nefarious planning, horrible suggestions from even more horrible friends, absolute LOATHING of family, and entitled bastard.

There is only one thing on this planet that Tomura hates more than his father.

Only one thing can even compare to the level of abject disgust he has for his dad. Everything about the man is abhorrent and degenerate, only tolerated because Tomura is, admittedly, a NEET, and had no where else to go after graduation. But if anything- anything- could hold a candle, it would be his taste in women.

All women are trashy on some level, but his dad really manages to find ones that pretend so hard that they aren’t. Vipers behind the veneer of smiling faces clad in red lipstick and smart skirts. Always “kind”, always “thoughtful”, and always fleeting. Fickle, stupid bimbos charmed by his dads surface level charisma to quickly realize just how shallow the pool became.

Even his own mom was like that: She fucked off once she realized staying with him meant staying with his dad, and that was a sacrifice she wasn’t willing to make. So she left him to rot in this cesspit with his worthless father and no other way out.

He figures he can’t hold it against her, not as much as he’d like. A few weeks with his shriveled up paternal figure and most women quickly figure out they can do so much better. It’s in their nature to seek out the best, and that certainly isn’t Kotaro; A bumbling idiot with nothing to offer on the best of days. They don’t know any better, so they never last long after being brought home to meet his son, and those are the ones that even make it that far.

So when he starts yammering on about meeting yet another skank and how ‘in love’ he already is, Tomura’s eyes roll so far back in his head that he swears his retinas will detach. He makes a point to be around as little as possible, but somehow still manages to catch an earful about his latest fling and how excited he is for Tomura to meet her.

Great.

True to his word, Kotaro brings you home one evening, eager to impress his son with his latest catch.

His father had a lot of nerve dragging him from his room to meet you- his latest glorified slut. Adding insult to injury, you had the unmitigated gall to talk down to him like you were an adult and he wasn’t. Even though you had to crane your neck to look up and greet him, you still talked at him like he was some child. So different from you even though you were so much smaller than he was- barely even a few years older than he is, if even that.

So polite, introducing yourself and gently shaking his reluctant hand, making a point to smile at him and telling him how happy were to finally meet him and that you’d heard so much about him. Your hands were so soft, so little in comparison to his own. He dwarfs his pathetic father, practically towers over you, yet you still talk to him like you’re the adult in the equation.

So young, so pretty, though. Far better than anything his father had a right to pull. They weren’t exactly swimming in cash, the house was nothing in particular to gloat about, and he’d done enough eavesdropping around late at night to know his father suffered a particular… ailment, so it certainly wasn’t sexual satisfaction keeping you around. What was it then?

Probably nothing. You’d probably run off in a few weeks like they all do.

Kotaro is a worthless sack of drooping skin and aging bones; A ghost of a man not worthy of the phantoms he’s seen pass in his years. No longer the dominant male even in his own home: not with a stronger, more virile son coming into his prime under the roof as well. A beta male at best, withering away while his own son eclipses him in strength and intellect and physique. Tomura is in his mid twenties and blooming- His father… who even knows. He doesn’t care- he doesn’t bother to keep track.

So, maybe you really are just a dumb little whore. It would make sense. Father dearest always had been a dirty old man; A raging pervert with wandering hands and lingering eyes. Always sets his predatory sights on some cute thing too good for him.

Then again, the poisoned apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, now does it?

You’re cute enough you could have gotten some alpha at your beck and call, yet you’ve attached yourself to his worthless father who, in turn, parades you around like his most beloved trophy. Taking you to dinners he can’t afford despite your ‘insistence’ that you be allowed to pay, buying you things you claim you don’t need. Oh, how the moron dotes on his whores as if it’s enough to keep them anchored to him.

Strangely though, you don’t run off.

If anything, you sink your claws in even further, getting more and more comfortable and showing up more and more. Every time Tomura leaves his fucking room- which isn’t often- you’re there around the corner, smiling dumb and pretty and greeting him politely.

Fuck, he hates you. Hates your stupid voice, your shitty dresses, hates hearing his father happy for once.

It’s no surprise- but unwelcome no less- that he’d move you in sooner rather than later. Terrified to let you out of his sight for even a second lest you come to what little senses you have in your tiny brain and dump him. Of course, he’s quick to take on all of your burdens as his own, even if it means working overtime to support you. He’s always wanted another little housewife, and now he’s so close.

Tomura listens in on the whole conversation feeling sick to his gut.

You beg him not to- offering to pay your own way just like a good girl, but of course his dumbass dad will hear none of it. He’s more than happy to spend a couple of extra hours at work. His dad is so idiotic, so fucking blind. He’s playing right into it. He’s willing to be your workhorse if it means keeping you all to himself.

He’ll hear none of it. None of the fussing or the questions. You’re welcome in his home, he wants you there. It’s no imposition at all, he knows the house will be better with you around.

Except he forgets one crucial detail-

The son he leaves home alone with you every single day when he leaves.

You’re nothing but a nuisance, something infringing on his private space. The time he used to get home alone to spend to his own devices is now split with you flittering around the house doing whatever it is bimbos like you do. Cleaning, cooking, pretending to read, whatever. He doesn’t have to see you if he doesn’t want, sure, but he still knows you’re there and that’s more than enough to annoy him.

It’s almost like you catch on to his animosity after a while. The way he won’t greet you back, the way he utterly ignores your existence. It bugs you, and as far as he’s concerned, good.

You try to slip him up, try to get close to him and make him like you. You always set a place for him at the table even after Kotaro repeatedly insists- truthfully- that he’ll never join for dinner. Even then, you always bring the plate to his door. He never bothers to answer- not after the first few times when he only opened it a sliver to see your stupid smiling face. After that, he didn’t bother answering. He’ll eat it of course- won’t pass up free food he doesn’t have to leave his room for- and then leave the dirty dish back outside where you left it. You brought it, after all. You can clean it up.

All your efforts only get you mocked, and boy do you try so hard to get his affection. He even overhears you whining to his dad once or twice, not understanding why he doesn’t like you.

It makes him smile.

His friends- online of course, but still friends or comrades or kindred spirits or whatever- have more opportunistic ideas about it. His first post to the forum complaining about the new living situation was met with envy and awe- not necessarily the response he was expecting, though looking back on it, he supposes they were right.

lmpwrst: Why u bitchin’? Ur living with a girl ur not related to and that’s closer than any of us have gotten u ungrateful ass

KingKockRool: Go jerk off on her pillow.

Stacystabber91: take a video hold her down and fuck her then idiot

KingKockRool: No wait till she’s sleeping and jerk it on her face

st8lker: Bet she’s ugly tho if she’s dating your dad lol

Oddly enough, he doesn’t agree. That’s one thing he understands about you, loathe as he is to admit it. His new ‘stepmom’, for all her annoyances, is pretty easy on the eyes. The kinda girl that would have caught his eye in an unrelated situation and earned a permanent spot in his spank bank. Thinking about it, the whole ‘dating his dad’ situation maybe threw off his judgement more than he realized.

He’ll let the jury decide: He finds a photo on your social media, crops everyone else out of it, and hits enter. Easy peasy. He saves it to his hard drive for later too. Might as well.

‘Here, you decide then.’

Thus the shitstorm begins.

st8lker: Oh fuckkk fuck me mommy lmao

lmpwrst: Opportunity is wasted on u

Stacystabber91: you pussy punk bitch, i stand by what I said earlier. dont be a bitch and fuck the little cunt already

VolceliSwear: Whos the bitch

lmpwrst: Scratchy’s new stepmommy lol

VolceliSwear: Nice. Hit it yet?

Stacystabber91: he hasn’t cause he’s a gigantic fuckin pussy like i told you all

VolceliSwear: Come on dude you actually have that gash sleeping in your house and you haven’t made a move?

Stacystabber91: it’s not like she could say no cause you’re a big lanky bastard aren’t you? that’s one thing we got over the shortcels and you’re bigger and stronger than her so take what’s yours idiot or I will

lmpwrst: I agree with SS lol U complain all the time about not having a hole to fuck and now u do

VolceliSwear: ^^ Isn’t your dad a limp-dicked prick who can’t get it up? Someone’s gotta do it so it might as well be you. Hit the bitch so hard and fast she doesn’t know what way is up

Stacystabber91: and send pics moron I want to see tits or I’m coming over there to do it myself

It’s an… intriguing thought. To be honest, he’s never actually considered fucking you before. Had the passive thought like he does with most girls he sees, but never stopped to think on actually doing it. For some reason, there was a mental wall between him and his father’s girlfriends. But why should there be?

Depraved little bastard that he is, he’s not above cornering a girl and forcing himself on her but he’s not keen on going to jail, so he’s never escalated past creepy photos and following the occasional broad a little too closely. Maybe a couple gropes in passing… okay, maybe a lot. But he’s never gotten caught- maybe the girls don’t report it or just couldn’t find him afterward. Either way, it’s all worked out so far because he doesn’t cross certain boundaries.

Most girls are repulsed by him and his repugnant behavior, so they stay far, far away. It’s like he’s a giant blaring warning sign that they tend to heed instinctively.

But you don’t.

This is different. You live here, so close to him, so within reach. Just how close you are. How easy it would be for him to force you down and make you take it. Just how much time alone he really has with you since his father leaves and returns like clockwork. He’s got the entire day once his father leaves for work. And all night once he takes his sleeping medication. An easy, pretty little catch already wiggling in his web.

‘Maybe I will.’

That’s how it starts.

Snowball into snowstorm.

With an idea and a lot of goading from his online buddies, a monster is born and weaned on his own depravity and escalates into something very real, and very dangerous.

Tomura is achingly familiar with the scene- he’s seen enough porn to give him ample ideas. But he’s got all the time in the world. It’s hard not to rush things considering how eager he is, but it’s safer to test the waters first. Get you nice and scared so you’ll keep your pretty mouth shut unless he tells you to open it for him. See how far he can get, how much he can toy with you before you finally catch on.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll fuck him willingly. You are a stupid little slut, after all. Most of you females are deep down beneath that holier-than-thou, stuck up bitchiness you hide behind.

So he starts with a time honored tradition. He steals your panties.

The bathroom is cluttered with your shit. Your fruity shampoos and conditioners, your makeup, your perfumes. Tomura has a toothbrush and a comb he doesn’t use, a bottle of 3-1 for when he forces himself into a shower, and a singular gray towel, but the rest is between you and his father. Your body washes, your scrubs, your clothes in the hamper.

It’s easy enough to fish out a fresh pair- only a couple of hours old. Some lacy contraption you must’ve been wearing beneath your clothes and carelessly left in the bin when you showered. It’s easy to pocket them before you hear him rummaging around, and maybe you’ll miss them, but that’s not his problem. Washer eats things all the time, doesn’t it?

He’s hidden back in his room, safely dodging you before he allows himself to indulge- Bringing them to his nose and inhaling the doubled fabric of the crotch so hard that it catches on the edge of his nostrils.

Fuck, your cunt smell good- tangy and sweet but the tiniest hint of bitter. A couple of whiffs is enough to get his cock twitching, inflating into a painful hardness as he hears you walking around outside in the hallway. Shit, you’re so fuckin’ airheaded, walking around so oblivious as he tongues at the cloth that was nestled right up against your pussy until a few hours ago. He can taste you, sucking your left over essence through his teeth and he swears he’s going to cream all over the inside of his jeans if he doesn’t jerk off right now.

He’s quick to drop his sweats and sprawl on his bed, thumbing the tip of his prick and licking gratuitous stripes up the slim of your discarded panties with his tongue. You’d look so good sucking his cock; On your bruised knees, face a slathered mess of cum and saliva and running makeup. Bulge in your throat from taking him so deep and trying so hard to please him like you always do- or maybe avoid a painful punishment because he isn’t above using his hands on you and you learned that the hard way.

The thought of your ruddy, soppy face makes him throb- fucking your wet little throat until you’re suffocating, pulling out to let you breathe only to cum on your face. Yanking you up to bend you over the stove and force you to make his worthless father’s dinner with his spend tacking across your face and his cock lodged deep in your cunt. Worthless fucking sack of shit that his father is, he’d spit in it too and make you serve it to him with a smile while your actual daddy watches you do it and rewards you later with his dick fucking you between your tits.

Fuck yes, that’s what he’ll make you do. He’ll make you call him daddy when he creampies you- the opportunity is too perfect to pass. He’ll fuck his father’s pretty whore as she screams and moans for daddy’s cock while his father is away at work to pay all her frivolous bills like the beta-cuck he is. None of the work and all of the reward- as it should be.

It’s not like Kotaro can fuck you, and his friends are right. Someone should. So why not him? Why not spread your legs for your boyfriend’s younger, more powerful son? Oh, sorry, did he give you the illusion that you had a choice? He’ll take what is rightfully his and there’s not a fucking thing you or his pathetic fucking father can ever do about it.

He plucks your panties from his face, moving them instead to work over his cock. It would feel so much better if you were wearing them- grinding your sweet little cunt against his dick, begging him not to fuck you but getting so wet all the same. The silky fabric feels so good against his hypersensitive skin, coupled with the clenched pumping of his fist as he daydreams about railing you into his filthy mattress until you’re too weak to even move on your own, his cum dripping from every one of your used holes. Limp, useless little whore too fucked out to even fight him as he fucks her in the ass again-

Fantasies swirl in his head, flashes of scenarios that tease him and work him into a frenzy. He’s going to cum hard to the thought filling you, your agonized face as the tip of him knocks against the opening of your womb, buried so deep in your cute pussy that he can feel the wall that keeps him firmly locked out of your guts. So close, so tight, so warm. He’s going to pump you full to the brim like the skank you are, fill you nice and thick full of his seed and then use you again and again and again-

He feels it in his spine, waves of pleasure furling at the base and congealing together impossibly tight, so ready to burst. His thighs flex, muscles in his stomach tightening and breath staggering. Searing white behind dry, clenched eyes and his cock twitches in his palm, knot bursting deep between his legs as his hand stills momentarily. His hands twitch, cock throbbing as thick ropes of cum spill over the slats of his fingers, splattering his stomach and the waist of his sweatpants and all over your adorable little panties.

“Shit-”

Shallow, shaky breaths, still seeing stars popping behind his eyelids. Fuck, he hasn’t cum that hard in- well, a very long time. Is it the thought of having something tangible soon? His very own cunt to abuse? Grinning, he looks down at the absolutely drenched pair in his hand, sticky with fresh seed.

He thinks so.

Instinctively, he wipes the excess off his fingers and onto his dirty, rumpled black sheets, swiping across his shirt and his skin. Just another ‘mystery spot’ among the rest, soon to become a crusty, flaked white stain on the fabric among all the preexisting ones.

With some effort on his part, he sits up, still trying to catch his breath. He thought post orgasm clarity might deter him from this path, but if anything, he’s even more determined now. Why should he sit and touch himself in a dark room when there’s a perfectly good set of holes to fuck wandering around freely outside?

Oh yeah, this should work out just fine.

There’s a knock on the door while he’s still wading through his gross thoughts, softly at first but then slightly more insistent. It jolts him alert, irritating him that he’s being bothered when he’s scheming. He’s already finished the dirty dead, all ready to put himself away for now but it’s still jarring none the less when someone comes around so closely to him wanking. A quick dash at the clock tells him it’s not dinner time yet, so what gives? Why are you bothering him now? Nothing is ready yet.

He tucks himself away and quickly buries your soiled underwear in the pocket of his sweats. Quickly wiping any remnants on the knees of his pants before swinging his door open, agitation palpable as he greets your stupid, sunny face.

Speak of the she-devil.

“Hi, Tomura! Just wondering if you have any laundry or anything you want me to take!” “N-” He’s about to slam the door. About to. But you know what? You want his laundry? Sure. He’s got some for you. “Yeah- yeah, sure.”

He steps back from behind the door, letting it creak open a little as he rips off his freshly re-soiled sheets.

“Oh, good! Yeah, I’m throwing in my own so I’ll take your load too-“

Yeah you will.

Balling it up, he chucks it at you as you curiously peek your head in. You’ve never seen the inside of his room, but soon you’ll see plenty. He doesn’t know if you can feel the fresh cum on the sheets, but he’s willing to bet you can probably smell it. To your credit, you barely falter, even with the sheet cradled in your bare arms.

You’re probably having a moment of “understanding.” ‘He’s a young man with no girlfriend and no other outlet. Of course he’s going to wack off’ and all that. It’s cute, the way you pretend not to notice. That’s okay, he’ll give you something you can’t ignore.

He steps up to the door again, yanking his black shirt over his head and dropping it in your arms with a shit eating grin.

“Oh- okay, yeah-“

Your sentence halts completely as he starts to strip off his pants and you’re left staring in slight horror as your stepson strips down to his boxers in front of you before placing his sweats on the top of the pile you’re carrying- right by your face.

“I’ve got some more dirty boxers if you think you can handle anymore.” He’s grinning like a fiend, reveling in your poorly concealed discomfort as he leans against the doorframe, swinging out towards you. You’re backing away from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes up and away from his very exposed body, and especially the half hard cock tenting the front of his boxers. Your face is turning a viciously dark shade, stifling your breathing because he just knows what you’re refusing to see, you can almost certainly smell.

“Um- nope! This should be a full one! I’ll get them back to you soon!”

“Oh, take your time. No rush.”

You scurry off down the hall much quicker than your usual casual walk, probably to scrub your arms clean with iron wool. Poor little thing, just trying to be nice and this is what it gets you.

He cackles something fierce as he shuts his door again, going to look for your ruined panties to post a pic but remembering they’re still in the pocket of his sweatpants, covered in his cum and saliva. A fun little surprise for you to find when you go through pockets to ensure nothing gets stuck in the washer.

And he notices, in the coming days, you stop leaving your clothes in the hamper- or even being able to meet his eyes.

Oh, this should be fun.

#nsft #shigaraki smut #see warnings #no mommy kink i am sorry #lots of gross shit for you tho #which I assume you want cause you came to me of all people #see the warning list up top for full disclosure

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Fully Complete 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment, general hatred, allusions to death, toyplay, binding/restraint, whipping.

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: Think we got one chapter left after this one but don’t worry, we will eventually have more Birch beyond that.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 6: Wait and you'll see

💀💀💀

Your ankle bent for the fifth time as you entered the small county hospital. Loki kept his hand covertly on your elbow after you jabbed him several times in the ribs on the drive over and noticed the way your eyes searched around. You couldn’t help it. Even if Jerome’s life was in the balance, you wanted nothing more than to be away from this man; if you could call him one.

The halls were sterile and the bright lights added to the sting in your eyes as you were shown to your brother’s room. A motorcycle accident, the nurse said, but Jerome’s bike was destroyed with everything else in your shop. You knew what happened was far from an accident.

His eyes were closed and tubes ran down his arms and across his face. It was a sobering sight. It reminded you of your father’s last months. You dreaded seeing anyone like that ever again. Even if Jerome was a cowardly weasel, even if he let those men trade you like livestock, he was still your kin and he was all you had left of your father.

You wiggled away from Loki and he let you as he pinched you in warning. You went to Jerome’s bedside and glanced over at your escorts. Korg actually showed an ounce of empathy as he stared at the bed.

“Can I have some privacy?” you snarled.

“We’ll be right outside. Don’t think of trying anything,” Loki reproached.

“I just want to be alone with my brother,” you curled your lip, “not everything is about you.”

You waited until you stepped out and you leaned on the bed rail. He looked so frail just laying there with machines pumping life into him. The nurse said he might wake up but they were still waiting. The only good news she had was that the surgery on his spine was successful.

“I don’t forgive you,” you whispered, “I never will but I love you.”

Your eyes pricked and you rolled them to force away the tears. The machines beeped and fanned. You shook your head and gave a grim smile.

“I want to ask how we got here but we know. We knew life would be like this. Daddy said it would. He knew you were gonna be a club man like him and he told you to hold onto your soul. He’d be so disappointed.” You sighed, “Do you know what that man is doing to me? What he’s gonna do?”

You looked away and huffed. You were angry, hurt, but not broken. Not yet.

“I can’t stop him, I know that,” you confessed quietly as you reached for his hand, “I was stupid to think I was different from those other girls. To think I’m above them. No, these men are all the same and we just gotta deal with it.”

You swallowed and pushed yourself up.

“Yeah, yeah, we know what happened to mama. Same thing’ll happen to me now,” you said, “and you’re gonna go see daddy. I hope he’s at peace, I hope you find that too.”

You turned and wiped your wet eyes. You wouldn’t let Loki see you cry. He wouldn’t have that pleasure. You would play along until you could act. You would pretend that you believed Jerome would live. You would fake, you would take, you would survive.

💀

The car ride was silent as you stared out the window. You were quiet, still. Even as Loki’s fingers wandered to your skirt and played with the fabric, you did nothing. You were tired and fighting wasn’t doing nothing but draining your energy. You leaned back and played with the button of the jacket. The clothes were entirely impractical against the winter.

The main road of Birch passed outside your window and Korg drove by the sidestreet where the Victorian house stood. You saw the moniker with Cleopatra and you didn’t need to ask where you were going. You didn’t even wonder why. You knew.

“You think you can behave?” Loki asked, “for your brother’s sake?”

You turned to him and resisted a snarl. You nodded and tensed as he squeezed your leg.

“Darling, I mean it. You go in there and you show the boys how tame you can be,” he smirked, “show off your new clothes.”

“I got it,” you said through gritted teeth, “but you touch my brother again and I will never stop. I won’t stop until you kill me too.”

He raised his head in triumph and flicked your chin with his finger, “we have an understanding, don’t we, darling?”

You turned and reached for the handle. He let you and followed you out smoothly. He was quick to hook his arm around your waist as Korg led the way to the bar and opened the door ahead of you. You entered and focused on keeping one foot in front of the other as your instinct told you to throttle the man at your side.

Your breath caught in your throat as your vision cleared. Steve sat with his girl and Bucky with that waitress he was fucking. You saw in her eye a feeling you knew well. Her and the mousy one shared that brittle complacency. Your sights narrowed at Bucky as you got closer and time seemed to slow.

When you reached the table, Bucky looked over and stood. He smiled between you and Loki, the amusement plain on his face. You felt the flicker inside of you. You couldn’t hold back as you slipped quickly from Loki’s grasp and around the side of the table. You latched onto the front of his jacket. You hit him across the jaw with your fist and were ready to lay another as someone caught your fist.

The voices rose around you as you kicked out and caught him in the stomach as you were wrenched away. You looked up as you growled a slew of curses and found Steve and Loki both clinging to your arms. You continued to flail.

“You fucking piece of shit,” you grunted, “I swear to fucking God, I’m going to end you!”

“What did I say?” Loki hissed as they tried to rein you in.

Bucky was just as fast as he approached you and drew his gun. You didn’t still even as he aimed the muzzle at you and stared down the barrel.

“She’s fucking rabid,” Steve uttered, “Christ.”

“Do it, you fucking bastard!” You spat.

There were no thoughts, no fears, only pure rage as you stomped your feet and tried to wriggle free. You glared back at Bucky as the gun hung before him. He exhaled loudly and put it away.

“You gotta put a leash on that bitch,” Bucky said, “I told you it wasn’t going to be easy.”

“Darling,” Loki said as you yanked against his hold, “that’s enough. Surely you didn’t forget so quickly that yours is not the only life in the balance.”

You looked over at him and blinked. You unballed your hands and stilled. You were stiff as the anger tensed your entire body but you tamped it down with effort. The men slowly released you. You peered around as you seethed, the two women at the table watched you in shock but beneath, you saw intrigue.

You raised your hands in surrender and looked at Bucky. Your jaw locked but you forced the words out. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” he raised his brows as his own anger receded, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” you enunciated, “alright?”

He laughed and looked you up and down dramatically, “didn’t think you’d get this far,” he said to Loki, “she looks like a woman.”

It took everything you had not to try again. You backed away as Loki removed his jacket and you mirrored him. He pulled out a chair and pointed you down with sneer. He sat beside you and rolled his shoulders as he fixed his blazer.

“Apologies for our lateness, we did have to make a detour,” he said, “I promise, I will keep her in line for the rest of the night.”

Bucky poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth, “you better,” he grinned.

You looked to your lap and unbent your fingers as your nails dug into your palm. You peeked around and caught the eye of Bucky’s girl and for a moment you just stared back. She was pensive and tilted her head before she looked away. You might not be entirely alone.

💀

“I am unimpressed with that scene,” Loki hissed as Korg clung to your arm and angled you up the stairs ahead of them, “but I will give you a choice. Do I punish you or your brother?”

You reached the top and turned down the hallway. You entered the bedroom without resistance as the burly toady kept his grasp on you. You turned with him and watched Loki enter.

“I’m sorry, really. I deserve… punishment. Not him,” you said stiffly as you swallowed. The words were like bile in your throat.

“Oh, darling, that is the smartest thing I’ve heard you say,” he slithered, “Korg, get her clothes off.”

You blinked and looked up at Korg. He returned your gaze doubtfully and glanced back at Loki.

“Sir?” he asked.

“You heard me,” Loki said as he went over the chest of drawers and pulled the top one out, “get her naked and put her on the bed.”

“I can do it myself--”

“No, Korg, do as I say and hold her down,” he turned as he held some leather straps and you scrunched your nose as you tried to decipher all the crisscrossing.

“Sir, I--”

“You know I don’t like to repeat myself and I’ve already done so once,” he snapped, “so do it.”

Korg let you go and you bent quickly to undo your boots. He watched you take them off and you put your back to him, “the zipper,” you said quietly. He pushed it down and you held your arms straight as he tugged the sleeves past your wrists. He jerked you unintentionally as the dress gather at your waist and apologized.

You steeled yourself and stepped out of the fabric as it fell to your ankles. It felt like giving up but it was the only way. It was a means to an end. You bit down as Korg fumbled with your bra and stuttered. You reached back to help him and the cleared his throat.

“Hurry up, you fool,” Loki growled.

Korg hesitated as he pushed down your stockings one at a time and then slipped your panties off your hips. He stood and gripped your arm, lighter than before. You let him move you to the bed and Loki stopped him.

“Raise your foot, darling,” he bent and opened the leather straps.

You obeyed and he nodded to the other. You lifted your other foot and put it back down. He pulled it up your legs and zipped the harness up to your waist. The leather straps wounded around your pelvis and thighs but offered no cover, just a strap along your cunt.

“Put her arms back,” Loki demanded as he rose and came around you. He pointed behind you and your wrists were buckled into the cuffs attached to the thickest strap on the harness, your arms bound behind you. “Very good, now on the bed… face down.”

Korg gently guided you down and you wiggled onto the mattress. Loki dismissed him curtly and the door closed, marking a stolid silence. You kept your face away from Loki and tested the resistance of the harness. Even if you could get free, you wouldn’t get far.

“What is the matter, darling?” he taunted as you heard the rustle of fabric.

“You know, trying not to wretch at the thought of you touching me,” you snipped.

“Oh, is that what you think your punishment is?” he mused and the air was cut with the bite of leather before it lashed across your ass, “you’ll be begging for my touch when I’m through.”

You held your breath as he laid another strike and another and your body jostled on the bed with each. You knotted your fingers and every muscle in your body was rigid. You felt the welts rising on your skin but you focused on the pain. It kept you from crying, from thinking. It kept the humiliation from drowning you.

Was it worth it? Could you live with the shame when it was over?”

He stopped as you panted shallowly. He snickered and you heard him moving around again. He tutted and the mattress dipped as he pushed your legs apart. He pulled on the strap along your cunt and slid a smooth, slightly curved object between it and your skin. He tightened the buckle at the back of the harness so that the silicon was snug to your clit.

He poked his finger along it and it began to vibrate. You sucked in your breath as your body responded to the pulsing. He retreated off the bed and you pushed your legs together. That only made the sensation more intense and you tugged desperately at the cuffs as you rolled onto your side.

“It said about twelve hours battery if kept on low,” he said, “just enough to keep you awake but not enough to do much else.”

You bared your teeth as your eyes threatened to roll back and growled. Your feet arched as you bent your legs slightly and tied to shift the vibrator. You crushed your hands as you wiggled onto your back and dug your heels into the mattress.

“I am patient, darling, you’ve helped in that,” he taunted, “but oh, it is worth the wait to see you squirm.”

“Oh, you prick, why don’t you just… get it… over with?” your breaths caught as the toy buzzed against you.

“Where is the fun in that?” he ran his hand down your thigh and you flinched, “and you kept me waiting long enough. You will know the same pain.”

“I fucking hate you,” you sneered as you rocked back and forth and pushed your head back into the bed.

“I know,” he said gleefully, “it makes it all the better.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #birch #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #fully completely #biker boys of birch #mcu #marvel #thor #captain america #avengers #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sequel

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diegos-butt · 4 years ago

Text

A trip to the grocery store

Summary: The fridge is empty, so a trip to the supermarket is inevitable. The only problem? Walter isn't in the mood to behave. 👀

Walter Marshall x Melody Williams (Curvy/Plus size OFC)

I didn't mention her name (he calls her doll y'all) so you could see this as a reader insert I guess!

Warnings: Walter being a cheeky bastard. Walter being a little touchy. Cute ass behaviour 🍑 (pun intented, you'll understand later)

Wordcount: 3k

A/N: Wooohooooo!!!! In celebration of reaching 🎉100 followers🎉, I’m posting this fic as a thank you! Thank you all!! 🥺

This is written for my babies from Electricity, but you can read it without having read that. I make a few references to the first chapter, but they’re explained so you’ll get in anyway. 😘

•••

“No, let’s just stay home!” Walter whined. “We can just order take out tonight!” He looked at me from the couch with puppy eyes.

“Walter, take a look at the fridge. That thing is empty, and you eat for like three people,” I said with my hand on my hip, in my other hand I waved with the car keys. It had been a busy week, and we both didn’t had time to run errands. “We need to go to the grocery store, and you know it.”

“I don’t eat that much,” he grumbled.

“Yes, you do. And again, you know it,” I shot back. “Now get that thick ass of the couch.”

Faster than the speed of light he stood up. Standing behind me he grabbed my hips. “Look who’s saying that,” he growled. I laughed and swayed my butt against my boyfriend.

“Not now Walter, first groceries,” I turned around and winked at him. Quickly I walked away and grabbed my phone from the dining table and shoved it in the pocket of my jeans. He sighed loudly behind me, but he gave in. I walked to the hallway and grabbed his shoes, which I threw at him.

“No need to be so violent doll, might get you in trouble,” he warned. He tied his shoelaces and grabbed his wallet from the dining table.

“Might be looking for some trouble detective.” I waited by the door, and after one final warning glance at Walter, he walked towards me. He stepped close, pressed his forehead against mine before he kissed me deeply. His hands wandered over my butt. With a gasp I broke the kiss, and pressed my hands against his chest, creating a little space between us.

“I really can’t convince you to just stay home uh?” he asked and tried to pull me closer again.

I shook my head and grabbed his hand while I opened the door and pulled him outside with me. “Damn right.”

“A woman on a mission, those are the dangerous ones,” he mumbled underneath his breath.

“What was that?” I looked at him while narrowing my eyes.

“Nothing doll,” he grinned. We walked towards the car. It was a soft, spring day, no need for a jacket or coat. Walter was wearing one of his characteristic grey sweaters, and I was wearing a blue deep vee blouse with high rise jeans.

I was about to open the driver’s side when Walter snatched the car keys out of my hands.

“Hey!” I exclaimed.

“I’m driving,” he simply stated. He placed his hand on the small of my back and escorted me to the passenger’s side. He opened the door and gestured me to get in. I huffed but did what he wanted. After he closed my door, and took his seat behind the driver’s wheel, I could see the smug grin on his face.

Soon after we had left the house, Walter parked the car in the parking lot of the grocery store. I opened the door and heard him groan next to me. Quickly, I stepped out and shut the door. He looked at me, his eyes begging me to let him stay in the car. While shaking my head, I walked around the car and opened his door.

“The quicker we do this, we quicker we are home again,” I told him.

“Do we even have a list? Do we even know what we need?” he said as he climbed out of the car. We walked towards the entrance and I grabbed a cart. Well, he walked a few steps behind me.

“Uh, no? We know what we need right?” I turned around and didn’t miss his eyes leaving my butt. He gave me a cheeky grin and came to stand beside me.

“Well, this is going to be fun.” He put an arm around my shoulder and ushered me inside. “Not having a list means I can put everything I want in the cart.” The grin on his face grew even wider.

“Good luck with throwing me in the cart. I’m all you want right?” I couldn’t hide the smile that formed on my face. “Now, come on. We’re just going to walk through all the aisles, alright?”

He sighed beside me, but I ignored it and made my way to the first aisle. While putting a few items we needed in the cart, we discussed what else we needed. I thought he finally came around, and he would stop whining. I was wrong. Oh boy, what was I wrong.

While I pushed the cart through the next aisle, he suddenly left my side and walked further into the aisle. I furrowed my eyebrows, but continued shopping. A few seconds later he came back with his hands behind him.

“Oh no, what did you get?” I asked and tried to give him a stern look.

“Nothing baby, absolutely nothing,” he responded. The look on his face told me something else. I turned around to grab something, and when I turned back, I noticed something that wasn’t in the cart before.

“Walt, what is this?” I said as I picked up the box he had obviously threw in when I couldn’t see it. “You’re going to make a cake? Since when do you bake? You cook, you don’t bake.” I cocked an eyebrow.

“I feel like eating cake. So why not make one!”

“Alright, fine, but no more unnecessary things okay?” I sighed in defeat. “What else do you need to make this?”

“See, that’s the best part. You only have to add water.” He came to stand behind me and put his hands on my hips. Slowly his hands started to wander lower.

“This cake is going to be disgusting, you know that right?” He pressed his body against mine and hummed. I was having a hard time to not give in to his body heat, and just stay there like that for a couple minutes. But I came back to my senses. I turned around and slapped him on his chest.

“Focus baby, we are not even halfway through the store. If you would just cooperate with me here, we could be home way quicker,” I said and pushed the cart away from him. He sighed behind me. Nevertheless, he followed me to the next aisle.

I stood in front of all kinds of soup, debating with myself which one I wanted, when I felt a large hand squeeze my ass.

“Walter!” I sissed.

“What’s wrong baby, it’s just us in this aisle,” he chuckled. I looked around and we were indeed the only two people in the aisle.

“How wonderful.” I rolled my eyes. “But get that hand off my ass sir. We are in public.”

However, he did not remove his hand. Instead, he came to stand in front of me, blocking my view from the cans of soup. His other hand grabbed my ass as well and he smirked at me. Slowly he leant forward and placed a chaste kiss on my left cheek. Then, he placed a kiss on my right cheek. His beard scraping my face.

“What is going on baby?” I chuckled and grabbed his face between my hands. He looked at me with his big blue puppy eyes and gave me a sweet kiss on my soft lips.

“I just want to go home and show you how much I like this big butt of yours.” He squeezed my ass another time and gave me a kiss.

“Well, if you would let me go, we could continue shopping. The quicker we finish shopping, the quicker you can show me that,” I said. I grabbed his hands and pulled them off my butt. “I have told you that before!”

He shook his head and groaned. Laughing, I started to walk away. Quickly, he followed me and slapped my bum before jogging off. Before he was out of the aisle, he looked over his shoulder and shot me a cheeky grin.

I continued colleting the necessary items, without Walter by my side. Where is he and what is he doing? The answer to that became clear when he came into my sight again, with his arms full of groceries. Smiling, he walked towards me and dumped all of it in the cart.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Since you wanted to hurry up, I went ahead and collected some items myself. You know, to speed this up,” he answered. I looked at the items he picked.

“You think we need a block of cheese that big?” I wondered while I looked at a giant block of cheese.

“I like cheese, you like cheese. We definitely need it,” he stated. “I also grabbed the things we need for dinner tonight and tomorrow, so I’m helping big time you right now.”

“You better be cooking as well,” I mumbled. “Alright, but do we need that much candy?” I held up at least 5 different packs. He simply shrugged his shoulders and freed them from my hands and put them back in the cart. He kissed my cheek and mumbled ‘yes we do’.

“Oh boy. Well, we do need the chocolate,” I said and pointed to the chocolate bars he picked. I wanted to move along when I felt his hand on my bum again.

“Why aren’t you wearing that cute skirt you bought the other day?” he asked and placed his head on my shoulder. I was thanking the gods that there weren’t many people doing groceries at that moment. It was just us, some employees and a few other customers.

“I thought you liked my butt in these jeans,” I pouted.

“Oh, I do, trust me, I do,” he said, and checked out my behind very obviously. “But the skirt has easy access.” The last part he whispered in my ear with a low, deep voice. A shiver went down my spine and I giggled.

“Walter, seriously, behave. I will have to leave your ass behind otherwise.”

“That would be a shame, considering how much you like my ass,” he smirked.

“You know what. You need to go do something. Why don’t you find those cookies Faye likes, we’re out of them,” I suggested. I had to give him something do to, otherwise he would just linger around me, making shopping a little harder. He groaned, but took his hand of my bum and walked away.

My eyes followed him; he did have an amazing ass. I shook my head and focussed on doing groceries again. I was almost done, just one more aisle. I made my way through the last one when Walter appeared again, with three boxes of cookies in his hands.

“Before you tell me we don’t need all of these, we do,” he began. He placed the boxes in the cart and held his hands up in the air.

“Please tell me why,” I sighed.

“First of all, these are Faye her favourite cookies.” He pointed at one of the boxes. “And these are mine.” He pointed at another box. “And these doll, are yours.” He pointed at the last box with a large smile on his face. He was right, those were indeed my favourite cookies.

“I don’t think we need three boxes, but I don’t feel like arguing with you now so it’s fine,” I said and placed my hand on his bicep. I felt the muscle flex a little, and I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Show off.”

“What? You like it that I’m strong right?” He was now obviously flexing his muscles. I laughed and removed my hand. He placed one of his hands on the small of my back instead, and it slowly travelled down.

“Oh, look. We are in the cereal aisle!” I exclaimed, suddenly realizing we stood at the place we first met. I remembered that moment. I was zoned out, when he suddenly reached around me to grab a box of cereal while I was doing the same. We bumped into each other, and when I looked into those blue eyes, I knew I was in trouble.

He smiled at me and placed a kiss on my lips. He tried to deepen the kiss when we heard a cough behind us. An older woman walked past us with a scolding look. We chuckled, and watched her leave the aisle, which was now empty.

I turned to look at the boxes of cereal and realized the one I wanted was placed at the top of the high shelf. There was only one box left, which was placed all the way to the back. I tried to reach it, even stood on my toes, but I couldn’t. I was surprised, normally I could reach anything.

Suddenly, Walter came to stand behind me and wrapped an arm around my waist. With his other arm, he grabbed the box of cereal and threw it in the cart. While he did that, he pressed his body flush against mine. Why and how is he so warm.

He didn’t step back, no, he brushed my hair to the side, creating access to my neck. Gently, he placed kisses up my neck and behind my ear. I had to contain myself to not moan out loud. His hand travelled down to my butt, again, and squeezed it.

“Not right now baby, come on.” Quickly, I turned around and pushed him away a little. He gave me the puppy eyes. “No, don’t make me feel bad! We are almost done! When we get home, you can give me all the kisses you want.” I pressed my lips to his.

“Fine, fine. What else do we need?” Walter ran his hands through his curls and sighed in defeat.

“Uhm, let me think,” I said and pushed the cart out of the aisle. “Oh, we need toilet paper!”

“We’re already out of that?” he wondered.

“Walter, you don’t only eat for three, you also-” I couldn’t finish my sentence because he interrupted me.

“Yeah, yeah. There is something called a little too much information doll.”

“Why don’t you go get that and meet me in the fruit section. Go be useful.” I said and gave him a sweet smile.

“Anything for you doll. And as I recall, I was pretty useful between those thick thighs of yours last night,” he snickered. I gasped and tried to come up with a witty comeback. Before I could he walked away, slapping my ass in the process.

“Hey!” I yelled as he laughingly walked away.

I made my way towards the fruit section and picked up a few apples. I placed them in a little plastic bag, so I wouldn’t drop them. I had learned from my mistakes in the past. Smiling I thought back at the day I met Walter. While we bumped into each other in the cereal aisle, I was carrying a few apples that I dropped.

“Try not to drop those doll,” Walter said as he showed up beside me again. He placed the toilet paper in the cart and wrapped an arm around my waist.

“Dropping them in the first place made you fall for me.” I winked at him and laughed. “Maybe that’s my way of seducing men.”

“Men? Only one man you need to seduce honey and you’re already doing a pretty good job with that,” he whispered in my ear, and placed a sweet kiss behind it.

“Uh, that’s good to know. That means you’re attracted to me even though I live in your sweaters and baggy sweatpants,” I said and leaned back against him. He nuzzled his face in my neck. His beard tickled me, making me chuckle.

“How could I not be attracted to you? Look at you doll,” he growled. His hand wandered lower and squeezed my butt.

“Oh my God, can’t you just wait until we’re home?” I pleaded. “We only need some more fruit, and then we can go home.”

He laughed, slapped my ass, and walked over to grab two melons. “I know two other melons I prefer,” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

I covered my eyes with my hand. “Mine are not nearly that big.” I tried not to smile but failed horribly. He placed the melons in the cart, winked at me, and pushed the cart towards the cash registers.

While we paid for the groceries, Walter couldn’t stop touching me, he kept smacking my bum. Finally, we reached the car and loaded the groceries in the trunk.

“I’m going to take a nap when we’re home. You are being very exhausting today,” I said as Walter closed the trunk.

“In that case, I’m going to take that nap with you. You are being very exhausting yourself as well. Dragging me all the way here to do groceries while we could have ordered take out. You’re evil,” he teased. He fished the car keys out of the pocket of his jeans and stepped closer to me to press a kiss to my cheek. I saw my opportunity and grabbed the keys from his hand. Quickly, I opened the door on the driver’s side, and crawled behind the wheel.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” he yelled. Before I could close the door, he stood next to me. One hand on top of the roof, and one hand on top of the door. He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow. “I’m driving.”

“No, you are not driving. In fact, I’m driving. We both know I’m the better driver between us,” I teased and smiled at him.

“Yeah right,” he muttered, but he closed the car door and walked around it to take place on the passengers’ seat.

“I know you like it when I drive, so don’t pretend you don’t like this baby,” I said as I drove off. I looked to my right, and saw he was fighting the smile that formed on his face.

“If we are really going to take a nap, can I use your butt as my pillow?” he asked with a mischievous grin. He placed his hand on my thigh, and I interlaced my fingers with his.

“Fine, but I’ll get to be the little spoon tonight.”

•••

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scarlettscribbles · 4 years ago

Text

she used to be mine

- Anthony Bridgerton & TwinSister!Reader

Tags: 4k words - 3rd person POV, sibling fluff, family fluff, Anthony/Siena (not the main focus), Anthony is a soft boi when it comes to you (the softest, in fact), mourning

Warning/s: a bit spicy at the beginning, mild injury, mention of blood, major character death

Summary: A question from Siena about love sends Anthony into the past; making him recall his memories of a sister long loved, but never forgotten. A story told in moments.

a/n: don’t mind me, just manifesting my angst and bridgerton needs >> titles from waitress the musical

i. it’s not simple to say

“What do you think about love?”

“Love? What’s this all of a sudden?” Anthony laughed. He captured between his hands Siena’s own and kissed it playfully, making her giggle. “What do I think about it, well. I love kissing you, touching you-” he planted a soft kiss on her collarbone as his hands trailed down her abdomen. “I love--”

“Okay, no stop. That is not what I meant at all!” Siena stilled his wandering hands, laughing. She snuggled closer until they were chest to chest. “Love with your friends, family,...women.” she waggled her brows at the last word.

“Women, hah.” Anthony cast his eyes upward. “The only women I’ve ever loved are my mother and five sisters.”

“You mean four.”

“What?”

“You have four sisters: Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, and Hyacinth if memory serves correctly. Unless your mother’s pregnant, which I believe is unlikely. My lord, did you perhaps miscount?” Siena teased.

“No, no.” he waved his hand, chuckling. “She…”

ii. i still remember that girl

She was born 9 minutes before him; the eldest Bridgerton. This was a fact she liked lording over him teasingly. She won many arguments by simply stating “I am the eldest Bridgerton and therefore…”

Sometimes he could still hear her say it in his head.

“Remind me why I’m accompanying you again?”

“Because I am your older sister and--”

“I should always agree to what you’re saying, blah blah. Oh this is so crowded! Why could you not just send a maid to fetch the book?”

“Well what’s the fun in that? Come on Tony, you’re being too slow! It will be nighttime when we arrive there and the book I wanted will be gone!” she moaned miserably, turning around and tugging on his hand to encourage him to make haste.

“You and your dramatics. Why is this book so important anyway?”

“It simply is. I need it for when I become the Viscountess.” she smiled at him, chin jutting out proudly. “I can’t wait to get Papa’s watch. I will get it right, as Viscountess? He will pass it onto me along with the title.”

“Uh no he won’t. I am the heir in case you have forgotten, sister.”

“But I am the oldest. We might be both 10 but I am 9 minutes older than you.” she argued, waving her pointer finger at him.

“Yes, yes you’ve said that like a million times now! But you’re a girl, so you can’t. You shall marry some guy, not that there are any worth marrying. Why just the today I saw the son of that family I cannot remember for the life of me, doing something horrendous! I think it would be better for you to stay away from any and all men.” Anthony paused, realizing that he was - or is soon going to be - one of those men. “Except for me and Papa, of course.”

She merely looked at him in amusement. “Pish posh.” his twin huffed, eyes glinting in the sunlight. “I’m not going to exchange my ambitions for some mere man. You shall see Tony, I will have that watch. Now come on!” she dropped his hand and gathered her skirts, ducking and maneuvering between the throng of people. Anthony felt a tinge of panic, seeing his sister slowly becoming engulfed by the crowd.

“Sister wait!” he started to chase after her. He saw the blue tail-end of her skirt when someone bumped into him. He whirled around to complain to whoever it was; however, he seemed to have miscalculated the strength of his spin and tripped, landing on his bottom. “Ow, hey watch it!” he shouted at the people who accidentally kicked him, not noticing his figure on the ground.

Anthony hissed as he dusted his pants. He examined the palm of his hand and noticed scratches from when he landed too roughly on the floor. There were spots of red slowly making its way down his hand, along with drops of water.

Oh. He was crying.

“Where are you?” his voice warbled. “Sister…”

Has she left him, truly? Surely not. His twin is many things but never cruel. She was tenacious, smart, and…

“Tony! I let you out of my sight for a second and - goodness!” She ran over and knelt in front of him, glaring at the people who would come too close. They parted for her, giving them a wide berth. “Here, take my handkerchief. We should get home and wash your hands. We don’t want it to be infected. And your clothes are a mess, Mama is going to have a fit. Come now,”

“But your book?” he sniffed.

“Eh, I can get it some other time.” she smiled and patted his cheeks. “Don’t cry now, sister’s got you.”

...kind. She was kind.

iii. reckless just enough

Anthony was sulking. Not that he’d let anyone know. Papa had gotten angry with him. It wasn’t even a big thing. He simply...borrowed his watch to look at it. Anthony thought maybe he could figure out what made his twin so interested in it. It was a plain thing, nothing special maybe besides the monogram. He didn’t mean to drop it from the stairs. He really didn’t. He heard his name being called for lunch and he jolted.

He got a dressing down from Papa with his siblings present; Benedict and Colin in particular snickering at his plight. It was embarrassing. As soon as Papa dismissed him, he ran for his room, ignoring the calls of his twin.

Right now he was hidden beneath the curtains and behind his bookshelf. Did Papa really have to scold him at the lunch table? Anthony buried his face between his hands.

“You didn’t eat.”

Anthony banged his head on the wall when he looked up too fast.

“Are you okay?” his twin asked him, smiling amusedly. She carried with her a plate with bread, cheese, ham and a slice of blueberry pie.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Laughing and smiling are worlds apart, Tony.” she shook her head and sat beside him, nudging him insistently until they were shoulder to shoulder. She slid the plate from her lap to his. “Eat.”

Anthony looked at her blankly. “Are you so distraught that you cannot eat? Do you want me to hand feed you like a child?” She made a motion as if she was going to grab the plate but Anthony shooed her hands away.

“I’m perfectly capable, thank you.” he stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth. “How’d you find me anyway?”

“Please swallow before you talk.” she said. “And, this is your room Tony. I’m simply using common sense.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

Anthony picked up the ham and cheese and continued eating. For a moment, they just sat there in comfortable silence.

“It’s unfair.” Anthony said, breaking the silence.

“What is?”

“Papa.”

“How come?”

“He was way too angry. I didn’t mean to drop his watch! And it wasn’t even broken. If it was, he could’ve repaired it easily.” he pouted.

“You could’ve also just asked him to look at it. You know, in his room. Where you can’t drop it from a height and possibly damage it.” she replied with a bit of sarcasm.

“Fine, yes, I could have.” he conceded. “I just don’t know why he was so angry.”

“It’s important to him.”

“It’s just a watch.” Anthony rebutted, pouting. His twin gave him a look that he knew meant “you look adorable but also stupid.”

“Nah.”

“No?”

“Nope.” she answered. “For one, it’s an heirloom. Heirloom is defined as -”

“I know what it means.” Anthony waved his hand. “Do go on.”

She gave him a faintly annoyed look which merely made him smirk. “I shall, and not because you told me to.” she cleared her throat. “The watch being an heirloom is just its value as a thing. There’s also the sentimental value. The memories and emotions attached to the watch. For Papa, he treasures it because it - probably - reminds him of grandfather and grandmother. Grandfather especially. Because he was the one to give the Papa the rights and responsibility for our family.”

“Is that why?”

“Why what?”

“I wanted to know what makes it so special for you.” Anthony shrugged. “You always talk about it, about getting the watch when we become older. I didn’t see the big deal. Is that why it’s so important to you too?”

“Yes, quite.” she answered. “I want to take care of our family, Tony. I know I can, I just do. I don’t want me to just be a wife. I’m meant for greater things. Also,” she grinned at him. “I want it so I could count down the seconds until I see you again.”

Anthony fake gagged, pretending to chuck the bread and cheese onto his twins’ lap. His twin scrambled away far from him and yelped. “You are disgusting! Mama! Anthony ruined the new dress that we just got!”

“I did not!”

“You were about to!”

iv. i was never attention’s sweet center

It was just a stupid, off-hand comment from Benedict. Anthony knew his brother meant no harm but still, the comment hurt.

“Maybe she truly should have your title, brother.”

Anthony was no stranger to her loud and obvious wanting to inherit the head of the house. In fact, he supported his twin. If Papa permitted it, he would gladly concede to you. However, it was unspoken between the twins the knowledge that Papa would never agree to such a thing; no matter how much he loved his eldest daughter.

Anthony was no stranger to her excellence either. While the both of them worked hard to set an example for their younger siblings. He always thought she was great at everything a girl should be and more. Though the ‘more’ part would never reach the ears of their mother or anybody else. Nobody should know that Anthony taught her how to sucker punch anybody that vexed her except maybe Benedict and Colin...also Eloise. That girl was far too curious and also far too attached to Benedict. Anthony thinks in the privacy of his mind that if she were a boy, there would be no quarrel that she’d get the title.

Other people also thought the same. Though they expressed it in a much less pleasant way, in words Anthony does not care for. They speak condescendingly. They speak of her gender with pity in their voices, their admiration twisted. They mention that her excellence should be toned down, that she should focus instead on things better suited to her. They speak of how inadequate Anthony is, how poor that a boy be overshadowed by a girl. They theorize how Anthony must hate her for taking all the spotlight. He hears all this, and she does too, seeing as they’re almost always attached at the hip. If it bothers her, she does not speak of it.

They speak of lies. Anthony thinks that her abilities suit her as they are and that no matter how bright she shines, it would never be something to be upset over. He basked in her light. They are wrong for thinking that she’s taking a piece of his life away when in truth, she completes it. Best friends, twins, soulmates; he loves her and she loves him. Still, their words leave a mark.

So when Benedict said that albeit in a teasing manner, Anthony just ran away. As he got older, he found it the preferable way to escape his problems. If he could not run to her then he must run away.

Anthony hugged himself as a strong breeze blew and made the unoccupied swing beside him rock.

“Tony.” And there she was. His twin was holding a book. She sat at the swing beside him.

There was silence. The only thing he could hear were the wind, the scuffling of his feet, and the soft sound of her flipping the pages.

“Sister,” she did not look up from the book but she hummed, signifying that he was heard. “Why did you come out here? It’s better to read inside, surely.”

“You’re upset. Of course I would come.” she said matter-of-factly.

“Did Ben tattle?”

“Ben? Tattle? His mouth is tighter than a woman’s corset when it comes to secrets.” she laughed lightly. “Surely you know better than that.”

“Yeah, I do.” he smiled. Since they were little, even if they were distances apart, both of them would always know - or at least had an inkling of - what the other was feeling. During their early years they chalked it up to magic but now they both just conceded it as a twin thing. “Actually, I don’t. Know better, I mean. Everybody seems to think so. Am I inadequate, sister? Dumb perhaps? I feel like I cannot do anything right sometimes! Compared to you I - “

His twin laid a hand on his shoulder. “Tony.” her brows were drawn and her lips pursed. “First of all, there is no comparison brother. I am me and you are your wonderful self. We are both excellent, please do not doubt yourself of that no matter what anyone says. And I know they say a lot. I’m just so used to tuning them out that I never considered that you might not do the same. I’m sorry.”

She stood up and drew him into a hug. Anthony’s arms stayed limp at his side. “People will flap their mouths because that’s what they do; say their opinions even though it’s unwelcome. If we tried to stop every single one of them, why I believe it’ll take all our lifetime and more!” she chuckled. “We cannot change them so we must change how much we’ll let their words affect us. Their words don’t matter at all! If I could, then I would shove those words back up their mouth and let them swallow it. Which I don’t know how to do. D’you suppose punching them would work just as well?” Anthony laughed wetly at her quip. It would work but it would also involve somebody calling Mama and Papa for her ‘inappropriate behavior’.

“What I know is this.” she grasped his shoulders and held them so she could stare at him in the eyes. Anthony met her determined gaze head-on. “You’re good enough Tony. Hell, you’re excellent.”

Anthony sobbed and quickly drew her into a fierce hug, his tears surely wetting her dress but he knew she didn't mind. “That is as sure as the sun that rises in the east. As sure as our family’s love, and ours for each other.”

v. bring back the fire in her eyes

It started with a cold. She had stayed up too long outside and now she’s bed-ridden. Anthony crossed his arms at the corner of the room as his younger siblings ran around. In his opinion there was too much ruckus for her to properly rest. However, Mama brought it up earlier and his twin just waved her concern away, stating that some liveliness will do her good. And who was Anthony to go against the wishes of his dear sister? It doesn’t mean that he has to like it though.

“No you’re the troll!” Eloise insisted.

“I was the troll last round!” Colin argued back.

“Now, now,” Benedict placated them both, then he glanced at Anthony in a way that promised mischief. “Why don’t we let Anthony be the troll then? He certainly looks the part with how grouchy he is.”

Daphne giggled. “And how he’s guarding his corner.”

“And how horrendous his face looks!” added Eloise.

Now he’s had enough. “You all look far too happy for someone who’s going to be troll food soon.”

“Troll wuh - AAH!” Eloise screamed as Anthony lunged at her. She took off with a sprint and soon the other Bridgertons followed as well, laughing boisterously. “Noo, Ben save me!”

“This is survival of the fittest -”

“Survival of the fittest your face!”

“Ehem.” Suddenly all motion stopped. Colin face-planted on the floor, caught by his momentum. All eyes went to the door where Violet Bridgerton stood along with a maid. She had a smile on her face coupled with a vaguely exasperated expression. “I’m glad you’re having fun but please take you playing outside. I need to tend to your sick sister.”

Various moans and complaints filled the room but only with a raise of their Mama’s brow, they filed outside the room, murmuring farewells and well wishes to the sole occupant of the bed. All except one. Anthony remained rooted at the side of his sister’s bed.

“Anthony, please.” Violet gently said. A complaint was on the tip of his tongue when a hand laid on his bicep. He looked at his sister, looking frail among the covers but she merely smiled and shook her head.

“I’ll be fine Tony.” she said. “Go and check that our siblings haven’t set the house ablaze or anything.”

For a moment, both of them just stared at each other. A silent conversation passing between them both. Anthony sighed. “Get well.” he bent over to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not sure I alone will be enough to stop them from doing that.”

She laughed. “You will be.”

vi. sometimes life just slips

It was only supposed to be a cold. A cold.

Someone almost barreled through Anthony as he, Benedict, Colin came through the door. “Whoa!” he exclaimed as the maid said a rushed apology. Everyone in the house seemed to be in a mad dash. He exchanged looks with his brothers, who were as clueless as he.

“Anthony!” came the panicked voice of Eloise. He held her shoulders and looked over her for any harm of some sort that caused her to panic.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Anthony was surprised to see her looking up at him with teary eyes. Eloise is looking at him like how she used to when she was much littler, pleading to Anthony. Believing with all her might that her older brother will make everything okay. He looked behind her to Daphne who was pursing her lips.

“Oh God, is someone dead?” Colin quipped, then promptly made a punched-out noise as Benedict elbowed him.

“Sister, she - “

“She’s dead?!” Colin cried.

“No!” Daphne growled, irritated. “She’s just...in pain. Mama and Papa sent for doctors.”

“Goodness, how serious is this cold? - Anthony, wait!”

Anthony didn’t hear Benedict’s call. How could he over the thumping of his racing heartbeat? He ran upstairs like the devil was on his tail, and even then he felt like he was too slow. He paused at her door, psyching himself to open it. If he went in, what would he see? He raised his trembling hands, the complaints of his siblings nothing but a faint echo.

The doors burst open and out came two elderly men and one woman. The siblings crowded around them. Anthony could only hear snippets as he zeroed in on you. Mama was kneeling beside his twin’s bed, holding her daughter’s hand tight to her chest.

“The young miss will be fine -”

“We expect her fever to break -”

“Dear.” Anthony jumped, startled. The woman accompanying the doctors addressed him. “Are you okay?”

“My - my twin sister, will she be alright?”

“Twin, huh. That’s why you’re so distraught. Well all of you are but you in particular,” she shook her head and smiled. “Your sister is strong. She will be fine. You can go in. I’m sure she’ll be glad for your company.”

She need not say it twice. Anthony ran into the room.

“Sister.”

“Tony.”

He felt like he could breathe again.

vii. rewrite an ending or two

“Are you sure you don’t want to get up here? We shared a bed when we were little. And when we grew, sometimes.” she paused, thinking about her statement. “Often.” his twin amended.

Anthony hummed when she stopped running her hands through his hair. “No.”

“The ground is cold, Tony. You might get sick.”

“How could I? You already took all the sick with you.” Anthony grumbled. “I’m fine, sister.”

“If you say so.”

“How about you?” Anthony asked.

“Hmm?” she smiled. Facing down and in the darkness, Anthony couldn’t have seen it but he felt it. “I believe I will be.”

viii. she is gone, but she used to be mine

It was a miserable day in spring when the eldest Bridgerton was buried.

ix. most days i don’t recognize me

“She…” Anthony clenched his jaw.

“Are you ever going to finish that sentence?” Siena asked, smiling until she noticed how tense he was. She reached out to touch his arm, inquiring, “My lord, are you alright?”

Anthony sniffed and quickly stood up, hastily picking up his clothes. “Yes, fine.” he answered, hopping on one foot to put his shoes on. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Siena asked. Anthony barely spared a glance at her, pausing shortly halfway out the door. He checked his watch, eyes glazing over for a moment.

“I need - I’m needed. At home.” With that, he briskly walked outside and into his carriage. It was today. He must’ve forgotten. How could he have forgotten? But he also ‘forgot’ the other years. The grief consumed him on this particular day. It was always a sore reminder that he was missing his other half. So instead of going to her grave, he went drinking. Instead of spending the day with her in his mind, he spent it with his cock inside somebody. Anthony spent so much time forgetting but now it’s as if her ghost had come to haunt him. Every memory had come rushing back, especially the day she died.

He remembered the night before. The doctors had told them she would be better. She told him she would be better. But he needed to stay close to her. Anthony fell asleep with her hand in his hair. Then he woke up to her eyes open but her breath was gone. He had never screamed so loud in his life.

Anthony remembered their parents barging into the room, Mama taking a step back looking as if she was seconds away from fainting. Then she saw her son on the floor and immediately enveloped him in her arms. He woke up in a bed sometime during the night. He woke up convinced it was all a dream but that promptly shattered when all his siblings (all except one) filed into the room in their sleepwear. Their eyes were swollen and wet. And it stayed that way until her funeral, and even some more after that.

The carriage stopped. Anthony got out and stopped at the gate. He knew Mama held some kind of family gathering during this day. What they did in the gathering, he had no idea. He never stayed long enough to attend. But today was different, somehow.

He padded softly into the drawing room. A quick glance noted him of all his siblings’ presence. Francesca was playing a familiar tune. Colin was singing in a low tone. Benedict, Eloise, and Daphne were all sitting on one couch, leaning against each other. The youngest ones sat on the floor, trying to follow the lyrics Colin sang. Mama was sewing. The melancholy vibe was replaced with a startled one. Francesca stopped playing and Colin stopped singing. Mama dropped what she was holding and walked towards him, arms open.

Anthony crumbled. “Mama -”

x. for the girl that i knew

“Mama what do you think about love?” It was indeed a bleak day in spring. Everybody had left after the service but Anthony chose to stay, lingering.

“Anthony I -” Violet began.

“Why does it hurt so much?” he whirled around, uncaring as tears and snot fell messily down his tired face. “I feel as if someone carved an unfillable hole inside me. Like every breath I take is not right. Half of me is buried six feet underground, mama. How can I bear it?”

Anthony curled into himself as Mama enveloped him into her arms. “One day at a time, dearest. You have us still.” she whispered. “One day at a time.”

[fin.]

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton tv #bridgerton netflix #fanfiction #bridgerton fic #sister!reader #reader-insert #anthony bridgerton & sister!reader #twinsister!reader #oneshot #sibling fluff #fluff #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #scarlettscribbles

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hops-hunny · 4 years ago

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Temptation

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x McGonagall!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4k

Request: “Could you maybe do a Neville x reader where the reader is McGonagall's grandchild?”

Summary: Neville had never experienced temptation, till it walked by him in a pleated skirt.

Warnings: Suggestive thoughts???

A/N: I won’t even lie, this was very self indulgent. I didn’t mean to write this much but oh well! Also I noticed I read the prompt wrong and wrote this for fem reader so I apologize anon. I still hope you can find joy in this!

Temptation. Temptation was a word Neville knew well. He had heard it many upon many times. From his peers, and even some of his teachers. However, he never really understood what it felt like to experience it, to have it coursing through his very being. Well, that was until it came knocking on his door or, to put it more precisely, walking by him in a (y/h/h) robe and vanilla-lavender perfume. He didn’t expect it to have such a beautiful laugh and he certainly didn’t expect it to be McGonagall's granddaughter! No matter how many times he had heard it described to him and how many times he had heard the feeling be recited to him like one of those shit muggle pop songs, it still didn’t prepare him for the real experience itself.

Could she be anymore perfect? Anymore graceful, anymore well, tempting? She was the kind of beauty that he read about in books and the kind of beauty he saw when he looked at all the flowers that bloomed within the greenhouse. He watched, observing her beauty as she walked. His face flushed softly as he saw her eyes light up, head facing straight ahead and shoulders held high unaware of his eyes of adoration upon her. His gaze was then shifted to her hair. The way the light reflected off of the (h/c) strand made his heart race! Next was one of his favorite things, her smile. Her smile was enough to brighten anyone's day! Well...it most certainly brightened his that is. His eyes fixated on her legs, the soft sheen they held. ‘God they look smooth, like the softest of pillows, the smoothest of silks, the fluffiest, puffiest of clouds. I bet the-’ he was broken out of his thoughts as she came to a stop in front of her grandmother which made him a bit queasy to his stomach. If only McGonagall new about his thoughts...wait did she? She could be using legilimency on him this very moment and he’d have no clue. What if she was, what if she-

He jumped, squeaking softly as a hand came down hard on his shoulder causing his body to tense. And his gaze to shift to the source of the force relaxing when he saw it was Dean.

“Hey Nev, what are you doing just standing here? Oh I see what it is!” He exclaimed smiling at his lanky friend, watching his eyes flicker back and forth between in front of him and back to himself. Neville gulped, tugging at his sleeves a bit as his shirt suddenly began to feel constraining.

“Y-you do?” he asked nervously. His throat began to feel smaller. The problem with Neville’s little…’temptation’ was that he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had feelings for people before. He had his fair share of crushes throughout the year. But she was different. See, he wasn’t the first one to notice how beautiful the girl was. Heavens no! Quite a few of his peers had noticed just how breathtaking (Y/n) was but once they saw the last name that was attached to her, that was more than enough to turn them the other way. However, the connection to her grandmother not only put up an invisible force field for suitors, but friends as well. He found himself feeling sorry for her often, he could only imagine how lonely she was.

“Yeah, I do. You were waiting for me to find you so you could help me with my herbology homework! Man Nev, you’re such a good friend.” he said. Neville rolled his eyes noticing all of Dean’s missing coursework for herbology within his hands. As much as he loved his friend, he also couldn’t deny how unbelievably idiotic he was. Although he was disappointed in how irresponsible he was, he was also relieved he hadn’t noticed what had actually had him standing there lost in his thoughts. “Oh and I also saw you staring at McGonagall junior. I don’t blame you mate, she’s bloody fit. Have you seen her in that skirt she wears to Hogsmeade? It makes me just wanna-” Neville smacked his friend on the back again ignoring his groan of protest. He began to walk off leaving Dean confused. Neville noticed the lack of his friend's presence near him causing him to turn around.

“Do you want help with your herbology work or not?”

-----------

(Y/n) sat with Luna in the courtyard, watching as her friend picked at the wildflowers twisting them and molding them into a flower crown. She sighed once again as she continued to ramble onto her. “I don’t know Lu, he’s just so cute! I wouldn’t even know how to approach him. Besides, he probably wants someone from his own house and year, yknow?” She said as she glanced at her preoccupied friend. “Are you even listening to me?” she huffed frustratedly. Luna looked at her, rolling her eyes at her a bit.

“You’re only a year below us (Y/n), you talk about him as if he’s an old man! Besides, the whole different house thing would only matter to him if he was a Slytherin. Neville doesn’t care about little things like that.” she took the completed crown placing it on her friend’s head as she smiled at her. “Yknow, for someone at the top of your year you’re quite daft.” Luna said nonchalantly, causing her friend’s eye to twitch. One thing (Y/n) would never get quite used to is her friend’s ability to tell people the truth as if it were nothing. Luna squeezed the girl’s soft (s/c) hand before smiling at her. “Besides, you’re beautiful! If he doesn’t want you, I know there are plenty of guys who most certainly do!” (Y/n) felt herself get quite shy at her friend’s words, rubbing at the goosebumps that were forming on her arm. But, she was right. She couldn’t let her thoughts of if or if not a guy liked her get her down.

“Hey (Y/n), have you ever, yknow, actually tried TALKING to the guy?” Ginny asked, smacking on the taffy she had been eating. The (e/c) eyed girl felt herself getting flustered once again.

“W-well, the short answer is no. Don’t look at me like that! I’ve TRIED. Every time I try something comes up! I’m either almost late to class, one of his friend’s comes up to him, or I have to do something for my Nan! It’s a lot harder trying to talk to someone when you don’t have any classes with them..” she said as she began to pout, reminded of her failed attempts to speak to the awkwardly charming boy. Ginny popped another taffy in her mouth, processing her friend's words before smirking a bit.

“Just leave it to me, I have the perfect plan! Don’t you worry a single little hair on that pretty head of yours.” she said, causing both of her friends to side eye her both with the same thought in mind: ‘Oh Merlin, what is she thinking now?’

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

Well, what Ginny had been thinking wasn’t too bad but, (Y/n) was still quite nervous as she sat here. She was thankful Ginny hadn’t trapped them in a 1 on 1 situation or did something fucking stupid such as locking them in the room of requirement together. No, instead she had gathered her and Neville’s shared group of friends and decided to have a picnic together whilst everyone else was at Hogsmeade. Luna had asked the house elves to spare some of the extra food they had from lunch which they gave to her kindly considering how sweet she was to them always.

Even though all of their friends were there, she still found herself being nervous which is why she still sat on the blanket with Hermione as Ron, Harry, and Dean picked on Neville lightheartedly by splashing him with water, Ginny and Luna challenged each other to different swim challenges, and Hermione read a book, relaxing comfortably under the shade of the tree. She sighed to herself, hugging her legs closer to her chest as she brought her face to rest upon her knees. She let her eyes wander back to Neville, a smile gracing her face as she observed him. She never got the time to just watch him in a natural environment. Every time she saw him, he was always so jumpy or nervous, awkwardly engaging in conversation with people who usually just wanted herbology help or needed advice on how to care for their plants. But now, watching as he smiled and laughed with their friends she realized just how infatuated with him she truly was. She took in the way his hair looked wet, his usually wavy hair drooped, water dripping from the strands. She smiled, noticing the way his crooked smile looked when he was his happiest. She began to get flustered noticing the way his arms had a bit of definition to them which (Y/n) could only assume came from all the heavy lifting he did for Professor Sprout in the greenhouse.

“You should join him. Sitting there and wondering what could be isn’t gonna get you anywhere.” (Y/n) gasped a little, whipping her head around quickly to look at her friend whose eyes were still fixated on the book in her hand, flipping the pages delicately.

“H-how did yo-”

“How did I know? You’re so predictable. Plus, you’re a little chatterbox. The only time you shut up is when you look at him.” Hermione giggled, finally peering at her friend over her book. She closed it and set it down on the blanket before taking off her cover up. She held a hand down to her friend. “Well, are you coming?” (Y/n) looked up at her friend, biting the inside of her cheek as she thought about it before nodding, letting Hermione pull her up. She began to take off her own cover up before taking a deep breath. She looked at her friend and they began walking towards the lake.

“I’ve never seen ‘Mione in a swimsuit before. She looks...like a girl.” Ron said to his friends as they watched the two girls near the lake. His friends all responded in some form of agreement. He turned to look at Neville, smirking as he saw him staring at the girls. “It looks like you agree don’t you, Nev?” Neville shook his head, a light blush coating his cheeks. Unknown to his friends he wasn’t looking at Hermione though, he was looking at her.

“Yeah, she’s quite beautiful.” This didn’t go unnoticed by Ginny though who smirked, deciding to turn things up a notch.

“Hey, why don’t we all play some chicken? There’s enough of us!” Ginny said, beginning to walk over to the guys with Luna not too far behind her. “Unless you guys are scared, you know I’m the chicken champion so I wouldn’t be surprised if you w-”

“Don’t be ridiculous Gin! You know for a fact I’m way better than you, I proved that when you came to my place last summer.” (Y/n) said giggling at her overly confident friend. She tried sneaking a glance at Neville but found she had been caught in the act as Neville was already staring at her. She looked away quickly rubbing the back of her neck. Wait, why was Neville already looking at her?

She shook herself out of her thoughts as they all began to pair off for chicken. The (h/c) haired girl went to approach one of her friends but found that Ginny and Harry already paired. She quickly tried turning to Hermione who made her way over to Ron. She sent one last pleading glance Luna’s way but the girl simply smiled at her before walking over to Dean. She felt her heart race at what she already suspected to happen. “I-I guess it's us, Nev.” she felt herself growing a bit insecure at having to sit on the boy’s shoulders. Although she was short, she didn’t have as small of a frame as her other friends did. “L-listen Neville, if I’m too heavy or too much for you to lift don’t even worry about it! I have no problem bei-”

With all the courage Neville could muster, he took a deep breath diving under water before rising up with the girl on his shoulder as his large hands gripped at her thighs making sure she was sturdy on his shoulders. She shrieked a bit at the unexpected gesture, gripping at his hair a bit. Holy shit was his heart racing. Had he really just done that? What had gotten into him? ‘Don’t back down, Nev! Say something cool, say something cool!!’

He cleared his throat some, before patting her thigh with his hand. “You’re fine. Y-you don’t weigh much of anything.” He said. She felt herself relax some, hoping he couldn’t feel the goosebumps on her thighs. However, Neville’s thoughts were far from the goosebumps. He couldn’t help himself from thinking that they were just as soft as he had imagined them to be. He was in deep and he knew it. “L-l-listen (Y/n), I-”

“Alright who’s going first? Me vs ‘Mione maybe? Come on Harry, move faster!” Ginny said. (Y/n) found herself trying to stifle a giggle at the sight before her. Ginny was tugging at Harry’s hair and yelling at the boy as he argued back. She couldn’t contain herself at the sight, she began to laugh trying to make sure she didn’t fall off Neville’s shoulders at the movement.

Neville however was so entranced at that sound. He found himself wanting to be the person to cause that melodic giggle to come from her every time. “They’re so cute aren’t they?” she asked as he hummed in agreement. “I’d love to have something like that.” she mumbled to herself, however Neville had heard.

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

Ginny was on a win streak, she had beaten Luna and Dean, and Hermione and Ron. She was feeling confident as she banged on her chest cheering which reminded (Y/n) of a muggle movie her aunt once showed her. She had been absentmindedly petting Neville’s hair, running her fingers through it as she swirled it around her fingers. He hadn’t minded though, his face was flushed a bright pink and he was much too scared to say anything, worried that if he did he would end up waking up in his bed and it all would’ve been a dream. He heard his favorite voice pull him out of his thoughts.

“We’re up next Nev, think we’ll win?” she asked as she leaned over, her face appearing in front of his upside down. He jumped a bit, pulling his face back and tightening his grip on her legs.

“C-careful (Y/n!) You might fall if you’re not!” he said, staring into her eyes. God were they beautiful.

“I doubt it, I’ve got you holding me up. I trust ya, you wouldn’t let me fall.” she said giggling as she leaned back up, her lips accidentally brushing against his nose and forehead on the way back up which has caused both of them to freeze up and a silence to fall upon the two. Their eyes both watched as Luna fell off of Dean’s shoulders again as Ginny cheered at another victory.

“But to answer your question, I think we’ve got this in the bag! Let’s do this!” He said as he waded over to them. She smiled at his enthusiasm as they looked over at them. She looked over at Luna who gave her a wink causing her to grow shy once more.

“Ah a new challenger approaches!” Ron exclaims, his eyes drifting to the pair. Neville glared at Ron a bit when his eyes lingered on the girl above him’s figure for just a tad too long before he cleared his throat.

“We’re gonna kick your ass, Gin! Prepare to get that gorgeous red hair of yours soaked! Isn’t that right, Neville?” She asked looking down at his head as he nodded along. “Consider this a rematch to last summer. I’ve come to snatch my crown right from off your head.” she said placing an invisible crown done on her head laughing as Ginny scoffed at her actions.

“Bring it on (y/h/h)!” She said as Harry began to walk over to her. The two girls both began to approach each other with looks of determination in their eyes. Neville let his eyes wander to the water watching the girl’s actions through the water.

“Beautiful..” he muttered in awe as he gazed upon her affectionately. Although he was nervous, he was even more so nervous of letting her down. He tightened his grip on her plush thighs as a determined expression made its way to his face.

Ginny and (Y/n) both began pushing and tugging at each other trying to get each other to fall. And (Y/n) did have to admit, it was no easy feat considering how tone Ginny was from quidditch practice and how out of shape she was herself from all those late night cake sessions with the house elves but it didn’t deter her at all. She continued to push and shove at Ginny. If she could only get a better grip...she didn’t have that much time to do so as the redhead girl gave a particularly hard push causing the girl to almost topple over. Almost being the key word. Neville gripped at her a bit harder at her as she went backwards causing her to fling forward with quite a bit of force. Using said force to her advantage, the (y/h/h) girl was able to push Ginny, sending her and Harry falling in. They both cheered Neville spinning around with her as they laughed before he felt something tug his leg sending them both flying into the water.

Neville resurfaced, spluttering a bit as he shook his head a bit. “Sod off, Harry! You’re a sore loser!” He exclaimed laughing with his friend. He turned to his side remembering the (h/c) girl. He watched as she resurfaced and took a gasp of air. His breath hitched as he watched the way she pushed her hair back, chest on display behind her swimsuit. God was she gorgeous.. He shook himself out of his thoughts, pushing some of her hair behind her ear that she had managed to miss. He watched as she looked away from him shyly muttering a soft thank you towards him.

They went at it for a bit more, the girls all determined to at least win one round. At some point, Ginny even put Harry on her shoulders and as it turned out, he was way worse at chicken than she was. Even Luna had somehow managed to beat him. But as they all went on, the group grew hungry and decided as the sun would be setting soon, it’d be a good idea to eat like they originally planned. They all gathered around on the large gingham blanket and once again, her friends turned against her leaving the only spot available for her next to Neville. However, unlike last time she decided to take full advantage of the situation. She feigned a shiver, catching his attention as she hoped.

“A-are you cold, (Y/n)?” He asked, eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, just a bit Nev!” she smiled back at him, popping another grape into her mouth. Neville looked at her blankly for a bit before deciding to give into his temptation. See, the thing with Neville wasn’t that he was scared. No, in fact he had had his fair share of flings during his time at Hogwarts unbeknownst to his friends. It's just, she was different. He made his heart race in different ways and gave him goosebumps on his arms and back. She made his brain short circuit from the mere sight of her. However, he knew she would not be single forever. He wasn’t oblivious to the lingering looks his friends had been given her throughout the night and he certainly wasn’t going to stay in the same lane as them. So, without a second thought he grabbed her with ease sitting her in his lap, the soft skin of her waist meeting the soft skin of his arms as he pulled her into his chest. (Y/n) felt her breath hitch slightly, as her own set of goosebumps started to form.

“Is that better?” Neville whispered softly to her as his chin came to rest on her shoulder. She turned her head slightly, her lips slightly brushing against his freckled cheek due to their close proximity. Instead of responding, she simply nodded still in a state of shock. Was this really happening? Her (e/c) eyes came to meet Ginny’s who simply smirked, sending her a wink before she went back to her conversation with Harry. None of her friends seemed that shocked at the position they were in. (Y/n) found herself a mix between relieved and offended that no one was surprised.

Although (Y/n) hadn’t noticed anything, the clenched fist and furrowed brows of his own friends did not go unnoticed. He felt himself smile internally, Neville 1 and the others 0. He caressed her skin lightly as if she was made of the finest of porcelain that would break from even a bit of pressure. The Gryffindor boy felt a surge of confidence within himself as goosebumps formed under his fingertips. He was knocked from his thoughts as a ripe strawberry was pressed against his lips, turning his attention to the (h/c) haired girl. He slowly took a bite from it, pink lips wrapped around the red fruit. He hummed constantly as he pulled away. (Y/n) moved back slightly to look at him, giggling at his red stained lips as the juice rolled down his chin a bit.

“Hey, you’ve got a bit of..” she trailed off giggling more as she motioned towards the juice. “One second, I’ll get it for you.” she murmured, reaching for a napkin. Neville pulled her back causing her to give him a confused look.

“No need.” he whispered, pulling her forward, pressing his lips against hers. The kiss was a mix of everything at once. Passion. Hesitance. Desire. And oh, he couldn’t forget his little friend: temptation. He pulled her closer, settling his large hands at the base of her spine right about her rear as hers wrapped around his neck. The girl’s fingers twirled the hair at the bottom of his head trying to distract her from the tingling sensation she felt all over. Neville nibbled at her lip a bit, biting it as he pulled away. “T-this is probably the wrong time to ask but, are you seeing anyone?”

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

The next week, Neville found himself in that same spot in the hallway that he was in the previous monday. His thoughts drift to the angel known as his vice, his temptation. He watched as her smooth legs made their way down the hall, smile on her face as per usual. However, this time he didn’t have to crave to be the one those eyes were lighting up at. He didn’t have to crave to be the one that oh so beautiful smile was caused by, because he was. He held his arms open with a smile, stumbling back a bit as the (y/h/h) jumped in his arms. He caught her, twirling her around as they both laughed before he placed her on the ground grabbing her hand. Neville placed a peck upon her cheek, nothing but adoration in his eyes. He gulped slightly, sweaty palms as they walked by McGonagall but he found himself relaxing when she sent a wink his way as she gave him a smile of approval.

Although temptation had originally showed itself on his doorstep as a visitor in his home, it eventually developed into something more and became a welcome resident in his home. Temptation was no longer temptation, it was love.

#Neville Longbottom #neville x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #neville longbottom x you #neville x y/n

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beigehearts · 4 years ago

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The adult trio getting embarrassed- drabbles I was wondering what would make them embarrassed and I was gonna make hcs but I thought that it would be more immersive and make more sense if it was a story . Also I feel like only verbal affection and emotional affection could affect illumi and hisoka so they have fluff stories but since Chrollo is somewhat more stable- verbal and emotional affirmation doesn't get him embarrassed so his is a bit nsfw fem!reader

Illumi (fluff)

He's been gone for weeks, leaving his girlfriend behind at their quiet and lonely apartment. Illumi doesn't live with you- he lives in an absolute mansion so why would he? But he spends a lot of time with you, in your apartment. Some nights after a long day at work, you'll come home and he will be sleeping in your bed or staring out the window, waiting for you.

Though you haven't had those fun surprises lately, he's taken on a big mission and you've learned you'd rather not know what it is he doing so you don't ask. It's getting quite lonely and your job as a secretary hasn't been letting up. Your boss just got a big contract so work has been hectic.

You push the door closed behind you with your foot, dropping your bag at the door and groaning. What a day, your fingers hurt after typing non stop today. There's no time to make dinner, there's no time to get dressed in pajamas, there's no time when you have the dire need to sleep. As you walk towards the bedroom, you kick off your shoes, shed your shirt and skirt. Once you reach the bedroom you see the line of clothes leading to you, but you don't really care at the moment. You throw the pins from your hair into the darkness of the room.

That beautiful bed is only steps away, the oasis from the desert you've been navigating all day. You crawl into the bed, eyes closing before you even get under the covers, but once you are you wonder if heaven is real and if it's your bed. Your eyes shut with a mind of their own, and only seconds later you're dragged into the dark depths of your mind.

It must have been hours, it's still dark out so not too long though. You force your eyes open as if there are weights holding them down. You immediately recognize the unusual warmth around you and a smile pulls at your lips.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming home today?" You ask sleepily.

He kisses your forehead, "I didn't think about it."

You nuzzle your face into his chest, and he holds you closer. "You know, I missed you. A lot." You try to dig further into his chest but you're as close as you can be to him. "I was worried, you didn't message me the whole time you were gone. Do you know how lonely I was?"

His brows furrow though you can't see it. "You were lonely?"

You nod, "It felt like part of me was missing. I was worried I would be left empty forever. You said it would be a week and it's been eight." A sigh escapes you, "It's hard to not be around the person you love most Illumi."

It goes silent, and you look up at his face to see if he has anything to say. His face is flushed, you can even see it in the dark. It's such a contrast to his pale skin. He always acts weird when you say you love him or imply it.

Your small smile grows into a large grin, "I'll wait for you to say you love me back."

Hisoka (fluff, slightly sexual)

Classes have been difficult, you failed your big test and you practically got on your knees and begged your professor to let you retake it. You already know you're in for a long night of studying. Which means you're also in a night for a moody boyfriend. You will have to make it up to him later though, this test is too important for you to be worried about anything else.

On the way home your friend asks you to come over to help her with some problem with her laptop. You went and helped even though you really already should've been home. Your old beat up car scrapes through the coffee shop drive through at 5 pm, and you grab yourself a super caffeinated coffee to help you through the night.

The house is quiet when you get home, which is perfect, that way you'd have a little while to study without a whiny boyfriend. An hour or so later, you're sitting cross legged on your chair, leaning forward and highlighting things in your book. One leg bounces with the energy of caffeine, though half of you is ready to pass out.

The front door creaks open but you pay it no mind. You're beginning to connect ideas to one another and you can't let anything stop you. The clicking steps towards your chair are nothing but background noise at the moment. Long, muscular arms wrap around you from behind. "Pet, I had a long day, come lay with me." He whines in your ear.

You don't say anything, the squeaking of your highlighter against the paper says enough.

"I can give you a massage, I'm sure you need it." His hands roam your form but you continue doing what you need to.

While still highlighting and writing things down on a piece of a paper, you say, "Tomorrow night, I'm really busy Hisoka. I need to pass this retake tomorrow. It's important."

Obviously that isn't a good enough answer when he grabs you by your hair and pulls your head back. You know he isn't being mean, he knows you like your hair pulled and hopes it gets your attention. Obviously it does but you don't show it.

"Oh come on baby, just lay down with me for a little bit."

You pull your head forward even though he still has a tight grip on your hair. His lips wander your neck, sucking at random spots on your skin, leaving blossoming red marks.

You stand up abruptly and drag Hisoka to the couch. You push him on it and straddle him. You sigh and lean towards his face, "Hisoka Morrow- I am trying to do work."

He grins and his hands travel down your back until they end up holding your ass, and bringing you closer to him. He begins grinding up into you, and he holds down your hips. You try your best not to react and you end up groaning and grabbing his face in both hands. He pauses when you bring his face close to yours, sharing the same breath.

"Hisoka Morrow." You say in a commanding voice. "Do you know how much you mean to me? I think of you every moment and it's hard to think about anything else. The restraint it takes to not hold on to you every time I see you is immense. Can't you understand that you're controlling my every single waking moment? I will love you forever and forever is a long time so give me one night of our forever for me to study."

His eyes widen, and his lips are parted slightly in awe. And for the first time ever, you've seen him look vulnerable, a blush of his you've never seen before. Sex was one thing but all of this emotion and promise at once is so overwhelming. Butterflies flutter in your stomach and he speaks up.

"I suppose once night is okay if it's part of our forever."

Chrollo (sexual, nudity)

It’s been a lonely few days, and Chrollo’s birthday is coming up. He has been really busy with what he calls work, and you’ve been sitting at home, working remotely since you wanted to watch over the house. You never know when you’re dating the leader of the phantom troupe, someone might try to rob you or worse.

For your lover’s birthday you want to do something special, something that’ll make him really happy. It’s hard with Chrollo because he can have anything he wants in the world, so what do you get him? He’s always appreciative of anything you give him and is very sentimental- but you always feel inadequate. What’ll make him happy that he can’t just go steal?

Two hours until he gets home. You have the cake on the table that you decorated to the best of your abilities. (He always says he prefers home cooked/baked goods to bought ones.) The entire house is lit up with nothing but candles. Each of the candles being his favorite scent, Beachwood. He always talks about how you guys need to go on a trip to the beach, and is a sucker for anything ‘beach’ scented. Chrollo is such a romantic as if it weren’t obvious so you laid out rose petals on the dining room table and around it.

It’s already dark and kind of hard to see, but you settle yourself down on the table, sitting next to the cake. You try to find different poses you think you would look good in until you hear the jiggle of door knob. A dose of panic shoots through you. Is this too much? Is he even going to like it? What if he’s grossed out?

The door opens and a tired Chrollo enters, closing his eyes and sighing, “What a long day.” He sniffs the air, “It smells good in here y/-” He’s cut off at the sight of you.

A beautiful figure resting on the dining room table, covered by nothing but red lingerie panties and stockings, your bare breasts exposed. His mouth is agape just from looking at you, he shuts the door behind him with his foot. He kicks his shoes off and shrugs off his jacket, leaving it on the floor as he stumbles towards you.

He places himself between your legs and pulls you closer to him on the table. “What’s the occasion?” He asks oblivously.

You chuckle and run a hand through his slicked hair, “It’s your birthday darling.” You can barely make it out but his pale cheeks become slightly rosy in the dim light. “So are you going to stand there or what?” You ask sarcastically.

He wraps your legs around his waist and picks you up, not missing his chance to hold your ass as he carries you. Your lips meet his feverishly, and desperately, you part only to ask, “Do you like your present?”

He lays you gently on the bed with a flushed face and devious smile, “It’s perfect darling.”

#chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #phantom troupe #hxh #hunterxhunter

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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Late Fees // D.M.

Summary: Draco moves to a sleepy village after the war, wanting some time away. To keep himself busy and his mind occupied – away from the terrors lying in wait – he volunteers at the local library. There, he meets all sorts of characters. Mrs Taylor who has a love for trashy romance novels, Mr. Roth who is more than happy to be left alone with his books, and you.

A/N: A Librarian AU that absolutely no-one asked for.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of food and drink, mentions of nightmares, flirting, pining, cuteness

Word count: 7k (this got away with me)

The sleepy Yorkshire village never changed. Perhaps that is what Draco liked so much about it. Routines established and set in stone; everyone knew everyone and what they did every day.

The decision to move to Yorkshire from Wiltshire had been made overnight. Draco had sat through another painstakingly awkward meal with his barely-keeping-it-together parents and decided that he had had enough. Draco had returned to his room; hands shaking as his mind raced through the pros and cons of his decision. He needed to leave; he had to – he was injuring himself further the longer he stayed, yet he had nowhere to go. The Malfoy name was not one to be greeted with open arms and warm smiles.

He had chosen Yorkshire for the fact that other than Neville Longbottom; he didn’t know of anyone from there. With Neville training under Professor Sprout at Hogwarts, Draco had high hopes that he would run into the Gryffindor there. He was not yet ready to confront the sea of apologies he owed Neville.

So Yorkshire it was and Yorkshire it is.

He had moved in the spring; the fields surrounding his sleepy village finally turning green after the winter’s frost, fresh blooms on the trees lending the air a floral scent. The house in which he chose was relatively smaller to that of which he was used, but that was what he wanted. He wanted a complete change from what he had grown up; from what he was accustomed to. Draco needed to shake up his life entirely and his three bedroomed cottage in the Yorkshire Dales would do just nicely.

It takes six months for Draco to become bored of the same routine. He wakes on the couch after another restless night, he makes his first coffee of the day as he cooks his breakfast and then he leaves the house. He tries to spends as much time as he can outside; believing the fresh air to be doing him the world of good as he follows the well-worn paths through fields and forests, the temptation to get truly lost almost too much as he ambles aimlessly.

It takes six months for Draco to give into the desire to find something to do. He needs a job, he tells himself. Not for the money – no, Narcissa Malfoy had ensured he would be set for life when he moved out. He needs to a job to keep his mind occupied; to keep his body busy and his mind on other topics so he doesn’t continue to focus on everything that happened before. The Second Wizarding War had destroyed so many lives, and he bitterly regrets the part he played in destroying those lives. The survivor’s guilt mixed with the guilt by association is a nauseating concoction that leaves him unable to sleep, paralysed with the fear of what his mind could conjure once his eyes slip closed.

The sighting of the job advert in the window has Draco feeling as if all his Christmases have come at once. It was on his daily walk through the centre of the village that he sees the sign hanging in the window of the small library. A place he hadn’t yet ventured for fear of the silence, but a place he would happily enter if it kept him somewhat busy.

He had rushed inside; striding quickly up the small ramp and grabbed the ‘Volunteers Needed’ sign from the window, barely stopping himself from slamming it down onto the counter.

It was almost laughable; his desperation for the job, but he didn’t know how long he could continue the same mind-numbing routine. He didn’t know how much longer he could explore the forests of Yorkshire and not want to scream; he had seen vista after vista, his breath stolen at some of the views, but he wanted something else. He needed something else.

The grey-haired lady behind the counter jumped as Draco cleared his throat. “Morning dear,” She greeted, “How can I help you?”

Draco pushed the sign across the counter, “I’d like to volunteer with the library, please.”

That had been that. Madge, the elderly librarian, was wanting to retire. She had been a volunteer with the library service for nigh on forty years; her love for books something else entirely as she dedicated her life to lending them to others. After a brief conversation over the role in which Draco would take, she had given him his start date and that was that.

Draco had left the small library feeling lighter than air. The usual pressure upon his shoulders and behind his eyes barely there as he sprinted home; wanting to write a letter to his beloved mother to tell her of his news.

-----

The library was situated in the centre of the village. On its left sat the only pub, a large building that exuded nothing but happiness as it opened at noon on the dot. On the library’s right was one of the few general stores – it held everything. In his first few weeks in the village, Draco found himself spending his money there rather than travelling to other towns and cities. It had everything he could possibly need.

From his position at the desk, Draco had the perfect view of the village green along with the sole church in the village that catered to nearly every single resident. Day in and day out, Draco sat happily at his desk, sorting through returns and library catalogues as he ambled through the aisles when he needed to stretch his legs.

It wasn’t a large library. He felt certain that the library at Malfoy Manor was twice the size of the one he finds himself standing in now, but nevertheless, he appreciated this one just as much. Books had been his solace for much of his life. The library at the manor becoming his safe space at the age ten to the age of twenty. He had never worried when he was there; he could find an escape in the pages of an ancient tome explaining the histories of spells and charms, or he could find solace in one of the risker muggle books his mother kept hidden away from his father.

He doesn’t need to spend too much time inside to know he loves it. It was an oddly shaped building; octagonal with a shoot off where Draco’s new desk sits. The shelves line the walls; each one titled clearly with its genre and then books sorted alphabetically by author. The building itself was just over a century old; having seen two world wars and survived to tell the tale like many of the residents of the small village.

As Draco wanders the library, running his fingers over the spines of much cherished books, he knew he was going to be very happy within these walls.

-----

Draco meets Mrs. Taylor on a Wednesday morning a month after he started working at the library. It had not been a very busy morning; Draco spending most of it going through the ancient catalogue system and wondering whether it would be worth it to apply for a grant with the local council to get a computer. He’s thinking of his very first day in the old library, staring at the shelves and shelves of loan records when a loud cough breaks him from his daydream.

“You must be Madge’s replacement?” A feminine voice chimes: there’s no hint of the Yorkshire accent that Draco has come accustomed too in his time up north. Her accent is southern, but whereabouts, he couldn’t place.

He smiles politely at the grey-haired lady. “That I am,” He confirms, “I’m Draco. How can I help you?”

The elderly lady doesn’t reply. Instead, she rakes her eyes from Draco’s face down his body, leaving him feeling like a piece of meat rather than a living and breathing human. She must like what she sees, Draco thinks, as she smiles broadly, stepping closer to the counter. She holds a hand out to Draco, expectant in his taking of it. Draco shakes her hand once before letting it drop as she introduces herself, “I’m Mrs. Taylor, dear. I’ve been visiting this library for nearly forty years now.”

Draco blows out a puff of air; impressed with Mrs. Taylor’s dedication to the library. “So you’ll have known Madge well then?”

“Oh yes, but I can’t help but wonder whether I’ll get to know you just as well too.”

Draco reels back at the obvious meaning to her words. He raises a single eyebrow at her tone, replying carefully, “I plan on being in the village for some time. I’m sure you will see me around.”

Mrs. Taylor nudges her rounded glasses further down her nose; resting them on the tip, “I hope I do.”

Not knowing what else to do, Draco laughs, “How can I help you today, Mrs. Taylor?”

Disappointment evident in her tone, Mrs. Taylor drops a tote bag onto the counter. The bag is full to the brim with books; all returns for Draco to sort through this afternoon. He has to resist the urge to give Mrs. Taylor hope in the form of a loud kiss on the cheek; she had just sorted out his plans for the afternoon to keep his mind deliciously numb from the panic that had started to creep in once more.

“These are all to be returned, lovie,” Mrs. Taylor states, pushing the bag closer to Draco in the effort to get their hands to brush like in the romances she adores so much.

“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. Will you be taking anymore out while you’re here?”

She laughs; her hand on her chest as if Draco had asked the most ridiculous question known to man. “Of course, I always take out new books. I shall see you in a bit, lovie.”

Mrs. Taylor toddles off, her red polka dot skirt swishing with every step. Draco shakes his head, amused by the older lady before getting to work on her bag full of returns.

It takes three books to realise the genre Mrs. Taylor enjoys reading. He catalogues romance novel after romance novel; each with a title that leaves very little to the imagination. Seducing The Viking and Romancing The Cowboy make their way to the returned stacks as Draco continues to work on the bag of books.

The more books she returns, the more he gets an insight into Mrs. Taylor’s mind. Draco has nothing against romance novels; he’s read a fair few in his time, but he had never read books with titles such as Taming The Pirate and Teasing The God.

Hurriedly, he makes a mental note to visit the romance section of the library to get a peek at any further books with such titles. He could see exactly what the appeal was; half naked men with ripped abs on the cover promising romantic liaisons in the rudest of manners. He understood why they were so popular despite having not ventured into the genre himself, preferring classic romances like that of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.

Mrs. Taylor returns to the desk; her arms full of new books to read. At the sight of her struggling, Draco rushes out from behind the counter, “Let me get those for you, Mrs. Taylor.”

“Oh… thank you, lovie,” She responds, smiling, breathless from the walk around the library but also from the weight of the books.

Draco leads Mrs. Taylor back to the desk where he spies the title of the first book in her large pile. Bewitched By The Billionaire stares up at him as he writes out the title and stamps the return date in the designated section of the book.

To help, he places all the newly borrowed books back into her tote bag, smiling politely at the grey-haired lady as he does so. “There you are, Mrs. Taylor, I hope to see you again soon,” Draco comments, handing her the full bag of salacious books.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Draco,” Mrs. Taylor croons; hoisting the tote bag full of new books onto her shoulder. She waves at him so flirtatiously that Draco cannot help but respond with a wave of his own as she leaves the library.

He feels amused long after the pensioner leaves; her overly flirtatious manner and her taste in books providing Draco his afternoon entertainment as he returns books to shelves and goes through catalogue records, trying to make some sense of the librarians that came before him.

All too soon, however, the light of the day fades behind the clouds as the sun sets. Draco releases a shuddering breath, going through his routine for closing up the library – making sure all records are locked away along with any money. He locks the door behind him, pulling down the shutter and shoving his hands into his jean pockets, setting off up the road in the direction of his home.

He dreaded this part of the day. In the daylight, he could keep himself occupied with the shelves and shelves of books, organising and recording. He could keep his mind busy, away from the terrors that lurked on the sidelines – waiting for the moment in which they could invade.

That moment is always comes. Draco tries to avoid it as much as he can; does anything he can to stave off the inevitable, but it always arrives, and it always catches him off guard.

Tonight, it’s as he’s sleeping. He’s pulled from a nightmare; scream lodged in his throat so tightly that his throat aches from the power of it. Tears trail down his cheeks as he tries to catch his breath; tries to slow his heart rate to an acceptable rhythm.

Draco looks around his bedroom; counting whatever he sees. Two bookshelves, one dresser, one wardrobe. He counts them all over and over again until his mind has cleared of the paralysing terror he had just experienced.

Nightmares came often. They started after the end of the war, and for now, it seemed like they were here to stay. It was never the same one, however. Draco had experienced so much trauma through the events of the war that his mind constantly replays them like a film; choosing a select memory and letting it play as he sleeps.

He settles his face in his hands, counting to ten as he inhales and exhales. He has to calm down; he cannot focus unless he calms down.

What feels like a lifetime later, he pulls his face from his hands, letting the inevitable wave of tiredness wash over his body. His body is tired; it’s dead tired and screams for rest, but his mind. His mind is awake and it’s restless. Draco sighs heavily, glancing at the clock on his bedside table, noting the early hour and knowing he would not be able to sleep anymore.

He flips on the light to the bathroom, turning on the shower before getting a look at himself in the mirror. skin pale save for the shadows under his eyes; whilst his sleep pattern had improved since moving away, there were still nights where Draco struggled to get more than three hours sleep. He tugs off his t-shirt, his eyes running over the pale pink scars that could not be wholly healed by Snape and Madame Pomfrey. The curse he had been hit with was brutal; only to be used on the worst of people and he understood why now. He had healed wonderfully; only a few scars remaining, but it would take longer to recover mentally from what had happened. His most common nightmare revolves around the pain he felt after the duel in the bathroom.

A shive runs through his body as he steps into the warm spray of the shower. Lavender is his body wash of choice as he squirts a large glob onto a sponge. He refuses to think as he washes himself; refuses outright to think about a thing other than what he needs to do next. Now you need to wash your hair Draco, grab the shampoo and wash your hair. Then you need to rinse off, Draco.

He talks to himself, getting himself through the aftermath of the nightmares just like he has always done. He brushes his teeth before leaving the bathroom; hoping that the spearmint of the toothpaste will overcome the acrid aftertaste of the scream that was lodged in his throat for Merlin only knows how long.

Draco dresses robotically; going through his list in his head to make it easier to cope with the fog that feels like it will be staying with him all day. He gets downstairs, only managing a cup of tea before deciding to head out.

The brisk walk to the library has Draco’s mind starting to clear. The early morning air tied with the frost has Draco startling awake even further, rejuvenating the blood in his veins and making his steps faster.

He barely looks around on his walk to the library; too used to his surroundings to be in awe of the rich landscape around him.

It’s why he freezes when he spots you.

You stand outside the library; breath nothing but white puffs in the air as you huff into your hands, trying to warm them up. You feel someone watching you; startling slightly when you catch Draco’s eyes on you.

You smile at him, “Please tell me you’re opening the library.”

Draco nods; holding up his keys as evidence, “How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long. Fifteen minutes at the most.”

“That’s not so bad if the weather wasn’t this cold,” He comments, unlocking the shutter and then the door, turning back to face you, “Are you coming in or what?”

You come back to life; dragging your eyes from the lithe figure of the man before you to meet his eyes with a sheepish glance, “Let me unfreeze and I’ll follow you.”

Draco laughs, he truly laughs. He opens the door to the library; glad to hear your footsteps following close behind him. Draco doesn’t take off his coat, he heads straight to the desk where he counts down the seconds for you to join him.

Timidly, you hand him your return. He takes it from you, automatically flipping to the record at the front of the book. “It’s two weeks late,” He comments; eyes wide, voice aghast.

You purse your lips, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that.”

His eyebrows raise in shock, “How could I not notice that when I have to check the return dates?”

You shrug, “I’m not sure, but is there any way I can get out of the late fee?”

“What?” Draco asks, voice loud and in shock once more.

“I’ve never returned a book late. This is the first time this has happened,” You defend, crossing your arms across your chest.

Draco hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip. He had seen the late fees waived before; had seen Madge’s notes in the columns of the records, but he had never waived a late fee before. He watches you; noting your body language as well as the dark shadows under your eyes that reflect his.

He nods twice, “I’ll waive the late fee this time.”

“You will?” You ask, your voice breathless, your eyes wide in shock.

“Yes, I will.”

“Thank you,” You say; repeating the words over and over as you smile widely at him.

Draco waves away your thanks with a motion of his hand; he’s simply happy he could bring a smile to your face.

With another smile, this one smaller – more genuine, you gesture towards the shelves, “I’m going to find something else.”

Draco nods, “Of course. I’m here to help if you need anything.”

You nod your thanks, turning from him and heading towards the stacks of books. Draco watches you walk away, unable to truly comprehend the conversation. He should have charged you the late fee; he knows he should have, but he took one look into your eyes and knew that he wouldn’t be charging you much of anything.

Clearing your throat, you bring back Draco’s attention. He smiles at you, “Did you find something?”

“I did. I’ve had my eye on this for a while,” You reply, holding up the cover to a fantasy novel, “I’m glad it’s finally available.”

Draco smiles, taking the book from you. No words are spoken as he records the borrow along with the date it needs to be returned. On a whim, he underlines the date twice before handing it back to you. You tuck the book in your bag; smiling gratefully at the blonde haired man before a laugh escapes your mouth, “You’ve met Mrs. Taylor, haven’t you?”

Draco averts his gaze; feeling the familiar blush creep onto his cheeks, “How did you know?”

You point towards the stack of romance novels behind him, “She’s the only one in the village to read them. Madge would order them special for her to save her travelling to the next town.”

Draco feels oddly touched on behalf of Mrs. Taylor; that Madge cared that much for her to order books to save her travelling so far. He smiles softly, “I’ll have to see if there’s any new that have been published to save her reading Seducing The Viking again.”

You snort, “From what she’s told me, that one is her favourite. She would love you very much though if you were to order some new novels for her.”

“I’ll have to have a look into it though she might love me already.”

A fond grin makes it way across your face, “She’s a regular flirt, but she means well. If you’re ever in a pickle, it’s Mrs. Taylor you need.”

“How long has she lived here?” Draco asks; curiosity getting the better of him.

“All her life. She was born here in the forties and never left. She met her husband, had her family and that was that. She was settled. She’s like the village’s grandma.”

“She sounds like she has lived a whole life,” Draco murmurs, hoping slightly that the elderly lady would pop into the library today so he could hear some of her stories. It makes him miss his parents bitterly; they had their mistakes, but they loved each other wholly with a passion entirely encompassing.

“She has,” You utter, “I have to get going, but it was nice meeting you…”

��Draco,” Draco supplies.

“It was nice meeting you, Draco. I’m (Y/N).”

“It was nice to meet you too. I hope to see you soon… minus the late fee.”

You laugh once more; promising him that there would be no more late fees. Draco watches you leave once again, shouldering the bag on your arm. You tug your coat tighter against your body, shivering against the bitter cold air.

As he watches you walk away from him, Draco briefly wonders how long it would be until he saw you again, and just how much he was looking forward to it.

-----

Three weeks later and the library is the busiest it had ever been. Not only does Draco have a slew of new orders to get ticketed and on shelves, he has three people wandering the shelves.

Mrs. Taylor returned first; her tote bag once full to the brim of her returns. She had shamelessly flirted with Draco some more, stating that it was his grey eyes that did the trick. She had never seen eyes like it. Mrs. Taylor grasped Draco by the cheeks and kissed him on the forehead when he showed her the new delivery of romance books. At one point, Draco swore he saw tears in her eyes as he let her delve into the new books.

Then entered Mr. Roth. Mr. Roth was a man he had only met twice in the whole time Draco had been working at the library. He was a man of few words; happy to keep to himself and his demeanour reminded Draco too much of his own grandfather. A man he had only met a handful of times yet knew he was happy to never meet again.

Mr. Roth nodded at Draco in greeting before making his own way to the military history section, browsing the titles silently and happily. Draco had left him too it; too nervous of Mr. Roth’s reaction should he be asked for any help.

For a time, it was those two. The both of them milling about the library, adding more books to their pile to be read.

However, they are soon joined by Madge herself. She smiles widely as she enters the library; rushing over to Draco to sing his praises for how well the whole place looks. Draco blushes something silly at her words; he hadn’t heard much praise through his life, had needed to for the perfect mould and was disciplined when didn’t. For Madge to praise Draco over the care he takes with the library, it isn’t something he’s likely to forget anytime soon.

Madge leaves Draco after that. She dawdles through the shelves, knowing the exact layout like the back of her hand. She spies Mrs. Taylor by the romances and Mr. Roth by the history section, but she herself, heads towards the classics. Having read them all multiple times, Madge was always happy to revisit her favourites whether it be Pemberley, Wuthering Heights, or Thornfield Hall.

All the while, Draco couldn’t help but hope that you would walk in through the door. He had met you once, spoken to you once but he longed to see you again. Twice now he had seen you walking past the library; earphones in and nodding your head to whatever song you were listening to. He had raised his hand both times, waving to you. You waved back, smiling gently to him.

He didn’t want to tempt fate; didn’t want to harbour feelings for someone he had only met once, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling deep within his gut that you were going to mean something to him one day.

If only you would enter the library.

----

It takes another week.

It’s another week of wondering and wishing. It’s another week of nightmares and early starts.

At this point, Draco has been living in this sleepy Yorkshire village for a year. He celebrated by working late at the library; organising new stock and creating a new display depicting the best reads of the month as voted for by the residents of the village. He had unashamedly added Mrs. Taylor’s newest favourite book at the top; that alone had earned him a wet kiss on the cheek.

You enter the library on a slightly warmer day in March. The month had begun frigid and frosty, but now closer to the middle, it seems that spring had finally taken its hold of the village.

You enter with yet another sheepish smile on your face, an apology already falling from your lips as you hand Draco the late book. “I know it’s late,” You ramble, “But I really haven’t had the time to sleep never mind drop it off considering the commute to work and back and the weather.”

Draco stops you by raising his hand, “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

You chew on your bottom lip, “Are you sure? I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine. You don’t need to pay the late fee either.”

“What?” You ask; hand already reaching for your purse.

“You don’t need to pay the late fee.”

“Why?”

Draco sighs, “Can I be honest with you even if it’s only our second time talking to each other?”

You nod wordlessly; nerves beginning to settle in your stomach in response to whatever could come out of his mouth.

“You look like you have a lot going on right now. You mentioned the commute to work and back, but you also look shattered, so I get it. I get what you mean when you haven’t had the time.”

You blink, the familiar burn of tears starting at the back of your throat. “You get it?”

Draco nods, “I get it. I know what it feels like to be so tired you feel like doing nothing else. I don’t know why you’re so tired, and you don’t have to tell me, but if you need to talk, I’m here.”

He’s stretching his neck out. It’s only the second time he’s spoken to you, but he doesn’t like the way the shadows under your eyes are looking. They seem to suck any happiness out of your face, leaving you almost gaunt looking.

“Can I repay you?” You ask suddenly; voice determined.

“What? Why? How?” Draco asks in a barrage of questions. He doesn’t need repayment; he would never ask for such a thing in the first place.

“You’ve shown me kindness. Can I repay that?” You state; voice clear as it rings out across the empty library.

“How?” He repeats; still unsure as to just how you would repay his kindness.

You glance at the clock; it had barely past ten am. You smile at Draco, “Would you like a late breakfast?”

It takes him less than ten seconds to answer; of course he would join you for a late breakfast. Draco grabs his coat; scrawling a sign for the door stating that he would be back in less than an hour, but truthfully, he didn’t think anyone would be in today.

----

Breakfasts consists of a full English rounded off with a pot of Yorkshire Tea. You argue stubbornly over brands of tea; yourself choosing Yorkshire as Draco opts for another brand.

Conversation never stops flowing; any silence is filled with a question or a story that always seems to lead to laughter either from Draco or yourself. Draco sits through the whole breakfast with a smile; he hadn’t felt this good in a long time. He had spent such a long while dealing with the guilt he harboured for surviving a war he was on the wrong side of.

It’s over this breakfast that he realises he needs to tell you. He needs to explain to you who he is and why he is here. Draco could talk to you all day long about tales from his education and his childhood, but they would all continue to be half-truths if he never told you about the magic that flowed through his veins and made him capable of incredible things.

Walking back to the library after breakfast, he resolves to tell you if he sees you again. You hadn’t taken out another book so he doubted he would. However, the small voice in the back of his head and also resided in his heart hoped that you would so he could confess.

-----

Draco does see you again. You start to frequent the library; wandering the aisles in search of your next read but also to spend time with Draco. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him fascinating and handsome, but he had an air of mystery around him that you were desperate to get to the bottom to.

A friendship forms. The both of you finding yourselves better matched for each other than anyone else; becoming close and confiding in each other when things seem darkest. You confide in him your deepest secrets, explaining the nightmares that hide behind the dark circles under your eyes. Draco confesses much of the same, but his desire to tell you about the magic he can wield remains on the tip of his tongue, turning more bitter the longer he waits to tell you about himself.

He tells himself excuse after excuse: it’s too soon, it would scare you off, he isn’t ready. In actuality, he is ready, and more than enough time has passed for the relationship to be so firmly cemented that it wouldn’t scare you off.

Yet he panics, and it keeps him up more often than his nightmares. How does he tell the one he’s closest to that he can form light with a whisper of a single word? That he can brew potions to not only heal but to incapacitate?

He hasn’t neglected his magic whilst he’s been in Yorkshire; he’s used it well enough. To dry himself off if caught in the rain, to send books back to their shelves if he’s comfy in his seat. However, he has always been wary of his talents around you, too worried about being caught out and destroying the one positive friendship he has had since he was fifteen years old.

Draco needs to tell you. He knows he does; he’s let his feelings get in the way of confessing who he really is and what he can do. His feelings for you hadn’t crept up on him; he had constantly been aware of his changing emotions. As the friendship progressed, he found himself wanting to reach out and take your hand randomly or wanted to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and then stroke your cheek. These hadn’t been the ponderings of someone who held platonic feelings; they were entirely romantic, and Draco wanted nothing more than to pursue that option with you, but he didn’t know how you would feel after he confessed his magic.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to tell you because he didn’t want to see the fear and disgust in your eyes as he had so often seen reflected in the eyes of witches and wizards around him. To see that in your eyes, it wasn’t something Draco could ever be prepared for.

How long could it last though? How long would he have with you before you sniff out the lie and the friendship falls apart from there?

Draco ponders these questions as he tidies up the library; new books on shelves along with freshly returned ones. The two questions float in his mind as the late afternoon turns into the evening and Draco readies himself for closing.

He startles slightly as you enter the library. You look lovely this evening, and everything Draco wants to tell you sits perched on his lips, waiting to be screamed into existence.

“Are you ready?” You ask, leaning forward on the desk.

“Ready? For what?” Draco questions, confusion lacing his tone.

You frown, “We’re eating at your place tonight? You told me to meet you here and we’d walk there together?”

Draco’s eyes widen as he suddenly remembers the promise he made you last week; to cook for you one evening so you could eat something other than pasta and noodles. “Of course I remember,” He covers, laughing nervously, “I was just messing with you.”

Your frown deepens, “If you don’t want to do this Dray, it’s okay, we can reschedule or something.”

Draco shakes his head rapidly from side to side. “No!” He all but shouts, “Let me grab my coat and my keys and we can go.”

You laugh; feeling the awkwardness that had quickly settled between you, “Are you okay, Draco?”

Draco nods: gulping as he herds you out of the door so he can lock up. “I’m fine, I just have something important to tell you tonight.”

“Tonight?”

He nods once more; the words stuck in his throat. The decision had been made; he would tell you tonight and then deal with the consequences afterwards.

The walk to his home is silent; nerves settling in both your stomachs as minds run into overdrive over what could be said tonight. Draco – terrified for your reaction. You – terrified for what he has to say, wondering nervously whether your feelings for the blonde had been too obvious from the beginning and he was going to put an end to your friendship.

It didn’t matter how often you visited his home; it would always leave you breathless at the sight of it. It had been a home you had admired for years, knowing the family that had lived there before Draco. They had moved to the next village over, wanting to downsize after their children had left home.

The large cottage had always been gorgeous but seeing Draco in a domestic element added more appeal to you. He takes your coat from you, hanging it up before doing the same, toeing off his shoes as he does so.

You expect him to lead you to the kitchen where you had watched him cook so many times before. An expert chef as demanded by his mother, you loved to watch Draco cook and bake. He could create marvellously tasty dishes from just a handful of ingredient – a talent you wished you possessed.

However, he doesn’t lead you to the kitchen, he leads you into the living room where he switches on all the lamps in the room without touching a single switch.

“How did you do that?” You demand, wonder and curiosity making your tone sharper than you intended.

“This is where I need to you to not lose your mind,” Draco whispers, his hand reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a long stick.

“Why do you have a stick, Draco?”

“It’s not a stick. It’s my wand. Hawthorn with a unicorn hair centre.”

You frown, puzzled, “A wand? As in a magician’s wand?”

Draco nods, “If you need to sit down after I tell you, I understand.”

“Tell me what?”

“I’m a wizard,” He states bluntly, no room for argument.

You laugh; it’s breathless from confusion, “I don’t get what you mean.”

“I’m a wizard. I have magic. I can turn on the lights in any room without saying a word or touching a switch, I can brew potions that heal injuries, I can fly a broomstick and I’m pretty good at it too.”

“So you’re a wizard and you can do magic?”

Draco nods, “Would you like me to show you?”

You nod wildly; the action sending your hair flying into your face. You push it away, not wanting to miss a moment of this.

Draco sends you a bashful smile as he holds his wand out, pointing it at a lone book on the coffee table beside the couch. In a clear voice, he calls, “Accio!”

In a single instant, the book flies across the room and lands in his outstretched hand. He holds the book up to you as evidence. Your mouth drops open; in shock at what you have just witnessed. Draco represses a laugh at the look on your face, knowing how hard it must be to comprehend all of what has been unloaded on you.

“Then why are you here? In Yorkshire of all places?” You ask, even more curious for his life in Yorkshire.

Draco sighs, “There was a war. I found myself on the wrong side and I saw too many people I know die. In the aftermath, when everyone was healing and starting to live their lives again, I couldn’t move on. I left home so I could start to heal and find myself, find who I want to be.”

“And have you now?” You ask; hope shining in every word.

Draco nods slowly, “I think I have. I think I’ve started to heal at last.”

“I thought you wanted to end our friendship,” You confess, your voice no higher than a whisper.

Draco steps closer to you; dropping the book and taking your hands in his. “Never,” He promises, then he takes a deep breath, “If anything I want more.”

“What?” You gasp.

Draco bites his lip, feeling the all too familiar blush creep its way up his neck. “I want more,” He repeats.

He waits for your response, desperate to know what you think about everything else he has just unloaded on you. You open and close your mouth a few times; words failing you. Draco starts to panic, starts to form the words to take pressure off you when you step forward and kiss him.

It starts as a gentle brush of lips, but then the pressure becomes firmer, and Draco starts to respond. He gathers you in his arms, tugging you tight against him as his mouth memorises yours and every whimper that leaves it.

Your lips part under his and Draco takes every opportunity to deepen the kiss; relishing every second of the kiss and the way you feel pressed up against him. Your hands find themselves in his hair; carding through the blonde locks before tugging gently, smiling against his mouth at the groan the action elicits from the back of his throat. His hands start to wander; memorising the expanse of your body as he dips you slightly, wanting nothing more than to lay you out on the floor where you stand.

He doesn’t. Instead, Draco breaks the kiss. Pulling away with one, two, three pecks to your lips, grinning widely when you chase him for more. “You don’t care that I have magic?” Draco asks, gasping from the kiss.

You shake your head; tears shining with happy tears, “I couldn’t care less. I thought you were going to end our friendship because you figured out my feelings for you.”

Draco reaches up; tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, “Never, darling.”

You feel your face flush at the use of your new pet name. Draco choosing then and there to refer to you only as ‘darling’ if your response what to be that every time.

He dips his head once more; kissing you for all that he is worth. Pouring every ounce of emotion he has in his body into this kiss; hands grip you tightly as your hands start to wander, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and skirting the flat plains of his stomach.

“One condition,” Draco whispers against your mouth.

“Name it,” You whisper, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth.

He groans; low and throaty as he kisses you deeply, barely remembering to break the kiss so he can mutter, “No more late returns.”

The laugh that leaves your body has you shaking in Draco’s arms. He swallows your laughter with his mouth; silencing you effectively as he leads you back to the couch where he politely persuades you into no more late returns.

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @birdie-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @xfirstfemale-marauderx @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @minty-malfoy @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @fallinallinmendes @ochrythum @gryffindors-weasley @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @reaganwonders @lahoete @beiahadid @ravenclawbitch426 @detroitobsessed

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #Draco Malfoy

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fandom-star · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Once A Lettenhove...

Prompt: Lettenhove

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier (established), Jaskier & Ferrant de Lettenhove

Rating: T

Warnings: swearing used in anger, discussions of being disowned, paranoia of “what could have happened” in reference to The Mountain

Written for @themountainarchives

Notes on lore before proceeding: I put a lot of background research into this and came up with a few things -

There does not seem to be a place called Lettenhove in the Witcher canon, I scoured everything. (I enjoy other people who use it as a place, but my brain won’t let me!)

From there my brain went "what if some of the royal families worked in houses like the noble families work for Klingons (Star Trek)?" So I went with that, because I can work with Jaskier being a Viscount of Lettenhove (house) in place of a Viscount of Lettenhove (place).

Everything about Ferrant (Jask's cousin) was picked up from the Witcher wiki - his page is sparse but it did the job alongside authorial liberty.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

“I have a bad feeling about this, Geralt, why don’t we head back, I think I saw something of interest on the noticeboard of that nice little-” Geralt stopped in front of him and turned to face the uncharacteristically nervy bard with an expression of both concern and disgruntlement that only the Witcher could achieve. “Is something wrong, Jaskier?” he asked. “You’ve been trying to argue against this contract since we picked up word of it.” Still seeming bothered, Jaskier shook his head as though to dispel his thoughts. “No. No, fine. Ignore me, probably tired or something,” he said, not particularly reassuringly, before skirting around his companion. “Come on! Don’t want someone else doing the job for us!” After watching Jaskier’s back for a short moment, Geralt hummed, unconvinced about his partner’s insistence that he was okay, before following him, figuring that Jaskier would talk if he wanted to.

Jaskier had been on edge since he and Geralt had arrived in Kerack, his eyes constantly wandering, searching to avoid anyone he recognised. Geralt had certainly noticed, but had the kindness to keep quiet about it. Sighing, Geralt stopped to dismount Roach and lead her by her reins so that he could reassuringly brush his hand with Jaskier’s. A small, thankful smile graced Jaskier’s lips as he squeezed the Witcher’s hand. However, it seemed that he’d let his guard down to embrace Geralt’s gesture for a moment too long, because: “Julian!” a cheerful if somewhat haughty voice exclaimed in greeting, and Jaskier knew without looking that the voice was approaching and there was nothing he could do about it. He turned away from Geralt, but not without seeing his partner’s curious head tilt. After steeling himself, Jaskier met his cousin’s eyes, which were sparkling with an excitement that seemed at odds with his proud frame. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen any of my fellow Lettenhoves!” Ferrant continued, not seeming to pick up on Jaskier’s discomfort. “It’s surely been twenty years since I’ve seen you in any case, cousin! You haven’t changed a bit!” Jaskier could feel the second Geralt realised how he knew the name Lettenhove. “Lettenhove?” the Witcher asked, his gaze on Jaskier piercing as the bard shrunk slightly. “Ah! Yes, Viscount Ferrant de Lettenhove, royal instigator of King Belohun,” Ferant told Geralt as a means of introducing himself. “And who might you be?” Jaskier could feel Geralt’s tension, as well as his own, before Geralt replied. “Geralt of Rivia, I came on word that the city is having trouble with a nekker colony.” Ferrant blinked in surprise. “We sent out word quite some time ago, the king was getting quite worried that no-one was going to come. I can take you to see him right away.” Ferrant gave Jaskier a confused look that the bard didn’t respond to, before leading the pair through the city. Geralt said nothing to Jaskier.

“You never told me you were a noble.” Geralt quietly commented as he went through his bags. Jaskier sighed as he perched on the edge of the bed. “I suppose I assumed you knew.” “Of course I knew you were well-off, I didn’t know you were from the fucking Lettenhoves!” Geralt exploded, making Jaskier flinch slightly. “Didn’t realise it made a difference.” Jaskier whispered. “Of course it makes a fucking difference! Your family- you could have had me killed and no-one would have noticed or questioned it! Your cousin’s a fucking executioner Jaskier!” Jaskier frowned, watching the Witcher stand by the window with his back to him, hands in fists at his sides. “What… is this about the mountain? Geralt, it’s been three years since you apologised for that! Even before you did, I wouldn’t have been drastic enough to even think about wanting you dead!” Jaskier told him, tentatively approaching to lean his shoulder against the wall next to the window. He saw Geralt relax slightly, and smiled slightly in relief. “Good. Now I’m going to talk, and you’re going to actually listen to me ramble for once, because this is actually important.” “I always listen.” Geralt murmured, sincerely, gazing at Jaskier from the corner of his eye, making Jaskier smile wider. “Good. Well then. Technically, I am not nobility anymore. I used to be, I used to be a viscount, like Ferrant. But my parents disapproved of almost everything that I did, setting my heart on barding and travelling was the last straw and I was disowned as soon as I left for my studies at Oxenfurt. This is the first time I’ve seen any relative in about twenty years.” Geralt was silent but had turned to look at Jaskier. “You knew he was going to be here,” the Witcher quietly said. “That’s why you’ve been trying to guide us away from Kerack.” Jaskier nodded, not expecting his partner to respond by hugging him. ��I’m sorry. For my outburst.” Geralt apologised, his voice a loud whisper in Jaskier’s ear. “It’s okay,” Jaskier assured him. “I’m sorry for not telling you about this sooner. They were… my family were just awful to me, and I never wanted them to be a relevant conversation topic.” “I understand,” Geralt said. “I would also understand if you want us to leave, find another contract.” “No. This one’s paying well, and we’re here now anyway, with a comfortable room for once that isn’t draining our pockets,” Jaskier insisted. “I’ll just do what I can to avoid Ferrant.” Gently, Geralt cupped Jaskier’s face and kissed him delicately. When he pulled back, Jaskier was smiling fondly. “Why haven’t you asked about my name?” he suddenly asked, still smiling. “Mm. Not a relevant conversation topic,” Geralt replied, kissing him again. “I… I love you, Jas.” Jaskier lightly chuckled against Geralt’s lips, before kissing him firmly. “I love you too, Geralt.”

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ferrant de lettenhove #geraskier

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borntoocry · 2 years ago

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄. r. buckley x chubby femoc

summary: gay and scared Samara goes to a halloween party with Jonathan but quickly loses him following entering. she then finds herself sparking conversation with closeted Robin, who’s trying to become a barista.

warnings: excessive bullying, mentions of homophobia.

word count: 2+K

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“Samara the… panther?”

I laugh. “No.”

“Samara the… bunny?”

“How do you jump from a panther to a bunny?” I ask. “And no, this is a cat costume.”

“Just a cat costume?” Jonathan asked.

I nod and continue looking out of the window. My sleek red hair shines back at me through the shiny glass, and I hope it doesn’t throw my costume off. High schoolers, especially the ones who believe speaking to college kids makes them cooler, enjoy making fun of me for everything that I do. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not slim, or because I’m a girl who coincidentally also likes girls, but they make fun, nonetheless. I know they’ll try to say something like, “Oh so you’re the fat cat from Cinderella?,” even though I look nothing like that stupid cat. Or they’d say, “I see you’ve gone with the safest option? Fat girls can’t really wear much else, amirite?”

“You’re thinking too hard.”

“What?” I straighten myself out and turn my head. I gather my sprawling fingers on my lap and try looking directly at Jonathan, even though his steaming black eyes force me to look out again. “I am not thinking too hard.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.” I pinch myself and bite down on my lip to force myself to say the truth. “Okay, I am. I’m regretting coming and dressing up because one, my parents expect me to stay out late, two, people will make fun of me again, and three, I’m only going for one reason.”

Jonathan nods and he directs his eyesight towards me for a second. He raises an eyebrow and unleashes a deadly smirk. “Could you repeat the reason you’re going again? I tend to forget.”

I laugh and shake my head. “No.” My face drains as we get closer and the fingers fighting one another on my lap freeze. “I can’t tell you because we’re moments away and what if she hears?”

“Robin won’t hear you from a mile away telling your loser friend that you’re only at that stupid party for her.”

I roll my eyes and throw a punch at his arm. “Thanks for spitting the truth in my face.”

“No problem.” He smiles. Then after a moment, he says, “It’s good that you’re coming out.”

“I am already out,” I joke.

“Not like that,” he laughs. “I mean I’m glad that you’re out of the house. Most would think that because you’re a first generation Mexican-American, you’re stuck in your room like a damsel in distress. But you don’t have that excuse.”

“Oh I do have that excuse and I can very well use it.” I pick at the fabric of my black skirt and shrug. “It just wouldn’t be truthful.” Jonathan parks the car and my immediate reaction is to pour all of my emotions out before we step out into the realness of the situation. “I’d rather use the excuse because everyone thinks it’s true. The stereotype is a stereotype for a reason: most Hispanic parents hate their kids going out to parties or dances or out in general. I just have the urge to lie because people are cruel and if I stay in my room reading and doing nothing, no one will make fun of me.”

“No one will make fun of you,” Jonathan whispers. He places a hand atop mine and smiles over at me. “You look like a… a hot cat…” He cringes as soon as the words are out and we burst into laughter.

“Okay… Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say–but thank you.” I smile back and break our friendly stare to turn my head and observe the teenagers and early college attendees partying about. People are dancing outside, dancing inside without curtains on the windows, and there are cups everywhere; big, red, smelly cups everywhere. And there are also ghosts, and monsters, and zombies, and pretty girls in low-cut tops that reveal enough for my mind to wander.

I force myself to push Jonathan away and crawl out of the car. He follows right behind me and walks across the street, catching up to me and pulling me back as I almost trip over a clumsy drunk. “I feel like you’re way into your head,” he says.

I shrug. “I don’t go to parties.”

“I know. If you aren’t in your room reading, you’re at the park… reading.”

“Not true.”

“Do you have a book with you right now, Sam?”

“Don’t call me Sam!” I exclaim as we near the doors. “And no… why would I?”

“Because you’re Samara Gallegos.”

I laugh and throw my head back. “Sadly, I don’t. Though I probably should have.”

I sniff the air as we enter the house and I hiss in disgust. The room smells of sweat and lips and alcohol and a particular smell I know too well of: sex. It reeks of sex and it smells the same in the teachers bathroom no one uses. Only for sex. I sometimes use it–but to pee and read when I want to skip lunch in the cafeteria.

“Do parties always smell like this?” I ask. I sniff the air again as I round the corner that leads to a hallway that leads to the kitchen. Then as no one replies to my question, I say, “Jonathan?”

“Yes, parties do always smell like this.”

I jump. I hold my beating heart with the palm of my hand and slice the air with my abnormally large head and body. Robin stands in front of me, holding a red plastic cup and dressed in her normal clothes, but a tad more revealing: a long patterned shirt with the first few buttons popped open, and a pair of large black jeans. Her shirt is tucked into her pants, but it looks like she failed–corners are flopping out and some patches of fabric are heavily wrinkled.

“You didn’t dress up,” I say. “Why?”

“Wanted to be different,” she tells me. “And you? Why are you wearing a costume?”

“Wanted to be like everyone else.”

She raises an eyebrow and reaches out to grab my hand. I step back and inch but she smiles at me. This smile sent from heaven on a girl sent from God himself. “Come on. Let’s get you a drink.”

I slowly nod and let her take my hand. She skips along the sticky wood and takes me to the kitchen where people are sprawled about, kissing or drinking or blabbering about bullshit.

“So,” she starts as she finds a bottle of alcohol branded VODKA, “you want to be like everyone.”

I nod.

“Why?” She doesn’t sound disgusted, but she sounds like she has no damn idea why I would want to be like the majority of teenagers.

I don’t know what to say. I can still feel her warm fingers cover my palm, and her round fingernails caressing my skin. I should just say what most people would say, ‘I don’t know, why not?’, but I do know why and she’s being nice to me.

“Because if I dress accordingly, people won’t try to pick.”

“Ah.”

“Ah,” I repeat. “Yeah.”

She picks up the full red cup and hands it to me. I don’t know what she poured in but I take a sip anyway and almost choke as it goes down my throat. She looks at me with knitted eyebrows and a forming frown, but I nod and pull a thumbs up.

“I’m not much of a bartender; I just sort of mixed some shit up. Sorry if you don’t like it.”

“I don’t know if I should,” I hiss. “I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Oh, me neither,” she laughs. I nervously laugh too then laugh for real when she snorts. “I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “I–What were we talking about before? Before-before.”

“About how I wanted to be the same and because if I dress like everyone, I won’t be bullied.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “People are assholes! ASSHOLES!” She raises her up into the air and it spills all over. It misses my costume but it spills across the roll of garlic bread. She says nothing and continues. “I think you’re beautiful.”

I look her over and squint as I fall onto her eyes again. “Are you drunk, Robin?”

“What?” she sputters like a broken engine.

“I said,” I begin, clearing my throat, “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I mean it, Samara. I think you’re beautiful.” I nod and she nods and then she begins looking at me with a questioning eye. “Why do you think I have to be drunk in order to say you’re beautiful?”

I don’t know what to say, and I mean it. I scramble for words to put into a six-word sentence, but I come up with only a mewling sound. I swallow it down before I sound like I’m dying and tie my hands back to stop myself from expressing myself using my hands.

Robin doesn’t stop looking at me questionably. She looks at me like I’m insane; like I’ve had more to drink than her. She pushes herself further over the counter and her hips almost touch mine. I can smell her breath and it smells of mint gum and overly cheap alcohol. Her lips are cherry red and I can smell her lip balm from where I stand, too. It isn’t cherry, it’s strawberry kiwi.

“You die to be normal and look like everyone else because… why?”

I take a large gulp of my drink and slosh the leftover juice around so it slides far up the sides. I bite down on my lip and glance at the people walking by us and kissing and talking and not looking at me. No one is looking at me, no one is batting an eye at the tight clothes I have on, and no one has said a thing.

I wonder why no one has said a thing about my clothes. I feel big but I don’t feel ugly. No ‘whale’ comments have been shot my way and I question if everyone else sees me. Or if maybe I’ve successfully found myself being as normal and uncared for as everyone else. Like Robin.

“I know what they say about you,” she whispers after I say nothing.

“Yeah, it’s sad, huh?”

“It is.” She nods. Then shakes her head. “But it isn’t true.”

I take another gulp of my drink, it being the last one, and turn to pour myself straight cheap vodka. I take another gulp and view Robin from the corner of my eye. “Well if it isn’t true, why does everyone call me it?”

She scoffs. “Because they don’t have anything else to do!”

“You’re drunk,” I state.

“I’m not,” she replies. She yanks my cup out of my hand and downs almost half of my drink. She smiles at me over my cup.

“Okay,” I plainly say.

“Okay.”

I glance at the crowd around her. People are smashing into one another as they dance and I can’t seem to find Jonathan. Not that he would dance, but he might be around, looking for any girl who looks like she’d like the same music, or like the same books or maybe have a ‘Zombie Brother.’

“I have to get back to Jonathan,” I tell Robin. “I lost him when I walked in.”

“He’s probably smoking weed. You should just stay down here–with me.”

“No.” I shake my head as I glance at her. She’s beautiful but she doesn’t understand what’s happening inside of my head right now. She doesn’t get how stupidly I like her. “Jonathan wouldn’t do that. He only drinks occasionally.”

“Really?” She raises a brow.

“Yeah.”

“Well then what is he doing right now?”

“What?”

“Look right through the window above the sink. Right out into the pool. Beach chairs.”

I follow her directions and look out, at the pool, right beside it where the beach chairs are. “No fucking way,” I whisper. “No way. Since when?”

“Since forever, Sam.”

“It’s Samara,” I whisper.

“Sorry.”

“Thanks.” I look back at Robin and offer a wavering smile. “I don’t like being called Sam, I just… It white-washes my Mexican name. I think it’s already white-washed enough.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Most names like that start with a Z. It’s something with Latino’s loving the letter Z.”

“Ah.” She takes my cup again and downs the rest of the vodka. Then holds it out to me and asks, “You want some more?”

“Vodka?” I ask. I shake my head. “Do something like…” I look over the drinks settled about then look at the pink lemonade sitting by the tequila. “Do the lemonade and tequila.”

She quickly fixes the drink up and hands it to me. I take a sip and crinkle my nose. “A lot of tequila.”

“Sorry.” I smile. She smiles. “So…,” she then begins with her hands tied in a knot in front of her and moves forward and backwards on the balls of her feet. I only look at her. “You’ve come out already, right?”

I nod.

“Out of the closet?”

I nod.

“How was it?”

“Surprisingly,” I start, “my parents still love me. Other people think I’m disgusting and a demon and it makes me being ugly worse, but I don’t care. The only thing I care about is my parents loving me–and they do, so I don’t care what others have to say.”

“You’re brave,” she whispers.

I don’t know why we’re whispering, but I whisper too. “It’s just me. I guess I’m brave.”

She chuckles and looks away for a second. She fiddles with the bottles and bags of chips lying around. “I want to come out… But I just can’t.”

I force my eyes to stay inside of my eye sockets. “You like girls?” I whisper. “I–I didn’t know.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, I’m all over them.”

“Who was your awakening? Was it Farrah Fawcett? Susan Anton? God, she’s hot.”

She laughs. “Yeah, Farrah and Charo and Audrey Landers. I mean, have you seen her in Playboy?”

I smile wide and nod like a madman. “It’s a terrible crush.”

“Yeah.” Her voice is small and slowly, her laughs fade away. She looks at me and I can see the tennis-ball sized lump in her throat slowly slide into her stomach. She curls her fingers tighter and tighter until they turn into the color of my hair. “I also have had a crush on this one girl since freshman year and I don’t know what to do.”

A pit is formed into my stomach and my heart slides right in. I nod and take another sip of my drink. “What’s her name?” I force myself to speak.

She takes an empty cup and fills it with vodka. She downs the small amount inside and sighs. “Sam.”

I almost choke. There’s only a few Sam’s at school. Me, and Samantha Nguyen. “Like… Sam Nguyen?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

I nod and swallow the rest of my drink. I can feel the drinks spinning around in my head and body and I think I might puke. “Then which one?”

“Samara.”

“Yes?”

“You,” she spits out. “Samara Gallegos.”

My heart drops as if it couldn’t drop any more and I shake my head. I’ve always wanted her to like me back, but now that she’s confessed to liking me, I want her to take it back. “No,” I tell her. “No.”

“Yes,” she whines. “Yes.”

“No,” I repeat. “You can’t like me.”

Her eyebrows curl up and her face is far from interested in knowing why I’m saying no. “What do you mean?” she questions in the same mousy voice. When I don’t answer, she repeats herself.

“Because it’s embarrassing,” I say almost too loudly with too much frustration in my tone.

I want her to know that liking me comes with repercussions, like knowing that I cannot stand in front of a mirror for long, or that I can’t eat when people are around, and that’s why I eat with Ms. Briggs, the youngest English teacher in school. She has to know that I cry almost every night because I wonder when my self-hatred will vanish, and she has to know that people will make fun of her for liking me. Not only will people know that she likes girls too, but they’ll know that she likes the fat girl.

I’ve always been known as the fat girl, albeit Jonathan and his child-friends telling me that I’m not, I just have eyesight issues and detrimental mental problems blocking me from seeing it. I know they’re lying when they tell me that I’m not fat, but I know they just don’t think I should be placed in the ‘whale’ category.

But everyone else… Everyone else thinks I do believe in that category. And if they find out Robin likes a fat girl, they’ll all forget about her being gay and focus on the fact that she has poor taste.

Robin stares at me. Glaring is a more accurate statement. She glares at me as she scoots closer and asks, “For who?”

“What?” I ask.

“Who is it embarrassing for?”

“For you,” I spit with a quivering mouth. “It’d be embarrassing for you to like me. I mean, Robin, imagine people knowing you like Samara Gallegos, the fat whale.”

Her tongue darts out and wets her lips. She sucks in a breath and shifts on her feet. “I don’t care what people say, Samara. I think you’re beautiful and fuck what everyone thinks of you. Why would that matter if I’m the one liking you? If I’m the one that thinks you’re perfect.”

A tear slips out and I shake my head. The ache from the drinks beats against my skull and swirls in my stomach. My mind isn’t thinking straight anymore and I want to kiss her and hug her and say sorry for being rude. I never want to try alcohol ever again if it makes me think of everything and nothing at all.

“I don’t want people to make fun of you. There’s nothing wrong with you and I’ll fuck everything up.”

“No,” she tells me for the first time. She steps forward and takes my face in her hands. She feels softer and I feel like I’m floating with her. “You will not mess anything up. I don’t care if people make fun of me for liking you. I can like who I want to like. Because that’s mine–no one else's.”

I look into her teary eyes and shed another tear. I’m scared out of my mind. I fear more for her because she’s not out of the closet and the first girl she’s being close and intimate with is me.

“Don’t like me,” I whisper. I sound like a tormented cat, mewling and shouting for help. I cry and she pulls my head into her chest. “Don’t like me, Robin.”

“No,” she whispers into my steaming red hair, shushing me from saying another word. “I like you. I like you Samara Gallegos, you drunk in love.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AUTHORS NOTE

i’ve always struggled with people liking me and i worrying that they’d be embarrassed of me because i wasn’t skinny. even through the bullying has stopped, the feeling and worry hasn’t gone away. this is a bit of writing to show how i feel.

#robin buckley #robin stranger things #maya hawke #robin buckley fluff #coming out #lgbtq community #fluff #robin buckley fanfic #stranger things #jonathan stranger things #jonathan byers

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poptod · 3 years ago

Text

The Breeding Kings, pt. 19

Description:

Notes: WC: 4.5k

They had yet to tell you the master's name.

You weren't allowed to stand next to Ahkmen in line, either. They wanted you lined up by size, leaving you at the smaller end, and Ahk at the taller. After scanning the new recruits––of which there were only six new people––the estate's stewardess assigned you to gardening, and Ahk to patrol.

"Okay," you said with a nod despite no one else in line saying anything in response to their assignment. "I also do clean good."

The stewardess cocked a single brow.

"You can do that as well then. Share shifts with Zakiti," she said, pointing to a young girl digging into the loose dirt of the garden.

You bowed your head deeply before the six of you were set loose on the property, your slots established. Ahkmen followed you into the sun for a moment before someone caught him, bringing him back to the small hut he'd just been in, and where the tools were kept. He was handed a guard's outfit––long, white robes, unflattering, and reaching all the way to his ankles and wrists. An instant distaste grew on Ahk.

"I have to wear this?" Ahk asked the man, but fortunately he was speaking Egyptian, and the stranger could not understand him.

The job did, to your great comfort, afford you food that was given out in plentiful rations, and despite the dull taste, Ahk found himself enjoying beer and bread in the beating afternoon sun, though he wasn't allowed much due to time constraints. He'd been working throughout the whole day, circling the whole of the property in search of any trespassers. Lean muscles were now strained beneath the weight of his body and of the strange clothes, though certainly no more than his backpack was, and he often found himself rubbing his aching shoulders. He couldn't see his skin there properly, but he was half convinced he was genuinely bruised.

What was hardest about the job didn't end up being the heat, the strain on his muscles, or the overstimulation of long skirts and sleeves––it was the absence of you that he noticed above anything else. No one to listen to the strange comments during the day, a slot that had, for a while, been filled by Piye, and then more recently by you.

You always had something more fun to say. Sometimes way out of range from his own thought process, and sometimes reading his mind exactly.

And he wasn't there to hear what you had to say, either, in those random moments when deep thoughts blurted out in rough translations.

Later in the afternoon––bordering on evening––you were called back to the servant's quarters to be dismissed. The stewardess gave the six of you a rough look at your future schedules, revealing your hours to be lax and concentrated to only three or four days in the ten day week. You and Ahk side-eyed each other, ready to jump out of line at any moment with excitement as you bit back a grin.

The moment she said 'dismissed' you flocked to one another, automatically heading towards your quarters without word.

"I have been with thoughts, all day," you began, moving your hands animatedly. "We need to go to the beer house, like," you pointed over your shoulder, "you know?"

"The one from yesterday?" He asked in mild confusion.

"Yes!"

"Well I haven't got anything else to do," he said, looking to you with a lop-sided grin that you eagerly returned.

Even in the increasingly late hours of the day the market was aflame with life, filled with open carts and tables now half-empty after a long day of business. Ahkmen never had a job before––at least, not one that didn't have to do with politics or, very rarely, singing. Neither of those were any bit like the job he now had, standing on his feet for hours on end, watchful eyes patrolling a property that didn't and never would belong to him.

That ache continued in his chest, a feeling of tiredness that attempted to lag him down as he followed your excited steps. Unlike him, you were accustomed to physical labor, and retained much of your energy despite the hours of cleaning.

Orange and yellow tarps still hung above the darkened market, now blocking nothing more than the stars that shone a little dimmer than the two of you were used to. The small, red flags fluttered high above you in the gentle breeze coming off the Euphrates, twinned by the still fresh scents of baking bread and cooking beer. You needed only to follow the scent and the crowds that grew larger the further you got down the wide, stone street, coalescing into a large city center built by shops, bakeries, breweries, and glassmakers surrounding a pyre of white stone.

Winged creatures on four feet and bearing a man's head were carved into the large pillar, mounted by a disc resembling the light of the sun. Other such decorations trailed all the way down to the base, where lax soldiers lay among the ascending steps, their spears and swords at their side, and their mouths occupied by a stew whose scent tantalized the both of you.

"Did you eat today?" Ahkmen asked, unable to stop staring at the clay bowls steaming with the soup.

"I had a bread, in the - the kitchen," you said quietly.

"Hungry?"

"Yes, yes, we will eat?" You asked as you turned to him.

"I'd like to, considering I didn't really eat anything today," he said with a frown.

"What?? They did not let you eat?"

"More of I didn't have the chance," he said as he scratched the back of his neck, scanning the city square.

"I say we do get beer," you said, speaking slowly so as to fully think through your plan, "then we go to the house, and take their food. It is their job to feed you, yes? We work for them, they give food."

"Ah, Yogi," he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a side hug, "I knew there was a reason I followed you to the end of the earth."

"We are not at the end of the earth now, not yet," you said with a chuckle.

"I will follow you there," he said in a sudden, sincere softness.

You looked up at him and said, "I know," though you chuckled and gave him a funny look.

Thick, warm, and sweet––the beer of Babylon was more similar to porridge than it was to the almost juice-like qualities of Egypt, and by extension your, brewing. You both held one of the large mugs given to you, sitting on the raised half-wall between the public center and the roofless brewery establishment. Below you, women and men churned the alcoholic mixture, and across from you wandered older shoppers and off-guard soldiers.

Both of you raised your cups at the same time, taking a long, slurping gulp as you looked each other directly in the eye. Laughs bubbled in the beer, forcing you to lower the cup and wipe your chin on your sleeve as you giggled. He chuckled as he lowered his mug in a more graceful manner than you had.

"Hey, weren't you here yesterday?" A woman asked in Akkadian. It caught your attention, but to Ahk, it was just part of the conversations he couldn't understand, so he didn't notice until you responded to her.

"Yes I was here," you said grinning, offering a small wave to what Ahkmen now saw to be one of the brewers, her skin glowing in the firelights beneath the churners.

Her skirt was long, the frail edge of it dragging along the ground over neat, red fabric shoes. Despite the modest skirt, she had no sleeves, and the white linen veiled her muscled body, smooth dips and veins built from the nature of her work. Long, curly black hair was pinned in a bun, with neat strands hanging from the pins like vines from a tree. Even with her dark skin he could see a blush on her flushed cheeks.

"Ah," she huffed, wiping her brow, "I thought you looked a little odd."

"Odd?" You questioned with a laugh.

"Well your friend is dressed very... um, different," she said as she gestured to Ahk, who was back in his Egyptian skirt. "You from Egypt, sir?"

"Oh, he does not speak Akkadian," you said.

At this point, Ahk knew you were talking about him, since the lady gestured to him and you brushed him off. The two of you continued for a moment more, the stranger's gaze switching between you and him as incomprehensible words flooded from her mouth before she finally said something he understood.

"You, uh, you speak Sumerian?" She said, and Ahk perked up.

"Yes, I do," he said, glancing between you two. "Yogi doesn't, though. How do you know Sumerian? I thought it was a... a dead language."

"I could ask you for the same," she chuckled, "but my brother is a priest. I live with him, he shows me much of what he does."

"Ah, alright," he said with a nod. "I learned from school in Egypt, trained in the temples to be a priest."

How easily the lie came to him now. Why wouldn't it? No one was around to know any different.

She nodded with him, but before she could reply, you were interrupting and her focus was back on you. You said something followed by your name, and with her reply you muttered to Ahk her name––Tiamat.

Ahkmen managed to finish his beer while you two were still speaking in tongues. Not too great a task for a man of his stomach, but the entire time he was sipping away he could think of nothing more than the feeling of alienation. The languages of the three of you were all mixed up, meaning he couldn't talk to her without excluding you, and you couldn't talk to her without ignoring him, a predicament with ended in the latter's solution.

In the meantime, you were hitting it off rather well with Tiamat; you got to tell her that you'd experimented with your own types of beer, and she was interested––at least mildly so––in your foreign recipes. It wasn't long until she noticed Ahk's silent eyes staring at you, and suggested something you translated to Ahk.

"There is a... a house of books and scrolls near to here," you said. "If you are tired to being here."

A black hole swelled in the pit of his stomach, instilling a sick feeling where his beer once was. He glanced between you.

It would be the first time he was willingly parted from you in months.

"Sure," he said slowly, repeating the word in Sumerian to Tiamat.

She gave him the directions and he left in a fluster, confused and somewhat disappointed in himself. He was a little confused as to the actual directions to the library, but the large building stuck out sorely amongst the middle and lower class homes, tiled in dark blue and having much of a stature of a temple rather than a library. No one came and went from the door, but the scent of searing meat was suddenly overpowered by burning incense. The mark of an inhabited and frequently prayed in temple.

Arches led to extensive gardens, held alight by the glowing moon shining above. There were few clouds out tonight, allowing a better view of the sky––a view reflected in the patterns of the gardens. Riverwater flowed through the terrace as the Milky Way split the sky, the stars marked by flowering trees that bloomed in deep red and a pure, clean white. Beyond the garden stood the temple itself, once more the center of his attention, and once more rising beyond the walls that encircled it.

Stairs led up into the heavens and towards the first door, a strong, metal gate left unprotected.

He slowly entered, passing through the open doors and into a dark threshold. Ripples and veins of wood ran beneath his fingertips, trailing across the large doors, their bolts hanging open and unlocked. His mouth went dry as his eyes adjusted to the light.

Despite the grand stature and preparations for the temple, the first room there was very little––containing not much more than a strange candle sat in front of a small idol representing a bloodied man. Red paint, or perhaps actual blood, was smeared across his face, leading down in claw marks to the offerings at his feet. Ahk's jaw gritted tight as he attempted to swallow through a tight throat.

Two doors flanked the wall behind the statuette. Light flooded suddenly in the pitch black room, only to disappear, the subtle roar of torchlight moving with it. In that single moment, within which the light appeared, Ahkmen's mouth fell open as writings were revealed upon the walls, carved in every available surface, their depths sharpened by harsh light.

Like Egypt, the comings and goings of rituals for the Gods overpowered any prayers citizens might have, leaving only the small entrance room for people to pray at. From there Ahk could safely assume that he would not be allowed in the inner temples, especially since he was a foreigner. Whatever scrolls or tablets Tiamat knew about were inaccessible to him, leaving him alone and directionless in the Babylonian temple, separated from everything comfortably familiar.

He knelt, though he wasn't sure why, and looked the statue straight on. At the stone base was script, cuneiform pressed into clay and announcing the God's name.

"Utu Shamash," he mumbled, reading the words aloud. The Sun God of Babylonian myth.

It made sense, considering the offerings of gold beads and wine in golden chalices––Utu was known as a lover of gold, as it was the lifeblood of the sun. And even though Utu Shamash was the God of the sun, his equal was the presence of Ma'at––the Goddess of truth and justice––instead of Ra, a more widely known God of Egypt.

He took advantage of the rarity of such quiet moments, and delved back into the studies he left behind in Osiris' temple, namely the study of cuneiform writing. The temple must've been an older one––which would explain the somewhat smaller size––as the words in the walls were a script he could recognize, the familiar Sumerian of thousands of years ago. Whoever took power in Mesopotamia could never outrule the hidden language, and thus the words persisted even into modern day. Singing and glowing off the stone.

You suspend from the heavens the circle of the lands

And everything that Ea, King of the counsellors, had created is entrusted to you.

Whatever has breath you shepherd without exception,

You are their keeper in upper and lower regions.

Regularly and without cease you traverse the heavens,

Every day you pass over the broad earth. . . .

Shepherd of that beneath, keeper of that above,

You, Shamash, direct, you are the light of everything.

His gaze fell from the blurry words to the small statue. At some point he had fallen to his knees in front of the altar, his chin resting on the surface holding up the offerings of the people. Staring into its' eyes brought recollection to him, and he remembered the wooden totem he had worked on throughout the Shamiyah desert, how avidly he hid it in hopes of surprising you. He shoved it in his bag somewhere around Rapiqum for the last time, and since then it was hidden beneath his belongings.

There was little else he could think to do in the small praying room, so he left on quiet footsteps, retreating away from manmade majesty and back into the natural flora scattered along the path back to main streets. Chirping crickets digressed into quiet conversation, leather sandals walking across brick stone streets, and the ever-present sound of crackling fires.

He returned to the small circle in which he'd left you, as he only remembered the path back to the estate from that single spot. When he crossed the plaza, he spotted the open-roofed brewer, and made his way across to inform you on his future whereabouts.

Peering over the ledge, he found you still enraptured in your conversation with the brewer. She appeared to be showing you the mixing process required for the porridge-type beer. Ahk jogged down the stairs and over to you.

"Aganu!" You said brightly, a very sudden smile overtaking your earlier seriousness. "How is the books?"

"Couldn't, uh, get inside. It's alright. They had writings on the walls, um – I'm headed back to the estate," he set a hand on your shoulder, "so shall I meet you there?"

"Yes, yes, I will come back close to now," you said with a nod.

"Alright," he said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before he bid a hasty good-bye, waving himself out of the brewery. Your giggle followed him.

Things got quieter and less crowded the closer he got to the estate––whose owner he still didn't know––and by the time he stood before the servant's entrance, most of the lights in houses had gone out. The small, hostel-like accommodations for the servants still had a burning rushlight within, dimly illuminating the filled and empty bunks.

He squinted slightly to see through the wooden gate, his brow furrowing. There were very few beds left unoccupied.

With a long sigh he unlatched the gate in the way the stewardess taught him, quietly closing it behind him when he padded through with careful steps. His gaze was drawn to the small patio outside the hut––where you and him were assigned to your respective jobs––and there he spotted the bags the two of you left behind. He knelt and dug into his pack, drawing out his knife and the wooden totem that had been chipped into a much smaller size.

A whiff of the air from inside the bunk revealed to him that they weren't burning a rushlight; they were burning incense, drifting out in gentle smoke that pooled beneath the patio roof. He looked up, chuckling as he ran his hand through the thick clouds.

He took a seat on the dusty earth, his raised knees supporting his elbows that allowed for the proper movement of carving. The knife in his hand had dulled over time, matching to fit the refining scrapes Ahk was now using, smoothing out the harsher edges of the image within. Every now and then he glanced upwards, and each time he found the stars still veiled past the light of the city. He sighed, looked to the gate in hopes of seeing you, and returned to his wood carving after two minutes of silence.

Snoring hummed quietly from inside the servant's quarters, followed by rustling sheets and a smack of skin against skin. Ahk's eyes widened as he heard someone curse in Akkadian. Another slap and then silence.

A little while later, clinking metal and swinging hinges had his head shooting up to see you. A grin split across his face and he stood, abandoning his wood and knife on the ground in favor of jogging over to you.

"Aganu," you said in a giggle, gladly returning his hug when he scooped you up into his arms.

He picked you up easily, spinning you around in slow circles across the garden as your laughter followed in twirls. He chuckled as he set you down, his hands remaining on your waist, and his heart thumping like thunder.

"How was brewing?" He asked.

"So good," you giggled. "I did miss it for more than I think."

"Understandable. You do know a lot about it, after all," he said with a shrug.

"A little. We should eat now," you said, walking past him and leading him to follow you without word or gesture.

The main house of the estate wasn't an especially large house, but it was tall. Three different floors rose out of the ground like pikes, the edges rimmed with decorated shards of cutting stone, and the stairs guarded by figures of Lamassu, though they were much smaller than some of the statues he'd seen in other parts of Babylon.

Of course, that wasn't the wisest entry point. On the back side of the house, opposite of the street-facing side, a doorway led in to the kitchens illuminated by the windows built into the thick, stone walls.

Large domed brick furnaces were built into the home, but the storage cases were all made of wood and completely moveable. None of that mattered, however, because all of the food itself was kept in a storeroom below the ground, a fact you found out after speaking with Zakiti, your coworker. Long accustomed to the art of sneaking, the two of you easily snuck down the stairs and into the underground storage. basement.

A chill set over your skin, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. Every tiny scrape of your shoes against the dirty floor had tiny specks of dirt grinding against each other, producing an unpleasant sound that nearly woke the landowners.

You picked a variety of things, too scared of taking multiples of one object and getting caught by the missing evidence. Once everything was chosen, you and Ahk hid the food in the folds of your clothes, and ran back across the estate to the servant's house.

He barely caught his breath before you were climbing up the stone walls of the bunk, using the wooden pegs to left yourself up to the roof. Ahkmen chuckled, but something else came to mind, and he rushed off to grab something else before he joined you in the midnight stillness. In the end, however, he required your help in lifting everything up, and that left nothing to surprise you with but the totem he could carry in his hand while he climbed.

He huffed as he landed beside you. While waiting for him you'd set out the blanket he fetched, the length of it laying flat on the mud roof baked in the sun. You already had your lute in hand, small fingers tapping thoughtlessly over the strings as he revealed what he'd hidden from you for a good while now; an object of his vigilant attention.

Your mouth fell open when you saw it, drawing a breath between your lips that caught in your throat.

It wasn't of anyone distinctive. Technically. The proportions gave away far more than he was comfortable with, but you'd already seen it now, and there was no taking that back. For weeks he'd been carving the image of two people embracing, one much taller than the other, who pulled the smaller's head into its' chest, an abstract hand petting the absent hair. The only features actually shown on the two were their eyes––closed, and quietly so, with no strain or note of fear.

He let you stare until he grew uncomfortable with your silence, which ended up happening rather quickly as he boiled in his own blushing.

"What do you think of it?" He asked in a voice that nearly cracked.

"I... it is beautiful," you murmured, your hands going lax around the instrument.

You reached forward as he handed it to you, and you held it with such a tender, careful touch that Ahk wished for a moment he was the statue instead. It was a very long moment that stretched into near painful yearning.

"This is what you made in the Shamiyah?" You said, tearing your eyes away from the figures to meet his gaze.

"Yes, well.. I... I had a lot of time," he partway mumbled, feeling suddenly self-conscious about his gift to you. There were edges and areas he could've added better detail.

"And I had a lot of time," you said with a chuckle. "But I did not make any thing. It is beautiful, Aganu."

Burning desire to hear his name. His true name. Not once had you uttered it in any way not befitting a stranger.

"Thank you," he choked out after forcing down the words you're beautiful.

How pathetically cliche, how his cheeks burned even brighter yet, his imagination just barely reigned in by his common sense. He couldn't just kiss you––you depended on him for safety to get to a new home after your last became intolerable, and breeching that trust wasn't something he was so readily prepared to do.

So instead he looked at you, ignoring how his gaze always fell to your lips, ignoring how he leant into you without ever having to feel your touch. Pathetic, he thought, and drew himself back, restraining his rampant thoughts. It all faded as you plucked at the strings, the hum of it filling up the space between you with warmth. Stars that crested your face fell to the earth in the form of fireflies that floated around you.

But you wouldn't sing. You looked to him, waiting for him to start, and giggling when he remained in his strange trance.

"You are the singing, yes?" You said quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping servants below the rooftop.

"Oh," he said, his back straightening. "Um, alright."

He recalled many of the poems and songs he'd heard at festivals, as well as the more popular ones sung in the house of life. His eyes flickered up to the red dot on your forehead above your brow.

"My love is one and only, without peer, lovely above all Egypt's lovely girls," he began to sing, keeping as quiet as you kept your playing. "On the horizon of my seeing, see her rising, glistening Goddess of the sunrise star; bright in the forehead of a lucky year. So there she stands, epitome of shining, shedding light, her eyebrows gleaming darkly, marking eyes which dance and wander."

He let out a long sigh as he lay down, stretching his arms above his head before he released them, one falling on his stomach, and the other extended to you. You chuckled at his sleepy mannerisms, continuing to pluck thoughtlessly.

"Tired?" You asked.

"Yes," he mumbled, his eyes falling blissfully shut.

The wooden lute clattered against the mud roof before fabric shifted and you were lying next to him, balanced on your side to face him. He turned to you and opened his eyes. You were much closer than he thought.

Neither of you said a word; silence in the hazy stare between you. Ahk only noticed his brow was knotted when it began to ache, at which point he also realized he'd raised his hand, and the back of his fingers were tracing down your cheek. No going back now––you still stared at him head-on, blinking slowly as he drew in a shaky breath.

His fingers drew the rest of the way down to your jaw, melting him at the soft warmth of your skin.

You're going to drive me mad.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah x male reader

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