#wish we didn’t have to worry about just the simple act of sharing pictures | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lelitachay · 2 years ago

Text

Frozen fanfiction: Søsken

Summary: An accident in the North mountain forces Elsa to spend several weeks in her brother’s apartment under Anna’s care. And during this time, Anna begins to notice there are peculiar things about Elsa’s life she wished she could understand. Everything starts to make sense after a family reunion.

Modern AU. Kristanna - Frohana - Kristoff & Elsa BrOTP.

Links:

Fanfiction.net - HERE

AO3 - HERE

Tumblr - Chapters 1 to 10 - Here Chapters 11 to 20 - Here Chapters 21 to 30 - Here Chapter 31 - Here Chapter 32 - Here Chapter 33 - Here Chapter 34 - Here Chapter 35 - Here Chapter 36 - Here -

Tightrope

The moment Kristoff decided to have dinner with his family, he had pictured a nice, pleasant evening together. It wasn’t usual to have his whole family reunited at one place and he thought of making the best of that opportunity. To his disappointment, the moment he entered his parents’ house, he realised something was not right.

They greeted them with a warm smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes. His mother seemed more quiet than usual and his father more tense. It was something he wasn’t used to seeing. Kai and Gerda rarely showed him when something was bothering them. They had always tried their best to hide their problems so as not to worry him, or Elsa for that matter. This time, however, they couldn’t quite hide it, and it worried him.

He was certain Anna had sensed something was off too. The side look she gave him as soon as they entered the house was a clear indicator. And for a short moment, Kristoff thought about the possibility of addressing the elephant in the room, hoping things could be discussed right then and there. But it wasn’t really his place to do so. He wasn’t sure what was going on and, even though it was clearly affecting them both, he wasn’t sure it was correct to expose them like that. He guessed it was for the best not to get involved, at least not until they decided to share what was going on.

For that reason, Anna and Kristoff tried their best to pretend things were okay. Not perfect, but okay. They talked about the rain the previous day. They talked about the city. About the restaurant where they had picked the food from. They even commented about Elsa’s injury briefly. Both of them had noticed the bandages around her hand and the topic soon arose, but they stopped discussing it as soon as Elsa insisted on shrugging it off as another simple accident. They talked about anything they could come up with in order to distract the rest of the family from whatever was in their mind.

It took a bit longer than usual, but after some minutes, when they finally sat down to enjoy their meal, things came back to a more normal state. And given the awkward mood in the Bjorgman household, Kristoff and Anna didn’t mention anything about their decision to go live together until the dinner was over and Kai began picking up the dishes to make some room in the table for dessert.

“You're moving in together?” asked Gerda, clearly surprised at the news the moment Kristoff decided to share them out of the blue.

“Yes,” Anna exclaimed, thrilled about sharing the good news with her in-laws at last.

“We talked about it and it feels just right.” The smile Kristoff sent Anna showed the rest of the family how honest he was. After all, it was no secret that spending the rest of his life with Anna felt just right. Of course, he’d kept that part to himself for the time being. They still needed to figure out what to do about the Arendelles and Elsa.

The previous night they had shared the news with Agdar and Idunn, and even though they seemed happy for them, he couldn’t help but feel something was off with them too. For a second, Kristoff wondered if it wasn’t just his mind playing tricks. What were the odds of both families acting strangely so suddenly? But he decided to ignore that part and focus on the good side of things. His in-laws were happy for them and now his own parents seemed to be delighted about the news. It was all he needed for the time being.

“That's wonderful news, son. I’m happy you two are moving forward.” Kai congratulated them as he continued picking the remaining dishes and headed to the kitchen.

“Is Anna moving into your apartment?” asked Gerda with enthusiasm.

“No,” he said, happy his mother was smiling genuinely for the first time that evening. “I suggested finding a new place. One we both can call our own.”

“It’d be a new start for the both of us, I guess.” Anna smiled back at him and once again Kristoff felt his spirits rise. He couldn’t really understand how a girl, so sweet and simple — in the best way — could make him so happy. The mere idea of her spending the next few days in his apartment while they arranged their ideas and found an apartment was exciting, and a nice in-between. He couldn't imagine how amazing the feeling would be the moment they finally had a place to call home. Their home.

“Do your parents know?” Kai asked Anna as he returned to the dining room with dessert.

She nodded with a smile. "We told them last night, actually. They were quite sad about me ‘leaving the nest’ and all. But they seemed genuinely happy for us.”

Kristoff couldn't help but look at Elsa when Anna told the rest of the family about her parent’s reaction. At first he hadn’t been sure he wanted Elsa to know about that detail. Agdar's and Idunn's faces had shown deep sadness when they realised Anna was leaving the house for good. A kind of sadness Kristoff doubted was only about Anna. She was not the first daughter to leave after all.

To his surprise, Elsa was absentmindedly looking at a glass in front of her. Simply staring, emotionless, as if the water in it held an answer she had been looking for. He was relieved she hadn't thought much about her biological parents' reaction; but still, it was strange to see her so oblivious to the conversation taking place.

“It might not seem like it,” Kai said to Anna, calling Kristoff's attention back again to their conversation. “But children moving is a big change for parents too. Gerda was devastated when these two left the house.”

Kristoff smiled, knowing it was the truth. Gerda had asked him over a hundred times if he didn't want to give it a second thought. Elsa had already left the house by the time he moved to his own apartment and the poor woman had tried her best to convince him to live with them another couple of years.

“They were too young when they left,” Gerda said, defensively. “Elsa was only eighteen.”

"But I was twenty-two, mum," laughed Kristoff. He then looked at Elsa hoping to see a reaction of some kind, but once again nothing happened.

It wasn’t normal for her to be totally out of it. Feeling it was time she started taking part in the conversation, he took the opportunity to call her attention.

“Talking about the devil,” Kristoff said, as he threw his sister a napkin. “Sis, any thoughts?”

Elsa looked at him annoyed the moment the paper projectile landed on her cheek.

“About the news,” Kristoff said, amused by her expression.

“News?”

He stayed silent for a few seconds hoping she was either trying to process the last few things the family said, or simply joking. When he understood she was honestly confused he said, “were you even listening to us? Anna and I are moving in together.”

“Oh, yes, that.” She looked down and picked at the bandages around her hand before she muttered a robotic congratulations.

All of a sudden, Kristoff’s concern turned into annoyance. Elsa was never so cold towards them, no matter what was in her mind. He wasn’t an idiot, he had noticed she wasn’t in the best mood that evening; but even so, it didn’t give her the right to act like an arse. “You could pretend a little, you know? Anna and I are excited about it.”

Elsa raised an eyebrow as if he was acting like a fool and said, “I'm happy for you two, Kristoff.”

Once again, her tone told him she just wanted to be over with it, and it irked him. “An honest smile wouldn't hurt.”

“I said I'm happy,” Elsa repeated before she pulled at her bandages once again. Not raising her eyes to look at him, she said, “I don't see what the problem is.”

“What's wrong with you today?”

“Kristoff,” Gerda said, trying to stop him from raising his voice.

“No, no. Seriously.” He looked at his mother to make sure she understood he was being serious before he addressed Elsa again. If she wanted to act as if she didn’t care, then fine by him. But at least she owed him an explanation. “We're trying to have a nice family dinner. We're celebrating something good. It’s like you don't even care.”

She became annoyed at the accusation. “I do care.”

“You could show some enthusiasm.”

“What do you want me to say?" she asked, her patience running thinner, faster than Kristoff expected.

“Anything,” he said, honestly. He hadn’t thought about it before, but Elsa’s silence throughout dinner had made him feel out of place at his own parents’ house and he hated it. As if his and Anna's presence was not welcomed. “It's a big step for Anna and me. I'd like to hear what my sister has to say.”

“She already said she's happy for us,” Anna intervened before Elsa could retort and things blew out of proportion.

“Not like she meant it.”

“I do mean—”

“Okay. Okay! Enough,” Gerda interrupted Elsa before anything hurtful could be said between the siblings. It wasn’t usual, but she had been in the middle of their quarrels a few times to know when it was best to stop them. “Don't fight over silly misunderstandings. Kristoff, I’m sure Elsa’s truly happy for you. Are you not?”

The last question was directed at Elsa who nodded her head. “Yes, of course I am.”

“Then that’s settled,” Gerda said, patting Kristoff's hand. “Does anyone want dessert?”

Anna was quick to understand his mother’s intention of distracting them and quickly answered, “I'd love some.”

After Kai nodded, accepting the offer, Gerda looked at Kristoff and he couldn’t do much more than to agree. “Sure, there's always room for it.”

“Dear? Dessert?”

Kristoff waited in silence hoping Elsa would be more aware of the things going on around her, but once again she had got lost in her own thoughts. When his patience ran out, he called out her name. His mother could tell him off if she wanted, but at least he'd make sure his sister listened to Gerda.

“No. Uhm…” she said, after she noticed the rest of the family looking at her. “No, thanks.”

Kristoff thought it was good enough of an answer, and he offered to slice the lemon pie for his mother.

Gerda nodded and gave the knife. Not without calling Elsa’s attention once again. “Could you help me in the kitchen, Elsa?”

Kristoff knew it was his mother’s cue for Elsa to follow her and talk in private, and he wasn’t surprised. He was certain even Anna had noticed Elsa was not herself that night.

Gerda barely gave Elsa the time to enter the kitchen before she closed the door and asked, “are you okay?”

A short nod was Elsa’s only answer, which told Gerda a lot more than she believed. “I’d like an honest answer for once.” If she hadn’t seen her daughter crumble the day before and Kai hadn't told her what he suspected, she was certain she’d have had less patience with her daughter at that moment. “I’ll ask again. Are you okay?”

“Yes, Gerda. I am.” Elsa said, clearly tired of being the target of so many questions. For all she knew, she was simply being quieter than usual that day. “I’m just distracted.”

Sighing tiredly, Gerda put her hand on Elsa’s shoulder before she said, “It wouldn't kill you to show your brother a smile when he’s sharing good news with the family.”

“I’m happy for Kristoff."

“Then try to show it,” Gerdad said sternly. “Your opinion matters to him and he can’t help—”

“Okay. I get it,” Elsa said, interrupting her mother. She wasn’t in the mood to keep hearing how she constantly screwed things up. “I’m sorry I’m not very good company.”

“You’re not bad company.” Tightening her hold on her daughter’s shoulder, Gerda made sure Elsa paid attention to her. “You’re feeling a little under the weather and I get that. But maybe talk to him before he leaves.”

Not wanting to upset her mother further, Elsa nodded yes.

Gerda looked at her for a few seconds, trying in vain to get more information about her. She hadn't been able to shake the idea of Elsa hurting someone she loved out of her mind. She desperately needed to know what had happened. But so far their family reunion had proved it was not the right time and place to question her daughter. It was a good thing Kai had been patient enough and decided not to corner Elsa that evening.

Not wanting to alert Elsa that something was wrong, she cleared her throat, picked some small plates and handed them to her. “Could you take these, please?” She then pointed to the closed door that led to the dining room.

Elsa nodded once again, but as soon as she held the plates she hissed in pain. “Damn it.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” She held the plates with her good hand as she shook her injured one to help ease the pain. “I keep forgetting my hand is injured.”

“Does it hurt badly?” For all Gerda knew, Elsa’s stitches shouldn’t make her wince that way at the mere movement of her hand.

“No. Don't worry. I’ll take the plates.” And with that Elsa disappeared through the door.

Gerda couldn’t help but think about Elsa’s reaction. Maybe her injured hand was a bigger distraction than Gerda had originally imagined. She had seen her pull at her bandages and try to rearrange them several times during dinner. She’d tried to diminish it as Elsa being uncomfortable at the table, but maybe she should make a mental note to check on her daughter's injury later that night.

The rest of their time together that night went by without any more incidents or quarrels. Elsa tried her best to pretend she was okay and she made an effort to pay attention to every conversation taking place. It took a lot more energy from her than usual, since her mind was clearly distracted by the events from the previous days and their repercussions; but even so, she tried to make the best of her time with the people she loved. It wasn’t usual for her to be present at family dinners and it was a nice distraction from her turbulent mind.

There was one thing she wasn’t expecting to become a bother to her that day, though. And that was her left hand. What had been an almost nonexistent pain the day before, had transformed into dull pain during the day, and now was steadily progressing. It was becoming more and more uncomfortable as the hours went by. But she made an effort to ignore it. She wasn’t feeling comfortable enough with her powers to ask her mother to look at her hand again. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to contain them if Gerda had to open up the wound or treat her a second time. The previous day she’d been so tired and so drained emotionally, her powers hadn’t done more than twitch while Gerda helped her. Now she wasn’t so sure her body would obey her and it was unsettling to think what could happen.

Getting lost in her own world, Elsa once again forgot about the people around her. She lost track of the conversation. And by the time she realised it, Kristoff and Anna were already standing up, excusing themselves. They were leaving as they both had to start their days early the following day. Elsa cursed herself for not paying more attention and the guilt of ignoring her siblings returned in full force. Thinking it was best to ignore her problems for a while and put her family first, she walked to the door where her family was saying their goodbyes and waited for Kristoff and Anna to walk out of the house before she called her brother's name.

“Kristoff, wait.”

Both Krisotff and Anna turned around to see her walking out of the house after them, and they stopped on their way to their car. Elsa pointed to the side with her head and Kristoff understood she needed to talk to him in private. Anna got the silent message and asked for Kristoff’s keys to wait for him in the car.

“What’s up?” asked Kristoff as he watched Anna get in the car.

Elsa could see he was still mad at her and the guilt resurfaced. She had planned to talk to him and explain herself, but the moment she saw his annoyed expression, all she felt like doing was giving him a hug. And she did. She rarely expressed herself with her body and, as it was expected, Kristoff froze in place when he felt her arms hugging him tightly around his torso.

“Wow… hey,” he said, unsure of what to say. “Alright. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I'm sorry I'm a pain in the arse sometimes. I'm really truly happy for you,” said Elsa, as she buried her face in his chest.

“Don't worry about it,” Kristoff said with a sad smile and hugged her back. “I just want to know that you're comfortable with this and—”

“I already told you how I feel.” She put some distance between them so he could see her eyes. “You two are meant to be together. Anna is the right girl. She's always been. The fact she's my sister doesn't change a thing.” His sad smile transformed into a big and honest one. Elsa could even notice he was feeling something close to relief at her words.

“Thanks,” he said and hugged her even tighter.

Their hug lasted a bit longer than it was usual, making Elsa wonder when had been the last time she had hugged her brother like that. She knew he was probably feeling how cold her body was, but she didn’t care too much. It wasn’t a secret she wasn’t feeling well that day.

When they finally pulled apart, Kristoff put his hand on her shoulders, forcing Elsa to look at him once again. “Do you want to talk?”

“Huh?”

“Whatever it is that’s going on… It’ll be alright. Okay?”

She wasn’t ready to talk, of that she was sure, but the tenderness in her brother’s eyes made her tear up. “Don't worry. I'm fine.”

“Stop hiding behind those words. You’re not fine. At least not today.”

Elsa averted her eyes before he noticed she was about to cry. She wanted to tell him everything that had happened, but the fear paralysed her.

“Let me know if you—” He stopped mid sentence and then started again. “Try to talk to someone, okay?”

Elsa nodded, still not looking at him.

“Anna’s got to meet her study group in the morning. I think she’s free after that. She meets them every Tuesday and Wednesday at Frigjører library near campus.”

Not understanding the shift in conversation, she dared look at him with one brow raised.

“I’m just saying…” he said with a shrug. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Anna’s waiting for me.”

Still thinking about what he had just said, Elsa nodded absentmindedly. “Yes. Go… go. Your girlfriend is waiting.”

With a smile, Kristoff hugged her once again before he jogged to the truck and got in. The couple waved at Elsa before they drove away.

Elsa stayed outside for a while, watching the street lights while she tried to pull herself together. The last thing she wanted was to worry her parents more than she had already done. She thought about Kristoff’s advice, but she couldn’t talk to Kai or Gerda yet. It was best for her to go to bed and see what she could do in the morning.

To her disappointment, the world kept conspiring against her, and as soon as she entered the house, Kai stopped her.

“Elsa, can we talk?”

“Talk?” she said, pretending to be surprised by the request. If she was honest with herself, the only surprising thing was it had taken more than a day for her parents to ask her what was truly wrong with her.

“Yes. Your mother and I…” He paused and looked at her. Trying to make up his mind about it. “We wanted to talk to you.”

“If that's okay with you, dear,” Gerda said, standing behind Kai.

Unsure of what to say, Elsa tried to make up her mind. She went over the pros and cons of talking to her parents at that moment. To her dismay, there seemed to be more cons than pros, and her inability to control her powers was one of the main ones. “I— Umm… I was going to feed Olaf and go to bed.”

“I’m sure Olaf can wait a few more minutes, don’t you think?” Kai insisted.

Something in her father’s eyes told her she shouldn’t accept. She wasn’t sure if it was paranoia setting in, or if there was something wrong for real. Anyhow, she couldn’t pretend she didn’t see the way he kept looking at her hands. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

“I'd rather we—”

“Tomorrow sounds fine, dear.” Gerda interrupted Kai, helping her escape her predicament. “Have a good night's sleep.”

She nodded and bid them goodnight too, before she disappeared into her room. She didn’t turn around to look at them, she’d rather deal with them in the morning after she came up with a good explanation to everything that was going on in her life.

She closed the door and leaned into it, letting her body slide until she found the floor. Once again, she found herself on the floor and Olaf a mere metre away from her, looking at her as if she was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. Being honest with herself, she concluded that she probably was. She extended her good arm and snapped her fingers, encouraging the cat to get closer. The first real smile of the day spread on her face when his nose rubbed against her hand.

“I don't know why you aren't afraid of me at this point…” she said, her voice barely over a whisper. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

Olaf rubbed against her hand a couple more times before he climbed onto her lap.

“How am I supposed to talk to them?” she asked the cat, hoping he’d have the answers she needed. Her brother talked to Sven quite often, maybe she could do the same.

“Meow.”

She chuckled when she heard the cat. It almost seemed as if he was trying to help. “Yes. I know… I should tell them what I did at some point.”

“Mrow.”

Once again she smiled at the ball of fur purring in her lap. “I got you something. Don't tell Gerda I stole some meat for you earlier today, okay?”

She stood up with the cat in her arms and walked to the tiny desk in the room. There she had left a bag of red meat. It was cut into small pieces for Olaf to enjoy.

At the sight of the bag, he tossed and turned in her arms, wishing to be put down on the floor. Elsa chuckled once again and finally let him go so he could enjoy his food. She emptied a small plastic bowl that was lying around and filled it with his food.

“I'm sorry I left you alone,” she said to him before she left the bowl on the floor. “I'm sure Marshmallow would have never left you like I did. I hope this makes up for it.”

Olaf’s purrs as he ate let her know it was actually a good start.

The night dragged on as Kai couldn't get out of his head his argument with Hålkesen and the things the boy had implied. The more he thought about their conversation, the more Kai convinced himself Marshall was not going to talk to anyone, at least not immediately. And it gave him some peace of mind to know so. It gave him enough time to talk to Elsa and find out what had exactly happened between them. But even if he trusted the mountaineer to keep his mouth shut for a couple more days, he was bound to talk to someone at some point. His whole forearm was bandaged; it wasn't a minor injury. His friends or family would ask questions and he would only lie to them if he felt it was necessary. What was the point of lying when you had no reason to. Elsa had been lucky the man had been as understanding as he was, and she needed to take advantage of it before the truth would come to light.

When morning came, Kai thought there was no reason for him to stay in bed. It was better to get up and wait for Elsa. He understood Gerda’s concern, but the accident had already happened and it was best to talk and help their daughter.

With a tired sigh, he sat at the kitchen table. A cup of coffee in his hands tried in vain to erase the heaviness of his restless night. Hålkesen and his injury were not the only things that had kept him tossing in bed all night. Elsa’s behaviour the previous night had only made him fear something else was going on. Something outside his capabilities. And it worried him.

He watched Gerda get up and make breakfast for herself. A cup of tea and some toasts, nothing extraordinary. But her expression and the way she moved around the kitchen told him she hadn’t been able to sleep much either. Both of them had one thing on their mind, and it was clear what it was.

“I'd like to talk to her before I leave for work,” he said to his wife as soon as she sat down in front of him.

“Kai, are you sure—?”

“Gerda, stop it.” He didn't want to dismiss Gerda’s worries, but time was an important factor and he couldn’t keep beating around the bush. “She needs help. I have no idea what exactly happened to her the other day, but whatever it is Elsa needs to talk to us.”

Gerda took a sip from her mug, buying herself some time to think things through. “Pushing her has never worked.”

“Leaving her on her own isn't working either.” He knew he sounded harsher than usual, even accusatory. But this wasn’t the first time Elsa had let her powers slip in front of other people. If he was honest, it had been a blessing that the Arendelles had turned out to be her birth parents. At least they didn't need to convince them Elsa wasn't a dangerous person, and they knew how to keep a secret. “We need to find some common ground. You saw her last night. She clearly needs help this time. Maybe she has always needed it.”

“Kai…” Her voice was tight with unshed tears.

“What if it's like the telephone?”

“What?”

“She's been living with us for over ten years,” He began to explain. “And she's still afraid of using the damn phone without our consent.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“There’s some logic behind those two things.” Or so he wanted to believe. “What if she's not talking to us for the same reason, huh? What if she’s afraid of fucking things up? What if she doesn't trust us?”

Gerda didn’t answer immediately. She took some time to think about his words. Something told Kai she understood the logic behind his reasoning. Sadly, it didn’t mean she saw his point of view. “Maybe she doesn’t trust us because we've been stepping over her boundaries lately.”

“You're still at it?” he said, annoyed at the implication. “I ripped the petition in front of her. I only made what I thought was right at the time.”

“It almost cost us her trust.”

He stayed silent, thinking if it was best to sit there and argue or to move on. They had quarrelled about it several times since it happened, and he knew there was no way Gerda would see eye to eye with him on that matter. Looking at the clock, he realised in a few minutes he’d need to go to work. “Go wake her up. We need to talk to her.”

“You're the one who won’t wait for her to come to us, not me. You go and wake her up. I still think we should give her some more time.”

“Elsa's an adult, Gerda. We need to start treating her like one.” Gerda could be mad at him, he didn’t mind it too much. But he was not going to let her love cloud her judgement. “And that includes taking accountability for the things she does. We have only asked one thing of her since she came to live with us.”

The anger was written on her face; but surprisingly, she didn’t let it show in her tone of voice. “And it's the hardest thing we could have asked of her.”

Sighing tiredly for what felt like the tenth time that morning, Kai pushed himself off the chair and walked out of the kitchen. Before he crossed the door, he turned around and said, “I'm going to wake her up and talk. You're welcome to join us if you want.”

Gerda stayed at the kitchen table, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was she was going to leave the kitchen as soon as she heard them quarrel or the house became impossibly cold for that time of the year. Those were her cues. She’d get involved only if it was necessary. After all, she wasn’t ready to face Elsa at that moment. She wasn’t sure how the girl would react once she was cornered by Kai in that way. But she knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Even if she wasn’t afraid of Elsa’s powers, deep down she knew they were a physical manifestation of the way she felt. Forcing her to talk would only make things worse and she didn’t want Elsa to believe she had agreed with Kai’s idea. The girl would need someone to talk to after everything was over, and she preferred she talked to her rather than bottle things up.

She stayed silent, trying to listen and find out when it was better for her to join them. But to her surprise, she couldn’t hear anything. Thinking it was strange, she stood up and walked out of the kitchen only to find Kai walking around the house searching every room.

“Goddammit,” he said as he walked past her into the kitchen and out into their yard.

“What?” Gerda asked, her worry taking over. “What is it?”

“She's not here.”

“What do you mean she's not—?”

“Elsa.” Kai called as he entered the house again, interrupting Gerda’s question. “Elsa?”

“Did you talk to her?” She wasn’t sure if Elsa had gone missing after their conversation or not; but then again, what could Kai have said in such a short amount of time to make her disappear.

“She's not in the house.”

“What do you mean she’s not in the house?” At first Gerda had been worried something had happened between the two of them. A fight of some sort. Now she was simply confused.

“I went to her room to wake her up,” Kai said, stopping for the first time since Gerda started following him. “She wasn’t in there. I’ve searched the house. She isn’t here.”

“Are her things in there? What about Olaf?”

“The cat’s sleeping on her bed. Her bag’s in there too.”

Looking inside the room, Gerda made sure the things were in fact inside the room. It was really odd for Elsa to disappear like that. “Where could she be?”

“Anywhere she can avoid facing her problems,” Kai said, sounding a lot more displeased at their daughter than ever. “She's going out of her way to avoid talking to us.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Gerda wouldn’t believe that was the case. Elsa wouldn’t do something like that. She was a private person, that was true. But she knew they were there to help her. Coming to a more plausible answer, she said, “she talked to Kristoff last night, maybe she agreed to—”

“I'm going to work,” Kai interrupted her, not wanting to hear it. “If she shows up, you call me, okay?”

Gerda watched him grab his gear before he headed towards the door.

“Okay?” he repeated.

“Yes. Just go.” She was incredibly irritated at Kai at that moment. But she thought it was best to let him go to work. Maybe he’d think things through after he had calmed down. “I'll call Kristoff, maybe he knows where she is.”

“Call me.” And with that he was out of the door, leaving Gerda on her own wondering where Elsa had gone.

Not feeling good enough to sleep, Elsa had tossed and turned in bed for hours until she decided it was best to stop trying to fall asleep. All she had achieved during the night was wake Olaf up more times that she could count and allow her mind to wander into stupid scenarios. Scenarios she didn’t want to think about. And by staying in bed, she was doing herself more damage than good. So, in the early morning, she had left her parents’ house to walk the city and think.

The coastal area was usually deserted on weekdays, and it gave Elsa the opportunity to spend some time on her own before she faced her parents. She was dreading the conversation with Kai and Gerda. She wasn’t sure what to tell them since it was more than clear that things were not okay in her life.

The most logical part of her believed it was best to sit down with them and come clean about everything that was going on. Come clean about the fact she was doubting her capability of keeping her powers under control; and more importantly, come clean about Marshall. She had hurt someone dear to her and she wasn’t sure she should keep that to herself. Her secret was out and there weren’t many options left for her. She either faced the consequences of her actions, risking losing the life she had found with the Bjorgmans; or she kept hiding away.

To her disappointment, the most logical part of her brain was almost constantly overruled by her fear of ending up alone. She couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing her parents; and so, whenever she tried to make up her mind to go back home, the fear paralysed her and she found herself walking in the opposite direction.

By midday, Elsa got tired of walking the streets of Trolheim on her own and wondered what was safe for her to do. Going to Kristoff’s place was not an option. For starters, her brother was working, and she wasn’t sure it’d be any easier to talk to him than her parents. This situation left her with only two options: She could walk all the way back home and hope she’d be brave enough to face her parents’ disappointment, or she could go back to the mountain and face Marshall. None of those options was something she was mentally prepared to do.

"What am I going to do?" Elsa said to herself as she turned a new corner.

She was getting farther and farther away from her parents' house and she wasn’t entirely sure where she was going. She looked around, trying to find some sort of sign that could tell her where she was, when she realised she was standing in front of the university campus.

Anna constantly talked about the place and the long hours she spent there every week. She talked about professors and classmates. She talked about so many different things Elsa could barely keep up with her. It was a world so different from her own, she was suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of getting to know it. She walked through the main gates into the tiny ‘town’ Anna called campus. The enormous park and old buildings were a sight worth admiring, and she thought it wouldn't hurt to explore the place. No-one seemed to care if people came and went, after all. Everyone inside had a place to go and she could pretend she was just another student trying to get somewhere. As long as she didn’t walk inside any building, she’d be okay.

Elsa walked the pathways that connected the different buildings for some time until a familiar voice called her attention. Looking around, she noticed Anna was walking out of a brick building with a group of people. A girl and a guy. Elsa had no idea who they were, but she guessed she’d run into Anna’s study group by chance.

“No, I won’t accept it,” said Anna to her friend, Lena, not agreeing with what she was saying. “You should’ve passed that test.”

“It is what it is,” Lena said, shrugging. “I should’ve studied more.”

Anna wanted to argue with that, she knew how much Lena had studied for her final exam the week before and in her opinion, it was incredibly unfair she hadn’t passed. For all she knew, Lena was the best in that class. She could only wish to know as much as she did about history.

“Hey, Anna?” Ryder, one of the members of her study group, called her attention before she had the time to voice her disapproval.

“Yeah?” Anna asked, turning around to see what he wanted. He was looking into the park, opposite of where they had stopped to say their goodbyes before the argument about Lena’s final mark started. There was a girl who looked oddly familiar standing in the distance.

“Do you know her? She’s been looking at us for a while and she just waved. I think she was waving at you.”

“Elsa?” Anna said in a low voice, more to herself than the others. It was impossible for her to imagine Elsa standing in the middle of the university campus on her own, but to her surprise there she was.

“She studies here?” Lena asked, not recognising the girl. “I haven’t seen her before.”

Shaking her head, Anna turned to her friends and said, “she doesn’t. She's… my sister.” She hadn’t talked about her long lost sister to her friends before then, and calling Elsa her sister for the first time made her ridiculously happy.

“Sister? But I thought—”

“It’s a long story,” Anna said quickly. She knew what was coming. Lena knew she was an only child. Or at least she had been until everything happened. “I’ll tell you guys about it. Now I need to see if everything's alright. She doesn’t go out much.”

Understanding there was more than met the eye, her friends let her go knowing whatever it was, Anna would explain in due time.

“Will you meet us here tomorrow?” Ryder asked as Anna began to walk away from them.

“Yes! I’ll call you later today,” she said with a smile.

“Don’t forget your notes, Arendelle!” Lena said in a loud voice, hoping Anna would remember they couldn’t study without them.

Anna only raised her hand with a thumbs up, not turning to look at them as she hurried down the pathway that led to where Elsa was standing.

“Hey!” Anna said with a grin as soon as she was close enough for her sister to hear.

“Hi,” Elsa answered with a shy smile. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to interrupt.”

“It's fine.” She waved her hand in front of her downplaying the situation. “We've finished for the day. We were leaving, actually. What are you doing here? Not that I mind, it’s just so…” She knew she was talking fast, but she couldn’t hide her excitement. She always wanted to invite Elsa to hang out with her. To visit her in the city and to spend time together as sisters. But she had never dared. She knew how uncomfortable Elsa was in town. And after their conversation by the waterfront the night before, she doubted Elsa would ever accept hanging out in town with her.

“...Odd to see me here?” Elsa completed her idea for her.

“Well, yes,” Anna admitted. She didn’t want to be so upfront, but it was truly strange to find Elsa there. “It doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s just… I’m glad you’re here.”

Elsa smiled and tried to justify what she was doing there. She didn’t want to accept that she had ended up in that part of town by chance. If she did, she’d need to confess to Anna she was avoiding her problems. Suddenly remembering her conversation with Kristoff the previous night, she said, “Kristoff told me you were free after your study group and I thought maybe we could spend some time together?”

“Are you serious?”

“Umm… yes.”

“You came all the way here so we could spend time together?” Anna’s smile became impossible bigger as she realised Elsa was there offering her a day out. Just the two of them.

“I wanted to see you, I guess.” It wasn’t the truth. But it didn’t mean Elsa wasn’t happy to find Anna. She could use her company and forget about her problems, at least for a while. It didn’t mean she wasn’t going to have a hard time pretending things were okay. But at least now she had a real distraction in front of her. She knew Anna could talk for hours on her own, barely noticing she didn’t take part in the conversation.

"I always wanted to hit the town with you!" Exclaimed Anna happily, no longer bothering to hide her enthusiasm. "Where do you want to go? I've got the rest of the day off. We can do whatever you want! What do you want to do?"

It was hard for Elsa to follow Anna's questions and it made her laugh for the first time in what felt like days. "I hardly ever go out," she said, shrugging. "What options do we have?

"Well…" Anna took some time to think about their real options. Even if Elsa had come all the way there, she knew it was best not to push her and force her to go where she'd be uncomfortable. "I’m starving. How ‘bout you?"

"I could eat." What she truly meant was, 'I should eat'. Elsa hadn't eaten much the night before and she hadn't eaten anything that morning. She wasn't hungry in the least, but deep down knew she should force herself to eat something. Even when the idea of eating something made her stomach turn.

"Oh! There's a great coffee shop near the docks." Anna said, happy she had come up with a good plan. "We could go there! Most people I know talk about it."

"Is it too crowded?" The last thing Elsa wanted was to get inside a place like the restaurant they had gone to the previous night.

"People from university like it. But I wouldn't say it's crowded. Come on! It will be fun."

Before Elsa could suggest doing something different, Anna was already leading the way to the ‘famous’ coffee shop. With a sigh, Elsa started following her.

First of all, let me apologise for the long wait. I know I posted the previous chapter with the promise of updating soon, since I had several scenes written down and all, but life happened.

I won’t go into many details, but my grandmother got sick (sicker, actually, she was already fighting her battles) by the end of October and so the whole family had to adapt. She passed the first days of December, and even if it sounds harsh to say it this way. It was for the best given her situation. I’m thankful I got to enjoy her company for thirty years. I know I’m one of the lucky ones who gets to adulthood with grandmothers still around.

Anyway, everything that happened didn’t leave me in the best mood to write the kind of chapters that followed this story. Summer was just beginning and so I chose to enjoy my days outside. I barely wrote during December and January. But I’ve got to admit time helped me think a few things about the story. Things I wasn’t sure about. So, in a way it was good I took some time off. Well, that’s a little bit about me. I hope you guys are doing okay and that you’re still in the shadows waiting to see what happens next in this story. I hope the Frozen fandom is still strong, especially now that we know for sure that Frozen 3 is the making!

Please, let me know what you think of this chapter and feel free to comment or share this story! It’s always nice to hear from you guys. I appreciate your patience and all the love you have given this story.

Read you soon

Tags: @swimmingnewsie @melody-fox @kristoffxannafanatic @kristannafictionals @neptrabbit @skneez @ellacarter13 @wondering-in-life @who-i-am-8 @fanfictionrecommendations-com @815-allisnotlost @khartxo @joannevixxon @betweenthedreams @burbobah @rileysfs @earlvessalius @blood-jewel @snowycrocus @the-magic-one-is-you @the-sky-is-awake @disneyfan103 @anamaria8garcia @welovefrozenfanfiction @bigfrozenfan @bigfrozenfan-archive @frozenartscapes @deisymendoza @zackhaikal123 @cornstarch @roostercrowedatmidnight @showurselfelsa @when-dawn-arrives @tare-disney @wabitham @just-your-local-history-nerd @dontrunintofirexoxo @daphmckinnon @poketin @luna-and-mars @anotherpersondrawing @lovelucywilde @shimmeringsunsets @aries1708 @wabitham @agentphilindaisy @spkfrozenkindikids123 @jimmi-arts @snowmanmelting @loonysama @elsathesnowqueensblog @hiptoff @loonysama @tare-disney @frozenwolftemplar @true–north

#søsken #sosken #Frozen #Frozen fanfiction #modern au #elsa #anna #kristoff #gerda #kai #olaf #kinda #kristanna #chapter 37 #I'm rusty have patience

17 notes · View notes

bitsandbobsandstuff · 5 years ago

Text

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink.

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself.

“The whole process, it feels sort of - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.

Yours,

Bucky”

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #SSB2020 #bucky fic #bitsmasterlist #tattoos #tattoo trope

5K notes · View notes

pufflyhallows · 4 years ago

Text

Getaway

Gif not mine

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Business is going bad after the war and Fred is not feeling so great, so you decide to cheer him up with a special trip.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, language, tiny tiny bit of angst, still fluffy tho

a/n: this is my FIRST smut EVER so... be nice? also, Fred fucking LIVES bc I’m in denial forever lol

Word count: 4,3k

********

You wanted to surprise Fred.

He had been feeling down lately. Ever since he and George reopened the shop after the war, things had been a little tough. The movement was still quite slow, given the fact that people were still recovering from the war, mourning their lost ones and starting new lives. It was a difficult time for everyone, and of course it affected Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes as well.

What ached your heart the most was the fact that there wasn’t much you could do to help him. Every day you watched as he took longer to get out of bed in the morning, how he sounded slower and quieter when talking to you and, the worst part, how he acted quite mechanic when doing his chores around the shop, the same ones he enjoyed so much in the past and had always gotten done with a bright smile on his face. And although he never stopped caring for you or being loving to you, the bedroom had become… inactive. And you missed it. You missed being intimate with your boyfriend, but every time you tried to initiate it, he would softly decline, claiming to be too tired. You believed it. You could see he was indeed exhausted. And not only physically, but mentally too. Perhaps the latter was actually the one weighing more.

George, however, was quite the opposite. He kept his optimism high and was always the first to wake up every morning, excited with the new day and new possibilities. He would often go out and promote the shop, talk to people and sometimes even manage to bring a customer in.

This big difference between them worried you. No, you did not expect the twins to act the same, but you hoped in secret that Fred would follow his brother’s steps and cheer up a bit.

Cheer up. Yeah. That was exactly what he needed. And what better way to cheer up someone than a surprise trip? That’s how you were going to take his mind off of work. With Hermione’s help, you planned a very romantic weekend trip out of town. You talked to George beforehand, of course, but he assured you he could take care of the shop by himself for two days. He agreed Fred needed this.

“It’s not like we’re getting many customers anyway,” he had said.

So, as Friday approached, you felt the excitement building up. You managed to act completely nonchalant around him, making sure he didn’t suspect a thing. It wasn’t a big, expensive hotel because you knew he would worry about money and that was the opposite of what you wanted for this trip. Hermione had helped you pick a small, comfy hotel that was quite charming and fit your pocket perfectly. You wanted to make sure Fred felt loved, cared for and relaxed. There was also a little extra surprise inside your suitcase that you really hoped he would like…

What you didn’t know was that Fred felt guilty. He reckoned he hadn’t been the boyfriend you deserved lately, but he couldn’t help it. The stress was almost eating him alive and his mind was always wandering back to the shop, worrying about its future. You had been so kind and patient with him, he knew you deserved better than that. The whole thing was snowballing and sometimes he couldn’t see it ending.

That Friday, when you got home from work, the shop was still open and there was actually a customer inside, talking with George. You felt relief wash over you, because you knew what that meant: Fred was probably in a good mood.

You walked straight to the flat, not daring to interrupt George, but you stopped in the middle of the stairs to watch. He was speaking with such enthusiasm, showing and explaining his products to the young boy, that it filled you with pride. You caught his eyes for a brief moment and noticed the smallest of smirks appear on his lips. Smiling back, you nodded at him. Fred was nowhere to be seen, though, so you went upstairs.

There was a delicious scent coming from the kitchen. The older twin was there, cooking. You smiled to yourself at the sight. His favorite The Weird Sisters record was playing somewhere in the flat, adding a familiar, comfortable feel to the whole scene. Fred’s back was facing you while he chopped… carrots? on the counter. He didn’t seem to notice your presence just yet, so you took advantage of that. Placing your bag on the nearest chair, you walked in quiet steps towards your boyfriend. The fresh mint aroma coming from him meant he had probably just showered. Oh, and how you missed showering with him.

You couldn’t refrain your smile from growing even bigger once you noticed Fred’s body was swinging from side to side, so imperceptibly that you almost missed it. Carefully, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek on his back. You felt him tense up for a mere second before realizing who it was. He soon relaxed, letting go of the knife and placing his clean hand on yours.

“Didn’t hear you coming in,” he stated, voice low and raspy.

You hummed in response and placed a soft kiss on the nape of his neck. Fred turned around and briefly met your lips with his.

“It’s gonna take a while. Why don’t you go take a bath?”

“I will,” you nodded, running your hand from his chest to his shoulder and squeezing it gently. “How was your day?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay”, you repeated. “Well, I hope I can make it better. I have a surprise for you after dinner.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes. I have an idea of how we can spend your days off.”

“Hm… Making plans already, are we?”

“Very good plans, yes. But you’ll have to wait until dinner.”

“Or you could tell me right now so I won’t have to.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

You smirked and gave him another peck on the lips before rushing off the kitchen and leaving your boyfriend to his curiosity and imagination.

The warm bath made you think about a lot of things and you came to realize you were very lucky. The war was over and there you were, taking a bath in your boyfriend’s flat, the person you loved the most in the world. So many people lost their loved ones, their homes, their entire lives in that war. You knew you had many reasons to feel happy and should not take them for granted. Life was good for you right now, and you acknowledged it, promising to yourself that you were going to enjoy it the best you could, with Fred by your side.

George joined the two of you for dinner, which turned out to be the best you had in months. Not because of the food, although it was perfect, but because it felt like everything was back to normal, like all the meals you had shared before the war. Maybe it was the idea of a day off and the mention of a surprise from you, but you could see that Fred was already less gloomy or aloof.

After the meal, as if sensing you wanted to reveal your plans to Fred, George excused himself to his bedroom, claiming he still had to finish some work. You wished him goodnight, not missing the discrete wink he gave you.

“So…” you started, watching as Fred emptied his glass of pumpkin juice. “Remember when I said I had an idea on how to spend your days off?”

“Oh, yes. The surprise.”

“Well… I figured you could use a little rest from everything, so I made a reservation at a very nice hotel for the two of us to spend the weekend at.”

“You what?” Fred asked, a small smile starting to grace his lips.

“The portkey is set for our departure at 10 a.m. tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Nope. No buts,” you shook your head. “I have already packed our bags.”

“Y/N, doll, I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me I’m amazing, the best thing that ever happened to you, an angel sent from heaven… Something humble like that.”

Fred chuckled, that contagious sound you missed hearing so much. “You’re amazing. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, a true angel sent from heaven.”

“I know! We’re gonna have so much fun,” you smiled excitedly, clasping your hands together.

“What exactly are your plans for us, though?” your boyfriend questioned, curiosity dripping from his lips.

“Oh, you’ll find out once we’re there.”

“The surprise doesn’t end here, I see.”

“Exactly. I have everything planned, baby.”

The look in Fred’s eyes seemed to indicate he had an idea of what you had planned, but he did not say a word about it. He would like to see the surprise reveal itself in the right moment. He wasn’t going to spoil your plans in any way.

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

You always had your doubts when it came to ads, but this time you had to admit this was spot on. The hotel looked exactly like its pictures and descriptions.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” the receptionist asked as soon as you stepped in the lobby.

It was something so small, so simple, but it made your heart flutter and stomach fill with those restless butterflies. Mrs. Weasley. Were you ever going to become that? You wondered if Fred even noticed the little misunderstanding.

“Um,” you cleared your throat. “Actually, it’s just one Weasley. Fred Weasley. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your slight flustered manner didn’t go unnoticed by Fred. Despite the obvious nervousness, he thought it was rather cute. In fact, he liked to hear you be called that. Perhaps he should do something about it…

“Oh, I apologize. Mr. Weasley and Miss Y/L/N,” the receptionist corrected herself as she checked the reservation’s book. “You’re right on time, your room is ready for you. I just need your wands for ID confirmation before I give you your key.”

Both of you handed your wands to the young woman behind the desk and she did as she was supposed to. Sooner than you had anticipated, you were in the lovely suite you had reserved.

Fred placed the small handbag on the bed – blessed be the extension charm, that’s all you had to carry for that trip – and walked around the room curiously. You went straight for the big window and opened the curtains. There it was. The view you had seen on the ad and that had made you instantly choose this hotel.

“Fred,” you called softly, looking behind you. “Come see.”

Your boyfriend let go of the catalog on the nightstand and approached you, eyeing the outside in awe.

“Wow,” he breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?”

When making the reservation, you were met with the question: would you like a room with view to the street/village or to the beach? And you chose the beach, although the village was a lovely sight. Now, seeing Fred’s reaction, you were absolutely sure you had made the right choice.

The hotel was in a small village where both wizards and muggles lived. With a little help from magic, the wizards could go unnoticed and the muggles lived everyday life without a single clue of the existence of such peculiar neighbors. The beach was right behind the village, and your room being in the back of the hotel, you had a wonderful privileged view of nature’s beauty.

“Wanna go down there?” you asked.

“What’s in your plans?” he asked back, switching his gaze from the window to you.

“Beach,” you replied with a small smile. “Basically the entire day at the beach, lunch at a muggle restaurant down there too. But dinner here.”

“I’ll follow your script, doll.”

Fred placed his hand on your waist and pulled you closer, pressing his lips ever so gently on yours. You instantly let go of the curtains so you could run your fingers through his soft hair. The light fabric fell back to its place, covering the windows again and leaving the room a little darker than before. Fred’s gentle kiss wasn’t so gentle anymore.

No, not yet.

You broke the kiss and pulled back, biting your lip as you started to feel that you might not be able to wait until the right time for your surprise.

“I’m starving,” you whispered against his lips.

“Me too,” he pulled you closer again.

“Let’s go, then.” You managed to get out of his embrace and grab the handbag before heading to the bathroom to change into your bathing suit.

A hungry Fred was left standing by the big window.

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

It had been hard.

It had been hard seeing you in so little clothing, dripping wet, skin glistening as droplets of water reflected the sunlight. But Fred managed.

All he had in his mind every time he saw you leaving the water was how he wanted to take you then and there. He had to distract himself from those thoughts, paying attention to what you were saying but not too much to your moving lips. He knew you had something planned and he was appreciative of how much effort you had put in this weekend for him. That was the only reason he wasn’t indulging to his not-so-pure thoughts.

Lunch was a good distraction too, specially since you had to convince a muggle child she had imagined it when she saw Fred stop his falling fork mid-air.

Now, as the two of you walked hand in hand back to the hotel, he wondered if he was going to be rewarded for the self-control test he had just passed. You were humming a song as you observed the houses, trying to guess which ones were muggles and which ones were wizards.

“What’s next?” he asked.

“Dinner!” you answered excitedly. “But, if I were you, I wouldn’t go overboard.”

“Why, if I may ask?” but Fred already suspected why.

“Well… there might be plans for after dinner as well.”

Fred held your hand tighter and pulled you towards the hotel in a faster pace. You chuckled, feeling the excitement grow bigger and bigger.

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

“Dessert?” the waiter asked as he took the empty plates from your table.

“No, thank you,” Fred replied before you had the chance. “We’re calling it a night, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

“Actually,” you smirked at your boyfriend before looking at the waiter. “I’d like chocolate pudding, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As soon as the waiter left, Fred gave you a look.

“What?” you asked nonchalantly.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t go overboard.”

“I’m not going overboard. I had a small plate,” you shrugged.

“Right,” Fred sighed, bouncing his leg under the table.

When your chocolate pudding came, you grabbed the spoon and took a small amount to your mouth. Fred watched your every move, arms crossed and brows slightly furrowed as he saw you slowly lick the spoon. You pretended you didn’t know he was watching, eyes on the tiny bowl in front of you, and you mouthed another spoon, unintentionally getting pudding all over your lips.

Your boyfriend gulped as he watched you run your thumb over your lower lip, getting rid of the chocolate there, and gently suck on it.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” he mumbled.

“Hm?” you looked at him innocently.

“Just eat the damn thing.”

“You want some?” you raised the spoon at him.

“Yes, I want some.”

You felt your cheeks burn just a little bit with his remark, heart begin to race as the ideas for what you wanted to do to him tonight started to flood your mind.

“If you wait patiently, you might get what you want,” you teased, looking back at the bowl and already serving another spoon, which you quickly brought to your lips, licking all the content off of it.

Fred shook his head, one corner of his lips going upwards ever so slightly, eyes glued on you.

“You sure you don’t want to taste it?” you offered again, lips glistening as you cleaned them with your tongue.

“I will taste it,” his eyes pierced through your body and suddenly the hotel was too hot.

You had barely served the last spoon of pudding when Fred stood up and let the waiter know you were headed to the room.

“I haven’t finished yet,” you protested and he immediately took the last spoon from your hand and into his mouth.

“Now you have,” he said as he pulled you from the chair.

The way back to the suite felt much longer than it actually was, but as soon as you reached the door, Fred’s lips were on yours. You had trouble to get the key with your boyfriend’s hands all over you, pulling your body hard against his.

“Fred,” you breathed, stepping back. “There’s another surprise.”

Before he could say anything, you unlocked the door and went inside.

“Sit down,” you slowly pushed him to the bed. “And close your eyes.”

Fred complied with no protests, but you could see he was getting flustered, probably guessing what was coming.

You blew out most of the candles illuminating the room and left only a few to create the romantic atmosphere you wanted. You went to the bathroom and changed into the expensive lacy lingerie you had bought for this exact occasion. It was red, a color you had learned Fred was very fond of when it came to this kind of clothing, and had one small, delicate bow right between your breasts.

“Are your eyes closed?” you asked from the bathroom, hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah,” you heard in response.

“No peeking ‘til I tell you to,” you warned.

“…‘kay.”

You opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. Fred was still sitting on the bed, one leg bouncing impatiently, and a slight frown between his eyebrows.

Slowly, you approached the bed and stood right in front of him.

“Open your eyes,” you whispered.

As soon as he did, Fred sucked in a shaky, quiet breath. He eyed you from head to toe, not hiding his astonishment.

“Baby,” he mumbled in a deep voice, already feeling his pants get a little too tight as his eyes still traveled through your entire figure.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Good,” you smiled, placing your hands on each of his shoulders. “Now let me show you how proud I am to be your girlfriend.”

Your lips met Fred’s in a slow, deep kiss as you climbed the bed and straddled him, your arms thrown around his neck. Fred let out a soft moan when he felt your weight against his lap, his hands going up your back, fingertips sending shivers down your spine as they searched for the bra clasp. However, you stopped them and placed them back on your hips.

“Not so fast,” you whispered against his lips.

Before he could protest, you kissed him again, now pushing him all the way back to lay down on the bed. Hovering above him, you started pulling up his shirt, which he quickly got rid of for you. You chuckled. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had missed this.

Now that you had free access to his torso, you began to place soft, wet kisses on his neck, slowly moving down to his chest and stomach, painfully taking your time.

You could feel Fred’s breathing get deeper and deeper as you kissed his abs, working your way down to his pants. Once there, you stopped the kisses for a brief moment, so you could focus on getting rid of that piece of fabric. Again, Fred quickly helped you out until you were both just in your underwear.

The sight sent goosebumps through your body and you inevitably bit your lower lip. He was already so hard, you felt the anticipation building up inside you.

You decided to torture him for a little bit – just a little bit – and carried on with the kisses, not taking off his underwear quite yet. However, Fred’s impatience was growing and he didn’t think he would manage to wait for too long. His hand found your hair and he started stroking it, running his fingers through it, a disguised way to guide your head to where he needed you the most. You realized his intentions, but you did not stop him. You let him take you where he wanted and soon your lips found his still covered length.

“Shit, Y/N.”

You smirked.

Slowly, you started pulling down the last piece of clothing until you completely freed him. He was so beautiful. You still had a silly smile on your face as you ran your tongue all the way up from the base to the tip, where you placed a gentle kiss. Fred’s soft moan reached your ears, a beautiful sound that made you even more wet.

You took him in your mouth and started sucking the tip in a slow, teasing pace, while your hand loosely stroked him. You didn’t want him to cum yet. You wanted him to last. And you were going to make him last.

Fred’s hand never left your hair, and he began to slightly pull it, asking for more. He needed more.

“Y/N,” he moaned. “Y/N, please.”

You ignored him and kept going in that insanely slow pace, taking your time. What was the hurry?

You heard a low groan, and felt him move his hips against you. You stopped.

“Behave yourself, Weasley.”

“Baby… Please.”

You smirked again, giving him one last stroke, and you let go of him.

Fred looked at you in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. His eyes were dark, full of pure lust. But also desperation and discontent with the sudden lack of touch.

You crawled on the bed until your face was right above his, and you kissed him. It was a deep, passionate, hurried kiss between two people who were eager for each other. This time, you didn’t stop Fred’s hands from going up your back and unclasping your bra. He took it off and you quickly felt his left hand on your right breast, squeezing it. His right hand, however, was going up and down your side, sending shivers through your bare skin. He rested it on your waist for a little bit before going down to your ass and squeezing it tightly. You moaned against his lips, your own impatience growing.

You only stopped the kiss to get rid of your panties, the last piece of fabric separating you from him.

Fred watched as you got off of him and started to pull it down your smooth legs. He could feel his cock throbbing at the sight of your completely naked body. You were breathtakingly, heart-racingly beautiful. He loved the lingerie, he really did, but he loved your body a thousand times more. And he would never get tired of looking at it.

When you straddled him again, skin to skin now, he thought he would cum right then and there. You smiled at him, that beautiful smile that never changed, and kissed him one more time. Fred placed his hands on your waist, squeezing it gently, as if to encourage you. Not wasting another second, you guided his tip to your entrance and slowly sank down on him, allowing him to get all the way inside you, quite easily given how wet you were.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he moaned.

Letting out your own whimpers, you placed your hands on his chest and started riding him, still slowly, still teasingly. Fred’s moans soon turned into groans, complaints. He was getting tired of the teasing, he was already on edge. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a swift move, Fred shifted the both of you so now he was on top. He started thrusting into you, quite roughly, earning a loud approving moan from you.

“Fred,” you gasped, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He kept going, pounding harder and harder, moaning as he did so.

You started kissing his neck, biting, sucking, anything that would leave a mark.

“Yes, baby,” you cried out as he thrusted even deeper.

The bed was making a discreet creaking sound that you weren’t sure if the people in the other rooms could hear. You hoped not, but honestly? Right now you didn’t care. The sound of Fred’s heavy breaths, moans, groans and whimpers were all you were paying attention to. Beautiful sounds that had the power to shut down anything else in your mind.

The rhythm he had created was sending you to heaven with every motion. His lips soon found your own again and he kissed you as if he hadn’t done it just minutes before.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m close.”

“Me too.”

As you felt your body tense, Fred came inside you with a low groan, slowing down just a tad bit. He kept thrusting, however, knowing you were about to reach your climax too. And not long after him, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, and your body relaxed completely.

Both of you were panting against each other’s neck, your arms still loosely around his shoulders as he slowly pulled out and collapsed on top of you.

Hugging him more tightly, you felt Fred leave small kisses on your neck, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the extra-tingly sensation. You started to run your fingernails up and down his back, the other hand caressing his hair.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could hear the waves crashing on the beach, the giggling of children playing down there, and the muffled music coming from the muggle restaurant. You felt so at ease.

After a long moment of peaceful, comforting silence, Fred looked up and smiled. “I love you so much.”

You smiled back. “I love you too.”

Not bad for round one.

********

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #gryffindor #slytherin #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #random tag

710 notes · View notes

adenei · 3 years ago

Text

Summer of Jily - Week 7

Yahoo! I'm all caught up for @efkgirldetective's summer of Jily Challenge!

This week's prompts: Ice cream and "I don't want anyone touching you like I do"

*********

Two days passed since their impromptu first date in the coziness of the cabin, and things could not be better. At least, that’s what James thought. The only snafu in the plan was that neither he nor Lily had discussed telling their friends about the relationship. Stolen moments alone were spent enjoying each other’s company while keeping an ear out for anyone who might intrude on their private time together.

They were no closer to coming up with a way of revealing their relationship, and if James was being honest, he quite liked the thrill of keeping his girlfriend, Lily, a secret from the Marauders. Sirius would probably hex him into tomorrow if he found out James was hiding something, but he would deal with that when the time came.

After two days of rain, the weather had finally cleared up, and the boys found themselves roaming up and down the main street of town while the girls were off shopping.

“Honestly, how much shopping can they possibly do?” Peter asked as he plopped down on a bench.

“With Mary and Marlene at the helm? It’s safer not to ask,” Remus thought out loud.

“It’s been two hours, and they’ve still got another half hour before they’re due to meet us for that picture show Mary’s been droning on about,” Sirius pointed out.

In an effort to avoid his friends’ complaints, James looked around the area for something to pass their time. His eyes settled on an ice cream shop across the street.

“Well, we could either sit here or go get some ice cream over there at that shop,” James suggested.

Peter perked up at the mention of ice cream while Remus gave a noncommittal shrug. Sirius was the only one to verbalize his agreement as he stood and led their way to the shop, his mood much brighter than moments ago.

“I could go for some ice cream! I prefer Muggle cotton candy ice cream to Fortescue’s strawberry peanut butter any day.”

The rest of the Marauders followed and approached the queue. They stood behind an older couple and waited. James continued to observe their surroundings, hoping that the girls might appear. He already missed Lily despite only being separated for a couple hours. As he was scanning the area, a group of girls who looked to be around their age joined the queue behind them, which Sirius was quick to point out.

“Look how hot that lot is, mate.”

James nodded, though he didn’t take the time to check them out. He was about to change the subject when one of the girls took notice of them and giggled. The sound caught his attention and distracted his attention. One of the girls was eyeing him; she was blonde with bright blue eyes and a petite frame, certainly attractive, but no longer his type. His type was Lily Evans, plain and simple.

He flashed a polite smile, then averted his gaze as the queue moved up. The boys were called up to the next window to order, and he was happy to put some distance between them and the group behind. Knowing it was easier for them all to order and have one person pay, James placed his order first and then turned to have the others follow suit. He dug out his muggle money to handle the transaction while the rest of the Marauders moved over to the pick-up window to wait for their treats.

“This is so different from Fortescue’s. Why can’t we watch them prepare it?” Peter whined.

“You mean scoop ice cream into cones and dishes and hand it to you? Beats me,” Sirius chided.

“He has a point, Pads. It’s interesting to watch sometimes,” Remus defended Peter’s observation as James chuckled.

“Yeah, beats waiting around having to make small talk with you,” he joked.

“Large cotton candy?” called the attendant from the window.

Sirius leaped up to claim his ice cream, looking like a kid in a candy store upon his return.

“Care to share a lick?” James teased as he leaned in to try and swipe a bite before Sirius had a chance to dig in.

“Not a chance!” Sirius guarded his cone as the attendant called out again.

“Crazy vanilla!”

“Ooh, that’s me!” Peter clapped his hands and went to collect his order.

Remus looked at James and Sirius. “Does he realize that that flavor is just vanilla ice cream but dyed different colors?”

“Shh, don’t ruin it for him, Moony!” Sirius waved him off. As Peter returned to the group, Sirius waved him along. “C’mon Wormtail, let’s go snag that table over there while these two wait for their more complicated orders.”

They took off while James and Remus continued to wait.

“Hot fudge sundae!”

“That’s me!” James jumped forward, approaching the window at the same time as the blonde who was checking him out earlier, and both reached for the same dish.

“Oh! Sorry,” she said, pulling her hand back and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

“No, no, go ahead,” James took the dish and handed it to her. “You’ve got good taste,” he added with a polite smile.

“So do you,” she smiled back. “Are you on holiday with your mates?”

Her inquiry takes James by surprise, but he supposes a bit of small talk can’t hurt. “Er, yeah. We’re staying in a cabin on the lake.”

“Oh, us too! On the north or south side?”

“Er, north, I think?”

James wasn’t sure if he was being honest, but it wasn’t like they were going to run into the girl again, so a little white lie couldn’t hurt.

“Same for us! I’m Elaine, by the way.” She held out her hand with the introduction.

“James,” he responded, reaching out to give her hand a quick shake.

“Say, what are you doing tonight? We could get together for a fire or something?”

Unfortunately, it looked like his willing response gave the wrong impression as the girl to the opportunity to ask him out. Her smile had turned seductive and James realized a moment too late that she was flirting. Had he really lost his game so quickly since making a go of things with Lily?

Another hot fudge sundae order was called along with Remus’s chocolate milkshake. James was about to excuse himself to grab his ice cream when Remus appeared out of nowhere.

“I’ve got this, mate.”

“Oh, er, thanks.” James grimaced.

Because Remus didn’t know about Lily, he didn’t know that James needed the ice cream as an excuse to get out of this.

Of all the times Remus decided to urge me on.

“It’ll be a fun time, I promise,” Elaine winked. “Come with me to our table and I can write down our address for you to meet us later. It won’t take long.”

The blonde reached out her free hand to graze James’s forearm and lead him to the table her friends had occupied. He followed since he couldn’t think of a way out of it. At least the solution after this point was easy. He’d thank her, make a false promise to show up, and then never follow through.

He wasn’t expecting Elaine to keep hold of his arm, and the feeling sent prickles of discomfort through the rest of his body. James wasn’t even aware that the girl was still chattering away as he was still thinking of a way to get back to his friends, and hoping Lily was still on the opposite side of town so they wouldn’t get in a row over this.

And that’s when he felt another hand grasp his opposite arm.

The feeling of the second touch was much warmer, searing his bicep as it pulled him away from the blonde with a force he wasn’t used to. As his body spun around he caught a flash of red hair before the second person’s lips were on his, the kiss deep and searing, taking him by surprise.

He was familiar with the feel of Lily’s lips by now, and forgetting that they were in public, James’s body melted into the embrace even though it was far from romantic and comforting. As Lily’s arms snaked around his neck to pull him closer, James realized she was staking her claim and it was hot. He felt the immediate arousal strain against his trousers as the thought of Lily’s jealousy sent a course of desire through his body.

It barely phased him that they were in a very public place, no doubt in front of all their friends. Yet, when the thought finally registered in his lust-filled brain, clarity sobered his body, replacing the desire with a nervous excitement.

So much for keeping things quiet.

When Lily pulled away, her gaze was fierce as she narrowed her eyes and squeezed his arms a bit harder while whispering in his ear, “I don’t want anyone else touching you like I do.”

Bloody hell, would it be improper to disapparate us back to the cabin to have my way with her right now?

Yes, yes it would. Stupid statute of secrecy.

The battle to act on his instincts versus do the right thing warred in his mind.

“And you,” Lily peered over his shoulder to the blonde who was standing behind them, mouth gaping open in surprise, “keep your hands off my boyfriend.”

“Your WHAT?!”

A chorus of shouts and shrieks escaped the mouths of their friends at Lily’s over-zealous warning.

“Looks like it’s not a secret anymore,” Lily shrugged as she pulled James back to their friends.

“Hmm, I was hoping that maybe they didn’t notice the public snog assault you just attacked me with,” James laughed. “You know I wasn’t going to do anything with her, right? She cornered me and Remus of all people helped her along. I couldn’t get away.”

“Yes, yes, I trust you. I just let my temper get the best of me, I suppose,” Lily admitted, though she didn’t seem ashamed in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, I like Aggressive Lily. Maybe I’ll let other girls try and whisk me away more—”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, though the glint in her eye reassured him that she knew he was kidding.

“I suppose it’s time to face the onslaught of our friends, don’t you think?”

Lily sighed, “You’re sure we can’t just disapparate away instead?”

“I wish, but I’ve got a hot fudge sundae over there with my name on it. If you answer all the questions, though, I might be inclined to share.”

A devilish smirk crossed her lips as she dropped his hand and made a beeline for the table. “Not if I get there first!”

“Hey!”

James followed after her, knowing full well he’d share the ice cream with her regardless as they took turns answering their friends’ questions. Maybe it wasn’t the way James and Lily intended for the group to find out, but it certainly made for a good memory to look back on someday.

#summerofjily #jily #james potter #lily evans #jily fic

74 notes · View notes

amesstm · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Carry You

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Word Count: 1376

A/N: Sorry for not updating in a while, my ADHD said “Hey, let’s hyperfocus on something that is not writing fanfiction.” So, we’ll see when I have a phase of writing fanfiction more consistently lol

First part: https://amesstm.tumblr.com/post/647216128109723648/nose-bleeds-part-1

Ushijima didn’t know what to do when you asked, “Is this heaven?” So, he did what he thought was best.

“No, this is Shiratorizawa Academy,” he replied with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Did he really hit you that hard?

You chuckled, but winced from the pain. “I know, Ushijima.”

Not paying too much attention to whatever joke went over his head, Ushijima silently folded up his shirt to put over your nose. The scent of mint and sweat overwhelmed your senses. Ushijima was simple, so of course he would smell like mint. Minus the blood pouring out of your nose, you could get used to this smell.

He lifted you up from the ground, but then you stumbled. A strong hand clutched onto your waist, trying to steady you. But then you almost fell forward. “I can walk just fine.”

“I’ll carry you.” Ushijima stated as a fact, leaving no room for argument.

His arms lifted you with ease. You pouted, annoyed that this was becoming a common occurrence now. He softly chuckled under his breath from looking at you. When he stepped out of the gym, everyone stared at the spectacle.

Why in the world was Ushijima shirtless? Why was he carrying the girls’ team’s libero? Why was she clutching onto his shirt for dear life? You were sure those were the questions swarming your peers’ mind. Surely, the fangirls would’ve loved this indirect fan service.

A protest was about to erupt from you, but then you looked up. His jawline was on full view. Could that cut you just from one touch? Possibly. Okay, maybe you can get used to this view. So, you stayed silent.

“Why are you staring at me?” Ushijima asked, starting to blush now.

You squirmed a bit when his eyes looked at you. Something about his eyes were so piercing yet so gentle all at once. “I’ve just never seen you up close.”

“That’s because you always run away from me.” Again, he was just stating a simple fact. Yet, there was a twinge of hurt in his voice. Ushijima was a paradox in one living body. You made a mental note to know every side of him.

Whatever fright you had dissipated into guilt. Thoughts that you should’ve tried harder to get to know him – no, truly know him – flooded your mind. Was he always so soft despite being so rough? Did he hurt on the outside despite looking stone-faced?

Your eyes softened, “Sorry about that.”

He didn’t reply. Perhaps he accepted your apology, or he didn’t want to pry. Once you were at the nurse’s office, she looked shocked to see the spectacle; a crowd had formed with people taking pictures. No doubt, those pictures would end up on gossip blogs or shared between friends.

The nurse instructed Ushijima to lay you onto a bed inside a room. “You’re free to leave if you have something else, Ushijima.”

“No, I did this. So, I’ll stay,” Ushijima replied to the older lady.

After undergoing an examination and interview, you were allowed to rest. Ushijima refused to leave your side, sitting in a chair near the bed. The regular-sized chair looked so small underneath Ushijima’s huge body that you could laugh, but you knew that he wouldn’t appreciate it. His mouth formed a small frown, with eyes distantly looking at the floor.

You softly spoke up, “Hey, it’s fine, Ushijima. You really don’t have to stay here.”

“I’m staying,” he replied. You waited a second, but he didn’t go further.

You frowned looking at him. He only really looked like this when his opponents got a few points ahead of him. Speaking of his team, an idea popped into your head that would make Tendo proud. You hummed, “Okay, then I guess you owe me a favor.”

He turned from his stare-down with the floor to gaze at you. You continued, “For as long as I’m showing symptoms, you should help me. We have plenty of classes together, anyways.”

“I would help you even if you don’t have a concussion,” Ushijima declared in a low tone. Your eyes widened slightly.

The door swung open, with the nurse not looking pleased. “I’m sorry to say but you have a concussion.”

After the news, Ushijima helped you back to your dorm. Apparently, you weren’t supposed to strain your brain too much with sports or too much thinking. Yet here you were – overthinking the fact that you couldn’t practice with your team like usual. The sounds of the volleyball would be too much to even sit in to watch.

As you walked to your dorm, the other students stared at you and Ushijima walking together. The sunglasses were a dead giveaway that you had a concussion from earlier. Now, the students understood why Ushijima carried you to the nurse, shirtless and all. Unfortunately, he was given a shirt by the nurse.

Going up the stairs made you feel nauseous, so you reached for Ushijima’s hand by accident. You stopped walking, so he stopped, too. His olive eyes grew a color of worry as he looked down on you. His warm hand literally swallowed yours whole, forming a secure fist. He hummed, with an inflection of confusion. After collecting yourself, you managed to mutter, “O-oh, sorry, just going upstairs makes me feel sick.”

“I can carry you tomorrow if you want.”

“Paron?” A sting spiked your brain. Yep, definitely shouldn’t think too much about what was going on around you.

“I’ll take care of you,” he reiterated. You simply nodded your head. It was useless trying to argue with him, especially since it was your idea in the first place.

Against your wishes, a blush formed on your cheeks. “I better see you tomorrow then.”

Ushijima stopped in front of your dorm room, avoiding the whispers and stares from the other girls like he always does. He seemed pleased that you were finally showing your confident side to him. For the longest time, he only saw that side of you when you were around Tendo. Now, he was able to experience it firsthand.

Was this a smile? As soon as you thought that, you felt another string. You cringed and clutched your head. Of course, this would happen when you had a concussion.

“Don’t forget to take your medicine and rest,” Ushijima advised, holding out the medication bag towards you.

You smiled, “Thank you.”

Luckily for Ushijima, the sunglasses made it hard to tell that he was blushing.

“Goodbye, Ushijima.” As customary, Ushijima nodded his farewell.

Tendo called you in the evening, making you cringe when you heard how loud your ringer was. Your roommate Yuki went out to the cafeteria, promising to get you food, as well. Thank goodness she wasn’t here to listen in on Tendo ripping you a new one.

“How could you get a concussion?” Tendo cried. You put a bit of distance between you and your phone when you heard him about to start ranting. Tendo acted like an older brother, so of course he would start to scold you.

“Thank you, Tendo. It’s like I wanted a concussion,” you responded sarcastically.

“Did you?” You heard a deep voice that could only belong to one person.

“Tendo, am I on speaker?” You asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

There was a pause on the other end. “Maybe.”

You could envision the evil grin plastered on Tendo’s face. You sighed, “Well, Ushijima is making it up to me until my symptoms disappear.”

“Oh?” Tendo said. You hated when he got this way. Even after being friends for a few years, you couldn’t tell what went on in his head sometimes. “Ushijima failed to mention this to me.”

“Now you know,” Ushijima replied.

Tendo whined, “It would’ve been better to hear it from my own roommate first!”

“What happens between Y/N and I will stay between us.”

You blushed, secretly enjoying what he was insinuating. Then you remembered. “By the way, Ushijima... I will be leaving to meet up with my cousin after school tomorrow. So, you won’t need to help me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to be hounded by him.”

“Okay, now back to me-” Tendo said before he started rambling about his day.

A/N: Any guesses on who the cousin is? 👀

#ushijima x y/n #ushijima x reader #ushiwaka #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi fluff #ushijima fic #haikyuu tendou #tendou satori #hq nishinoya

156 notes · View notes

forthehpfanboys · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Sorry

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You hate Ron, Ron hates you. Pretty simple. It only becomes complicated when the bloke says something about your cologne in Potions class.

Warnings: Swearing, insults, fighting.

Notes: Requested! Probably my favorite so far? I don't own the gif, I just couldn't find it in the suggestions-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

The rule of thumb that everyone in Gryffindor gets along is far from true when it comes to you and Ronald Bilius Weasley. You guys clashed harder than the titanic and that iceberg. Honestly, no one remembered how it started, but they could remember the insults thrown back and forth. You didn’t exactly hide your hatred for the red-head and he was the same.

The two of you would fight deep into the night, effectively keeping up the whole tower with your insults and burns ringing in the empty common room. When fellow Gryffindors saw you two starting to get in a heated argument, most fled to avoid the damage. Sometimes it came to blows, leading to Fred and George or Hermione and Harry splitting you two apart, but it was mostly the older twins.

You two don’t even remember why you hate each other, at this point, you just do. At least, that’s what you told yourself every time you caught yourself staring at him from across the library or when you’d shove into him in the hallway. His smile was softer than freshly fallen snow and his eyes could rival the ocean with their beauty. You had absolutely no clue he was battling the same feelings.

Ron wished you would smile sweetly at him instead of sneering insults that made him want to hex you into next Tuesday. He wanted to hold your hand instead of get hit by it, but he figured this was best. He did start this. He was the one that turned cold toward you on the train one random year to avoid his feelings for you.

Today was one of the tenser days where you and Ron were inches from ending each other's blood lines. Everyone in the tower could already feel it and you weren’t even in the same room yet. You’d woken up a little bit later than usual all because of your Scream Off™ with the short Weasley the night before. You walked down the stairs of the boys dormitory, your hand running through your messy hair. Insults from the night before rang in your head like a bell.

“What did I do to deserve being trapped with the human embodiment of ginger ale?”

“Since when do you know things? I thought your brain was filled with cobwebs and moth balls?”

“We both know your face looks prettier after my fist has kissed it.”

It made your stomach twist with guilt, but the guilt melted into pure hatred when a cocky voice rang through the common room. You wanted to knock his lights out before your foot even hit the last step of the staircase.

“Finally awake, eh, (L/n)? Only took forever, lazy arse.” Ron was snickering on the main couch right in front of the fireplace. The atmosphere in the common room immediately shifted. You rolled your eyes as you walked up to the couch, standing right behind him.

“Shut it, Weasley.” You grabbed his hair, forcing his head back to look at your glare. “I hope you fall off a broom during Quidditch today.” Your voice was laced with a false sweetness. Your glare shifted to a dark smirk before jerking his head forward. After letting go of his hair, you walked past him, flipping him off. “Good morning Granger. Have a good game, Potter!” You smiled and waved goodbye after they said good morning and a quick thanks.

You got along perfectly with 2/3 of the Golden Trio. They were always polite to you, even if you would throw hands at their best friend. They didn’t play favorites though, which was nice. If one of you started the fight, they’d make it known when they broke it up.

“Oi! Don’t be a basta-!” Ron stood up quickly, going to run after you as you left, but was stopped by Harry’s hand pulling him back down onto the couch. “Ronald! Not today, please!” Hermione spoke up, rubbing her temples. “We already have to deal with Slughorn. I’d rather not also have to deal with your pathetic excuse for flirting.” She sighed out. Poor girl already had a headache and it wasn’t even 10 oclock.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest, his face heating up some. He cringed at the mere thought of finding you romantically attractive… Ok, he would admit you did have a nice ass, but not out loud.

“I’m not flirting. I hate his guts, Mione.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious! How could anyone find that twat even remotely attractive or adorable? He’s the bloody worst!”

Harry and Hermione shared a look before turning back to Ron. Harry and Hermione both knew better than that, this was a classic Enimies-To-Lovers scenario, at least that’s what they hoped, if not.. This was going to be a long, long, long year.

“No one said anything about him being adorable OR attractive, Ron.”

“Sod off, Harry, I know it was implied. You both know what I mean anyway.” Ron stood up, heading for the portrait hole.

“Where are you going?” Hermione groaned out. Her headache just got worse. “To get payback for the hairs that git ripped out.”

Ron walked down the hallways of the castle. He was so determined to find you he skipped breakfast, leading the remaining additions of the Golden Trio to come hunt him down. With some help from the older Weasley Twins, they managed to catch up with him pretty easily. Getting him to go to class, however, was a lot harder. Ron looked between his friends, then his brothers standing behind them for reinforcement. The keeper wasn’t moving an inch, not without seeing you first.

“No.”

“Ronald-”

“No, don’t Ronald me!”

“Ron! Come on! We have to go to potions in less than 5 minutes!”

“No! I’m just going to end up sitting next to that git and his stupid attitude the entire class! It’s going to be worse torture than seeing Snape everyday.” Ron crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, my fist has a date with his lips and I’m not going anywhere until that date happens!”

“He was at breakfast, you missed him. You can fight him after potions. Can we go to class now?” Harry tried to reason with the hot-headed idiot, but alas, nothing is ever that easy. He groaned when Ron shook his head no, causing the twins to step into the picture. If anyone could get him to go somewhere, it was them.

“Wow, Hermione, you're right.” Fred started, turning to his twin.

“He’s got it bad and he doesn’t even know it yet.” George finished, while Fred shook his head in dismay and muttered a quick ‘shame’.

“I do not, nor will I ever, like him. Ok? Get that into your thick skulls!”

“No one believes you, Ickle Ronniekins! In fact, most of Gryffindor Tower has a bet that you two will end up shagging in some broom closet in less than a week!” George stated while he rested his arm on his brother's shoulder.

“What?!” Ron’s face was turning pink again. “No! Ew!” Ron faked a few gags. “No! That would never happen!”

“Hey, if you don’t want him, can I have him? I’d love to see how he’d look on his kne-”

“OK! I’LL GO TO CLASS IF YOU SHUT UP-” Ron didn’t hesitate to cover his ears or turn briskly on his heels. The red-head hurried in the direction he came from, his two classmates following after him who both called out a thank you to the mischief masters. “Godric, why’d you ask them for help? Now I have that gross image in my head.”

“We both knew it’d be the only way to get you to Potions. Now hurry up! I’d rather not be late!” Hermione grabbed her friends wrists and dragged them down the intermixing hallways until they stood right outside the classroom, only then did she let go. Harry handed Ron his potions textbook while Hermione patted down her hair and walked in, trying to act like she didn’t just sprint across the school.

The two boys looked at each other, one rolling his eyes while the other snickered before walking in after her. The snickering red-head paused when he walked in, getting hit with a strong smell of mixed berries and fruit, almost like shampoo. He actually didn’t hate it, in fact, it made his heart beat a little faster. It was familiar. The idea had Ron lagging behind his friends.

Once he joined the crowd in the back of the classroom and stood beside his friend at the edge of the crowd, did he notice the scent almost shift. It was your cologne. It made him gag with how powerful it was. Godric, did you pour an entire bottle of cologne on you? It was literally making him feel sick. He was going to lose every marble he had if someone didn’t open a window for him.

When Slughorn began talking about today's lesson, it went in one of Ron’s ears only to travel out the other side. Your cologne was close to killing him and everyone was acting like it didn’t exist.

“Do you see (L/n)?” Ron whispered to Harry.

“He’s across the classroom, Ron, why?” Harry whispered back. The two continued to whisper over Slughorn. They’d end up asking Hermione for help anyway. “Worried about him?” Harry grinned until his friend jabbed him in the side with his elbow.

“No, just wondering so I can rag him on his shit cologne.” Ron made eye contact with you across the classroom. He stuck his tongue out when you discretely gave him the bird. “I’m so gonna beat his ass.”

“What? Ron, what cologne?”

“You can’t smell it?”

Harry was about to answer when he got interrupted by Slughorn abruptly asking everyone to take their seats and start the project. Neither of them noticed that pack of girls staring longingly at the bubbling cauldrons in front of them while they took their seats next to each other.

See, the thing that sucked the most about this is Slughorn was determined to make you and Ron basically best friends, so he stuck you at the Golden Trio’s table for the whole year, which led to more trouble than good. Luckily, he paired you up with Harry and Ron with Hermione so you didn’t ruin each other's faces or potions. However, today, the bickering began before you sat down.

“How’s your head feeling, Weasley?” You smirked, walking over with your brown side bag.

“How’s your shin feeling, (L/n)?” Before you could question what he meant, he kicked your leg before sitting down. You let out a grunt and sat down in your own seat before rubbing your now sore and most likely bruised leg.

“I can’t wait for this class to end so I can rip out more of your stupid ginger hair, Ginger Ale.” You pulled out your textbook and flipping to the page.

“Don’t bloody call me that, besides, why not just use that horrid cologne as pepper spray. With how much you wore today, it’s already doing the job for you.” Ron scowled at you from across the table, but his demeanor shifted ever so slightly when you dropped your quill and looked at him with wide eyes. He blinked a few times before looking around the room then behind him. “What?”

“Red, I.. You smell my cologne?” Your voice was filled to the brim with turmoil.

“So what if I do?” Ron’s face scrunched up with confusion.

“Have you heard of a potion called Amortentia?” You spoke up, covering your rapidly heating up face.

“A-amor- What?”

“Look, Red. Long story short, it’s a love potion. It’s strong enough to change love to obsession. It emits a smell that’s different for everyone and mimics the smell of your crush.” You looked at him between your fingers, seeing his confusion still so clear on his face.

“Ok.” Ron snorted. “What does that have to do with your shitty cheap cologne?”

“Weasley, mate, I know the cogs in your brain are super rusty, but just try to use ‘em ok?” You slammed your hands against the table as you spoke. “I’m not wearing my cologne today. I ran out last night. Slughorn had an open cauldron filled with Amortentia in class today.”

“S.. So what your saying is-” Ron’s brain was trying to process everything you’d said. He was still refusing to believe he loved, liked or tolerated you.

“You fancy me, you idiot.” You spoke up, louder than you intended.

Ron stared at you with wide eyes. His pale cheeks turned red, out of anger or embarrassment he wasn’t sure. He looked between Hermione and Harry before looking back at you.

“What? No I don’t. That’s ridiculous, borderline mental!”

“Then why did you smell my cologne?” You questioned, leaning over the table some. Ron went back to glaring at you, his arms crossing over the table.

“Probably because you're lying about having none.”

“Ok, say I was lying, Harry would smell it, yeah?”

“Yeah and I don’t smell anything besides the potions brewing.” Harry shrugged while Ron’s jaw dropped.

“Harry! Don’t encourage him!” Ron slammed his book shut, drawing more attention to the bickering table.

“I’m not encouraging anyone. Just being honest.”

“No, you know what? This is a load of bollocks! I do not like you, (L/n). In fact, I loathe you!” Ron stood up quickly, his stool tumbling to the ground with a bang. “I feel anything, literally anything except affection for you!”

You watched Ron storm out of the classroom and looked down at the table. You ignored the students and Slughorn staring at your table and, instead, focused on your bruised knuckles. Were you supposed to tell Ron you smelled his own stupid cologne, broom polish from Quidditch, chocolate frogs and hits of firework ash?

Before you knew it, you were running out of the classroom, ignoring the calls of your name. You spotted a glance of him rounding the corner and sprinted after it.

“Ron!” You called out, rounding the same corner. He turned around, his eyes narrowed. This was the first time he heard you say his first name and he wasn’t going to let his shock show through.

“What? Here to make fun of me? Well, go on. You’ll end up doing it anyway tonight. Don’t hold back now.” Ron’s hands balled up into fists.

“I’m not going to make fun of yo-”

“Yeah, and my hair isn’t red. Don’t bloody lie to me!”

“I’m being serio-”

“No, you aren’t!”

“Ok, you know what?” You stepped forward, grabbing a bunch of his shirt and slamming his back into a wall. He raised his fist to throw a punch, but your free hand caught his wrist. Before he could do anything else, your lips slammed against his.

He froze against the wall, his skull filling with emptiness at the feeling of your soft lips against his chapped ones. He couldn't stop the questions tumbling through his lips when you separated. He managed to stop when you pressed your forehead against his. The red-head didn’t have to strain his ears to hear your whisper in the empty hallway but shuddered when your hand threaded through his hair, gently massaging where you pulled earlier.

“I’m sorry..” You pulled back a tiny bit to look into his blue eyes, only now noticing the green flecks twinkling like stars in the night sky. “Does it still hurt?” Your voice was so soft it made his heart ache. He would’ve shaken his head, but didn’t want you to pull your hand away.

“No, it never really hurt.” Ron confessed, his shaky hands awkwardly landing on your waist.

“But you said-”

“I said a lot of things I didn’t mean..” Ron chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dropping to your sneakers.

“Yeah, so did I.” You whispered awkwardly, just staring at the red-head against the wall. It was a good few minutes before you spoke up again. “Broom polish, earth and chocolate frogs..”

“What?”

“The um- the love potion.. That’s what I.. That’s what I got from it.”

“I’m co-”

“Ron, please. I smelled your cologne, the stupid sweets and your broom polish. Idiot.” You chuckled a little.

“Well excuse me, I haven't gotten my brain cogs oiled yet.” Ron smiled a little, desperate to hear more of your laugh. He mentally fist pumped the air when you did, in fact, laugh louder. “Seriously, though, I’m sorry.”

“So am I, Red.”

“Soooo..” Ron dragged out the o as he tapped his fingers along your waist. He gave you a lopsided grin as he continued. ”Should we go on a date or kiss more?”

“Why not both?” You leaned in again, stopping just before his lips.

“I like both.. We could go swimming in the Black Lake?” The pale boy grinned wider as his fingers tugged your shirt free from your trousers.

“Ron, it’s like 10 degrees outside- you just wanna see me shirtless!” You pecked his lips, chuckling when he faked a gasp, his hands now resting under your shirt..

“That is entirely not true, (L/n)! Where is your sense of adventure?”

“Not here, Weasley. I might’ve left it in the classroom, ya know, with my books since I had to chase your ass out here.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” It was Ron’s turn to kiss you.

“We have a lot to make to each other already. Let's just start at the basics.”

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley #hp imagine #hp x male reader #male reader #harry potter #hermione granger #fred weasley #geroge weasley #x male reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

433 notes · View notes

tainted-wine · 4 years ago

Note

Sooooooo, I wanted to your know take on Hawks taking pictures during any kind of spicy encounter? I've read it in Yandere settings but why not just a dirty boyfriend who loves the shy faces his innocent f s/o makes🥴😈🥴😈

(Oh look, another thirstpost that evolved into a ficlet. This accidentally strayed from your idea a bit, I hope you don’t mind! I just love it when shy readers enjoy having filthy stuff done to them alright? Let’s pretend this is the same one that licked his ass)

Ha I love this! And I want to take it up a notch and say that s/o is also the type that’s too shy to make eye contact during most of the sex. His camera is capturing your sweaty face as he fingers you, snapping a pic every time your lips part to make that sexy gasp when his thumb presses against your clit.

“Come on, baby. Don’t you wanna smile for the camera?”

You never cooperate, which he doesn’t mind at all. The more embarrassed, the cuter. It’s easy to take advantage of the fact that you always keep your eyes closed. He can surprise you with moves that you don’t see coming, allowing the phone that’s floating on his feathers to catch your shocked reaction.

It’s a mix of Hawks praising you and also being a naughty bastard. You’re just the most precious thing he’s ever seen and he wants to be able to look at that beautiful O-face whenever he can. Don’t worry about him ever sharing the pics; no way in hell is he ever gonna let others see you like this.

One sleepless night, when you’re finishing a text chat with your devious boyfriend and wishing him a good night, he sends you an unexpected message.

Hawks: These might help you sleep. You never take the time to enjoy the view when we fuck. So I did you some favors ;)

All of a sudden, several videos are being loaded onto your phone and holy fucking shit.

Hawks has been doing more than snapping photos. He’s been recording you in the heat of the moment as well. There are several clips and they all nearly give you a heart attack.

One is shown from his perspective, his sharp thrusts making you rock into the mattress, small whimpers escaping your mouth. Hearing yourself like that is making your face so damn hot, and it gets even hotter when the angle pans down to show his dick sliding in and out of your pussy.

This was not going to help you sleep. Instead you feel an all too familiar throb down below.

The next video seems to be taken from the same moment, but this time it’s from the bottom, and you’re given the amazing view of Hawks right over you. His face is flushed with an open-mouthed grin that didn’t falter from the moans slipping past his lips. It’s only when he cums that he finally loses it, those golden irises rolling back before his eyes close, and his mouth hangs open as he releases loud choked whines.

He looks fucking amazing. How have you deprived yourself of this for so long?

Another clip loads. It’s from the night when Hawks convinced you to have your mouth fucked. He really filmed that?! The phone seems to be floating beside your face, giving you a nice view of his cock sliding past your lips. Your eyes are closed as they always are, flinching when he nearly hits the back of your throat.

The throbbing has gotten impossible to ignore. A hand reaches down to your damp cunt, a part of you feeling mortified at how aroused you are from watching yourself like this.

Your fingers pump in and out at the same speed as Hawks’s dick in the video. It was the filthiest thing you’ve ever witnessed, watching him stretch your cheeks from inside, listening to your own wet gurgles that get even sloppier by the second, your hands tightly gripping his ass while he humps your face.

You always had trouble looking at something as simple as his face during the actual act, so why couldn’t you look away now even if you tried?

With a few more rather violent thrusts (but you still remember how each one only turned you on more), he cums with a damn snarl. The very sound of your hungry gulps as his cream flows down your throat nearly brings you to the edge. Just a little more, a few more rubs to your clit should do it...

But then the fourth and final video plays right after the previous one, and just when you thought things couldn’t get any more embarrassing and exhilarating, you see Hawks’s head happily nestled between your legs. You can’t believe just how much your boyfriend has gotten away with simply because you refused to keep your eyes open during sex.

Well now, for the first time, you were making eye contact with him. He was looking intently at the camera as he ate you out, predatory eyes piercing right through the screen and into you.

You slow down your fingers; you want this to last just a little longer. You want to cum to the thought of his tongue.

You can hear your other self moan behind the camera, thighs twitching on his shoulders. His head bobs gently as he licks and sucks at you, occasionally closing his eyes and moaning, as if your taste alone was orgasmic. Your fingers keep on rubbing, slowing down whenever you feel like you’re right at the peak.

Hawks suddenly takes your thighs and pushes them toward your chest, your ass now slightly lifted off the bed.The camera is moving closer, closer to Hawks’s face buried in your pussy and oh god...with this new position, you get a very close and personal view of his mouth working at your cunt.

You can hear the wetness of his tongue when it moves to part your glistening folds. Your juices stick to his mouth in thin strands, such detail making your escalating pleasure impossible to hold back any longer.

You couldn’t look away. Your own moans blended with the ones in the video as he kissed your pussy deeply, the vulgar sounds even louder than before. His face was becoming drenched with your slick. All it took was another sharp glance at the camera before closing his lips around your clit to finally make you burst.

You wanted to keep watching through your crushing orgasm, but the white hot pleasure forces your eyes shut. The sound of you cumming as well in the video makes it all the more intense, Hawks growling as he tries to hold you down and drink up your steady flow.

The video ends, and you want to both curse and thank him for recording these without you knowing. You noticed that there was another text sent to you just a few minutes after the clips.

Hawks: You’re already getting off to this, aren’t you? Don’t worry, shy bird. I’ll make sure to send you more in the future~

#asks #smut #hawks #Mineta anon is this you #i'm just dropping this off before bed

483 notes · View notes

lazychickensoup · 3 years ago

Note

Do a daisuga (or whatever you want) hero/villain au were the super hero (daichi) and the villain (suga) are roommates but keep there "jobs" a secret so neither of them know that when they make up excuses to go out and fight their nemesis that the other is doing the exact same thing. After battles they go home and make up excuses on why they're covered in bruises and such, only realizing that they're fighting each other when one of them finally catches the other and pulls off there mask.

𝑅𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠

𝐴/𝑛: 𝑖𝑚 𝑛𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑖𝑐ℎ𝑖 𝑠𝑜 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐼𝑤𝑎𝑜𝑖. 𝐻𝑂𝑃𝐸 𝑈 𝐿𝐼𝐾𝐸 𝑈𝑇 𝐵𝐶 𝐼 𝐷𝐼𝐷 𝐴𝑁𝐺𝑆𝑇

𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑆𝑢𝑝𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑜!𝐼𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑧𝑢𝑚𝑖 𝑥 𝑆𝑢𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛!𝑂𝑖𝑘𝑎𝑤𝑎

𝑇𝑊: 𝐿𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑆𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒. 𝐴𝑁𝐺𝑆𝑇!!!

------

“Iwa-chan I’m home.” Tooru swings his keys around his finger letting it fly off into the miscellaneous bowl by their front door. He was met with silence meaning his roommate wasn’t home yet. He stretches and groans while heading to the bathroom to bandage up. Another day, another loss in his book. He doesn’t know how but his nemesis, Chroma, defeated him in every battle for the past 5 months. He was starting to get tired of it as well. He needed to figure out a way to defeat Chroma so he can show the world that the hero system is corrupted and broken.

“Oi dumbass I’m home.” Tooru walks out of the bathroom to greet his roommate. Both their eyes went wide when greeted with the sight of bruises and cuts all over each other.

“Hajime what happened this time? You never come home in this bad a state.” Tooru rushes to get the bandages and first aid kit. He sits Iwaizume down letting his fingers trace over each bruise examining them. Hajime cups Tooru’s cheek grabbing his full attention.

“You know firefighting can get rough, don’t worry about me. What about you though? Looks like you’re boxing matches didn’t go well today did they?” He kisses the top of Tooru’s head and grabs the bandages. Tooru stands up letting him treat a huge cut on the side of his torso.

“Never a dull day in the ring babe. Although my opponent was surprisingly strong today. Caught me off guard.” Hajime finishes wrapping the bandages and pulls Tooru’s torso toward him to rest his forehead on it. Tooru runs his hands through Hajime’s hair hears quiet sobs and tears on his stomach. They sit in silence for a while holding each other.

“You know I hate your job,” Hajime says lifting his head up meeting his lover’s eyes.

“I know. I would say the same for yours but it’s more respectable than mine.” Tooru laughs but Hajime’s face remains sad. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m fine though. I’ve gotten used to it.” He leans down to kiss Hajime. “Let’s make dinner. They had you out there late tonight.”

---

After they had finished making their dinner Tooru jumps on the couch and turns on the tv. Flipping through channels one by one he stops on a new report of the battle from earlier.

“Once again Hero Chroma has defeated Ero, but this time was much more intense than their previous battles. It would appear that Ero has stocked up on some gear that quite literally defies the laws of physics. It has been reported that Chroma once had trouble standing back up but powered through-” The channel had switched off.

“News is not dinner TV Tooru.” Hajime places the remote on the coffee table after turning on a movie.

“Sorry. Seems like that guy Ero really roughed up Chroma this time.” Tooru pridefully speaks.

“Yeah, it sucks though. Ero getting stronger is dangerous, Chroma won’t be able to fight him forever. I’m scared that if Ero ever wins, all hell will break loose.” Hajime sighs taking another bite.

“You think so, huh.”

---

“Agh! How the heck did he get stronger?” Chroma asked himself while dodging flying pieces on debris. ‘If I keep this up my suit will run out of power. We’ve been fighting for 4 hours and he can keep going. When did I become so weak?’ he thinks.

Ero continues to whip loose concrete at Chroma till one piece finally hits him. He jumps to victory and launches himself over to what he thought was an unconscious body.

“Well well, looks like our little bicker has come to an end hasn’t it, Chroma.” Just as Ero reaches for his rival mask Chroma presses a button on his upper chest releasing shock waves sending Ero flying backward. He catches himself mid-air hovering high above the buildings. Chroma flys up to him giving distance between them.

“Our ‘bickering’ won’t end till you are behind bars Ero,” he yells watching closely to predict his next move.

“Why would it be such a bad thing if I win? You’re getting weaker friend. Maybe under that mask is an old man. That would explain why you can’t grasp the reason why I need you gone. If that’s the case then why don’t I explain it in simple terms old man? See, I want a world that is disposed of hero’s, nothing more. No ruling the world, or having disciples. Just a world free of oppressing, high and mighty, people like you. The hero system is corrupted. You all want the glory now, you don’t do it for the people. That’s why you will be the first one to go Mr. “top of his class, high rankings at a young age.”

“Yeah, well for one I’m no old man, and two I vow not to lose cause I know if I do, all hell will break loose.” Ero quietly gasps at his last few words.

“I’m scared that if Ero ever wins, all hell will break loose.”

It was too soon to be a coincidence. He feels tears sting his eyes as he looks down. ‘Hajime?’

“Haj-” Just as Ero calls out Chroma slams into him. Forcing his body from high altitude down into the ground at impossible speed. As the dust cleared there was a crack in Ero’s mask. This time Chroma was the one reaching for the mask. He lifts it off to find a crying man. A man he had never imagined being behind that mask. His lover. Tooru Oikawa. Tooru stood there too shocked to move as he had already found out who his rival had been.

“T-Tooru, I-” he takes off his mask revealing himself. Hajime Iwaizumi. He drops to his knees with tears streaming down his face. His heart aches. Physically aches. “I loved you. I trusted you and this whole time you-” he couldn’t find his words.

“Hajime. I don’t know what to say either, but please don’t say loved.” his voice breaks and he takes deep and heavy breaths. The impact from being slammed into the ground did a number on him. He knew that the words he was saying now. The breaths he was taking. It’ll be his last ones. Hajime crawls over by his head seeing blood coming out of his mouth and nose. At that moment he had realized what he did. He cries out, starting to beg whoever was listening for help. There were news reporters and police but they kept their distance as told. Hajime strokes Toorus hair. “You know the only reason I started doing this is because of you.” Tooru croaks, coughing up blood.

“Wha-why for me.”

“Well not that I knew you were a hero, but when we first moved in together and you would come home all bruised up from “firefighting” I couldn’t take it. Me being under the impression that the only reason that was happening to you was because of heroes and their carelessness when fighting. None of them were ever held responsible. Every day I would wait on the couch for you to come home begging that whatever happened that day didn’t kill you.” he confesses reaching out his hand to hold Hajime’s face. “I’m sorry Haj if I would have known…”

“Shut up.” Hajime interrupts holding Toorus hand that was placed on his face. “Don’t act like a hero now you idiot. I didn’t need your protection. I needed you to be safe. This is way worse than boxing you know. Look where your stupid thinking got you. We need to get you to a hospital.” he cries harder holding on to Tooru’s hand for dear life. ‘I can’t lose him. I don’t care about what he’s done. I need him to be okay. Please stay for me.’

“Hajime, I love you. Please don’t blame yourself for this. Please move on and be happy okay?” with that Tooru’s body relaxes and his hand falls numb in Hajime’s.

“No...please...NO.” Hajime cries out holding Tooru’s body in his arms cradling him. He kisses his forehead and holds him tighter.

“...I love you too.”

---

After the fight was over and some questioning was done Hajime was finally allowed to go home. He enters the dark apartment flipping the lights on. He turns on the Tv and news headlines flooded many channels.

“Hero Chroma (Hajime Iwaizumi) Defeats his rival Ero (Tooru Oikawa) only to find out by the public that they were lovers. Many have mixed emotions about this situation. More on this later.”

‘Shittykawa. You’re such an idiot.’ he walks over to the fridge that had a note on it from Tooru.

‘Another big match today! Wish me luck my Iwa-chan. I love you.’ Hajime slowly peels the note of the fridge tears drips down onto the paper making wrinkled spots. Sitting down on the bed in his once shared room, he holds the note and a picture frame of him and Tooru doing victory poses from one of their games in high school. He stares for a while, not moving or crying just staring. He walks into the bathroom into the cabinets. He’s not thinking clearly, who would be at a time like this? He has a numb expression, body moving in slow motion, but tear still streaming down no sign of stopping. He mindlessly grabs a bottle and pours the substances in his hand. Looking at the picture one last time he smiles and whispers.

“We’ll be together soon my love.”

#iwaizumi angst #iwaoi #tooru oikawa angst #iwaoi angst #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#oikawa tōru #iwazumi hajime #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu angst #haikyuu au #🥢🥡.ask #🥢🥡.drabbles #🥢🥡.mutuals

34 notes · View notes

a-simple-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

Run Away With Me

Synopsis: Every moment shared with Charlie Weasley is an adventure all it’s own. How you wish to spend every moment together and all it takes is to run away.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

Words: 6.3k+

A/N - Every year I post a story on my birthday and today’s the day I turn a year older. Usually these stories are pretty sad but this year I wrote something a little softer so here is my birthday present for you guys, I hope you enjoy it.

1. A Stolen Kiss

A bright-eyed and clueless young student, excited to be attending a school of magic. Nobody else in your family had magic so it was a big surprise when you received a letter alongside a weird lady who looked like she just stepped out of the early 1920s. Sat between your parents, the older woman explained the entire situation much to your excitement and your parents' confusion.

Diagon alley had been your first experience of all things magical; it had been like stepping into another world instead of just any old street in London. There were book shops lined with all kinds of books, some were bigger than your head while others were tiny. A shop that sold weird and kinda gross jars full of who knows what. There was a place that only sold brooms but according to the list you had read like a hundred times, first years weren't allowed their own brooms. You spent what felt like a lifetime at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions getting fitted for robes. Your parents were utterly fascinated by all the different styles and kept asking questions that made the experience so much longer than it really needed to be. You'd never had a pet before, but after a lot of begging they let you pick out a cat; he was a small Persian cat. Not quite a kitten but not quite fully grown. Checking off each item as you went along, you were exhausted by the end of it. There was even enough time for a trip to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour where you had enjoyed a cone of strawberries and cream with sprinkles on top. All that was left on your list was a wand. Peeling gold letters rested over the door of a shop that read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Stepping inside it was a tiny little store with no costumers. Thousands of narrow boxes lined the walls all the way up to the ceiling. It didn't take long for the weird old man to give you a wand that felt warm in your hand. Unlike the other disasters that came at the result of you waving various wands, a stream of red and gold sparks shoot out the end of this one like a mini firework. The wand chooses the wizard whatever the hell that meant. All ready and packed for Hogwarts, you were really giddy to go. Your mother cried as she waved you off to boarding school but you couldn't sit still. The train ride took hours and it was a little lonely considering you didn't know anyone but as soon as you entered the castle you knew it was exactly where you were meant to be. The building was massive and practically oozed magic and mystery through each brick. The pictures, much to your surprise, were moving on their own. Hogwarts had four houses and each student had to sit on a tall stool, put on a funny talking hat which would decide ultimately where they belong.

The very first friend you made was Nymphadora Tonks but only because she was in all of your classes and by some twist of fate you always ended up seated together. She was a sweet girl with pink hair and a talent for mischief. There was never a dull moment with you two. Then there was Charlie Weasley. Ever since that brisk day in October when he had ridden in clumsily on his white horse to save the day, the two of you had been the best of friends. You were still getting used to all your different classes. Potions class, however, was proving the most difficult. Too many ingredients and types to get used to. Not to mention Snape was just... mean. The task had been to prepare a simple Wiggenweld Potion; a powerful healing potion that can be used to heal injuries, or reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught. The book was open on the desk as you carefully followed the instructions until.... poof. All the confidence you'd gained since arriving disappeared as Snape scolded you in front of everyone for messing up. Charlie had swooped in to take the blame landing himself in late-night detention. On the other hand, you got to leave with your tail between your legs and a few house points shaved off the total. And yet even his small act of kindness wasn't enough to capture your affection at least not at first. For the little version of yourself was infatuated with another Weasley. An older Weasley.

The nerves of a handful of students could be felt by anyone sat in the great hall for breakfast. Tonks is sat beside you running butter over a piece of toast. Stifling a yawn, Charlie takes a seat across from the two of you sporting a jumper of Gryffindor red and gold.

"Good morning," You flash your cheeriest, half-asleep smile bringing your spoon of Cheeri Owls to your lips. "Nervous?"

"A little," He was looking especially pale today suggesting he was more than just a little.

"You should be," Tonks perks up. "It's only the last game of the season and all hope rides on the seeker,"

"No pressure then," Charlie huffs out a dull laugh. The boy excelled in his position as the Gryffindor seeker but there was no way to determine how he'd play today when he was carrying the hopes and dreams of his teammates and entire house.

"You should eat something," You suggest, pushing a bowl of assorted fruit forward. There was little you could to make him feel better except take his spot but that wasn't allowed. You also probably wouldn't be that good. "Might make you feel better?"

"I'm too nervous to eat," He insisted but he still took an apple; rolling the red fruit between his palms.

"Win or lose you're still number one in our heart, right Tonks?" Elbowing her gently, you shovel another spoonful of 'O' shapes into your mouth.

"Sure," she shrugs. "If you want we can jinx the other team's seeker? I've been practising."

"Or... how much time do we have? I can get one of the older students to brew some Felix Felicis." You play along. "Nothing like a little liquid luck to win a game."

"You both know that's not allowed," Charlie took a large bite of his apple.

"When has Tonks ever cared about rules," Sometimes you wish she did care, you probably wouldn't have ended up in detention so many times alongside her.

"Thanks but no," he took another bite. "We have to win fair and square."

The conversation drifted from nerves to lost spells and planned practical jokes. Charlie seemed to relax a little the more he spoke. Maybe all he needed was a distraction to cheer him up.

"We need to take a trip to Hogsmeade" Tonk announces. "I'm out of dungbombs."

"Urgh- you and that silly joke shop." You can't help but roll your eyes but it was all good-natured. Despite hardly ever buying anything yourself, you spent an awful lot of time at Zonko's infamous little joke shop. "I could do with a trip outside the castle though. You should come too Charlie and maybe... you could ask Bill if he wants to come?"

"You're still gushing over Bill," Now it was Tonks turn to elbow you playfully, her lips curling up into a tantalising smirk.

"I do not gush over him," you state firmly, brows knitting together in a frown. You didn't appreciate being made fun. Bill was older, wiser and always made time to show you kindness. He made your little heart flutter whenever you saw him and Tonks took every opportunity to tease you about it. "I just thought It'd be nice is all. Wouldn't you agree, Charlie?"

"If you want him to come, ask him yourself." He responds, taking a large gulp of his juice.

"She won't because she has a crush."

"I don't have a crush Nymphadora- stop it," It was infinitely more embarrassing talking about this with Charlie sat at the table. "Don't ask him then, I don't care."

"Yes you do," Placing her arm around your shoulder, she pulls you into her side. "Because you're in love-"

"I am not!" You snap, pushing out of her grip.

"I'll see you guys later." The two of you share a look as Charlie disappears without another word. It was probably just pregame nerves.

"You know what? I think I'll get some frogspawn soap too and put it in the prefects' bathroom." Typical Tonks.

You'd come to learn through your time at Hogwarts that Quidditch was the most popular sport among wizards. And each house had their own team who compete for a trophy and bragging rights. Today was the final game thankfully. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Apparently, it came down to these two a lot. As the Gryffindor team filter out of the changing rooms, you slip inside to find Charlie sitting on a little bench.

"Guess who?" You sing-song, slapping your hands over his eyes but only briefly. He turns to look at you with an almost sour expression.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to support you," you reply soft, offering a smile he couldn't even see as he turned away.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Had you done something to upset him? Surely not. This was the first time you were seeing him since breakfast so there hadn't been a moment for you to mess things up and yet, his voice held an icy chill.

"Guess Tonks is rubbing off on me?" You jest, looking around the room. It was empty apart from you two. Bags and clothes scattered across benches or half shoved into lockers. A chalkboard stood in the corner with drawings you couldn't understand. "I just wanted to see how you were doing before the big game, is all. We were worried about you."

"You were worried about me," He repeats slowly, looking up at you. "I thought you hated quidditch."

"I still do," Your shoulders rise in a little shrug. "It's silly. Doesn't matter how hard the team works or how many goals it's pretty much all decided by how good the seeker is so why even have goals?"

"Score enough goals before the snitch is caught and anyone could win," He perks up. "You just don't understand how good and exciting it is."

Your lips curl up in appreciation for Charlie Weasley and his love for quidditch. It didn't possess the sparkle that came along when he talks about dragons but it was still nice to see him liven up. "Then go out there and show me how exciting it is,"

You stand under the spotlight of his gaze as he seemingly takes in your choice of attire; wearing the Gryffindor colours with pride to show your support. You even let Tonks paint your face after she promised not to draw genitalia. "Do you really think we're gonna win? What if I mess up and everyone hates me?"

"Then you mess up and everyone hates you," You shrug a little. "But that's not gonna happen and you know why?" His head shakes slowly. "It's because you're the best seeker at this school Charles Weasley." You place your hands on either side of his shoulders. "And I believe in you."

"How does that help me?" With your index finger under his chin, you force him to meet your eyes.

"Because I'm never wrong."

"That doesn't sound right." He tries to look away but you stop him.

"But it is," You offer a reassuring smile; one full of determination. "You've got this Charlie. So come on before you miss the game entirely."

The cheers outside were seemingly growing louder by the second. With a deep breath, Charlie stands up, grabbing his broom. "You're staying to watch, right?"

"Of course. Tonks is up in the stands too." Taking his hand, you lead the way out of the tent. "Consider us your good luck charms." Charlie brings the both of you to an abrupt stop before you even reach the opening of the tent, pulling you back to him. "What's up?"

The peppering of freckles that covered Charlie's face was even more vibrant against the rose pink blush. You squeeze his hand a little hoping it makes him feel better. And then it happens. The crowd grows silent in your ear but only for a moment as Charlie's surprisingly soft lips crash clumsily against yours. "For good luck," his whispers; his hand slipping from yours as he leaves you dumbfounded.

"He okay?" Tonks asks as you return from your trip.

"Yeah... still nervous," You reply, sitting down beside her. "It's his first big game after all."

"Are you okay?" The crowd erupts into cheers as the Gryffindor team flys in first. You're almost too embarrassed to look for Charlie; worried about what you might find so you keep your head down. "You look like you've just seen a troll or something?"

"Mhmm," you hum, forcing yourself to watch the Slytherin team as they enter. Why had Charlie kissed you? Did it mean he liked you or was he just messing around? Your head swirled with possibilities.

"You want a sweet?" Your friend offers as the game finally starts. It takes you a second to register but you smile, reaching into the little bag she was holding only to come to a stop.

"They're not gonna burn my tongue off or something are they?"

"No," Her chuckle sounded a little too innocent but you trust her for some reason. Taking a piece of confectionery out of the paper bag.

"Charlie... kissed me." You announce, throwing the sweet into you mouth; face scrunching up when they turn out to be sour. Ten points to Slytherin as they take the lead.

"He what?"

"He... kissed me."

2. Together

Who was Bill Weasley but a distant playground crush after that day. And your time of classrooms and magic lessons came swiftly to an end; how bittersweet it felt to leave a place you loved dearly. A once naive little girl stepping into the unknown now called the Wizarding World Home. Now you would go on to be a healer which was simply a magical doctor although your parents strongly disagreed with the comparison. However proud they were of you there would always be some part of them that wished you had chosen to become a lawyer or 'real' doctor.

Bathed in the warm embrace of the setting sun, you ponder the tranquility in a bed of green grass. The youngest Weasley lay beside you, struggling to keep still as often children do. She was similar to her brother in that way who now paced back and forth a mere few steps away. The invitation had been for dinner but you arrived a little early. The burrow was always such a welcoming place like stepping into a home you used to live in many moons ago; it was cosy and warm and there was no doubt that many lived there. You found your house to be almost the opposite, it always looked like nobody lived there. Immaculate. Polished. Cold.

"Will you stop pacing, you're making me nervous." You call out to your boyfriend, opening your eyes only to squint at the bright light. "What's wrong with you?"

Charlie comes to a stop as you sit up; Ginny mimics you in sitting up but the boy's eyes stay on you. The longer he stared, the more the pit in your stomach grew; what exactly hid behind his blank expression. He normally possessed such a playful warmth but it seemed to have vanished as of late. Plucking a stray purple flower, you enclose it in the palm of your hands. "You know I love dragons right?"

"Of course," Since meeting him, he had probably managed to slip dragons into every conversation you had ever had. It was at a point where you knew far more about dragons than you ever really cared to know. Many found his obsession annoying because that's what he so obviously was, obsessed but you found it enticing. Charming, even. Opening up your hand, a small butterfly with deep plum-purple wings flutters into the air and onto a giggly Ginny's nose. The innocent glee of a child; how those days were gone for you. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Promise you won't be mad?" It would be foolish to make such a promise when there was no way to guarantee your reaction. Whatever it was must be bad, if he was this worried. Your shoulders rise a little then fall.

"I make no such promises- just tell me."

Charlie took a breath that travelled on the wind to your ears before he blurted out. "I'm moving to Romania."

"Okay," Is your first reaction while your brain tries to make sense of something it didn't want to hear. "Wait- what?"

"Charlie is moving away to work with big scary dragons," Ginny announces playfully, baring her little hands like claws.

The once small pit grew into a mighty black hole of uncertainty and sadness that threatened to swallow you whole. There had been conversations shared between friends of Charlie wanting to move away to a foreign land, just to finally see a dragon but you had never taken it at face value. Always so convinced it was but a dream rather like those of when you were little and you wished to be a vampire. Technically back then you didn't know they actually existed but still, even now it was never going to come true. Eyes cast upon the second eldest Weasley, he kicks up the grass with his hands buried in the pockets of his pants. "It's the nearest Dragon reserve."

That was something you already knew but it didn't make the decision, at least in your eyes, any less confusing. Instead, it prompted water to well up in your eyes for this was something that affected not only him and his family but your life too. "I... I don't know what to say,"

"Hey Ginny, can you go check if dinner's ready yet?"

"No- why can't you do it?" The bark behind her words was very in character for the fiesty young Weasley. Blinking away the tears, you plaster on the best smile you can muster.

"If you go check on dinner I promise we can play a game later, okay? Exploding snap maybe?"

"Really?" She eyes you suspicious probably because it was a promise you had broken before. Not always for the right reasons but this time it was genuine. Charlie clearly wanted this to be a private conversation or perhaps he was just saving you for the inevitable moment where she asks why you're crying. Ginny scrambles to feet when you nod and skips off towards the gravity-defying house. It still amazed you that the building hadn't fallen yet. Rising to your feet you brush yourself off.

"You know I want nothing more than to work with Dragons and this is the only way I can do that," There was no mistaking the serious tone that came along with his words. It didn't matter what you said there was no changing his mind but you wouldn't do that anyway. It seemed cruel to even try to get him to give up on something so precious and you would never want to do that to him. "I have an opportunity to do something I love and I won't waste it to get some boring job at the ministry."

"I don't expect you too..." You wanted nothing more than to tell him to stay; beg him even. You were fighting against the selfish little devil that was stabbing you in the heart. It was a dull, deep pain in your chest. You wanted Charlie to follow his dreams, you just never expected them to not include you. "It's just a lot to take in."

"I know," The red-headed boy walks ever so slowly over to you, taking both hands in his. His hands had always felt a little rough ever since Hogwarts. You used to complain back then and insist he needed to moisturise but over time you had grown fond of the familiarity. How you wished this tender moment could last forever because it very well might be your last. You're caught off guard when he yanks you forward. You stumble into his chest where he wraps his arms around you like the big teddy bear he was. You breathe in every inch of him like it was the last time. The intoxicating aroma of an early walk in the woods; that fresh earthy smell that really makes you appreciate where you are. You could almost picture the pine trees.

"I feel like I'm losing you," Your words but a whisper, lost on the breeze.

"You're not," His grip around you tightens and suddenly your in the air, spinning around. "You could never get rid of me that easily.

"Charlie," You fight back a smile as you return to the ground; burying your face in the nook of his neck. "What's gonna happen to us?"

"About that-"

"Because I don't know if I can do the whole long-distance thing? So do we break up?" The tears threaten to fall once again as you pull back to get a good look at him. You never wanted to forget the emerald of his eyes or each and every freckle that called his body home. The unusual scare that adorned his eyebrow that was always amusing to look at. If that was his true purpose to break up with you then there would be no stopping the tears when they finally burst through the damn.

"No, I-"

"Because that's a little mean Charlie, you could have at least waited until after dinner. Should have done it first actua-"

You words become mumbled by the palm of his hand which he's placed over your mouth like a seal of protection. "Shush for a minute."

It's hard to resist so you simply don't; sticking your tongue you deliberately lick the palm of his hand but it seems to not phase him whatsoever.

"I'm not breaking up with you, silly," You meet his gaze. "I was kind of thinking you could come with me?"

Reaching up, you yank his hand away. "To Romania? You've got to be joking."

"Why not?"

Did you even know how to answer that? There were so many reasons why one should not just up and leave to go live in a completely different country with the boy they dated through high school. "I can't just up and leave my family- my mum will be devastated."

"I'll talk to her about it," Charlie hums softly, placing a delicate kiss upon your forehead. "Your mum loves me and she wants you to be happy."

"Dinner's Ready," For such a small girl, Ginny had one big mouth. There was no mistaking her call. However, this whole situation now felt a little... off. Could you even sit through dinner without it all becoming weird?

"We're coming," Charlie yells back; offering up his hand which you reluctantly take and he leads the way back to the house. "You want to be a healer right? You could do that in Romania."

"I guess," You weren't exactly worried about not finding a job.

"You don't have to decide right now," He tells you before you have a chance to speak up again. "Just think about it. I mean the invitation is there and for what it's worth, I'd really like you to come."

3. Creeping doubts

It took a lot of convincing but despite everything you decided to follow Charlie into the Unknown. Your parents weren't thrilled with the decision but they respected it; they were just worried about what would happen if something went wrong. And as their only child, they would obviously miss you. A lot of time was spent at the burrow that summer before moving to Romania; you were beginning to feel like an honorary Weasley only with the experience of having been a muggle for the first eleven years of your life. It was but a three-hour flight to Romania and your mother had sobbed at the airport. It made you think back to your first time stepping onto the Hogwarts express, leaving your parents behind to go to a magical boarding school in Scotland. It was a peculiar thought but a nice one. One you wished to cherish. Now in a foreign land with no support system behind you other than a boy you had been dating for years, you were ready for a new adventure. And there was officially no doubt in your mind that you would do just about anything for Charlie Weasley.

"It's not much," Charlie sets his suitcase down on the table. "Best I could do, for now, I'm afraid."

"It's fine," It was an old apartment in a building full of what you assumed were muggles. There was a small living room area with an ugly pea-coloured couch nestled against one wall. Beside it was a small coffee table and on the other side of the room was a TV, you weren't convinced actually worked. Then there was the kitchen which was attached to the living room. It had a fridge, a cooker and some cupboards. The only other room was a bedroom that literally only housed a bed in at the moment, then there was a door that leads on to the bathroom. It definitely wasn't much but a crappy apartment was just part of the experience, right? At least that's what you were telling yourself. "it'll feel like home soon enough," You had everything you needed to make this place feel like home right in your suitcase; oh the joys of magic. Patting yourself down, you search for the key to easy unpacking. "Uh... have you seen my wand?"

His head shakes and wears an amused grin. "You remembered to bring it right?"

"Yes," you huff. "I was gonna unpack," Falling back against the wall, you slide down onto the floor which you imagine hasn't been cleaned in a while considering the dust. "It's gonna take so long without my wand- which may actually be in the suitcase now that I think about it."

"Did you forget I'm a wizard too?"

"You do it then," You drop your head back against the wall. "I'm starving."

"actually have you seen my wand?"

You giggle to yourself "You're an idiot,"

"Hey- you lost your wand too." His shadow lingers over you as he comes to join you against the wall. Taking up a seat beside you, your head falls to rest against his shoulder.

"Can we get pizza? I saw some of those leaflets when we came in so we could order some?"

"Whatever you want, my love."

As time ticks on the pizza box is left discarded in the kitchen as the two of you retire for the night. Who knew not actually unpacking but simply thinking about it while eating pizza on the dirty ground could be so much work. You struggle to hold back a yawn as you snuggle up to him trying to absorb as much of his body heat as you can. All that lay across the two of you were a blanket and this building was next exactly the warmest. "Do you think we'll be okay? "You ponder aloud; it was a question that had been on your mind since agreeing to follow him to Romania. For not many people stay together with their high school loves. What if things fall apart now that you're in the 'real' world? What if this was all just a huge mistake?

"What do you mean?" Always such a simple boy; you wonder how he deals with his anxieties. Did he actually not know what you meant or was he merely putting on a brave face? A once proud Gryffindor suggested that he always looked to be brave above anything else.

"Do you think we'll be okay?" You repeat as if that somehow answers his question but it must have done something because even in the darkness you can just tell he's smiling.

"You worry way too much." Charlie laughs.

"You don't worry enough,"

He lays a kiss upon the top of your head, his hand moving up and down your arm. "It used to be the other way around."

"I was young and reckless back then. "How you missed the days where you ran around the halls of Hogwarts with reckless abandon. Well, not entirely reckless that was more Tonks but things had definitely felt simpler back then.

"You're still young and reckless now, I just have to hear you stress about it afterwards." Charlie taunts, pinching your arm. You recoil at the sharp pain.

"Shush."

"Being in Romania doesn't change anything," He expresses; his voice sounding louder in the quiet darkness. "I loved you back home and I still love you now. I'm really glad you decided to come with me."

Hoping to distract yourself from every worrying thought that clouded your brain you decide it's time to change the subject. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Getting to work with Dragons all day every day? that's like dream come true."

"A dangerous one," Dragons were perhaps the most vicious creatures around other than humans. As captivating as they were and as much as charlie adored them, you couldn't help but worry about his safety. It seemed no matter the topic this evening you'd find a way to stress yourself out.

"I'll be fine, I'll have you there to patch me up," That he will for you had taken on the role as a healer willing to help out with all the injuries that inevitably come from dealing with dragons. You wouldn't admit it but you weren't quite convinced you were up to the task; you had never actually dealt with dragon-related injuries so this was like diving headfirst into the ocean when you only just learned how to swim in a training pool. "and if not- well, we had a good run."

"Don't joke about that," Nuzzling against his chest, you finally let your eyes close. Today was the start of forever with the one and only Charles Weasley and here he was joking about his ultimate demise.

4. The perfect day

It's peculiar how life can just fall into place. Your odd little world of dragons and leaky apartment buildings just became the norm. You had come to love your work at the reserve, Dragons were actually incredibly cool up close. Not to mention getting to see Charlie work with them after years of never shutting up about them was truly a sight to behold. Every day, it was like taking an excited little boy to his first day of school. His eyes simply lit up whenever he was at work although it was hard explaining his injuries to the neighbours when they were being nosey. You also had to be careful when using magic since you were basically living with muggles and it would be a headache if they ever found out.

With your site blocked by a thin piece of fabric, Charlie guides you carefully forward with his hands skillfully placed upon your arms to steer. This was the first day off the two of you have shared in a long time. Little information was given about your destination other than it being a surprise. With Charlie that could mean just about anything which wasn't always a good thing but you trusted him enough to believe he wasn't leading you into a dragon's den or something. A gentle breeze nipped at the skin of your neck and the ground felt soft under your feet. The gentle singing of a symphony of birds filled the air and the sun beamed down with remarkable easy. All this suggested you were somewhere withdrawn in nature. Charlie had always been one for the great outdoors. There were countless times you had found him sneaking in or out of the forbidden forest back at school.

"Am I going to like this surprise?" You inquire; your anxiety building with each step. You would much prefer to simply know what was going on rather than experience some dramatic reveal especially today of all days. Every year the boy seems to forget that he agreed not to make a big deal.

"I sure hope so," You practically slam into him as she comes to an unexpected standstill. "Because I don't think I can return it."

"Return what? Oh god- can I take my blindfold off?"

As the flimsy fabric skims the length of your face to settle loosely around your neck, your eyes take a minute to adapt. You don't know quite what you were expecting but this was not it. Before you stands a small cottage surrounded by nothing but a wide-open field full of a rainbow of wildflowers. It was a beautiful little house with as much charm and beauty you'd expect from a place out in what seems like the middle of nowhere. It could be described as the perfect place to settle down.

"Surprise!" He was redder than a cherry tomato when he stepped into view. Both arms in the air as a sign of celebration but you were just rather... confused? Whose house was this and why had he brought you all the way out here?

"I don't get it?"

"We've been here for a while now so I thought we should get our own place or like, a better place. One where we don't have to worry about anyone else." His confidence appeared to develop with each word but his face was still powdered in a deep shade of pink. S this was your house? He'd decided to up and move without even consulting you? "So I got us a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. It kinda reminds me of the burrow only, y'know, smaller."

"It's ours?" His excitement is clear on his face and he quickly takes your hand. Pulling you along with him. "And that's not all."

"There's more?" Surely a whole house was enough. You were quite proud of Charlie for picking such a beautiful little place. Come summertime, you could already see yourself sitting among the flowers painting little pictures. You also wouldn't have to worry about muggles. Coming up on the front door, your boyfriend delivers you a little golden key. And with just a tiny degree of fear about what could be on the other side you unlock it. Much to your astonishment and disappointment, nothing is behind the door except the hallway leading inside. Charlie enters first and even as you follow, you half expect someone to jump out.

"I know I agreed not to make a big deal but how could I not?" He opens a door at the end of the hallway that leads to the kitchen. It's not a massive space but it's assuredly not small either, the whole place was already furnished but you recognise the surprise was truly what sat on the table. It was a two-tier cake covered in blue frosting including the words Happy Birthday scrawled across the top followed by your name.

"You... baked?"

"Mum sent it actually," Charlie chortled lightly as he wanders up behind you. Tossing a package of red with multicoloured polka-dots onto the table. "Sent this along too. Reckon it's a jumper or something."

"That was nice of her," You weren't sure of how to react to it all. Birthdays had never really been your thing but you appreciated that Mrs. Weasley had gone out of her way to make you something special.

"And from me..." He trails off and the sound of tiny tracks echo off the walls attended by an adorable yelp. Up to your feet slides an ash grey puppy who was more legs than anything else. It had bright blue eyes and floppy ears.

"You got me a dog?"

"I got us a dog- thought we needed a pet around here. I debated getting a crup but that'd be a disaster if your parents ever decide to visit." Crups were notorious for their dislike of muggles. You never understood why but he was right in his decision. The gesture was sweet but rather odd all things considered but still you smile. It was hard to be mad at something so cute and you weren't just talking about the dog. The puppy sits at your feet, wagging its little tail a mile a minute. There was no denying how adorable it was and at least it wasn't a dragon. Or a murtlap for that matter, those things were ugly. "You don't seem happy... do you not like him? I can take him back?" Kneeling, your hand drifts over the soft fur of the puppy's head. In response, the dog jumps up in an attempt to lick at your face. Your smile grows as you try to get away. "I think he likes you."

"What's his name?"

"Whatever you want? He's a Great Dane by the way." The puppy had calmed down a little and you stare as you ponder the perfect name for an ash grey Great Dane. "How about... Arlo?"

"Arlo?"

"Mhmm," You hum standing up straight. "And I'm plenty happy if not a little overwhelmed. You know how I feel when it comes to my birthday."

"I do," He nods casually. His palms snake around your waist drawing you flush against him "But I never want you to forget that someone cares about you- that I care about you so bloody much."

"I know you do," You give him a quick peck on the lips. "And I'm thankful for that and for all of this."

"Arlo is the perfect name, Happy Birthday" Your lips connect in a beautifully slow embrace that fills your body with warmth and as he pulls away, his forehead comes to rest against yours. The dog barking as it explores the kitchen. "I'm just so grateful that you decided to run away with me."

#Charlie Weasley x reader #Charlie Weasley #charlie weasley imagine #hogwarts mystery #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

178 notes · View notes

octania · 4 years ago

Text

Obi Akitaru x Reader

This is a commission I did for the lovely @super-spooder. I again thank you for your support in this way and permission to do it as a Obi x Reader fic.

Words: 7.1 k

Warnings: Smut, public sex, dirty talk

Short description: Obi and you are hiding your relationship for some time now, and although he is not happy with that, he respected your decision till the moment Captain Burns had the nerve to try not only to steal you as a doctor but as a potential partner.

________________________________________________________

Life is sometimes like a puzzle, such a simple structure, but if you don’t put the pieces right, it can get agonizing, hard, sucking the joy from this thing that should bring entertainment and happiness. If you are missing only one piece, it can shatter all of your previous work that was done thoroughly and made you proud and satisfied. One important piece can shadow all the puzzles that fit into their places before it. That is how (Y/N) felt when Obi was not in her reach, when she had everything else lined up and in perfect order, but she was missing the most important thing, the piece she knew would make the whole picture of her life perfect. Him.

She exhaled slowly with her eyes closed, lifting her arms up and pushing her heel back. Relaxed. That is how she felt in this moment. But not because she was doing yoga in the private gym of company 8, surrounded by nothing but the soothing sound of the birds chirping, accompanied with a rustling of leaves coming through the half opened window, no, it was because her feelings for Obi were finally out, heard, acknowledged and most importantly, reciprocated.Well, in some way heard. They were still keeping it on the low, putting a veil of disguise for the other members. Sometimes, that tiresome acting was overwhelming, biting the pounding life muscle in her chest with the sharp teeth of need for him, but the sight of his eyes clouded with mopes was even heavier. He tried, despite their agreement, to get closer to her and risk giving her attention in front of the others. He did respect her wishes but his eager hands slipped under her arms, along her back, on her hip, on her waist, just for a moment, a simple touch when he was standing near her. Maybe she was too harsh, stepping back and giving him a warning gaze over the shoulder that spelled Too much, Obi. They will notice.

She could swear that his glare carried this answer- Let them. I don’t care.

But she did, at least she convinced herself in that. So when they were finally protected by the four walls of privacy in her or his apartment, she dodged the subject, tiptoed around it like it would burn her like raging fire if she comes too close to it. Guess that were the remaining bits of her past habit, running away from him, now, she was only running away from the fact that she lost that race. He caught her, and will not let her go. Like she wanted to be set free from those huge arms… She despised the morning light when they had to go in their separate ways. Well, she was again the one that insisted on it. She would never admit it out loud, because then she will have to face Obi’s overly opened nature and shameless desire to celebrate their love. She could never win in that argument, she was doomed to fail, he did not share her anxious concern, he simply aspired to freedom so he could kiss her when he wanted, not when he was able. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the heavy thoughts.

In some moments she felt like she was playing the same game but with different rules this time. First it was to escape the king haunting you on that board of emotional chess, and now when you conquered the king, the whole kingdom awaits your confession, and you will tremble under their harsh judgment when you speak your sins. She hid the fact that that spear of guilt for breaking the ethical rules still pierced her soul, no matter that she received the most precious reward for her confession. She was not scared for herself, she would gladly be dragged in the dirt of shame for her choices if she had to, but only if Obi was left out of it. Her need to protect him was growing like wisteria on the garden wall, her flowers of love blooming over it to hide him from every wrong. Same goes for the other members of their fiery company. She sheltered them from the disappointment, like an umbrella, stopping the icy drops of rain to touch the ones underneath it.

She inhaled, letting the oxygen settle in her lungs, doing her exercise and counting to ten, now desperately wanting to wipe out all of the worries that kept popping in her head. Her hard concentration made her unaware that she was not alone in the gym anymore, there was another soul lingering around, watching her closely, dealing with its own temptation in silence.

Obi could barely resist (Y/N) on the regular days when she was wearing her baggy tunic and her white doctor’s coat, but seeing her stretching her body so gracefully in those tight yoga pants, making her ass look like a perfectly shaped peach that would fit right in his hands like it was made for him, and her thin waist bending down, making a pose that was almost inviting, luring him in. He could feel a stiff bulge forming inside his sweatpants. Dear Sol I just got here, and I am already on the edge..

No matter how much he tried, he could not stop staring, silently stalking his lover, leaned against the door. He tilted his head, scanning the vacant hallway.

Like it matters if it is empty or not, she set the rules…nothing happens in the company.

His eyebrows narrowed and a frowning expression took over his usually soft features when he remembered her ultimatums. Obi adored every word that came out of her mouth, but once she began with her unnecessary dramatic concern, that was the only time he felt a need to just pick her up all over again, hammer her to the wall and cover her with his huge body, forcing her to finally realize that nothing matters except how the two of them feel.

And he feels very hungry for her right now…

The sight of her on that wall was luckily more than just a fruit of imagination, it was a memory. A heated and lewd one, stored in the intimate corners of his mind, only for his personal usage. Even his opened nature would not dare to speak how the film stripes of that sweet event were already worn out from how many times he thought it over. His tender cheeks bloomed with color red, just reminding him how that was maybe two weeks ago, and from that moment on, nothing similar happened. They just went out in secrecy, having dinner and movie nights, so to speak. He was respectful, patient, not even a bit pushy. After all, he wanted to get to know her on a personal level, not only ravage her body. The thing that happened was a result of accumulation of emotions, a moment where their hearts and souls were bare, pulling towards each other like magnets, begging to be united. The recollection of that night made a wave of desire to wash over him, making his body tense and him to unconsciously clear his throat. Mistake.

The growling noise coming from his chest made him to be discovered by two eyes turning in a hurry. His eyes widened like he was just caught doing something bad, looking nervously around the room to dodge her penetrating gaze.

“Captain Akitaru? What are you doing here?”- the sound of that formal word coming about of her mouth sting him right in the heart. More and more he was irritated by the fact they can’t talk freely, act like the lovers that they are. He did not even realize he was biting his lip from frustration.

“Captain?”- there it is again, it sounded even worse without his actual name next to it.

“There is no one here (Y/N), you can speak normally.” – his deep voice traveled through her ear canal right to her core, giving her goosebumps. No matter that they dated, the tension when they were alone still remained, and seeing him in his grey sweatpants and his black shirt with no sleeves, exposing those rounded deltoids, big biceps and long thick forearms made her heart race. The shirt was so tight on his huge torso, it showed his hard abs, making (Y/N) blink a few times, getting flustered in a second. Her insides craved him, still remembering his shape from the last time. She felt a moist feeling inside her panties, realizing how quickly her body reacted, squeezing her tights harder like she wants to cover her state.

“Still…we have to be careful. I don’t want to talk about it right now and here but I think they are starting to look at us funny, and I really don’t want to risk their disappointment.”- she voiced her concerns again like a broken record, picking up her towel and a bottle of water, passing by the workout machines in a rush, straight to her office. She felt lucky she had a private bathroom in there, and was blessed even with a shower inside. Perks of working overtime, you get to be exhausted but clean. She giggled on her thought, getting a bit hopeful she will escape this situation with no damage. When she needed to bypass Obi, she arched her back, quickly sliding next to his big frame, using the benefit of being a small thing. But he was too big, so her breasts got caught by his forearm, as she brushed over it with them. It was just for a moment, but she could feel her already erected nipples from her arousal earlier, sending electric signals through her tummy, down her lower parts. She moaned, louder than she expected, continuing her escape with shaky hands. Now the fact written on the label that she once read before buying this sport bra, “So soft and airy it feels like you are not even wearing it.” made this a living hell. She didn’t turn to see if Obi noticed something, she already disappeared into her office, rushing to the bathroom and slamming the door behind her, turning the shower on so the sound of rustling water clear her thoughts. His bulge was now aching, painfully pulsating under the material of his sweatpants. He felt them, being reminded once more how those nipples tasted when he sucked them. Now, after two weeks of being without that sweet candy, and how she tried to escape, made him swear he will not let her drown in her own denial again. He thought this through in a hear beat. He could deal with her rules and wishes but he will be damned if he lets her to run away from him again.

The arousal mixed with painful yearning in his chest made him step forward, and before he knew it, his wide palm was wrapping itself on the doorknob of her bathroom, pushing it almost violently open, slipping into the mist of steam rising from the shower cabin. He saw her standing there, jumping from surprise, squeezing her naked breasts with her hands to cover them, still in her yoga pants. But before she could speak, he slammed the door behind them, locking them, and turning around to face her. His veiny forearms tensed as he grabbed her waist, picking her up with ease, crashing his plush lips on hers, swallowing her muffled questions. After losing the floor beneath her feet, she automatically tired to grab onto something from pure instinct. Her waving hand managed to hit the shower head, making it to fall down, splashing the water around, raining down on them from the water pumping in the air. Obi did not even flinch when the warm water hit his skin, he was too busy sucking on (Y/N)’s lower lip, nibbling the rosy flesh like his favorite chocolate bar, then pushing his tongue inside her mouth to met hers, tasting the whole package. Her tongue returned the sugary motions almost voraciously, giving into her primal needs once again. Not so primal, but awoken by him, something about Obi unleashed desire in a form she did not experience before. He could feel her body giving in, melting under his grip and screaming to be dominated by his powerful being. His husky voice filled her ears, as he explained in one sentence why he is breaking her rules.

“We said, no more running.” – but the explanation was not enough, a punishment was in order. He will not risk her getting away again, his heart could not bear it, so if she tries, he wants her to remember just what might happened. His eyes colored like dark mead flickered, stepping inside the half flooded floor of the cabin, shutting the glass door to prevent any more water spilling out. Now the shower released its waves only on them, soaking them to the core. But Obi did not mind it, not wasting any time, shucking down her yoga pants from her legs in one harsh motion. When the barrier of her closed was removed, his prominent biceps tensed as he lifted her up along the tiles, until she was high enough so her cunt was right in front of his face. He pushed her legs on his shoulders, preventing her from closing them, and dragged her closer to his mouth. He stared at her bare pussy that was glistering from her own juices. Obi subconsciously licked his lips from the tasty sight ahead, sliding her closer until her soft folds were finally pressed on his lips. He opened his mouth, taking a long, experimental lick along her slit, almost grunting from the familiar taste in his mouth. His tongue repeated the act, showing the satisfaction like he is licking his favorite ice cream.

“Also..we need to teach you how to use my name, without that formal bullshit.”- he slid his calloused hand under and to her heated hole, large fingers parted the folds, pulling the hood of your clit taut to reveal the nerve bud underneath.

“O-obi!”- Hana stuttered from the exposing feeling of her sensitive parts, sensing the steamy air flowing around it, combined with Obi’s hot breaths.

“That’s it…say it again.”- with the tip of his tongue he mercilessly flipped the nerve bundle, making (Y/N) to scream his name from the depths of her lungs. But he will not be satisfied after only hearing it once, so he continued to flick her clit while he shoved three fingers inside her, pumping them in until the last knuckle was sucked by her inner walls. She grabbed his wet hair, pulling his head closer.

“Obi!”- she screamed, her voice echoing the glass shower cabin, barely keeping the sound in. But she could not care less, she felt dizzy, tingling feeling spreading across her face as she barely kept her eyes half open. Pleasure consumed her, making her eyelids heavy. So distracted, she did not even notice that Obi lowered her down, placing her on her knees. She opened her eyes from the unsatisfying feeling of emptiness between her legs, gazing upon something big…and hard. Obi slowly pumped his shaft in front of her. Blushing, he stared down at (Y/N)’s glassy eyes, leaning with one hand on the tiles. His broad torso hovering above her, mighty and powerful. He gently wrenched (Y/N)’s head, meeting her plush lips with his purplish head. She could already taste a thick drip of precum sliding down her lower lip to her mouth. It was bitter, but the sight of his shy face and him slowly jerking it in front of her, pushing it gently inside her small mouth made her crave it all. The size, the taste, the cum…

She parted her lips, in that way showing her permission. Obi’s girth filled (Y/N)’s mouth, stuffing her throat with his size in seconds. She relaxed her muscles, trying to fit it in but she could barely breathe around his heavy meat. Obi slowly pulled out a bit, giving her a chance to inhale, then started rocking his hips gently, lost in the sight of fucking her mouth. (Y/N) grabbed his legs, trying to keep her balance while he was stuffing his dick down her throat, gripping her hair gently. His brown eyes locked on hers, when he whispered something in a low, shy voice.

“Touch yourself from me.” – her already red cheeks fired up, she swallowed, well tried, just putting more pressure around his length, making him growl in euphoria. She never done this before, but the enchanting hunger in his eyes was tempting her, provoking her, igniting the flame of her erotic being and forcing her to indulge in this dirty play. She sensually started to glide with her hand around her curves, teasing her own breasts while swallowing a few more inches of Obi’s throbbing cock. His half closed eyes watching her like tiger watches its prey. Calmly, trying to suppress the clawing need to ravage her, just collecting all that building ecstasy inside, waiting for the right moment to set it loose. And when her small hand slipped between her legs, her thin fingers sinking into her pussy, the vibration of her moans stimulated his length, forcing him to slam his hips a bit harder, faster. She gazed upon his tightened abs, his every muscle visible from his movements even under his wet t-shit, his pleasure vocalized by his quickened gasping.

He was drunk with enjoyment. (Y/N) was spreading her legs more, almost sitting in the water that was pooling on the floor, giving him a chance to watch her fingering herself clearly. His gaze glued on her delicate fingers tenderly pushing inside and her palm stimulating her erect clit. (Y/N) could sense his dick starting to pulsate and twitch in her throat, she could taste the accumulating precum dripping from his swollen tip. She gripped his dick on the edge of his base, starting to jerk it in the same time as she sucked it.

“Oh fuck.(Y/N)…”- he tilted his head, but lowered it back down quickly enough, refusing to miss any moment of her pleasuring them both. Her grip became harder, her tongue danced around his veiny girth until a warm feeling started overcoming the insides of her mouth. Obi’s sperm dribbled down (Y/N)’s esophagus in hot spurts. His grumps echoed the narrow space and his jaw tightened while he unleashed his load, pulling out slightly. His cock pulsated against her lips, squirting the last sticky stirrings on the surface of her salivary muscle. She gulped for air heavily, but still letting the thick liquid drip down her throat. It took her a few swallows to get it all down, shyly gazing up to the man of her dreams. He reached down, spooning her up under her legs and arms like a princess, lifting her and pressing her on his chest. His warm lips rest on her forehead, staying there for a few moments. Just when he was about to speak up, his attention was broken by an unpleasant sound of a siren whistling. They looked at each other with a panicky look, rushing out of the shower, knowing exactly what the sound means. There is an Infernal on the loose.

* * *

Sooty columns of charcoal grey blot out the sky. The smell of burned wood and ash filled the air, making it almost impossible to breath. The people were running in panic, trying to escape the sinister figure slowly dragging its heavy feet along the concrete, leaving the grimy trails behind it. Flames were licking its already burned body, leaving a terrifying inhuman grin on its face.

(Y/N) could not shake the lurid feeling after seeing it, almost refusing to let Obi to face the creature while she was on the other side the neighborhood mending the wounded. She could barely concentrate, never before feeling this distracted from her work, even though it did not show on the outside, she was petrified by the thought of something happening to him.

Still, her gifted hands moved fast, patching up the nasty burns or wounds of the suffering victims, even curing their souls along with their flesh with the words of encouragement. Her stand was radiating self-confidence, fearlessness, and above all, leadership. The medic team from other companies followed her every instruction, she issued orders that only resulted in success, and her astonishing results did not go unnoticed.

From the corner of the tent, a electric blue eye spied on the company’s 8 doctor, silently absorbing her progress and accomplishments. This was not their first encounter, he have witnessed her skilled hands before, doing the magic no one else could. That funny part was that she had no magic, no special power, just her sharp mind, dedication and predominant talent. Burn’s own well respected doctors from company 1 had behaved submissively around her, and that intrigued him the most. Those highly educated and experienced people bowed to no one except him, and now, he is witnessing first hand that they decided to bow down once more, and it was not to a mighty and intimidating captain this time, it was a fragile, thin woman, with soft features and melodic voice.

He wanted this asset for a long time, before he actually laid his eyes upon her, when he only read the reports of her successful treatments, and shamelessly sent her a couple of offers for a position in his prestige company, but she turned him down every time, politely stating that her position is company 8 was far more valuable. He also received a letter from Captain Akitaru, where it was unmistakably visible even from the dry ink on the paper how upset he was because of Burns’s constant offers, asking him to stop his proposals at once. Even though it was written in a professional manner, Burns grinned when he saw how the pen was pressed on the paper with force, giving away Obi’s anger. How the words did not match captain Akitaru’s usual relaxed and welcoming nature, these sentences were strong, fierce, but still composed nicely. This did nothing more for Leonard Burns but to make him laugh or entertained for a brief moment, certainly will not make him stop.

Even if he lost interest then, based only by the results, waiting for someone to overshadow her, that possibility fell down the drain when he gazed upon her the first time. It was not only the looks that tempted the mountainous captain, he was after all, an experienced man, having more than a fair share of women’s beauty. This was something different. Her body radiated with more dominance and fearlessness than any other woman he encountered before. Her stand was strong but still graceful. She was not only brave, she was compassionate. She was risky for sure, he saw that with his own eyes, when she risked her own safety and ran to save a cat that belonged to one of the victims.

Watching in admiration as a non-fiery woman ran into the raging fire within the house, pushing away the fire fighters that gave up on the almost collapsed structure, rushing in just to mend not only the poor boys broken bones but his mind and soul when she brought back his pet. That was not even the end. The way she confronted her own captain, when he almost lost his wits seeing her being so careless. She did not argue, apologize, she stated the facts about the house. How the main parts of the structure were still durable and having , and he remember her exact words, 3 more minutes of strength in them before collapsing because of the material from which they were made and how they were placed inside the house, and he remembers it clearly as day because in exactly 3 minutes the house collapsed.

He was so impressed by her, in the second he notice she was alone he approached her, now not only tempted by her as a potential valuable asset of his company, but as a potential partner. He was more than displeased when she turned him down, in both ways, focusing on her work and almost pretending that he was ghost. Although this kind of result was not what he has expected and was not happy about it, it kind of made him even more interested, taking this as a challenge. And Leonard Burns is not the type of man who backs down. He waited long enough, patiently forging his plans and moves, and now was the time to strike. His interest grew in desire, and he was not a type of man who deprives himself from something he craves. His steps slowly led him to his target, approaching the busy woman from her back. (Y/N) was just finishing up the last of the stitches on the old lady who kept blessing her soul and admiring (Y/N)’s kindness. Cunningly like a fox, he sneaked in silence, but his stand still exuded with power, coming so close to her that when she turned, she bumped her head right into his stony chest. (Y/N) was astound, caught by surprise so much she froze.

Looking up, she followed the trail of his prominent torso to his revealed collarbones, to his strong thick neck and finally his face. The sky-crystal iris returned her gaze, while the other one was covered with his eye-patch, a dark lather thing that only made his sharp features look more intimidating. Only one corner of his lip was slightly curled into half a smile. He looked like a hunter who just saw his prey stepping into a trap, and trapped the little (Y/N) was, stuck between the wall of his flesh and the operating table behind her. She got flustered, but not in a positive and dreamy way, this was something strange, intense, caused by his impious stare.

“Captain Burns. Would you mind stepping back? You are invading my personal space.”- her voice clear and loud, even she was surprised by the energy it carried. Maybe she was a kind and shy person but she was no push over. Only one man managed to shake her composure but it was certainly not this one. Burns opened his mouth slightly with a smile, showing that pearl white teeth under his lips. He moved, but not far enough. He was still nearly touching her with his body, and his sudden leaning in did not help.

“I apologize, (Y/N).”- he was so close to her face she could feel his hot breath on her cheeks, the smell of the minty gum he probably had earlier. She ducked, pretending to be reaching for a gauze from her medical kit just next to her left leg, to dodge the unpleasant closeness. She took it out, wiggling out of his flesh barricade and putting the gauze around the old woman’s arm, completely ignoring the captain, wishing he would leave as he did the last time she pulled this act.

“There you go. All finished. You will be ok, just try not to move the arm too much.” – she gently held the woman’s shoulder, helping her to get up.

“You are an angel doctor, may the dear Sol watch over you.”- old woman responded in a low hoarse voice slowly walking away.

“She is right. Blessed with such gift of healing and also…beauty, just like an angel.”- Burn’s deep voice was once more in (Y/N)’s ear, and she could feel it again too close. She turned, seeing him sitting on the table, arms crossed on his chest as he shamelessly wondered with his icy stare around her body. Her blood was slowly started to boil. The feeling that he gave her was unsettling.

“That is not very appropriate Captain, I would appreciate if you would be a bit more professional.”- she snapped at him, clearly offended by him stepping out of line, but this reaction only made this game more fun for the silver fox Burns. He did not see this as an objection or refusal, he saw it as a dangerous game that radiated with erotic feeling. Her feisty stand made him almost aroused, since it was so long when a woman tried to act untouchable to him. But that is all it was, an act. Must be. In one moment he even decided to let go of the idea of her being his company’s doctor and maybe have her as a lover, but what would be more intense than a relationship inside the work space? That is something he really did not have in a while.

“I am having problems breathing, and I was hoping an expert like you could take a look. “- without even waiting for her response, he started to unbutton his shirt, exposing her muscular chest. (Y/N) swallowed, hard, fretting feeling blooming in her body. She wanted to move but her obligations prevented her. She can’t refuse to help a man in need, no matter how uneasy he makes her. After all, his flattering words will get him nowhere, but her refusal might just cost her nothing less than her reputation. Her eyebrows narrowed, as she picked up her stethoscope, pushing his shirt to the side and started to listen to his breathing.

“Inhale.”- she ordered, carefully listening to the sound of his lungs filling with air. He obeyed.

“Keep breathing slowly.”- she said, moving the stethoscope under his ribs, following a wheezing sound. She leaned, lowering her head. His breathing became shallow, somehow…strange. The weird sound was gone, and was replaced with something different…something, perverse. Burns was quietly growling, making a sound that resembled the one you hear from a man when he is 8 inches deep inside of you and pumping you with his heat. The sound followed with a feeling, when she felt the waves of air flowing down her neck, warming her skin and teasing the sensitive sports. His husky voice barely overcoming her racing heart savagely pounding in her ears.

“Maybe if you become my company’s main doctor, you can check me regularly and I will not have to ambush you like this…(Y/N).”- his white hair falling on her neck, along her cheek, when he leaned closer. She froze, mouth dry, as her heart was now slamming in her ribcage so hard it was painful. He was too close, she could feel where his mouth was, if she turns he will…

“Burns! How low can one company’s captain sink to take a place as a patient for his personal routine check-ups, when actual victims are around him?”- A voice that usually sounded like a beautiful song, now was rough, sharp, cold, and above all, furious. So much so, that even the silver fox got surprised, lifting his head and body and giving (Y/N) the opportunity to get back up. She used it, stepping back and turning, only to see Obi standing just a few meters behind them, clenching his fists so tightly that his fingers turned white. His jaw was pulsating, strong chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon.

“Or even worse, trying to steal my doctor again while my team and I are out there covering for your absence? We almost lost the east side of the town, a side that was supposed to be operated by you.”- he got closer, fire in his eyes more wild than on that Infernal she saw. Not even a bullet can shot thorough you as Obi’s stare was piercing through Burns, whose face was now dark, shadows flowing across it, making it somehow devious.

“I have my company members to handle that.”- he answered with a roar, landing on his feet and facing Obi. Even though he was taller and wider than captain Akitaru, Obi did not even flinch, actually, he looked like a young and powerful wolf ready to beat down the worn out alfa, taking what is rightfully his.

“And so do I, and (Y/N) is one of them, and will remain so.”- one more step was made by Obi, now staring Burns down, breaking the ice in his eyes by his raging mead colored ones. His body radiated with raw force, ready to demolish anything and anyone that stand in his way. And this time, even someone like Leonard Burns noticed it and decided not to cross the boundaries any more at this time. He lowered his eyebrows, closing his eyes and fixing the buttons on his shirt.

“ We shall see Akitaru, you are not her husband, you are just her captain.” – he said uncouthly, leaving slowly. After a few steps, his clear blue eye appeared over his shoulder, as he winked at (Y/N). She pressed her lips in a straight line, turning away, unable to believe how vulgar can he be. But her tornado of thoughts was interrupted by Obi’s harsh voice.

“Meet me in the emergency vehicle, I need to speak to you. Now.”- he disappeared behind the tent.

* * *

Obi set in the empty ambulance in the back space where they kept the patients. No matter how hard he tried, he could not calm down or stop hearing the God forsaken words that Burns used.

Just her captain…

“Tsk..”- He gripped his orange firefighting uniform on his forearms, barely overcoming the need to hit something hard. It was no wonder he said that, no one knew about what kind of relationship (Y/N) and he really had. And if they knew and still did not care and something like this happened, at least he could stand up to Burns like her boyfriend, not only captain. The thought of another man trying to seduce (Y/N) tormented him, smashing on his heart like stones. It did not help when the main reason of his worries stepped inside the van, slamming the door behind her and furiously turning to face him.

“Why did you do that? I was handling it fine Obi! You can’t go head on like that!”- her irises darker, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes from frustration. She did not want to yell at him, but she needed him to know that she can handle herself just fine. Only problem with that was, that she managed to forget that Obi was not only feeling the need to have her under his wing like a hawk, protecting his members like a real captain, no, he was protecting her like a king protects his queen, and when that queen forgets about the crown on her head and the fact he would die for her sake if needed, the king loses it. Obi jumped on his feet, trying his best to lower his voice but it still came out more than loud.

“He is trying to get you to transfer from day one! He ignored my warnings, ignored your refusals, and I will be damned if I see him trying his tricks in person!”- he was barely suppressing the painful avalanche of shattered pieces of his heart, not wanting to bring that subject now, but (Y/N)’s response made it impossible.

“And? Did I stay? I did! I can take care of other captains trying to get to be their doctor, I know I have obligations to our company and…”

“He was hitting on you (Y/N)! He did not care about your abilities, he was trying to get involved with you! Obligations?? How about your obligation to me as a girlfriend? Honesty, for example? Being honest of who you are dating, not making me act like only your damn superior! Making me tolerate the filthy moves of other men on you, right in front of my eyes, and even then I respected your wishes and now you are trying to get me to stay quiet and watch from a far how he is breathing down your neck?! “- Obi was yelling so hard he can feel the burn blooming in his throat. His fist slammed the metal of the van. (Y/N) stood in silence with her mouth opened, realizing what she had done. She hurt him, not intentionally but still did. Her rules made him suffer, and he still obliged because he loved her, but seeing someone else trying to harm her in any way, even by stepping over the limits of her personal space is something he can’t allow.

“I can’t (Y/N), I won’t just stand by. I am not a crazy jealous man, I know you are an honest woman and would never betray me, but I will protect your honor, I’ll be damned otherwise. You deserve the respect, you are a great doctor, and this…this was wrong. And yes, I will bite my tongue for your sake, but I can’t lo…”- Obi’s shaky voice was silenced by (Y/N)’s lips catching his when she jumped on him, grabbing onto him like he was the only thing she ever wanted. Tears strolled down her cheeks while she kissed him with raw passion, touched so deeply by the words that he spoke. She knew he was a good man, but she never imagined how deep that goodness went. He didn’t even lack wings, he really was one of Sol’s angels, and she was sure of it, and he was hers. And that was the only thing he wanted, to be hers.

He wrapped his long strong arms around her, hugging her so tightly that he almost broke her, but then he released the grip a bit, trying to contain his euphoric longing. Their mouths crashed on one another like raindrops crash on the dry ground, feeding it, nurturing it, just how they did their hearts in that moment. Her closeness once more awoke his erotic desire. Something about her drive him mad in every way, emotionally, sexually and physically, forcing him to hammer her down on the medical bed placed in the corner of the van. He pushed her down, towering over her, kissing her neck and sinking into her cleavage while he violently started unzipping his pants. (Y/N)’s flustered face was half covered with her palm, as she tried to suppress her lewd moans on his hungry kisses and gliding of his hands all over her slim body. He cupped her ass with his palm, turning her over on her tummy, climbing on top of her. His hand slid across her spine, along the back of her neck and into her hair, gripping her gently and pulling her head back so his lips can once again find hers. Her muffled moans were eaten by him sucking on her tongue gently while pulling her black jeans down along with her purple lace panties.

“I want you (Y/N)..I want to make you mine over and over again.”- he gasped in her mouth as the sound of his voice was combined with the sound of his pants being pulled down. A familiar feeling of his throbbing heat spread across her soaked pussy lips as he parted her ass cheeks, trying to gain access to the main thing. He teased himself a bit by rubbing his erected cock along her slit, trying to collect as much of her juices as possible before he lifted his hips and then slammed into her, kicking the air from (Y/N)’s chest. His adrenaline from earlier still rushing violently in his veins, making him to drill inside her without suppressing his strength or speed, feeling the van with the wet sound of his base smashing onto her cunt, and his groin on her ass cheeks.

“Fuck….you pussy is so tight…and…it is mine..just mine.”- he smashed harder, lifting himself upwards and swinging back down in a rush, making the bed squeal under them. (Y/N) could not hold in her loud screams, as she grabbed the pillow with the rough green fabric, placing it under her chin and burying her face in, screaming her lungs out while he fucked her like a beast. He started biting her shoulders, licking his way to the back of her neck to leave more reddish marks there, making sure that with every bite another almost unbearable hit of his hips accompanies it, making his sweet (Y/N) voice her pleasure loud enough even with that pillow stuffed half way in her mouth. His slams became faster, as he slid his hand under her shirt, starting to knead her breasts, pinching the soft flesh, searching for her hardened nipples to lightly twist them while he picks up the pace, feeling his sperm pumping down his dick.

“I want to mark you even from inside (Y/N)….I will cum in you baby.”- this was not a question, this was a statement. As he shifted her nipples along his rough fingers, slamming in her more violently than before, getting all of his frustration out with that last few hits and the thick hot sperm that squirted out of his swollen tip in her womb. He slowly turned her, picking her up with one hand and changed their places, placing her on his chest while he was lying on the bed. He gasped heavily, gently removing the strands of her hair from her face. (Y/N) also tried to catch her breath, but she certainly could not catch a break when Obi spoke.

“I want us to come clean. I want people to know that you are mine. “- he lifted her chin up to make her look at him in the eye. His gaze again loving, caring, soft, the same one she adores. She could not help but to smile, slightly nodding. When he saw her approval he smiled ear to ear, kissing the tip of her nose and getting her closer on his chest.

“Promise? Because if you don’t do it, I will propose to you in front of everyone and you will not have a choice.”- (Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat on that words, making her lift herself up on his chest, mouth shaped in a wide circle, stuttering.

“W-wha…I-I-..I promise! No! Please! We can tell everyone! Today!”- her face red as a paprika, looking nervously around, playing with the material of his uniform. He took her hands in his, lifting himself and placing his forehead on hers.

“Hay..I was joking..relax.”- he kissed her cheek, but something inside him made him think that this was actually not a joke. Being surprised by his own brain, his cheeks fired up, smiling shyly to (Y/N)who just swallowed a whole lot accumulated saliva in her mouth. Still not being able to say nothing, but to place a promising kiss on his loving eyes, trying to silence the embarrassing thought in her mind.

I wish that is was not a joke.

#fire force #obi akitaru #enen no shouboutai #obi akitaru x reader #obi x reader

258 notes · View notes

whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years ago

Note

Congrats on 500 followers!!!!! Your writing is amazing and you totally deserve it! Would you be able to do “Can you please stop biting your lip…it’s distracting.” for analogical? If you don’t get inspo for it that’s totally fine I’m just on a total analogical kick recently lol

@wisherbystarlight thank you!! i absolutely love analogical so here you go

Title: abject impermanence

Word Count: 3,570

Content Warnings: implied suicidal ideation (in reference to virgil ducking out), negative self image

(fic masterpost)

Virgil would rather die than admit this to anybody, but he develops a crush on Logan after their first debate.

It’s ridiculous, and bothersome, and stupidly humiliating, and he has to spend a few days in his room before he feels prepared enough to face anyone again, prepared enough to put up his usual walls and throw around his usual sarcastic comments, and all the while, his heart is beating far too fast, his mind racing, insisting that he’s being obvious, that everyone knows.

(That is what being Anxiety means: he is under a microscope all the time, his every movement watched and analyzed and derided, alone in a crowd of people who wish him nothing but ill.)

It’s awful, really. Is he truly so pathetic that the first time someone treats him like his opinions are valid, he falls head over heels for them? Because he has to admit, that’s the root of all of this. The debate, and the fact that even though Logan didn’t agree with him, he still treated him with respect, like he was someone worth listening to, and none of the light sides have ever acted like that before.

And they’ve certainly never told him that they don’t mind his company.

So. He has a crush on Logan. And it takes him a few weeks to calm down enough to really think about it, but when he does, he decides that nothing has to change. It’s not like he’ll ever work up the courage to act on these feelings

(because holy shit, how badly would that go? He can picture it now: Logan sneering at him, Logan rejecting him, Logan informing him that he would never in a million years have feelings for someone so irrational and useless, and while Virgil is at it, would he kindly remove himself from his presence and never come back and— well. Maybe Virgil is irrational, but he can’t bring himself to risk something like that)

so the only thing to do with them is pretend they’re not there, right? He’ll keep all of his emotions right here, in his chest, and then one day, he’ll die, and no one else has to know a thing about it.

He doesn’t see what could possibly go wrong with this plan. Which is odd for him because usually, he can only see the things that could go wrong. But the only factor in this plan is him, and his own ability to disguise his feelings, and he’s been successfully doing that for a very long time.

(After all, it’s been years, and none of the others have managed to figure out how much their rejection hurts him, how deeply it strikes at the heart he pretends not to have.)

But he doesn’t anticipate things changing. He doesn’t anticipate trying to duck out, at least, not until the moments in between making the decision and actually going through with it, and he doesn’t anticipate anybody coming after him. He certainly doesn’t anticipate their reactions, doesn’t anticipate being told that he’s important,

(because since fucking when?)

and doesn’t anticipate their acceptance.

He doesn’t anticipate telling them his name.

And alright, maybe he could deal with all of this. Maybe he could ease his way into being one of them, edge his way into their inner circle. It’s something he once would have thought impossible, but now, they seem determined to make him one of them, to bring him into their family, and even though part of him wonders whether they’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t duck out again, doesn’t hurt Thomas, a larger part of him is ecstatic about the fact that they’re including him at all. Maybe he can let himself have this, for once.

But that night, Logan comes to his room.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” he asks, and reluctantly, Virgil takes off his headphones.

Because, yes. Of course. He’s hardly busy, and even if he were, he’s certain he’d figure out a way to put it aside in favor of Logan, because really, he’s helpless to do anything else.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, aiming for casual. He thinks he makes it, if only because he is very practiced in hiding how much of a mess he is internally. “What’s up?”

Logan looks uncomfortable, a bit shifty, even though he hasn’t been in his room nearly long enough for its effects to take hold.

“I merely wanted to check in with you after today’s events,” he says, and then pauses, biting his lip, something that Virgil finds incredibly distracting. “Specifically, to ensure that you are alright.”

He blinks. “Of course I’m alright,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“Well, I was considering everything that happened, and it occurred to me that we glossed over precisely what ‘ducking out’ would have done to you in the long term.” In an oddly vehement motion, Logan shoves his glasses further up his nose. And Virgil knows very well that as the embodiment of Logic, Logan tries not to display his stronger emotions, but right now, he is the perfect picture of distress. “I find it likely that if Thomas had been unable to utilize you for an extended amount of time, you may have… disappeared, for lack of a better word, not unlike a muscle that atrophies after disuse.”

Well, yes. He knew what he was risking. But he’d felt low enough that he didn’t particularly care about himself.

He was just tired of hurting Thomas.

(And maybe, just maybe, if there was a part of him, small and insidious in the back of his brain, that found the prospect of nothingness appealing, he’ll keep that to himself.)

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “But that didn’t happen. You guys came and got me, and I’m okay now. Not gonna do anything like that again, I swear.”

“That’s not my point,” Logan says, even more upset entering his voice. He crosses his arms, holding his shoulders tensely. “No matter how illogical it might seem, I find myself wondering what might have happened had we not attempted to reach you in time, and the idea is… displeasing.”

Oh.

Despite himself, Virgil’s heart flutters.

“So, I arrived at the conclusion that assuring myself of your continued well-being would help to assuage my concern.” Logan fidgets. “As well as the fact that… I want you to be alright. For yourself, and not just because I am…”

“Anxious?” Virgil can’t resist finishing, even as he feels his face flushing underneath his foundation. God, he hopes Logan doesn’t pick up on that. He shouldn’t be reacting this strongly to something as simple as basic worry, especially after the day they all had, but to know that Logan has been thinking about him? That Logan doesn’t like the idea of him not being around, doesn’t want him to vanish?

That Logan cares enough to come check on him like this?

It’s a strong, heady feeling, and Virgil has the sneaking suspicion that his crush has just upgraded itself.

“Yes,” Logan answers, and he seems a bit embarrassed, but he holds his ground, staring Virgil straight (gay) in the eyes. The direct eye contact is intense, almost too much for him to handle, but Virgil finds himself unable to look away.

“Well, uh, I appreciate it, I guess,” he manages. “Really, it’s nice to know that you care.”

“Of course,” Logan says, and seems almost indignant at the idea that he might not. “I value our discussions,” he adds, and Virgil has to pretend that that statement doesn’t almost give him a heart attack.

But that is mostly the end of that conversation, because really, neither of them is very good with touchy-feely emotions. Logan sinks back out shortly after, and Virgil is left alone in his room, his headphones lying uselessly on his lap as his mind reviews their exchange over and over again, searching for all the places where it might have gone wrong, or where he might have messed up. He can’t really find any, and that is a realization in and of itself, almost enough to distract him from the bigger one, the one that looms over him.

It’s not just a crush anymore. He could try to deny it, but he thinks that would summon unwanted attention. So he accepts it, accepts that he is… he’d say infatuated, but infatuated isn’t the right word. Infatuated doesn’t even begin to cover what he feels when he looks at Logan, doesn’t cover the way his heart races and his words trip over themselves and the way he longs for his approval. It doesn’t cover the way he knows so many little details about him, like the way Logan pushes at his glasses or fiddles with his tie when he’s nervous or upset, or the exact way his lips curl around the edges when he’s pleased and trying not to show it. So many little details, none of which would be on his radar at all if he wasn’t—

Well. He won’t deny it. But he doesn’t particularly see the need to voice it, either.

After all, it’s not like it changes anything. Or at least, it shouldn’t. He wasn’t planning on sharing his feelings when they were a simple crush, and he’s certainly not going to share them now that there’s more.

Except, nothing is ever that simple,

(Nothing ever can be, with him. It’s what he does best, turning easy things into overcomplicated messes because he can’t let go of all the what ifs—)

because suddenly, he’s welcome to spend time with the others. Is welcome at their table, is welcome in the commons, is welcome to join their movie nights and their game nights, and most of the time, he even feels mostly okay with doing so, because Patton is enthusiastic in his invitations, and he can tell that even Roman is honestly trying. And sometimes, it makes him want to cry, because this is all he’s ever wanted, to be one of them, and now he can and it’s almost too much.

The only problem with that is that he’s spending a lot more time around Logan.

Which is fine. Great, even.

Except, sometimes, Logan will do things. Little things, inconsequential things, but things that remind Virgil all too clearly of the feelings he keeps nestled under his heart.

For instance, Logan bites his lip a lot. When he’s working, when he’s watching movies, when he’s listening to the others, and sometimes for no reason at all. It’s a stupid thing to get caught up on, but he can’t help himself. And it’s not as if Virgil’s attraction to him begins or ends with the physical, but—

Whenever he does it, Virgil can’t stop his eyes from zeroing in on his lips. Can’t stop himself from thinking about how much he would like to kiss him.

He would like to kiss him a whole lot. And he’s fairly sure he’s being pretty obvious about it, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

So, really, he should have prepared himself for the possibility of being found out. Under any other circumstance, he would have, but there’s a saying, he thinks, about love and fools.

“Can I help you with something?” Logan says, and Virgil flinches violently, the rest of the world coming back into focus. He snaps his gaze up to meet Logan’s eyes, and the expression on his face might be amusement, maybe, but it could also be annoyance, and in fact, it’s probably definitely annoyance, because actually Logan is annoyed with Virgil and maybe even angry and now their budding friendship is completely ruined and all because Virgil doesn’t know better than to stare when he really shouldn’t be staring and—

No, stop. Stop. He’s not going to do that, not right now. He wrests his thoughts back under control with an effort.

Logan was working, typing away on his laptop, biting his lip as he concentrated. And Virgil just so happened to be out in the commons as well, in the perfect position to watch him and daydream, just a bit.

He needs to reply. He’s left it too long, and Logan’s eyebrows are inching up his face as he awaits a response. And the longer he takes to come up with something, the more suspicious Logan will be, so he should just shrug, mutter a denial, and pointedly turn his attention away. Something like that.

But it’s his job to make snap decisions under pressure. And sometimes those decisions aren’t the right ones.

So instead of taking another second to think things through and deflect Logan’s interest, his mouth opens ahead of his brain and says, “Can you please stop biting your lip?”

Logan stares. Virgil feels himself wilting.

“… It’s distracting,” he finishes weakly, and prays for the ground to swallow him whole. He can’t even manage to sink out

(because his mind is screaming at him now, screaming horrified recriminations, screaming all of the worst case scenarios, and it’s taking all of his concentration to breathe properly, much less get out of here)

because the sheer force of his embarrassment is leaving him paralyzed, curled up in his chair and with nowhere to go, nowhere to escape Logan’s widening eyes.

“Is it now,” Logan says, and he doesn’t sound particularly angry, but Virgil could very easily be wrong. Or, he could be angry and trying to hide it. Or maybe he’s not angry, but irritation would probably be just as bad, at this point.

“Sorry,” he mutters, hunching in on himself. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“Virgil, you’re magnifying,” Logan says softly, and that softness is worse than any anger could be, because what if he’s figured it out? What if he pities him? Virgil would take just about anything over pity. “Whatever you think you just said, I assure you that it didn’t come off nearly as badly as you seem to believe.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Though, I can’t say I’m certain of what you meant, considering—”

He cuts off suddenly, and Virgil can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He should leave now, leave before Logan draws his conclusions, but he is frozen, powerless to do anything but let this train wreck happen in real time.

“I wouldn’t ordinarily consider biting my lip to be a disruptive habit,” Logan says slowly. “It makes no noise and does no one any harm, and it’s not something I would think affects anyone else. But you were staring, which means there is something about the habit that draws your attention. I can only think of a few reasons for that.”

He takes it back. Pity would be far better than this, than this slow and measured reasoning, drawing out all of Virgil’s best-kept secrets, spiraling toward a conclusion that he never wanted anyone to know, much less Logan himself.

Perhaps that is why he says what he says. Because with this, Logan is only prolonging the inevitable, and it’s torture.

It’s like a band-aid. The biggest band-aid ever, maybe, covering one of the worst wounds of his life, but a band-aid. And it’s coming off one way or another, so he might as well rip it off now and brace himself for the sting.

“Oh my god,” he says. “It makes me want to kiss you. That’s why it’s distracting. And I’m just gonna go die in a hole now, if that’s alright.”

His face is burning, mortification rising up in him like a tidal wave, threatening to swamp him. This is, possibly, the worst thing that has ever happened to him, ever.

(It’s not, of course, because anything and everything is better than it was before he was accepted, when he was on his own and so lonely and bitter all the time. But this comes close, he thinks. It’s a different kind of hurt altogether, but a hurt nonetheless.)

Logan sets his laptop down, giving him his full attention. For a moment, he is completely silent, and Virgil prepares himself to stand and sink out and into his room, where he will spend the next few weeks huddled under the covers on his bed with his headphones on blast, hating his life and himself for being such an idiot, because here he is, ruining one of the best friendships that he has ever known, and for what? Because he was too much of a moron to keep himself from staring, from forcing his unwanted attentions upon the one side who was more likely than any of the others to notice what he was doing? It’s pathetic, and stupid, and he knows it, and Logan knows it, and—

“I don’t see why you need to do that,” Logan says. His voice shakes, just slightly. “You could kiss me, if you wanted.”

Virgil stills. He can’t have heard that right.

Logan clears his throat. “That is to say, I would enjoy it, if you kissed me. If I’d realized you were interested, I would have broached the topic sooner.”

Hysterical laughter threatens to escape him, his brain dissolving into static, because what? And he knows he needs to say something, needs to respond, but his vocal cords refuse to work, so he’s left sitting there, staring, stricken dumb.

Logan glances away, something like uncertainty crossing his face. “I apologize,” he murmurs. “I’m not doing this right, am I?”

And that is what finally spurs Virgil to action, because Logan sounds so terribly dejected, and that is absolutely not allowed. Not when it’s Virgil that’s made such a mess of things, when none of it is Logan’s fault at all.

“Do you mean it?” he croaks.

Logan blinks, his expression clearing, and then landing on comprehension. His face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stands, crossing the floor and kneeling in front of where Virgil sits.

“Of course I do,” he says, and then reaches out with one hand, cupping Virgil’s cheek. Virgil’s breath catches, the contact shooting lightning across his face and down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, and he doesn’t know whether it’s fear or anticipation or some mixture of the two. Most of him still hasn’t processed that this is happening, hasn’t made the jump from Logan can never know about my feelings because he’ll reject me and then I’ll have no choice but to jump off a cliff to Logan knows about my feelings and he is doing the exact opposite of rejecting me hoooooly shit what do I do—

“I think about you often,” Logan says. “Ever since our first debate, if I’m being completely honest.”

Virgil blinks.

The laugh escapes him, then, but there’s not much hysteria in it. It’s something warm, now, something bright and colorful and blooming as he realizes just how much of an idiot he’s been, as his anxiety slowly begins to fade away,

(not completely, never completely, because he is who he is and that will never change, and his mind is already looking to the future, at all the fresh new opportunities he is going to have to screw this up, but for now, in this moment, he has Logan here in front of him, offering to kiss him, telling him that his feelings aren’t as one-sided as he convinced himself they had to be, and it’s very difficult to be negative at all, in the face of such a beautiful thing as this, as him)

morphing into something that he is tentatively willing to call hope.

“Yeah?” he says. “Me too.”

Before he can lose his nerve, he shifts position, leans down, and kisses Logan. Lightly, briefly, and it’s really more of a peck than anything else, but in the split second in which their lips meet, Virgil can feel just how soft Logan’s are, and when he pulls back, anxiously searching for a reaction, Logan’s cheeks are dusted with red.

“Yes, um,” Logan says. “That was… good. Would you like to do it again?”

A wave of fondness washes over him, and he lets it drag him away.

“You dork,” he says, and pecks him on the lips again. He doesn’t yet have to courage to try for more, but he thinks that might come with time. If he is allowed time, if he is allowed this, and he is not prone to optimism, but for once, he might be willing to give it a go.

Optimism, and whatever this is, new and exciting and budding between them. And there is a part of his mind that is screaming at him, insisting that he’s only going to hurt Logan or get hurt himself, and that no brief happiness could ever be worth that, but—

Logan’s lips are gentle and soft, and Logan is smiling at him, and that, he thinks, might be worth the world.

(“I would be extremely displeased if you died in a hole,” Logan informs him a bit later. “Please refrain from doing so.”

He agrees, if only because of that fact that if he died in a hole, he would never get to kiss Logan ever again. And now that he’s started, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

He is not one to believe in permanence. Or in happy endings. But just this once, he’ll try it, and trust that Logan will catch him if he falls.)

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @ldavmp4

#analogical #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #my fic #long post #cat does prompts #wisherbystarlight

297 notes · View notes

skellebonez · 4 years ago

Note

70/75 with one of Spicynoodleshipping getting deaged and forming a little kid crush on the other?

I don't think I have seen a fandom have so much de-aging fancontent at once since... MCU? While I was happy to write the concept itself, writing stories focused on little kid crushes is not something I’m interested in (sorry anon). It's still there, though, just mentioned in passing so this is more Gen than anything. A short exploration of the concept itself and some little "what if" ideas that I personally don't hold as headcanons but I thought could be interesting.

But hey, this is also INCREDIBLY LONG. Why was I so inspired???

Mild warning: mentions of a character being ill. Nothing is described and it’s only mentioned in passing, but I know some people don’t like being hit with that with no warning.

Was this supposed to be a romantic gesture?/It might be a little silly, but I still like to believe in fairy tales.

"Well..." Tang said with a sigh of relief as he entered the kitchen of his shared apartment with Pigsy. "Xiaotian seems to be alright now. Red S-Red BOY insisted I let him watch over him and get myself something to eat."

Pigsy nodded, handing Tang a finished bowl of simple noodles. "He, uh, ain't exactly what I was expecting when you came running into the shop with them shouting 'they're babies help me'. ya know?" He turned back around, carefully mixing some medicine into another smaller bowl of mostly broth. He wasn't sure how well Xiaotian would take medicine without feeling sick again so this would be the easiest way to hopefully help him keep it down. "Kinda pictured him a lot louder. And angrier."

"I didn't picture Xiaotian so..." Tang trailed off, sitting down turned away from Pigsy so he could look out of the entrance to the kitchen to keep an eye on the two now-children covertly and frowning as he sipped his broth. "Did you know?"

Pigsy sort of knew, before all this.

Before Tang ran into his shop with Xiaotian and Red Son held under each arm screaming, both unconscious and shrunk down in equally shrunken outfits, which would have been adorable if it wasn't confusing and terrifying, to what Pigsy could only estimate as ages 5 and "whatever the super powerful demon equivalent of 5 is". That was the last thing Pigsy ever expected to happen but this was his life post Monkie Kid now. Weird shit happening. This weird shit just happened to be closing his store for the day to start taking care of two grown men de-aged into children as Sun Wukong went off with Xiaojiao and Sandy to find the offending demon and undo whatever magic they had worked to make this happen.

They weren't exactly their 5 year old selves, though, not directly. The magic had left them in some kind of semi-muddled limbo, physically and mentally 5 but with some of the knowledge and memories of their adult lives mixed in with their age appropriate memories. And this left both of them incredibly confused and scared when they woke in the apartment and Red Son insisting on being called by his old name Red Boy and Xiaotian...

Xiaotian had become so scared and worried he had made himself sick. Pigsy knew that as a kid Xiaotian wasn't the healthiest but he had never elaborated past “I got sick a lot”. He hoped that it was the anxiety he developed as he got older mixed with his weaker stomach as a child making him so ill so suddenly and not an indication of anything else, even though he also wished it wasn’t anxiety at all. Mostly he just wished he wasn’t sick at all.

Luckily, it seemed that just enough of Red and Xiaotian's friendship was mixed into their memories that the small fire demon child immediately took an insistence on making sure his friend was alright in that single minded determination only small children could possess, not leaving his side for a single second unless absolutely necessary.

"Sort of," he answered after a moment, ladling in another helping of soup into a second bowl for Red as well. "Didn't think it would be this bad. Hopefully that’s the worst of it.”

Tang hummed, drinking the last of his broth and smiling once again. “They seem to be settling down, at least enough that they’re not scared anymore.”

“Thank the heavens,” Pigsy muttered as he grabbed the bowls and made his way into their shared living room. “Alright you two, time f- what are you doing?”

He heard Tang laugh behind him, clearly finding amusement in being aware of what was happening while the pig was oblivious. Red Boy was sitting on the arm of the couch with his hands wrapped around Xiaotian’s forehead.

“He said he had a headache so I’m helping!” Red Boy exclaimed proudly, voice low for his usual volume and little bull tail swiping the air behind him in his pride. “Heat’s supposed to get rid of headaches, daddy told me so when I started growing in my horns and my head hurt all the time.” They were so used to hearing Red Son call DBK by the formal “father” that hearing him refer to him as anything else felt odd.

“Did he now?” Tang smiled, keeling in front of Xiaotian. “Is it working?”

“Yeah,” he answered softly, much softer than he would have as an adult, with a small smile on his face. “I still don’t feel good but I feel less bad now.” The simple answer seemed to bolster Red, the very tips of his hair sparking as his face lit up in clear delight and victory.

“Well, hopefully this’ll make you feel even more less bad,” Pigsy chuckled, holding out the bowl he had prepared. “There’s medicine in here that should help, shouldn’t even taste it.” As Xiaotian took his bowl from his hand carefully Pigsy held out the other one. “You are not eating on the arm of the couch, sit down please.”

Red Boy looked like he was about to protest with Xiaotian looked up at him with a nod and a smile, apparently being just enough to make him let him go and clamber over the back of the cough to flip down right next to him. Again, doing things in a way that only a kid would do.

The two thanked Pigsy for the food and ate their bowls slowly. The adults watched and noticed that Red seemed to gulp down his food and wait to watch his companion eat a few sips before returning to his own bowl and repeat the cycle, not finishing his bowl until Xiaotian’s was completely downed. Honestly, it was adorable. Much like most of this situation, if peppered with lots of worry and anxiety at the same time.

After they finished and Pigsy gathered their dishes he watched as Red and Xiaotian whispered about something and raised an eyebrow as Red jumped off the couch to ask Tang something before running off farther into the apartment.

When he returned the two were curled up on the couch again, this time with Red reading an old book of fairy tales Pigsy didn’t even know Tang owned softly under his breathe so Xiaotian would be the only one who could hear him.

“OK, Red’s never been this attentive to anyone before,” Pigsy muttered from behind Tang and hoping the demon was distracted enough that he wouldn’t hear. “What is-” He tensed as Red Boy sparked his hands on fire ever so slightly, relaxing and stopping from telling him to put them out only when Tang nudged him.

“Watch,” he said in explanation, and Pigsy did. He watched as tiny little figures started to form in the fire, presumably little people to act out whatever was happening in the book they were reading. Red was being so careful not to hold his hands close to the book or the couch or his friend. Xiaotian’s face was one of awe and delight, and When the figures dissipated he laughed and Pigsy watched as Red blushed and smiled wide as he returned to the book and scooted closer, his tail wrapping around his companion’s wrist and purring so loud they would be surprised if he wasn’t actually shaking a bit with the force of it.

“Oh,” he said softly in realization, piecing together Red’s behavior with some things he had noticed before this entire fiasco started. “Oooooh. Red has a crush on Xiaotian, doesn’t he? Was this supposed to be a romantic gesture? Does he even know what he’s doing or is this just kid logic runnin the show?”

“I’m not sure,” Tang replied. “But it’s sweet, the way he’s making sure Xiaotian feels better. If they remember anything when this magic is undone I hope this is something we can tease them fondly with.”

Pigsy couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Watch out, you know Red’s gonna have his temper back. And what makes you think they’ll remember anything? They may forget all of it, you know, they only kind of remember little bits and pieces of everything past their age right now.”

“It might be a little silly,” Tang said with a shrug. “But I still like to believe in fairy tales. Like the ones they’re reading. Seems appropriate to think maybe something like one of them may happen I guess.”

“You’re a nerd,” Pigsy said with fondness in his voice as Tang wrapped his arm around Pigsy’s shoulders.

#gen fic #is apparently the mood for today #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #mk #qi xiaotian #red son #tang #pigsy #freenoodles hinted i suppose #spicynoodles hinted #prompt fill #demon purr

53 notes · View notes

kkaebsongtypo · 4 years ago

Text

preview | m.l | next

why wont you love me // hrj [01]

pairing: renjun x reader

genre: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, slight angst

wanings/notes: alcohol consumption (all parties are of legal age, drink responsibly!), mentions/symptoms of anxiety, mentions/signs of abandonment issues (very brief), jealousy (also very brief), inspired by the song Why Won't You Love Me by 5sos

(warnings/notes are subject to change and updates if needed.)

word count: 2.86k

Renjun and y/n are an inseparable pair; they know each other like the back of their own hands. For the most part. Renjun keeps his true feelings hidden; y/n refuses to acknowledge their own. Both hold the fear of losing each other. But will one night out and a little too much to drink change everything?

a/n: here's part oneeee! this will likely be posted in 4 or 5 parts im not 100% sure yet but yeah ! also im so sorry about that summary kashfslkd- lmk if you want to be in a taglist ^-^

You walked through the airport doors with Renjun at your side, Jisung and Chenle following close behind. You were pulling Renjun’s suitcase (despite his multiple protests) behind you as you met up with Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck. Renjun took his suitcase from you and thanked you before following the group towards the luggage check-in line.

You waited for the boys at the end of the check-in area as they all put their luggage on the conveyor belt. Jisung was the first to come towards you and engulf you in a tight hug. Though the boy was excited for their trip, he had been pouting the whole drive to the airport about how he wished you were going with them. Unfortunately, you didn’t have the time to leave town for too long. Jisung had grown very fond of you soon after you met and vice versa; he had a habit of clinging to you, especially at times like these. You hugged the boy equally as tight, letting him know that you’d miss him too. When you pulled away, you patted his shoulder gently before Chenle shoved him out of the way with a wide smile and pulled you into his own arms. Each of your friends gave you a parting hug, saying their temporary farewells. Renjun was the last to approach you, immediately wrapping his arms around you.

“Don’t miss me too much.” You moved your arms from around your best friend's neck and rested your hands on his shoulders. He had a small smile on his lips as his gaze shifted between your eyes. You hummed gently at his words and plastered a mock-thinking face before meeting his gaze once more and responding.

“Hm, I think I should be the one saying that to you, mister. We both know that you’re the clingy one~” Renjun rolled his eyes at you and wrapped his arms back around your waist, pulling you into a final hug.

“Right right, because you totally weren’t clinging to me like a koala to a tree over the last few days while I was packing.” You smacked his back at this comment and tried to push him away, but ultimately failed when he tightened his hold around you.

“I’ll pick you up when you get back. Have fun and text me when you land.” Renjun closed his eyes and hummed softly into your shoulder.

“Only two weeks and a couple days, but I’ll miss you.” His voice was just above a whisper, not wanting the other boys to hear him. You smiled slightly at the lack of sarcasm in his voice. A soft sigh fell from your lips and you shook your head slightly.

“...I’ll miss you too dummy.” Renjun chuckled and pulled away, a soft smile on his lips to match your own.

“Oh my GOD, let’s GO Renjun. We still have to get through security.” Renjun bowed his head and exhaled deeply at the voice. You peeked around him to see Donghyuck swinging his bag back and forth impatiently, an over exaggerated look of annoyance displayed over his features. His face lit up with his signature bright smile when he caught your eye. He stopped swinging his bag and stood up straight before waving to you, almost as if he was trying to pretend he wasn’t just groaning in annoyance at your best friend. You giggled softly and waved back.

“You better get going before Hyuck throws his backpack at your skull.” Renjun laughed quietly at your warning and grabbed his suitcase.

“Alright, don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.” He narrowed his eyes at you as he started making his way into the security screening line with the others.

“Don’t worry about me, I’d never do anything stupid without you~” You smiled innocently and Renjun rolled his eyes for the hundredth time in the last hour, his smile remaining on his lips. He waved to you one last time before disappearing farther into the line for the bag check. Once he was out of sight, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned towards the exit of the airport. You pulled out your phone when you got into your car and sent Renjun a quick text before pulling out of your parking space.

Renjun walked alongside Jeno ahead of the others after going through security. A small squeak echoed from Renjun’s pocket and he swiftly pulled out his phone, knowing it was you from the text tone. A simple “Have a safe flight!” flashed across the screen accompanied by an airplane and blue heart emoji. He scanned the message over his lockscreen, a faint warmth crept onto his cheeks and the same small smile frome before found his lips.

“Okay lover boy, we got a long flight ahead of us. Don’t want to run out of battery too fast.” He looked up from his phone and met Jeno’s eyes that were bent into crescent shapes from the smile he wore. Renjun’s blush deepened at the nickname Jeno started calling him months ago. He scratched the back of his neck and sighed.

“Two weeks dude. You two can facetime all you want because we all know you can’t go more than 5 hours without talking to each other; plus it’s not a huge time difference. You’ll be fine.” He nodded at Jeno’s words.

“Honestly though, why aren’t you together yet? You spend 95% of your time together, you basically live at each other’s places, everyone already thinks you’re together. You’re both clearly into each other-” Renjun sighed loudly and threw his head back, looking up at the ceiling.

“No, Jeno. We’re not ‘clearly into each other.’ We’ve acted like this for years, it’s nothing new. Yeah, maybe I caught feelings but that’s it. It’s one sided. It always will be.” Jeno shook his head and subtly rolled his eyes at his friend's attitude.

“Fine man, if that’s what you want to believe then I won’t argue any further. But just hear me out, the guys and I know both of you well enough to see things that you both always seem to miss. But you keep on doubting it if you really want to, I won’t stop you.” Renjun looked straight ahead, refusing to meet Jeno’s brief glance.

The group gathered together once again at the terminal; they discussed their seating for the plane, what the rough plan would be after arrival, and all the other random questions that popped up. The six boys sat in the chairs and on the floor, playing video games or mindlessly scrolling through their feeds. They boarded their flight in no time and quickly got settled in their seats as the other passengers filed in.

Renjun glanced out the window; the now setting sun painted the sky like a canvas in warm colours. He reached for his phone and snapped a picture before opening your contact. “About to take off, I’ll text you in a few hours when we land.” He sent the message along with the photo before switching his phone to airplane mode.

He pressed his head to the cabin wall and looked down at his home screen. His gaze rested on your smiling face, and he smiled at the memory. A photo of the two of you from a road trip you had taken together with Jaemin and Jeno the previous summer was displayed in front of him. You were sitting on the wide edge of a stone wall with Renjun directly in front of you. You had your arms draped over his shoulders and your head resting against his. His hands covered yours, holding them together over his chest.

His smile quickly faded as the conversation he had with Jeno played through his head again. ‘...keep on doubting it if you really want to, I won’t stop you.’ He locked his phone and placed it face down in his lap. He fought back tears of frustration. He knew you didn’t have any feelings for him. Right? Or, did he only tell himself that to avoid the heartbreak he believed to be inevitable?

‘...the guys and I know both of you well enough to see things that you both always seem to miss.’ Jeno’s words were causing a frenzy of questions and feelings that quickly overwhelmed Renjun. He did his best to shake everything from his thoughts as the safety instructions sounded throughout the cabin. He focused on the colours in the sky as the plane started lifting off the ground. As the ground disappeared beneath the clouds, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the one, lingering question that always seemed to sit at the back of his mind, “Why won’t you love me?”

Despite Renjun’s protests, Donghyuck insisted on watching a cheesy romcom with him. Renjun tried to drown out the swarm of thoughts that continued circling his mind with the movie but it only made him yearn for you more. A typical story of love at first sight with the cutest and fluffiest meetings, the leads parting ways, but ultimately coming back to each other for a happy ending. Renjun could hardly handle watching such a relationship bloom on the small screen, the ache he was feeling in his heart only got worse with every loving smile the characters shared.

Part of him despised that Jeno had chosen to point out his feelings for you right before a rather long flight. He had nowhere to go, almost no way to escape his own thoughts. The idea of unrequited love was eating away at him with each passing minute. He was frustrated. Frustrated with Donghyuck for picking a movie that mocked him. Frustrated with Jeno for kick starting his overthinking. Frustrated with you for being so incredible and making him fall for you. Most of all, he was frustrated with himself for falling in love with his best friend.

It wasn’t long until he grabbed his ipad to draw. If there was one way he could get his emotions out, it was through art. He peeked out the window and observed the fluffy clouds passing by, illuminated by a soft orange glow from the setting sun. There was his reference. The movie served as background noise as he immersed himself in his craft. His stress poured through his pencil, the overwhelming thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind. The only remaining thoughts he had were about how much he wished you could see the sunset from above the clouds like he was.

As he finished his first sketch, he snapped a quick photo with his phone to send to you once they landed. There you were again. The thought of you alone made his heart flutter and a smile appear on his lips. The feeling in his chest was almost unbearable; he felt like he could explode. Opening a blank canvas, he pulled up a photo of the two of you for reference and started sketching.

Donghyuck had fallen asleep by the time the credits of the movie rolled, so Renjun took the opportunity to choose something else to watch. He threw on an old Disney film and continued his portrait.

The completed piece caused a warm feeling to bubble in Renjuns chest. His colour pallet felt comforting and cozy; like a reflection of how he felt with you. Not wanting to get too caught up in his feelings again, he opened another fresh canvas and turned his attention to the movie. He settled on making his own interpretation of the scene and what the characters were saying, wanting to exercise his skills and creativity.

He created one, and then another, yawning softly with the last couple details. Fatigue had been creeping up on Renjun as the Disney film neared its end. He tucked his ipad back into his small carry-on and pulled the shade over the window. Sleeping for the last hour and a half of the flight wouldn’t hurt. After putting some music on, he shifted into a relatively comfortable sleeping position and began to doze off.

Slight turbulence jolted Renjun awake as the plane began its descent. He gently rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and lifted the blind to peek out the window. The sky was a deep blue and the stars sparkled throughout. The city below was bright with lights as they cascaded closer to the runway. Renjun carefully shook Donghyuck awake, making sure the other boy was prepared for arrival.

Renjun fiddled with the edges of his phone case, waiting for the go-ahead to turn off airplane mode as the plane taxied towards the terminal. When the approval came through the intercom, he was quick to switch it off and text you that they had landed safely.

: Hey, we just landed!

y/nieeee: That’s great!! How was the flight?

: Pretty good

: Watched a few movies with hyuck and did

some drawing

: I slept for the last bit of the flight also

A bright smile found his lips and he selected the photos he took of his creations, skipping over the portrait, and hit send.

y/nieeee: Oooohh can i see ur drawings?

: [3 attachments]

y/nieeee: Ouuuu the sunset one is really

pretty

: Thank youuuuu

:We’re about to start getting off the plane,

wanna vc while we wait for our luggage?

Renjun threw his bag over his shoulder and followed Donghyuck into the aisle. Jeno and Jaemin handed the group their few larger carry-ons from the overhead compartments before Jeno led the way out of the plane. Renjun’s phone vibrated in his hand, a short text from you popping up on the screen, “ready when you are :)” The second they stepped off the plane, Renjun pressed the call button.

grab my earbuds!

You smiled at the sight of your best friend on your phone screen, his brown hair was slightly tousled from sleeping, you assumed. His brown cardigan was draped over his tee-shirt, and his smile was soft but his eyes still sparkled. Even after a 6 hour flight, he somehow still managed to look so handsome. What?

y/nieeee: Sureeee just give me a sec to

“Hey, y/n!” You shook your head slightly to silence your thoughts and laughed when Jisung hopped into frame when he heard Renjun say your name. You waved back with a sweet smile.

“Jun, let Jisungie into frame more, I want to talk to him too!” Jisung moved closer into view when Renjun motioned for him and waved to you excitedly. Renjun repeated your questions to Jisung (due to the fact that only Renjun could hear you through his earbuds) as they walked through the airport.

The other boys moved in and out of frame to say their hellos when they reached the luggage carousel. You rested your chin in your palm as you continued conversing with Renjun.

"How was the rest of your night? What did you get up to after dropping us off?" Renjun moved to lean against a wall, glancing at the carousel for a second before looking back at you. You hummed in thought for a second.

"Hmm, it was good, I guess? I didn't do much really." You fiddled with the cord of your earbuds, threading it between your fingers before elaborating.

"I got bubble tea on the way home and then I just watched a couple movies; just a lazy night."

"Ooh, bubble tea sounds amazing. Maybe I'll convince the guys to get some tomorrow or something." Renjun’s eyes lit up slightly when you giggled.

"That shouldn't be hard at all." You said with a smile. Renjun chuckled and nodded his head.

"Oh totally, they’ll agree in a split second- oh shoot,” His sentence was cut short and his eyes widened when he noticed you yawn softly.

“Isn't it like 1am now??” He furrowed his eyebrows as you checked the little alarm clock on your bedside table, seeing that it was in fact 1 in the morning.

“Yeah, just a little past 1.” Another yawn slipped through your lips as you laid back onto your pillows. You saw Renjun frown slightly and you sent him a tired smile.

“You should get to sleep, we’re going to head to the hotel right away anyway. I can call you again tomorrow!” Just as he said that, Donghyuck came by with Renjun’s suitcase and patted his back, informing him that their ride was outside. The lights outside of the airport contrasted with the night sky behind him.

“Are you sure?” You asked, raising your eyebrows for a second. Renjun nodded as they piled into the van.

“Yes, 100%! Here, say bye to the guys.” When they all got settled into their seats, Renjun held his phone up higher to get everyone in frame and removed his earbuds. You sat up again and waved at the camera.

“Good night everyone, have a good rest!”

The replies were a mess of ‘good night’s, ‘miss you’s, and wishes of sweet dreams. You bid one final farewell to Renjun before hanging up and plugging your phone in. A quiet huff left your lips after tucking yourself under the blanket and laying down, a deep slumber quickly washing over you.

Taglist: @lolibaaae @currentlyraisinghell

a/n: let me know if you want to be part of a tag list ^-^

disclaimer: i will try to update every 1-2 weeks but updates could potentially be stagnant. thank you for understanding :)

59 notes · View notes

ladecena · 4 years ago

Text

A Mother's Love🤍

It was lunchtime, but Alliah was not in the school's cafeteria. It was always too crowded and noisy, and the food wasn't the best anyways.

Instead she preferred playing intruments to her heart's content in one of the empty music rooms. Today it was one of her favourites, an acoustic violin. It was one of the school's few undamaged ones, so she handled it with care and hoped no other student would accidentally break it.

Her stomach growled, but she knew the money she had on her wouldn't be enough to buy even a cheese sandwich. To make matters worse tommorrow would be the last day of school before the one week of school holidays, she had no idea how she would be able to survive being home with her mother for the entire time.

She would just go to the library for the entire day or something, was what she concluded.

Maybe she could read up on other types of guitars like last time, or just indulge herself in a random story.

For now, she made the best use of time by practicing a difficult piece she memorised on the piano in preparation for a competition in a few months time. It was being hosted at some rich private school, but she was easily able to enter.

After all she was considered a musical genius. If she was able to at least place in the event then she would win a large amount of money as well as being sponsored by a famous musician who was to attend to be a judge. That would mean she could finally helped her mother for their needs

A ringing in her pocket distracted her from her thoughts, and Alliah rushed to pick up without even checking who it was.

"Hello?"

"Hey...Are you Alliah De Guzman by any chance?"

"Yes? Who are you?"

"I'm Officer Dela Cruz, I'm very sorry to inform you of your mother's death."

"W-what? How?!"

"A hit and run case I'm afraid."

So it what’s happened to me now.

"Am I... going to an orphanage then?"

"Well that hasn't been decided yet. My team found out you have other existing relatives, so we'll contact them to ask if they're willing to adopt you."

She had other family? Her mum had never told her that.

"I-I see..."

"You'll be picked up after school by me, and once again, I'm very sorry for your loss."

Officer Dela Cruz then hung up, Alliah feel very upset after hearing about her mother's death. Because all this time she’s only have is her mother

Alliah’s thought she would come home to a woman who would huged her when she arrived, and the mother who loved her for the rest of her life.

For now, her only worry were these so called relatives. Alliah knew she had a biological father, but had been told once that he had died years ago.

A few hours later...

After school had ended, Alliah waited by the school gates before getting in a police car which pulled up, she was glad it was late since she didn't want to attract attention.

The driver was a petite female who seemed to be in her early thirties and wore a blank face; Alliah assumed she was Officer Dela Cruz.

"Hello again Alliah, I have some more news to tell you, positive this time."

Her other family decided not to adopt her and she could stay by herself?

"Your brother agreed to adopt you immediately, and even paid for your flight ticket to the city he lives in for tommorow!"

Dang it. Wait a second...

"I have a brother?"

"Yes, six older brothers to be precise, I just contacted the eldest one." After seeing Alliah De Guzman she added, "I'm sure it won't be bad."

You try having lots of older brothers you've never met before and see if you like it, lady.

"Anyways, for now, let's go to where you live and you can take what you need as quickly as you can."

Alliah wanted to tell her that it wouldn't take her long since she didn't have much, but then decided against it and helped the officer with directions to the block of flats where she lived.

As soon as they arrived, Alliah could feel the woman's concerned look on her. Let's just say the girl didn't live in the best neighbourhood, and the building was pretty old and run-down.

She quickly got out and ran to the flat she lived in. She found that the door was left open, by none other than her beloved mother.

Upon entering, Alliah was so upset and starting to cry out loud, and instantly hit with the usual stench of cannabis, but ignored that and went to her tiny bedroom. She pulled out a small suitcase from under her bed, and filled it with the few possessions she had. In her schoolbag, she put in her books, music notes and pieces and their pictures with her mom, as well as her sleeping pills.

Once she was done, she dragged her stuff back to the car and finally sat back down into the front seat while crying.

"Before we leave for the airport, are there any friends or places you want to visit Alliah?"

She shook her head, of course she didn't have any friends! It was safer that way, no one could risk finding out about the conditions she had lived in.

The Officer simply nodded and drove them away, and Alliah plugged in her earphones and listened to some Music.

Going through the airport was a bit long, but she didn't mind since it was her first time and she was quite to board the plane. Once she reached the waiting area, Alliah was sipping on a cola Officer Dela Cruz had brought her, and began to stress over meeting her new family.

What if they don't like her? Or they think she's not good enough?

For all people, why does my mother die? And then what happened to me now.. Alliahs thought.

"Officer...Can I ask you something?"

The woman glanced up from her phone and nodded.

"What if I don't like it at my brothers' home? Can I come back here instead?"

Officer Dela Cruz frowned before saying, "Well it's not as simple as that. I'll come in a week or two's time to see how you're finding it and if it really isn't working out- by that I mean things like if there's signs of abuse or the financial situation is bad- then you can come back."

"Ok..." The response hadn't been quite what Alliah expected, she thought a simple 'I don't like it here' would be enough for her to avoid living with these people, but there was more to it than it seemed.

"But hey, once you're 18 there's no stopping you from going or doing what you want, right?"

"I guess. Thanks Officer."

With that Officer Dela Cruz continued scrolling through her phone.

An hour or so later, it was time for Alliah’s flight. It was quite late at night and the plane was due to land in the morning. She shared an awkward but warm hug with Officer Dela Cruz before pulling back.

"See you, and thanks for the cola Officer."

"Goodbye Alliah, and just call me Mel."

Alliah changed her mind, Mel was not as bad as she had initially thought.

While alliah’s in her way to her new family they start to think about her last conversation with her mother.

Alliah’s Conversation with her mother ..

'I really like the sound of your voice everytime you say you love me, baby.'

Alliah smiled softly and stared at her mother eyes, the eyes of the woman whom She have loved for years. She still looks beautiful even with the wrinkles on her face, or with her hair turning into gray.

Alliah’s smiled even more as She reminisce their memories back to the good old days, the days when their still young and strong, the days when their still fully able to get along.

Alliah bent down and searched for a black pen and a paper to write on inside her backpack. While she sits still, silently, calmly taking in its beautiful scenery.

When Alliah finally found the things She needed, She placed it on her lap. Then, She waved her hand which got her mother attention.

"I love you," She uttered and waited for her mother response, wishing she would respond. After all, she has always loved to hear they say these words since She was a kid.

But maybe, She got her hopes too high again because she just stared at her with a knotted forehead, as if she's confused.

Alliah gulped down the longing that She felt, trying so hard to stop her self by crying even when her chest aches too damn much. She still can't understand what I'm saying, she can no longer understand. I've been trying, I've been wishing, I've been praying every single day, begging Him to make her understand me again. Nothing happened.

I held the pen and wrote something on the paper. Then, I handed it to her, now with a big smile plastered on my face. For this queen should not see any signs of weakness from me.

She took it immediately and looked at the paper for a while. And suddenly, tears started to fall from her eyes. I almost panicked, thinking that I made her feel upset. Maybe she sensed it, or maybe she knows me this much that she shook her head before I could even ask her what's wrong.

Without a word, she hugged me. She hugged me really, really tight, making sure that I'd feel her unconditional love with this simple act.

"I love you."

I've been telling her these words for years and I'd still say it over and over again, even if she couldn't understand what she hears anymore.

"I love you, Mama. I will never get tired of loving you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

While thinking of it Alliah’s started to cry again and thinking what happened next with him without her beloved mother.

- MariaGrasya🍃

June 11, 2021

#inspiration #love cinema movie movies art entertainment life fantasy story #short story #motherslove #love

15 notes · View notes

pl-panda · 4 years ago

Text

To Marry a Vigialnte: Part 16

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 16

-----------

Chloé couldn’t believe it! They forced her to stay in Gotham Academy’s girls’ dorms. That witch Lila managed to talk Madame Bustier into stopping her from leaving. Marinette had her mother’s permission to stay elsewhere, but apparently, the change in accommodation plans invalidated Chloé’s father’s permission. She would resolve it with a single phone call if someone didn’t steal her phone . She of course tried to report it to Madame Bustier, but her teacher declared that she must’ve lost it somewhere and she shouldn’t be shifting the blame on others.

That woman’s picture should be in every dictionary, right next to the definition of a hypocrite.

She turned the corridor. She could sleep one evening there and tomorrow Marinette would let her borrow the phone. She could try with one of the girls, but it’s not like she remembered every phone number in existence! She regretted that the akuma attack ruined their plans for the afternoon, but Damian had sword-fighting practice tomorrow and she would have her friend all to herself.

“You’re Chloé, right?” A blonde cheerleader asked. The Parisian immediately recognized her as Erica and narrowed her eyes. There were five of them and one of her.

“And you’re the Queen B. of this school. For now .”

The Gothamite princess had the guts to actually laugh. “You can’t even touch me. You’re just some foreign student that came here on a whim of the Ice Prince.”

“Oh, right. You’re the golden princess of this school.” Chloé mocked her. “Lemme tell you something, Erica. I’ll offer you an escape deal. You leave Damienette alone and you can keep your position on top.”

“Yeah. Like you could be a threat.” A new voice joined. From behind the cheerleaders, a new girl walked. Lila now wore the cheerleader uniform too. “You’re just a walking akuma factory. It’s really no wonder that people avoid you. You caused more possessions in Paris than everyone else combined.”

“And you hold the record for times being akumatized.” The Parisian blonde retorted. “Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! You think you can take the Chloé Bourgeois?”

“Oh! We don’t think…” Erica started.

“We know.” Lila finished.

“The deal is simple. You will stop your friendship with Maribrat and we will let you keep some dignity.”

“Or we will make you a social outcast. Not only at school, but in the whole of Gotham.”

Inside, Chloé was raging. She wished she could show them what Cass taught her, but she quelled the idea quickly. I definitely spend too much time with Sabine and the Waynes… She thought to herself. Instead, she grinned. “You know the difference between a threat and a warning?”

“What are you babbling about?” One of the cheerleaders snorted.

“A warning is a threat that will actually come to pass. And I warn you. You’re messing with fire here. Damian was raised very old-fashioned. He will draw blood to defend the honor of his angel.” She decided that they could receive a warning. It’s not like they would listen. “And Marinette’s aunt is very well connected.” Then, she decided to drive the nail deeper. “Plus, MDC’s client list is quite long and none would appreciate that you try to bully their favorite designer.”

“Like that doormat…” Lila started, but Chloé tested the glare Cass taught her. It worked well enough.

“You’re not dealing with Maribear. You’re dealing with me. And I’m not going to lose.”

“What’s going on here?” Allegra walked toward them and stood next to Chloé.

“Scatter.” Lila snapped at her.

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing,” she retorted. Now she stood side by side with Chloé and both stared at them. Allegra had an aura of confidence around her.

“Be careful who you stick with, Kane. You’ll do well not to antagonize me.”

“Just because your mother married a famous baseball player doesn’t make me respect you more, Boyle.”

“It’s Layton ,”The angry cheerleader corrected.

“Right. I must’ve forgotten. She does change her last name a lot…” Allegra smiled.

“You’re in over your head, Kane. You’ll do better to stay with your little outcast club.”

“Nah. I’m good. Also, don’t you have practice in five minutes? I heard the coach is in a mood today.” The mayor’s daughter smirked. “It would be a shame if he made you run around with the players.”

This made all the girls quickly scatter to get to the practice, leaving Lila and Erica alone. “You’ve just made an enemy, Kane.”

“You’re an inconvenience at best…” She dismissed the threat. Lila decided to cut their losses and dragged the fuming Erica away, sending the two blondes a murderous glare.

“Thanks for the backup,” Chloé started. “Of course I didn’t need any, but still.”

“No problem. I always hated that self-appointed princess.”

“And have you seen her hair?” The Parisian huffed. “Utterly Ridiculous!”

“And I’m pretty sure her dress is too short by the school standards.”

Chloé smirked. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”

-----------

After Bruce returned, they tried to figure out what was taken from the inside of the vault. Out of various precious weapons, documents, several property deeds, the only thing that was missing turned out to be the content of the wall safe.��

During the night patrol, Marinette and Damian scoured the city for potential akumas. While he dealt with criminals, she often stopped by the victims to calm them and gave some support. After serious butt-kicking for the criminals. It just wouldn’t do for Damian to get all the fun. The superhero/vigilante duo (nobody was sure which one, not even them) made a positive first impression on the city. Citizens seemed to like them, both for their efficiency and how they always stopped to talk.

After, Marinette noted that their transformations could hold for much longer now since they were together in this. When asked, Tikki explained that now that she had Chat Noir that was mature and they were technically both adults as far as magic was concerned, she could start developing her full potential.

After the short report to Alfred, the teens left the Batcave to change into pajamas. Marinette fell asleep almost immediately, but Damian stayed awake for a bit. He swore he would protect his Habibti. No matter how far he would have to go.

-----------

Marinette and Damian had roughly half of their classes together. Sadly, she didn’t share too much with her best friend, since Chloé was more into business management than arts and fashion. It was mostly the problem of the level. Classes that Marinette had at beginner, the Parisian blonde had at a higher level and vice-versa.

When she arrived at her class, Claude and Jon were saving her a place between them, which would help to protect her from the classmates that ended in the same group. There were also several GA students that she would rather not sit close to (Erica’s bunch). Generally speaking, the first part of her day went well.

The same couldn’t have been said about Damian. He, Chloé, and Allegra were saddled with the class. And to his utter dread, there were no free places next to each other. They tried to ask some students to move. Well, Damian tried to threaten them, which worked, but too late. The teacher entered and decided to put Damian between Alya and Lila. It was as if the universe was punishing him for something. He suspected that Mister Scarlet did that on purpose to egg him. With this one, he had no idea what he did to make him dislike the Wayne heir. But the way he acted toward him made it clear that he took pleasure in the situation Damian was put in: Between Alya’s nagging to leave Marinette and ‘return’ to Lila, and the Liar who kept whispering stories about their common past.

Finally, after they got to go for lunch, Damian stormed out of the class. Everyone in the corridor made way for him. His scowl was enough to deter anyone from trying to approach him. Well, anyone but Maps.

“Damian! You’re back!” She leaped at him and it took all of his willpower not to draw a sword.

“Tt. Mizoguchi. It’s not the best moment.” He growled.

“But you’re back! Did the headmaster cancel your expulsion!?”

“No. He just forgot to file the expulsion files within the week of the offense. Ergo, I was never expelled. I just joined the exchange program.” He explained.

Her eyes practically shined. “Coooool.”

“Tt. Can you let go of my arm?” He was really hoping it would work.

“Nope. I just met you again. We’re glued.”

“Sup Dames?” Claude chose that moment to appear.

“Tt. I’ve got a parasite.”

“That I can see!” The other boy laughed. Most people were still steering clear from Wayne and whoever was with him. They valued their health for the most part.

“I’m not a parasite. I’m Maps!” The girl greeted Claude, who in turn made an exaggerated bow.

“And I’m Claudius Chase. But please call me Claude.” He made a mock fighting stance. “Like Jean-Claude Van Damme.”

“More like Jack Clown van Lame,” Damian muttered. “Your stance is all wrong. I could take you out in seconds.”

“Of course you could. You’re b…” The Wayne heir covered her mouth with his hand.

“Tt. Not here. Now if you would let go of my hand, you parasite, I’m sure Habibti is waiting for me.”

“Habibti?” She asked after letting go.

“His girlfriend.”

You could actually see Maps’ eyes form into twin stars. “Can I meet her? Can I meet her?”

“Since when are you into fashion?”

“Huh? Who said anything about fashion. She’s your girlfriend though, which means she must be sooo cooool!” Maps was practically vibrating.

“Hero worship much?” Claude joked.

“Tt. Fine. Let’s go.”

The three arrived at the Cafeteria, where Allegra, Chloé, Jon, and Felix were already eating. They had lasagna that day. Quite a lot of people were whispering when Damian appeared, more so than usual, but nobody dared to look at him. When he sat at the table next to Marinette, they did their best not to stare.

“Grumpy Cat?” She asked, a bit worried. “You’re… tense.”

“Tt. Because of that socially-inept, talentless, petty bookworm,” he seethed, “I had to sit between Rossi and Cesaire.”

Immediately, Marinette pulled him into a tight hug. “Oh, my poor Kitty.”

This caused some of the gathered, who knew Damian from the previous year, to immediately tense. Some of the students sitting nearby (mostly females) even grinned, thinking that here died the relationship. There was no way that Ice Prince would allow anyone to refer to him as Kitty. Getting him on the first-name basis was considered a privilege allowed only to the family (and strangely Claude).

To their immeasurable surprise, Damian didn’t explode. Instead, he melted slightly into the hug and some of the anger left him. It wasn’t a long hug, but after it, he was now acting less like a walking grenade looking for its pin. At least three people awwed at them. It was just too pure.

“Whoah!” And then there was Maps, who had the subtlety of a steam-train speeding through the Wild West. “You’re so cute together!” She zoomed next to Marinette to get a better look.

“And you’re…” Marinette eyed the overly energetic girl. She was short, with hair that reached barely below her ears.

“Mia Mizoguchi. But you can call me Maps. I’m Damian’s friend.”

“Tt. More like a stray.”

“Damian! Don’t be a Grumpy Cat.”

“Besides, isn’t collecting strays kinda a Wayne Tradition at this point.” Felix deadpanned. Everyone started laughing. Damian gave a dignified smirk. The blond proved to be able to match him in intellectual discussion, which gave some basis for mutual respect between them.

The group talked a bit more about their classes. Marinette and Chloé compared every detail of their experience in the States with what it was like back in Paris. Maps was a fountain of questions, even if some of them were a bit… strange. But Marinette still felt she would like the little girl. That she was in the same class as her surprised her.

After lunch came time for more classes. When they finished, Damian was supposed to stay for training while Marinette and Chloé would go shopping. They were already outside the gates when three rather packed teens from the year ahead stepped in their way.

“You think you can steal Erica’s man and then threaten her?” The one in the middle asked. It was clear he was angry and not exactly thinking clearly. “Gotham Academy Grackles stay together. If you think you can just prance here and take over, you have another thing coming.”

“Um… Sure.” Mari just nodded. “Now excuse me while I go away.” She tried to move past them, but one decided to make a fatal mistake of trying to grab the front of her shirt. She raised her left arm under the grip, lifting his hand slightly. It exposed his stomach for the moment, which she took full advantage of and delivered a knee-kick to his liver. When he folded in half from the pain, as much as he could with her still supporting his hand, she then used her right arm to deliver a cutter toward the back of his head.

The boy was out cold in less than five seconds.

Seeing their friend attacked, the other two charged at her. Marinette ducked under the punch from the first one and headbutted him in the stomach. She then wrapped her arms around his left legs and lifted him up. He fell on the ground and tripped the slower one. When they both were down, Marinette stomped on the hand of the one on top. There was an audible crack that signaled she managed to damage the bones. He would not be fighting. The one under tossed his pained friend away and jumped on his feet. He managed to get Marinette in a chokehold, but she pushed her arms between his extended arms and spread them apart. When he was exposed, she jumped up and kicked him with both legs. While she landed without any injury, the bigger player crashed into his two friends.

“The police are on their way,” Chloé informed, putting away the phone that mysteriously found itself in her possession earlier that morning, giving more credence to the theory that she simply misplaced it.

“What’s going on here!” A harsh voice boomed behind them. Hammerhead was standing there in all his glory. “To my office. All five.”

“Maman’s going to be here in just five minutes,” Mari informed him. She was still full of adrenaline.

“I don’t care.” He seethed in response.

The only conscious boy helped his friends stand up. First the one with a broken hand, then they lifted the unconscious one together. They limped through the campus toward where the office was located. Behind them, Marinette and Chloé walked with heads held high. Tomorrow, the school would be full of gossip, but the bluenette was all too used to it by now and the blonde would run her PR magic to change it into something positive. Chloé loved playing the crowd.

--------

“I’m here.” Sabine practically stormed inside the office. “Now could you explain, sir, what is it about?”

“Your daughter got into an… altercation with older students today. Right in front of the school.” Headmaster Hammer started.

“Ah. And you’re curious if we’ll be pressing charges?” The woman asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Charges?” She managed to baffle the man.

“Attempted assault?”

“Madame. You misunderstood me. Your daughter…”

“Defended herself. Yes.” Sabine cut in, her eyes filled with cold fury. “Unless I’m mistaken, Self-defence is not a crime.”

“You can’t call self-defense stomping on…”

“To prevent further fighting? Debatable. She is smaller, physically weaker, and was outnumbered. A good lawyer would argue that it was necessary for her to act that way for her safety and to avoid further fighting.” She stared down at the headmaster. “As for the charges…”

At that, two officers walked in. Hammer recognized the first one as Renee Montoya. The other was a blonde officer wearing a tactical vest.

“Sorry, it took so long. We’ve been a little short-staffed since the mess with akumas started.”

“Don’t worry. Luckily, my daughter managed to defend herself. Now, officer, what must we do if we wish to press charges?” Sabine asked with a cold voice, never breaking eye-contact with the headmaster.

“That…”

“I’ll explain everything while officer Sawyer takes the attackers into custody.”

“Thank you so much.” The older woman finally broke the eye-contact and turned toward Montoya. She smiled with her usual peaceful smile, but the fire was still in her eyes. “My daughter is part of the exchange program while I’m visiting my niece.”

Marinette was stunned by how well her mother could take control of the situation. She wasn’t sure what precisely she was doing, but it was definitely effective.

“Foreigners?” The officer asked, surprised. “I could hardly hear the accent. France?”

“Yes. Paris.” Sabine smiled. “Neither I nor any of my charges are really familiar with the procedures here.”

“I will walk you through it. Headmaster?” The policewoman finally acknowledged the elderly man in the room. “Were the parents of the culprits notified yet?”

“Not. Yet.” He muttered through clenched teeth.

“We will take it from here.” She smirked at the headmaster. “You will be notified if any further input is needed, sir.” She started to walk away and motioned for the three women to follow her.

Outside, Damian was waiting with a sword. Luckily, there was no blood on it. Yet .

“Hello, Kitty. Don’t worry. I’ve managed it.”

“Tt. I’ll still challenge them to an honor duel.” He scoffed.

“You will probably have to wait a bit. I don’t think…” The officer took a glance at Sabine, who even with her smile looked like she was ready to fight God on equal footing. “They probably won’t be coming back to school this year.”

“They won’t.” Chloé, Sabine, and Damian said at the same time. But they probably had different things in mind. Or maybe just Chloé…

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

Masterlist // Next

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #Assassin!Sabine #Miraculous!Sabine #sabine cheng #BAMF Marinette #BAMF Sabine #batman #BatFam #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #damienette #maridami #maribat #maribat au #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #arranged marriage AU

78 notes · View notes