#I NEED HIM in a completely normal and sane way hello. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coffeeshades · 9 months ago

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VIII

— i love you, it’s ruining my life

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 6.3k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and depression. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello besties, here's the next part!! happy reading <3

masterlist!

Pedro hadn’t expected his career to take another sharp turn so soon after The Mandalorian. The call he received that night in January, while lying in a dimly lit hotel room in London, still felt unreal. Hazy, thanks to the Ambien coursing through him, but real enough to make him sit up in bed after the line went dead.

Something big was coming, and he could feel it in his bones. It would change everything—if things weren’t already good enough as they were.

A few weeks later, he was back in London to film The Bubble. Everything seemed to blur by—filming, meetings, and the quiet rhythm of his life with Julia. He hadn't expected to fall into a relationship so effortlessly, but here he was.

She was a producer he’d met during a project in Budapest, though nothing had happened between them until months later.

Late November, to be exact. By then, things had shifted.

Pedro was never good at deciphering if someone liked him or not, and maybe that was why, when she suggested coffee, he didn’t think twice. She was lovely—kind in a way that didn't feel overwhelming, and he liked the way it felt safe, uncomplicated. When she reached for his hand, the world didn’t spin beneath his feet, and that was comforting. It was normal, and maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

After that first coffee, there were more—turning into casual dinners, casual sex, easy conversations, and eventually, a steady progression toward something more.

By December, things had gotten serious, though Pedro still sometimes woke up disoriented, feeling as if he was living in someone else’s life. Julia kept him grounded. And though it wasn’t the kind of love that made him lose his breath, it was steady.

One morning, in early December, he woke to find a message from you. You’d mentioned him in an upcoming Vogue interview, a brief nod to his help in keeping you sane during those first chaotic months of the pandemic. Your publicist thought it might make a fuss for a while, and you didn’t want him to wake up and think someone had died or something.

Nothing too big, P, just the usual storm. Call when you’re back in the States. Miss you.

Pedro stared at the message for a long time, debating. You’d always known everything about him. Every high, every low. But now? There was Julia to consider. He sat on the edge of the bed, Julia still asleep next to him, the London sky a dull gray through the curtains. He’d thought about telling you about her for weeks—maybe he should’ve before New Year’s—but it was easier to let the conversation slip away.

Until it didn’t.

That night, at Oscar’s New Year’s party, when you found out about Julia, he could see it in your eyes—the hurt, the shock, the confusion. You didn’t say much after that. Just told him you hoped he was happy, and if he was, that would be enough.

But it didn’t feel enough.

Not then, not now.

•••

Back in London, the routine of it all began to suffocate him. He spent his mornings reading lines, drinking bitter coffee, and answering the inevitable buzz of questions about his relationship status. He didn’t care to comment. He didn’t want to make it official in a way that felt like another announcement to the world. His job was to act, not live his life on a stage. Still, the headlines rolled out, and his relationship with Julia became another topic of conversation.

The days passed in a blur, but something bothered him. You had gone silent. Completely. Not only from his life but from social media, from the public eye, from everywhere. He called on your birthday. Oscar had mentioned you hadn't planned anything for the day, not that he knew off, and Pedro found himself standing on the cold balcony of his hotel room, dialing your number with a strange urgency.

You picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

Your voice sounded far away, thin and almost unfamiliar, like a melody he had forgotten.

“Hey.”

There was a beat of silence, a pause where recognition should have clicked into place. Instead, you sounded distant, hesitant.

“Oh. It’s you.”

His lips twitched into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, it’s me. Did you delete my number?”

A soft shuffle on the other end, like you were shifting in place, caught off guard. “No, uh, I just picked it up without looking who it was.”

He leaned against the railing, gripping the phone tighter as if it could bridge the distance between you. The cold metal beneath his fingers bit into his skin, grounding him, though your absence felt like it was growing by the second. "Happy birthday, mi amor."

“Thank you, Pedro.”

The way you said his name, the clipped tone, made something stir in his gut, but he shook it off.

“You doing anything? I heard you didn’t have plans.”

“Nothing really, maybe over the weekend,” you replied, but there was a softness in your voice that didn't match the words, like you were choosing them carefully, holding something back. “I know you’re in London; that’s why I didn’t—”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t call,” he interrupted, leaning against the cold railing. His free hand found his hair, fingers tugging at the strands, trying to steady the unease creeping in. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been... You know how it is.”

Another long pause. For a moment, all he heard was the faint rustling on the other end, like you were curled up somewhere small, the space between you both stretching impossibly wide. He didn’t notice the silence for what it was—didn’t notice the way it wrapped around your words, cloaking the pain underneath.

“I do,” you whispered. It wasn’t an agreement; it was resignation. "Listen, I have to go. Say hi to Julia for me."

You hung up quickly, the words leaving him cold. The last part stung in a way he wasn’t expecting.

Days turned into weeks, and though you stayed in touch here and there, your conversations felt different. Lighter. Less personal. He tried not to let it bother him, but it did. The less he tried to think about you, the more you occupied his thoughts, living in the corners of his mind where you had always been. It felt like torture, the way your presence always lingered even in your absence.

When Pedro finally posted about landing the role of Joel Miller, the flood of congratulations came pouring in, but only one comment left him reeling.

So happy for you!!! You’re gonna kill it.

It was from you. Simple, encouraging, and yet it twisted something inside him.

His birthday arrived not long after, and he found himself back in LA, where his friends greeted him with a backyard party under the stars. Sarah held a cake with a single candle, and as everyone cheered, Pedro smiled, but there was an immovable weight in his chest.

Later that night, after the crowd had dispersed, he and Julia escaped upstairs to his room. They ended up half-dressed, tangled on his unmade bed. She smiled at him afterward, her gaze hazy with affection. “Happy birthday,” she murmured, running a hand down his chest.

Pedro wanted to stay in that moment, to let it be enough, but his mind wandered. He had that feeling of wanting to be trapped in one place, wanting to dig his heels in. It didn’t need to matter that that reality was waiting for him outside the door. It didn’t need to matter that you hadn’t called.

April 11, 2021

London, England

Pedro’s mood had been darkening for weeks now, but if Julia had noticed, she didn’t say a word.

She’d taken on a slew of new projects, coming home late most nights, leaving him to his thoughts and the silence that clung to their flat like fog. Pedro found himself pacing the empty rooms when she was gone, unsure where to place himself in her absence. He felt the weight of insomnia closing in again, the recognizable ache behind his eyes making the hours stretch painfully long.

That day, however, his focus had shifted. He was set to present Best Foreign Film at the BAFTAs, and his stylist had dressed him in a Prada tuxedo coat, a crisp white shirt, and skinny-fitting suit trousers. He looked sharp, elegant even, and for the first time in days, Pedro felt something close to confidence.

He and Julia arrived at the event together, but they didn’t pose for pictures side by side. Still, photographers captured fleeting moments—Julia holding his hand as they stepped out of the car, a quiet laugh between them under the canopy of flashing cameras. By the next morning, their images were all over social media, sparking the inevitable buzz about their relationship.

Pedro ignored most of it.

Two days later, while sharing a quiet breakfast in a cafe with Julia, he opened Instagram out of habit, and your face appeared.

There you were, standing in the middle of some forest, your expression serene. The caption read: Surprise. A new album drops at midnight. In isolation, my imagination ran wild, and this is the result—stories and songs that flowed like rivers. I hope you love it.

The post had already gathered thousands of likes and comments, and Pedro’s chest tightened as he stared at the screen. The timing of it all was almost cruel, but it was the impact of your sudden reappearance that left him reeling. You had vanished from the public eye for so long, and now, with no warning, you were back.

That night, Pedro lay awake next to Julia, the persistent itch of insomnia dragging him out of bed. He moved quietly so as not to disturb her, slipping his earbuds in as he stepped onto the hotel balcony. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled up your new album. He hesitated for a moment, but he pressed play anyway.

For ten songs, Pedro was transfixed. Your voice wrapped around him, haunting and familiar, weaving tales of heartache and isolation. There was a rawness to your words, an unflinching honesty that pierced through the midnight air. He listened intently, picking apart the lyrics, wondering if they were about him, if the pain you sang about was shared between you. It felt like an open wound, and yet he couldn’t stop listening.

Each song was a confession. Each melody a letter never sent.

When it ended, Pedro sat in the dark, overwhelmed. The emptiness gnawed at him, and all he wanted was to call you, to talk, to hear your voice. But he didn’t.

A couple of weeks later, he found himself shamelessly googling you again, hoping for something—an interview, a post, anything—but there was nothing. You had gone silent after the album drop.

No promo, no press. Just the music and then nothing. He congratulated you once, a brief message saying how beautiful the album was. You replied with a simple, “Thank you. It means a lot.”

That was it.

July 10, 2021

Alberta, Canada

Pedro arrived in Alberta at dawn, the skies painted in soft hues of pink and orange. The cab ride to the hotel was quiet, his agent and hairstylist riding with him as they prepared for the long months ahead. Filming for The Last of Us was finally starting, and though Pedro was eager to begin, a deep nervousness tugged at him.

Julia hadn’t come with him this time, staying back in London for her own work. She promised to visit, but Pedro wasn’t sure how often. In her absence, he felt that familiar loneliness creeping in, the kind that terrified him, mostly because it left him alone with thoughts of you.

He checked into his room and sat heavily on the sofa, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes until his vision blurred. He needed to eat, to call his family, to ground himself in something, but instead, he grabbed a beer from the mini fridge and settled back into the couch. His fingers hovered over his phone again, the compulsion to check your Instagram pulling at him like a bad habit.

But, like always, there was nothing.

Your only other post had been a month ago, thanking your fans for the love on the album. He had messaged you a couple of times—small, inconsequential exchanges that left him unsatisfied. He didn’t know what he was searching for in those brief interactions, but whatever it was, it felt futile.

Then, ten minutes later, like a sign from the universe, you shared an interview. A video with you talking about your creative process. Pedro couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed his laptop, another beer, and settled in.

As he watched, he couldn’t help but stare at you. You looked radiant, sitting across from the interviewer in the backyard of your California home. The conversation was easy at first, touching on the album’s success, but then it turned more personal.

"The pandemic was really rough, and also life in general, I guess," you said, your voice quiet. "I found myself post-breakup, isolated in a cabin in Calgary, and writing was all I had. But the inspiration wasn’t just from that breakup. It came from years of… things."

The interviewer asked gently, "You mean the breakup with your most recent ex specifically?"

"Yeah," you replied, your eyes dropping for a second. "It wasn’t entirely about that. I pulled a lot from my imagination, I guess. The lines between fantasy and reality blurred, and I found myself writing from perspectives that weren’t always mine."

Pedro’s heart clenched.

"There’s a song on the album," he continued, "the final track. It’s haunting. You sing about being hurt by someone you love but being unable to let them go. Can you talk about that?"

You paused, taking a breath before you spoke. "It’s a quiet resignation," you said. "That person and I, we hurt each other, but I love them. So, I guess that’s it. It felt like the right way to end the album."

Pedro’s world stilled. He realized, in that moment, what he had been searching for all this time. He had wanted confirmation, a sign that you still loved him. And with every word you spoke, you gave it to him.

Filming for The Last of Us began a couple of days later, and though Pedro threw himself into the work, your voice lingered, ghost-like, at the back of his mind. Days turned to weeks, and as production moved into September, the physical toll started to wear on him. He spent long hours on set; the Canadian cold started biting into his bones. Bella, his co-star, became a bright spot, their energy infectious, and though they bonded quickly, Pedro felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

In the early mornings, when the world was still asleep, he would take walks to clear his head, the cold sunlight grounding him. Julia came to visit now and then, joining him on these walks, but they often ran out of things to say. He could feel the quiet disintegration of their relationship, like watching ice slowly melt into water. He didn’t know what they were holding onto anymore.

•••

When October rolled around, Pedro’s schedule clashed with the start of The Mandalorian’s third season, and it became clear that he wouldn’t be able to join the production on time. His agents scrambled to find a solution, but when Pedro’s stunt double was suggested as a replacement for the early scenes, he was left with an odd sense of detachment. And when his agent told him it had been your suggestion, something in him cracked.

The anger simmered for weeks. He felt foolish and abandoned, wondering if you had pushed him away to keep your distance. But then, just as the resentment began to harden, you showed up on set with two coffees in hand, flashing him a smile. "One iced caramel macchiato for me and one large quad over ice for you," you teased.

Pedro blinked, startled. He hadn’t expected your warmth. "Thanks," he managed, taking the coffee.

"You’re welcome," you replied brightly. "We missed you here."

"Did you?" he said, a hint of sarcasm slipping into his tone. "Because I heard it was your idea to keep me away."

Your expression twisted into confusion before you laughed. "I was just trying to make things easier. You were still filming, and I figured rushing back here would be a nightmare for you. I wasn’t plotting anything."

Pedro felt a wave of relief wash over him, mixed with the faintest trace of regret. "Well, in that case, I missed you too."

•••

For two seasons, your character hadn't seen his without the helmet. Today you were shooting the scene where, out of necessity, he reveals his face to you. It was written as a pivotal moment in your characters' relationship.

The moment the director called action, the air on set felt different. It wasn’t the usual hum of crew members shuffling in the background or the low murmur of cameras whirring. Instead, a heavy, almost sacred quiet descended, blanketing everyone as the scene unfolded. Pedro’s mind mirrored that stillness, a sudden and unnerving hush. It felt like everything outside of this moment ceased to exist, like time itself had bent inward.

And then—nothing. No words. No script. Just you, standing so close to him, your face inches from his, hands cradling his jaw.

You widened your eyes, a silent prompt, urging him to speak, to remember his lines. But all he could do was stare. He hadn’t been this close to you in months, hadn’t felt the warmth of your touch or the soft presence of your breath in what felt like a lifetime. His throat tightened, his words trapped somewhere deep inside. He knew the scene needed to move forward, but for one fragile moment, all he wanted was to keep you there, locked in this pocket of stillness, as if holding onto you would stop everything else from slipping away.

You read him, like you always did. You settled in, your hands still on his face, fingers pressing gently into his skin as if anchoring him. Then, softly, you filled the silence with a line—one that Pedro was sure wasn’t in the script, but it was perfect. You carried the scene, leading him back into it, your voice becoming the tether that pulled him out of the stillness and into motion. Pedro blinked, refocusing, forcing his body and mind to follow your lead as he finally delivered his line.

The scene moved on, but something lingered, thick and unsaid.

When filming wrapped for the day, the tension still simmered. You caught him at the edge of the lot, your expression unreadable as you approached him. Maybe you'll ask him why he froze like an idiot during that scene, or maybe you'll just walk past him without a word.

Instead, you simply asked, "Dinner?"

Pedro couldn’t say no. He never could when it came to you.

You ended up at a small sushi restaurant tucked away from the chaos of the city. The space was warm, softly lit, a sanctuary from the noise of the outside world. Pedro sat across from you, picking at a piece of sashimi, trying to focus on the conversation but finding it hard. You talked about the year you’d spent away from the spotlight and how you’d pulled back from everything.

"I mean, I’m doing this because I signed a contract," you said, lightly joking, but your eyes flickered with something that gave you away. "Disney has snipers; you know how it is."

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

Pedro chuckled, though he could hear the sadness in your voice, the weight behind your words.

"If I could’ve gotten out of it too, I would have," you added, your tone quieter, more reflective. "I guess I just needed to slow down. I’m tired of it all."

"You even skipped the Oscars," Pedro replied, taking a sip of his drink. "That's how you know it's serious."

"Yeah, I love the Oscars. Excellent champagne."

Pedro watched you closely, wanting to dig into your words to pull apart the layers of exhaustion and sadness you were burying beneath the surface. He wanted to offer you some kind of comfort, to tell you that he understood—that he, too, had been feeling the weight of it all. But the words caught in his throat. Instead, the two of you ate in silence, the kind of quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable but spoke volumes.

There was something about being with you, even without words, that felt…right.

Later, as he lay in bed, his mind kept returning to you, to your confession. He wondered what you weren’t telling him, what you were holding back. But as much as he wanted to reach out to ask, he couldn't.

The next morning, Pedro was on a flight back to Canada. The weeks that followed blurred into a rhythm of cold, grueling days on set and long, sleepless nights. He threw himself into The Last of Us, trying to lose himself in the work, but no matter how hard he tried, thoughts of you crept back in. You were there, always, lingering in the corners of his mind, and Julia could sense it.

She didn’t say anything at first, but Pedro could feel it—the slow unraveling of their relationship. It wasn’t sudden, like a crash or an explosion; it was quiet, a gradual dissolution. Every day, a little more slipped away. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from this relationship, from this life they had built together. Did he think they would buy a house, start a family? Had he ever really seen himself in this life with her, or was it just easier to disappear into hers?

Finally, Julia said it. Brightly, almost too casually. "I think maybe we’re done."

Pedro didn’t fight it. He didn’t have the energy. "Yeah," he murmured. "I think that was my fault."

•••

Christmas and New Year’s came and went in a blur. Pedro went to Chile for a few weeks, seeking the comfort of home, of family. There, surrounded by his siblings and nephews, he found a brief pause, a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a while. But even in the warmth of his childhood home, memories of you still haunted him. He saw you in every corner, heard your laughter in the echo of the hallways.

One night, after too many glasses of wine, he called you on a whim. It wasn’t about anything important—just small talk, catching up. You sounded good, better than the last time you spoke, but there was a distance in your voice, a kind of finality that made Pedro’s heart sink. For some reason, he didn’t tell you about his breakup. He kept that part of his life hidden, not out of secrecy but because it felt irrelevant at that moment.

What would it change? What did it matter?

You didn’t talk much after that. Your silence felt deliberate, not like a missed connection but a closed door. It was as if you were telling him, without saying it outright, that this was where it ended.

In the days that followed, Pedro did his best to push you out of his mind, but it didn’t take long for the thoughts to creep back in. They always did. Anger. Sadness. Regret. They whispered in his ear, insidious and unrelenting, reminding him of what he had lost, of what he could never quite hold on to.

February 7, 2022

Los Angeles, California

The suitcase lay open on the bed, half-packed, with clothes spilling over the edges like an unspoken reflection of your mind. Each item you folded and placed inside felt heavy, as if carrying pieces of the last year with you. Taylor sat cross-legged in the chair by the window, scrolling through her phone while talking, but her words barely reached you over the noise in your head.

“I’m surprised you said yes, that’s all,” she said, her voice light with curiosity. “You’ve basically been a hermit for a year now.”

You laughed softly, your hands smoothing over the fabric of a sweater. “I needed the break, you know that. ”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push yet. You were grateful for the acceptance, even if you knew she was waiting to bring it up again, the same way she always did.

“One day, you’ll tell me what really happened,” Taylor continued, her voice taking on a familiar teasing edge. “You'll tell me what had you sulking at home like a sad Victorian poet for a whole year.”

You folded another shirt and placed it in the suitcase before responding, “I’ve told you countless times. Nothing happened other than…he got a girlfriend, and I stayed out of the way. That’s it.”

Taylor squinted at you as if she didn’t quite believe it, her eyes narrowing with the kind of suspicion only a close friend could afford to show. “Aha,” she said slowly, drawing out the sound.

You rolled your eyes but smiled.

“I wasn't sulking,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone light. “I was…relaxing. It was my year of rest and relaxation.”

She chuckled at that. “Good one, smarty pants."

Outside, a breeze rustled through the palm trees, carrying the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of LA traffic. You imagined the street below, the shuffling of photographers leaning against their cars, lighting cigarettes, and murmuring to each other. They had become a permanent fixture, appearing gradually over the months, staking out your house like ghosts waiting for you to return to life.

It never ceased to surprise you how much people cared about what you did off-screen. You couldn’t just let your work stand for itself. No, you had to prove yourself over and over again, reminding the world that you were still an asset, still someone worth admiring.

You shrugged, half-smiling, but there was something sad in it. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m only doing this because I've been dying to work with this director, and it’s a closed set. Once those eight weeks are up, it’s back to my hermit status.”

Taylor shook her head with a dramatic sigh. “So we’re missing the Oscars again this year?”

You threw a pair of socks at her, chuckling. “Seems like it.”

But inside, everything wasn’t as lighthearted as your words. Last year, you’d taken a step back from the spotlight, and while you didn’t want to attribute it to the hurt you were feeling over Pedro, the truth was, it had everything to do with him. Well, at least a huge chunk of it. It hurt not to have him. It hurt to see someone else kiss him, hold his hand so freely, so easily. The pain wrapped itself around you like a second skin.

The world expected you to bounce back, to emerge from this self-imposed exile with a smile and a perfect soundbite. But the truth was messier. You had spent a year nursing a heart that hadn’t fully healed. You loved Pedro in a way that still hurt, in a way that sometimes made you feel like a child who didn’t understand why they couldn’t have the one thing they wanted most. You wanted to be the bigger person, the one who could let him go gracefully, but instead, you had hidden.

You were blue all the time. Some days were okay; some days you barely got out of bed.

There were moments it felt paralyzing. The weight of the world outside your window, the expectations, the love you still felt for him—all of it crushed you. Some days, you simply couldn’t move. You stayed curled up in the safety of your blankets, staring blankly at the ceiling.

It wasn’t long before someone intervened. Your PA was that someone.

She didn’t push you at first. She’d just knock on your door, leave food outside, and ask if you needed anything. You’d spent three weeks in your room, moving only to get water or occasionally sit by the window.

One afternoon, Renata came in and found you in the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. She placed a sandwich she brought on the counter and looked at you, her voice careful, but firm. “You need to talk to someone.”

“I’m talking to you,” you replied simply, taking a sip of water.

“No, you know what I mean. A professional. It’s okay if you don’t feel…” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

“I’m fine,” you said, starting to walk toward the stairs.

“You’re not going to eat?” she called after you.

“Not hungry, but thanks,” you mumbled, disappearing into your room again.

But Renata didn’t let it go. She pushed gently, week after week, until finally, you let her schedule an appointment. She promised not to say anything to anyone, especially Taylor. You didn’t want to worry her.

The word depression had seemed too big to say aloud, too heavy, but that’s exactly the word your psychiatrist had used.

“You’ll need to take these every morning,” he said, handing you a small prescription bottle. “And it would be good to write how you feel. Keep track of things.”

You sat there, legs crossed in an oversized chair, staring at the prescription bottle in your hand.

•••

You watched from the sidelines as Pedro continued to rise, landing roles in The Last of Us, becoming the face everyone adored. You were thrilled for him, of course, but the distance between you felt insurmountable.

The only interaction you had was through a comment on his Instagram post, and even then, you weren’t sure if it meant anything. You didn't dare to call him on his birthday; you didn't want to stain his day with sadness. Every time you looked at your phone, tears threatened to spill. You felt as if the moment he spoke into the phone, you might collapse.

He's better off; he might not even notice.

The album you dropped in the spring had been a release of every emotion you hadn’t been able to speak aloud. Each song was laced with love and loss, heartbreak and longing; every note was a confession you’d never let yourself voice. You wondered if he listened to it—if the lyrics registered with him, if he knew they were about him.

That same week, you saw photos of him in London, holding her hand. You cried yourself to sleep that night.

The months passed in a blur of avoidance. You busied yourself at home with anything you could find that didn’t involve thinking about him. You did the one interview your publicist insisted on. It was with Zane Lowe; you liked him, so it was mostly okay. You found yourself talking about the songs you wrote during that time. As you listened to your own words, you realized that the music had given you a voice when you felt silenced by heartache.

It was a bittersweet realization.

By October, filming for The Mandalorian had loomed on the horizon, and when you found out Pedro was still tied up in Canada, you suggested beginning production without him. It felt easier that way, like a reprieve. But when he finally arrived on set, the connection between you two still crackled beneath the surface. There was an unspoken understanding in the way he looked at you during that intense scene—the one where your character saw his face for the first time. He froze, and you wondered what was running through his mind—what thoughts had stopped him from continuing.

You hesitated, but after the scene wrapped, you found yourself asking him to dinner. It was a slippery slope. You could pretend you were okay all you wanted in the brief moments between takes, offering coffee and smiles, but no one saw right through you like him.

Still, you asked. It was a small gesture, just a way to extend the fragile thread of connection between you, to hold onto him for a little longer before he left again.

But you’d learned how to stay in your lane. You’d learned how to love him from a distance, how to let him be happy with someone else. It was an act of love, really—letting him go, stepping aside to give him the space to live a life that didn’t include you. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Taylor’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Do you think you could be a hermit in Greece next? I could use a vacation.”

May 29, 2022

Los Angeles, California

Between promoting The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent and wrapping up the final scenes of The Last of Us in Canada, he had little time to do, well, anything else really.

It was late May, just after the Star Wars Celebration. He’d worn a blue two-piece set that felt more like pajamas than anything formal, which was fine by him. Comfort was the priority these days.

But something was missing. You. You hadn’t been there. Out of everyone from the cast, you were the only one absent, and that absence settled like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

"She’s just taking time off," he’d tell himself, repeating the words like a mantra. “She’s probably busy; she's okay.” But the nagging feeling wouldn’t leave him alone.

Pedro had even caved one evening, calling Taylor. It had been late, after a full day of press, his voice rough from interviews and late-night whiskey. He had only meant for it to be one drink. But then he thinks back to the fact that you've plagued his dreams every night this week and that there was a song he kept hearing repeatedly that reminded him of you, and one drink had turned to three, and now here he is.

“Taylor?” He had sounded more vulnerable than he intended. “Is she... I mean, everything’s okay, right?”

Taylor had reassured him, of course, her voice patient, telling him you were fine, that you just were busy. Pedro wanted to believe her, but it gnawed at him. Something felt off.

He still woke up some mornings with the urge to tell you something, a joke he heard or a weird dream he had.

•••

By August he found himself in Spain, the arid heat of the desert sinking into his skin as filming for Strange Way of Life began. The project felt like a strange departure—something raw and gritty, something that required his full attention—but even then, in quiet moments between takes, his mind wandered. He’d sit in his trailer, his phone in hand, thumb hovering over your contact name, but the messages stayed unsent.

The days passed in a blur of rehearsals, early morning call times, and late-night script revisions. He spent his downtime with Ethan, exchanging stories over beers. But there was a quietness to Pedro that hadn’t been there before—a missing piece of him he couldn’t quite place.

•••

November 22, 2022

Miami, Florida

The night was sweltering; even by late fall standards, the air was thick and humid. Pedro was grinning, wearing a loose-fitting animal print shirt that made him feel playful, like he was stepping into some exaggerated version of himself for the evening. Lux was by his side, vibrant as always, their laughter mingling with the clink of glasses as they arrived at a wine event.

But it didn’t take long for Lux to notice the shadow that hung over him.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, side-eyeing him as they sipped their drinks by the bar.

“I’ve been busy,” Pedro answered vaguely, swirling his glass and watching the amber liquid catch the light.

“Sure,” Lux replied, smirking. “And when are you both going to stop being idiots? It’s getting tiresome, hermanito.”

Pedro nearly choked on his drink, laughing in surprise. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Lux’s voice was matter-of-fact, cutting through his defenses with that typical bluntness only siblings could pull off. “You and her. It’s obvious. To everyone.”

Pedro sighed, leaning back against the bar, the Miami night buzzing around them. “It’s not that simple.”

Lux raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re both so afraid of what might happen that you’re stuck in this limbo. It’s ridiculous. Why let it get this bad?”

Pedro stared into his glass, her words echoing in his head.

"Because I love her," Pedro finally admitted, his voice quieter, weighed down by the truth. He stared down at his drink, swirling the ice around the glass. "I love her so much I’m willing to let her go."

Lux didn’t say anything.

Pedro shook his head, a bitter smile playing at his lips. "I would only hold her back. I know her so well. She’d sacrifice things just to be with me, and I can’t let her do that. I would only hold her back. She deserves so much better."

Lux tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “And what if what she wants is you? What if she’s out there feeling the same way, thinking she’s the one who isn’t good enough for you? Do you ever think about that?”

Pedro let out a slow breath, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. "Of course I’ve thought about it. Every day. But what if I’m wrong? What if she gives up things she shouldn’t for me? I can’t let her do that, Lux."

Lux leaned in closer, her voice gentle but firm. "Maybe it’s not your decision to make. Maybe she deserves the choice. Don’t you think it’s a bit arrogant to assume what’s best for her without even asking?"

Pedro met her gaze, feeling exposed. “I just... I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to ruin her life.”

Lux smiled, but it wasn’t pitying. It was knowing, soft around the edges. "You’re not ruining anything by loving her. But keeping it to yourself? That’s where the damage is, hermanito. You think you’re protecting her, but all you’re doing is pushing her away. And trust me, that hurts more than anything else."

He had always been so afraid of losing you, so terrified of not being enough, that he hadn’t even realized how much distance he had created.

Lux’s voice softened again, the words cutting through the noise in his mind. "She deserves better, Pedro? Maybe. But who says you don’t deserve her, too?"

a/n: please like, reblog and comment! i love reading your thoughts!! next part will be posted in a bit ;) aaaand something might be happening ;)

#pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal angst #my writing #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #love is complicated fic

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 1 month ago

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corruption kink anon back again😼

bro loved the new chapter, you’re feeding us so well atm and ily for it🙏🙏

i NEED more drunk, high, whimpery L, i desperately need more corruption kink reader. some crazy diabolical shit omg (if your willing to ofc!!!🫶)

Hello corruption kink anon!

Of course I can write something even more diabolical 😌

Warnings: Marijuana usage, smoking, mentions of drinking, L and reader get high, overstimulation, fem! Reader, top/bottom themes if you squint, corruption/debauchery kink, L is actually kind of difficult to write as high so sorry if this is ooc 😭

He doesn't know how he got into you.

Into this...he drove. Well, he didn't drive, he was driven.

But you?

You, and your incessant need to dull the brilliance of your mind with illicit substances...somehow intrigued him.

You were lively, charismatic, high on life and Marijuana.

Like now.

Right now, in your living room, seated in a chair caddy-corner to his, lighting up a blunt.

This was the first time he's ever seen you actually commit the act. There were times when you would come to work, red in the eyes and smelling of heavy perfume thinly veiling that distinct skunky smell; times when you would roll back and forth in your spinny chair, laughing to yourself about nothing; times when you would smell of brandy, slurring through your words; but never times when you would do it in front of him.

Of course, you weren't a complete lush. You showed up like that...maybe twice a month. The rest of the time, you were all sunshine and smiles and diligence. You told him, once, why you came to work in such a state.

You leaned into him, long past everyone else's leave, and pressed your nose to his ear. "I like you, L," you had cooed.

L brought a gentle hand to your face, grabbed it, and pushed it away. He leaned to one side, avoiding your touch, examining you with his intensely big eyes. "Is there a reason?"

You grabbed his wrist, and held his hand in place. "That I like you?"

"That you choose to put your employment at stake so often."

You tilt your head into his grasp, eyes glazed and dreamy. "Wanna know why? For real?"

He doesn't move. He just stares, long and hard.

"It's cause I get off on it." You kissed the spot where his palm met his wrist. "It turns me on, having to try and pretend like I'm normal. And I know I'm not convincing. I know everyone knows. But it's a rush, to have everyone look at me like I'm crazy."

Even with your slurring, your words came in clear. After that, you stood, grabbed your things, and stumbled out the door.

It was then that he decided you required further study.

And, after further study, he decided you yourself were addictive. Your presence, your vaciliation between coy and brazen, enchanting and unhinged, intelligent and dimwitted...it was a high in of itself. Like a game where the goal was to predict your next move. You kept him sane, in an odd way, during his current depressive slump.

When you offered, in a sober state, to help him "de-stress" whenever he liked, he was sure you found some interest in him too.

When he took you up on your offer, he was positive.

So, now you had yourselves a relationship. It was just as flippant as you. Intense and driven by hedonism on some days; quiet, soft and gentle on others. Some days, you ravaged each other, over and over, until your flesh is his and his is yours. Other days, you snuggled into him as the rain pattered in time with his typing.

On one of these "other" days, he confided in you, thumb hooked on lip as he stared into nothing.

"I'm...depressed. Hopeless. It's only the truth."

You played with his fingers, eyes lowered to watch where they curved over the cap of his knee. "If you want...you could try and hang out with me. Y'know, the way I like to sometimes."

He was inclined to say no. It was foolish, to go and chase something so short-lived...

But he envied you. He envied how little you seemed to care, and how little weight was on your shoulders. He wanted to know what it was like, even for a little while, to feel...nothing. or, conversely, to feel everything. Currently, he was somewhere in between it all, a tortuous imbalance that left him empty on the inside, and nothing but exposed nerve endings on the outside.

"Okay. I'd like to...join you."

so here he was, joining you.

You took a long, slow drag of the blunt, rolling your head so the smoke arched above you as you blew out, only to end directly in his face. He coughed, and turned his head away to regain his bearings.

"Sorry," you sigh. You weren't, really.

You suggested that he try and sit in the second-hand smoke before taking a hit, as neither of you had any clue of his tolerance. He wasn't feeling much so far, only a slight burning in his lungs. He was getting restless, he wanted the experience now.

"Pass it to me."

"you sure?" You flick the ashes into a tray, delicate hands holding the bud so nicely between your knuckles.

He nods, the motion sharp enough to leave no question of his intent.

You lean toward him, and present him the vice. He, instead of taking it, leans in and takes a hit. His eyes are on yours for a moment, beneath you, calm and clear. You looked like the epitome of sin, sensuous, wrapped in smoke and lust. Then, he snapped away, coughing. You grin, and pat his back. "Try and relax, don't fight it," you advise.

He grimaces at you. As if he hasn't spent the entire week researching everything to do with Marijuana consumption.

You only tilt your head, and give him one of those lazy, crooked smiles. He can't stay mad.

"Wanna try again?"

He sighs, and leans in once more. He was careful this time: slow, relaxed, didn't hold it in.

You watched as his cheeks hallowed, as his sleepy eyes fixed on the floor, lost in concentration. Smoke fled from his nose, billowing around his face and hair.

now he was feeling something.

you spent the next thirty minutes passing the blunt, back and forth, until both of you were stoned. His body was completely loose, legs spread, feet to the ground, shoulders slumped. He barely looked conscious.

"...L..."

He's quiet for a second.

Thirty seconds.

A minute.

"...L."

"...hmm?"

You turn to face him. The reddish tint to his eyes really lets his long black lashes stand out. "You're pretty."

You giggle a little, and his head rolls around to face you. "Am I?"

"Mm. You should...come here and kiss me."

"I won't be doing that."

You force yourself up, and stumble into his lap. It takes him a little too long to wrap his arms around your waist.

"I loveeeee you," you coo.

He stares up at you, long and hard. Without any warning, he buries his face in your tits. "Mmph..."

You smile, and kiss his forehead. "D'you...love me?"

He sighs, and slides a hand up your back. "Mm."

"Mm?"

"Mm."

You laugh a little, and he finally finds what he's looking for: the zipper.

He's slow as he pulls it down, not because he's trying to be cautious, but because his bones feel like absolute gelatine and his hands are getting the signals from his brain about three seconds too late.

You do him the favor of shimmying the dress halfway down, between you and him. L unclips your bra, and shoves his face farther into your tits, until his face has some pillowy flesh on either side. As soon as he's comfortable, he begins to suck hickeys against your sternum.

"L..." you whine.

He shakes his head. No talking right now.

"Gimme a kiss."

He pauses, and finally looks back up at you. You anchor your hand in his hair, to be sure he doesn't try and slip away. As soon as your lips crash to his, he sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he leans back into the couch.

it's sloppy, like he's never kissed before. His tongue licks into your mouth, the lasting flavor of the smoke something he can't help but chase.

his hands tug you closer by your waist, breath quickening in a shaky need for everything you had.

Your feral hips grind against his, and as he slips past your face to groan in your ear, you can't help but moan back.

"Gonna...mhn...don't- stop-" he whimpers, rutting against you.

And you do. You sit up on your knees, off of his lap, to his utter surprise. "Beg me first."

You've never made him beg before. He frowns up at you, barely able to focus on your face. "No."

You tilt your head. "No? Don't be a brat, baby..."

"You- don't- be a brat..." he grumbles. Words don't come easy to him right now.

"Beg me or..."

"If I don't..." what was the word? "Cum, you don't," he slurred.

You frown. He was right, though. You got off on how absolutely debauched he got when he was close. How he panted and moaned, how he drove his hips into you like you were a toy, how he whimpered your name into your skin...so, how much more debauched would he get when he was on his 5th orgasm? 6th? 10th? What a good idea, you.

"Fine. You're right," you coo, settling back down on his hips.

He smears his face across your neck, settling in as you begin to rock back and forth once more. "Good."

You grind, you moan, all while the tent in his pants grows even more urgent. He lets out every single sound of his, every whine, every whimper, until he's holding your hips down and cumming in his pants.

He's limp, eyes closed, like he's feeling everything for once, just as he wanted. Then, you unbutton his pants.

"What...are you..."

"Lift your hips."

He obeyed, watching as you pulled down his pants and boxers. He was half up, half spent, half conscious of what your plan was. Until you wrapped your hands around his cock.

His hips jerked. "Ngh- too sensitive," he grimaced. You only smiled.

"Be still...I thought you wanted to cum," you taunt.

You saddle up and, before he can protest, slide down his dick.

He shudders and spasms, hands clutching your hips in an attempt to ground himself. He stutters out your name, breath heavy as he watches you relentlessly ride him.

"Izz- too...much-"

"Mn, can't hear you," you giggle, tossing your head back while your hips roll. He gasps and claws at the dress still bunched at your hips, his awkward jutting pairing with your expert humping to create an experience just as intense as your high.

You reach behind yourself, touching around the table to find another blunt.

Meanwhile, he can't take his eyes off of how his cock makes a bulge as you lean backward, the stretch of your skin barely able to distract him...no, it doesn't distract him, not at all.

You can feel him buck, shudder, twitch inside you- he's cum again.

You don't stop.

"Gimme another."

He shakes his head, but you don't let up.

He sounds crazed as you ride, all opened mouth "ahs" turning into barely muffled "mms" as he sucks on your skin. This overstimulation, it was unlike anything else he's felt before. It was like recieving a shock, it made him jump and seize, made him claw and bite in an attempt to somehow expend the extreme excess of energy the sensation gave him.

He pressed his chest to yours and wrapped his arms around you- whether it was a way of trying to still you or a way of trying to keep you there, you didn't know, but in the meantime, you tried to light the blunt you caught behind his head. You could barely discern the difference between the vice and your own nail, which made it impossibly lucky that you were able to safely light the damn thing and toss the lighter away.

You leaned back to face him again, taking as long a hit as possible just to blow it all in his face. He didn't cough this time. He watched you, distinguishing your face from the gray haze that surrounded you, his focus tracing from your eye, to the other, then to your mouth, back again in a visible effort to decide something.

He kisses you, full force, as you try your best to absolutely demolish his hips with yours.

You tilt your head back, he mouths at your neck, you take a hit, he kisses you again just to swallow up the smoke; it was a new pattern he seemed to enjoy very much. All the intake made him just a little less sensitive, enough to thoroughly enjoy himself.

He finishes again and again, blank after blank, 5, 6, 10 orgasms until both of you fall asleep, strewn across the couch in a picturesque scene of you, holding the bud between limp fingers, and him, spent inside you and sighing against your neck.

You have time to clean up the ash tomorrow, time to heal sore legs and deal with any other consequences the DARE program warned you about, but now? Now, you both could relax. You could continue to get off on further debauching your closed-off boss, and he could continue to indulge in the not-so-out-of-reach fantasy of feeling...better. like he was human.

It was perfect.

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lotstradamus · 3 months ago

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Hello, I had not used tumblr in a long time and I cannot tell you how pleased I am to return to find you obsessed with the Vampire Chroncles and Anne Rice's bullshit (affectionate). Please tell me more, I wanna know all your thoughts: what did you think about Armand's book, how about uncle Julien huh, also also did you read A Cry to Heaven...aaaaah I can feel my life being taken over by Anne again just like when I was 14 wtf

WELCOME BACK. I AM STILL HERE AND UNHINGED

I saved this to answer once I read Cry to Heaven and then I forgot, naturally! so here are my thoughts:

I was completely normal and fine about The Vampire Armand. highlights: 1) when he hacked his way into Marius's bedroom with an axe, 2) when he got so drunk he fell in the Grand Canal, and 3) when he lay down with Lestat's unconscious body and drank his blood, which in MY humble opinion was the most erotic moment in the books hands down. the This Better Not Awaken Anything In Me final boss.

(also this review ended up being provably false, as I immediately read Merrick which seemed like it was gonna be interesting and ended up just being weird and pointless, and then dragged myself through Blood and Gold which was BORINGGGG (my fault for reading all the books in like 2 years, instead of 20 like Anne intended).)

oh Uncle Julian...................... it's impossible to talk about SO MANY CHARACTERS in the Lives of the Mayfair Witches books without talking about Anne Rice's Weird Thing About Children Having Sex With Adults. as normal human people reading these books we obviously want to condemn every man who touches a child, but Anne Rice isn't writing them as pedophiles to make us dislike them; she genuinely just doesn't think there's anything wrong with it. it's so strange. Uncle Julian, Michael Curry, and David Talbot (pre-vampirism) all spring to mind as leads - if not heroes! Michael is named after her grandmother's family! - of her books who are attracted and sleep with to pre-teen and teen girls (and sometimes boys).

so saying that, I try to judge the characters without that aspect of them factored in, cos Anne CLEARLY views it as a neutral (and sometimes positive!!!) action. I erase every instance or mention of it from my mind ASAP so I can read these books and continue to be sane. 'Anne Rice's bullshit (affectionate)' is so accurate.

so OTHER THAN THE FACT HE HAS SEX WITH CHILDREN, I fucking LOVE Uncle Julian. I need - NEED - his ghost to meet Lestat at some point. the drama in Lasher when you find out that Julian is ALSO sleeping with Lasher and then starts secretly working against him... diva. icon. the moment. etc. he's not my favourite Mayfair but it's a close race.

as for Cry to Heaven: AAAUUUGGGGHHHGHGHGHGHH. changed me. stunning. beautiful. breathtaking. I immediately looked up the price of flights to Naples. I keep bringing up facts about castration to confused people in my life. I listened to the recording of Alessandro Moreschi singing in 1902 and cried. certified 5 star banger. after reading Merrick (bad) and Lasher (worse), this book redeemed Anne Rice for me.

next up I have copies of Blackwood Farm, Christ the Lord and The Feast of All Saints; just trying to decide what vibe I'm in the mood for. other than 'Anne'. the vibe is ALWAYS Anne.

#Interview with the Vampire #books #answered #I feel like I need an #Anne Rice #tag #so I can stop flooding my IWTV tag with stuff that is decidedly not IWTV haha #CW csa #cw pedophila mention

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starsurfacemortalkombat · 1 year ago

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Hello!! I was wondering if I could request headcanons (or fic? Of your choice really! I dont know if you do fics and I wouldn't want to push you!) of MK11 Dark Radien in babyspace?

I know you've gotten lots of requests concerning him but I love your Lord Radien works sm! Importantly I hope you're taking breaks eating plenty, and drinking lots of water! Thank you for all the works you've done they've been so lovely to read! - @counting-sheeps-n-bunnies 🐑

Hi!! I do do Fics, but they have to be specifically requested!! If you ask for Fic or Hc, I might do a Fic sometimes, but Hcs are just easier in general to do. But I still to fics!!! <3

WARNING: A lot of the Hcs have Yandere/Controling Themes!!! There’s talk of Forced/Very Pushy Encouraged Regressing!!

There is NO hitting, or kidnapping, or anything of the sort!!! Just ‘overprotectiveness’ to the point it can be seen as Controlling!!!

Also Dark Lord Raiden might be a bit out of character because he's similar to Lord Raiden . . . but not exactly as sane as Lord Raiden? Pookie here just needs a bottle and therapy, fr.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Dark Lord Raiden w/ Babyspace Regressor Hcs

⛈️ Dark Lord Raiden is . . . something :D

⛈️ ^ Not saying this in a bad way, but maybe not in the 100% most positive tone either (still love my Pookie though)

⛈️ He’s over-possessive of the people he loves, especially his baby

⛈️ He’s lost so much, most to his own actions, so the idea of losing someone so close to him? His friend/partner? Or his baby? He couldn’t bare the idea. He won’t bare the idea.

⛈️ He has a nasty habit of overbabying you, making you feel small when you should be big

⛈️ How? Easy, he’ll just do things for you!!

⛈️ Why would you need to tie your shoes? Raiden can do it for you

⛈️ He’ll put his hand on your shoulder, guiding you through things you might be able to do completely fine normally

⛈️ Getting colorful designed bandaids even when your big and insist that a normal bandaid would work too

⛈️ Normal Lord Raiden has an accident of looming over people, but most times doesn’t notice it

⛈️ But Dark Lord Raiden? He’s constantly looming over you, sometimes accident, other times to make sure your okay

⛈️ He’s very tall, and it’s easy to feel tiny around him (it’s almost like that’s what he wants . . .)

⛈️ In fact, that is what he wants!! You can’t get too hurt when your small!! Babies really shouldn’t be training or doing dangerous big kid things, and get to stay right next to Dada! Dada can easily protect you! He’ll make sure you don’t get hurt! <3

⛈️ While I’ve described Dark Lord Raiden as overprotective and . . . a bit insane - He does love you with his heart soul and body

⛈️ I mean, of course he loves you!! Your his good friend/partner, and at times he’s sweet little baby, how could he not precious you?

⛈️ Other than all ^ That stuff, he’s quite similar to his old self

⛈️ He’s a little more loose on certain rules, as long as it makes his baby happy

⛈️ More candy after dinner? Normal Lord Raiden would set his foot down, but anything to make Dark Raiden’s baby smile

⛈️ However, he’s more stricter on ‘dangerous’ rules, like going near outlets or certain objects in the kitchen (he’ll watch you like a hawk in the kitchen)

⛈️ But all punishments (like timeout or the stairs) have been moved off the table!!! He could never make you cry or hurt you

⛈️ One thing that might make you cry or trigger your regression sometimes is that when Raiden gets angry, loud scary thunderstrikes will be heard outside

⛈️ They’re rarely directed towards you, but he’ll make sure that your okay and he didn’t scare you too badly

⛈️ It takes a lot of conversation to let him ‘allow’ you to be more independent while small

⛈️ No one is good enough to watch you, not in his eyes

⛈️ But he’ll allow playdates and supervised babysitting!! His Brother is his main go-to for these things, but the Earthrealmers will do fine as well

⛈️ His favorite little activity with you is storytime

⛈️ He gets to have you in his arms, most likely bottle/sippy feeding you, reading a nice little story that he knows you love

⛈️ ^ It also counts as cuddle time!! :D (He’ll get another actual cuddle time later though)

⛈️ As established Dark Lord Raiden (Lord Raiden in general) is very tall!! This also means he’s super strong, as the Protector of Earthrealm

⛈️ Which means he’ll have no trouble carrying you everywhere!! <3

⛈️ Your too small to walk, and crawling might hurt your little knees!! We can’t have that happen, now can we?

⛈️ Of course he’ll let you run around for playtime, especially for bigger regressors

⛈️ But where’s a better, and safer, place than Dada’s arms?

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I do have a lot of requests, but I do enjoy doing them. I'll make sure to take care of myself, promise!!

And I'm so glad that you enjoy my work!! <3

Fun Fact: I did not care about lord Raiden when I first made my blog!! Shocking, because he's quickly became a favorite of mine!! I really like him now. <3

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gr1ffins · 30 days ago

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hi. hello. so. um. I hope you're okay with long asks. that new griffin fic and that art. um. um,,,,,,

this gif is literally me I fear... I feel manic. a bit. maybe a lot. please bear with me on this, I need to say, that art? griffin with his dark brows and frowning eyes and slightly askew hair and stubbles?!!! ssjdjsjsubeis???? i meant to say this earlier but your griffin made me feel INSANE grrrghh

also i'm so not over your writing style, and the mentor dynamics kind of slapped me on the face hard, [“I’m supposed to be the one looking after you,” Griffin murmurs so quietly you almost don’t hear him. He sounds deliberately disinterested, but he keeps clasping and unclasping his hands.] IM GUTTED. your griffin characterizations too oml, [Griffin’s lips quirk up with amusement. “But when I say that, I’m the one being crude.”] // [ “I’m only indulging you because I know what you’re like when you’re bitter. Don’t start expecting this, next time I won’t have it.”] like, oml shut UPP I'm going to kiss you ooo boy you want us so bad just admit it 💔 I NEED to tackle that guy and smooch all over his face and give him warm food and feed him soup and tuck him in and kiss his brow and pat his arm and if he protests that doesn't matter he has no choice, I'm still calling him pookie snookums whether he likes it or not ♥️

speaking of, the way reader and griffin is comfy with each other in an unspoken way...[You duck forward to rest your head between his shoulder blades, right above where a new scar of neat stitches will run down his back, hiding from his gaze. You ghost your fingers over the shape of it, smiling to yourself. ] // [You consider kicking his chair out under him, just to see him suffer, but decide better of it when he leans into your palms as they cup the jagged angles of his collarbones.] pacing around my room rn. thinking about your art again. you in that art are so cute what 😭 after griffin creases his brow (aw he's angy) you're doing that cute lil mischievous crinkling eyes that's so cute 🥹 and so them. I'm visualizing the fic with that, and ugh I'd literally read a whole novel of griffin and his little mentee 😔♥️

anyways thank you for coming to my ted talk loll tysm for sharing your work <33 here's a more sane and normal part of the ask if you don't mind hehe; can I ask what program you use for your art? literally gorgeous rrahh

Circi i want to scoop you into my arms and smooch the top of your head. my ask box is ALWAYS open to any type of ask, long short whatever. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU SEND IN SUCH CUTIE THINGS ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

i’m currently drawing more griffin, because i need a banner for my pinned post and a new pfp. i’ll make the damn aesthetic griffin account with my own two hands. i completely understand the feral need for him. i’m a professional griffin glazer you don’t even need to explain. i always imagined him with scruff, and in the book his hair is described as sort of longer and messier. i was a little paranoid that he looked too… full? in my drawing? like i needed to draw him thinner, but everything i tried just looked awkward so i left him be. this makes me happy that i did, im glad im appealing to the masses

circi you are ruler of uplifting any of my worries about my posts. i literally thought to myself “no no, i shouldn’t post this. it’s so out of character. i despise it.” but i didn’t have anything else to post, and i felt the need to produce something since it’s been nearly a week since lost solace. i rewrote those specific lines you’re quoting at least twenty times, im so glad you liked them 🥹 the mentor and mentee dynamic!! i imagine griffin in my mind as just being older. more mature. perhaps not guiding, but definitely experienced. it feels so perfect to write him in that dynamic. trust, he wants you bad. pet names and all

IM BLUSHINGGGGG that little animation is very much what i imagine griffin’s dynamic with reader is. you are both the one who pushes him to insanity and the one who brings him back to reality. no matter what he says, he does enjoy your antics.

you are making me want to write a long fic with this dynamic. with a full plot and like. 7-10 chapters. i’ve only written a long fic once and it nearly killed me but i think i could do it again. if i were going to, it would take a long time before i could post it, as id want to do proper research and then pre write all the chapters in advance, but this has given me much to think about… my messages are very open… if you want to chat about it…….

THANK YOU for the lovely ask!! i adore seeing you in my notifs, and this brought such a big grin to my face i was so pleased hehehehhehehe ! also! i use procreate! although i’m planning on switching to a different program once i get a new tablet. the one i currently use is like. 8 years old and can ONLY have procreate on it, otherwise it just shuts down. i get nervous its gonna crash and delete all my artwork one day. procreate cant really handle the animations and it limits how many frames you can use. so annoying

#thank you again for all the kind words🥹#i love seeing you in my inbox i get so geeked

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decarabiandivorce · 1 year ago

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#old Mondstadt probably loved short stories like A Monkey's Paw and uses those types of metaphors a lot#a promise from their god of love and safety being twisted so... so they find ways to twist up the twist

Thinking about Decarabian's story later being told as a cautionary tale against a controlling suffocating 'love', and the role Amos would have played in such a narrative....anyway I'm curious what you think of Decarabian and Amos' relationship specifically as 'lovers' 👀

HELLO! I, TUMBLR USER DECARABIAN DIVORCE IS TOTALLY NORMAL ABOUT THESE TWO AND THEIR FAILURE OF A RELATIONSHIP.

COME CLOSER

I WILL NOT BITE

oKAY SO

My interpretation of Decarabian and Amos is that of two people that really cared about each other and so thought that perhaps they should be romantically involved with each other. I have a couple writings about how I think they would first meet (Left in my bestie's ask blog like a cat)

But! To understand that I must share how I interpret Amos! She is my babygirl and I think about her a nooooormal amount. Okay so Amos was a hunter at the start of the archon war, but thanks to her courtship she was basically cursed to have the same lifespan as Decarabian. This sounded like a completely sane and normal thing to agree to at the altar, a literal til death do we part. She had been alive for centuries by the time of the rebellion, and when her husband's 'heart' stopped so did hers.

Decarabian on the other hand, has been alive even before the time of the archon war,,, cause ya know,,, he needs to found Mondstadt. Now the city itself wasn't the only place that Decarabian reigned from. The snowy mountains had villages such as Sal Vindagnyr, and he was there to witness the celestial nail be dropped. He saw the horrors gods could inflict on other beings and this shattered his trust in any other divine being. Such a tragedy also made him think about how fragile humanity is, and thus he vowed he would keep Mondstadt safe. At all costs.

They both had a couple of friendships before this all went down, I like to hc Deca as knowing Kairos and thus when she went MIA it only fueled his parania. His closest neighbors were Liyue, and he did not trust a single god from there, and we all know he and Andrius had beef.

Amos, however, was a pillar of Mondstadt's community. She was a hunter! She was strong and powerful and in present-day Mond terms she would be as reliable as Jean or Noelle. However, Mondstadt wasn't as.... free as present-day Mondstadt. With her parents dying when she was about 20 or so, many people kept implying for her to start a relationship.

She.. hated disappointing them. She had never felt the need to take a lover before, but a companion? A friend she coudl share secrets with and be by her side? She craved warmth.

It only got worse when the war started and Decarabian is like "oh shield time everyone! :D " and now she was Stuck. Stuck and unable to go out to hunt. She felt like a burden. A testament to her name. She would spend long days helping out the city as best she could, telling every one of her friends that were concerned for her lifestyle that she was simply too busy for a relationship.

She... never felt an attraction to a person before. Never felt Cupid's arrow sting her chest and cause her to yearn. She had close calls, but could never imagine herself in an actual relationship with either of them.

Yet days in the timeless city still moved on, and the storms cradled the city in their razor-sharp embrace. She dreamed of the forest and of the hunt. She dreamed of those foggy memories of joining the hunting party. She dreamed that someone would understand that she didn't need a lover to be happy.

If this was a story told in the future, this is where the Monkey's paw would curl.

One day, she met a man in the armory and he was so kind and polite to her. No one in the city had seen their god's face, so she just assumed he was a noble or a guard. They talked for hours. He wanted to meet a person that people kept talking about. She would go silent as he mentioned those words, but in the end they became friends.

Yet... she was still troubled by her friends. It sucked have to sit through conversation after conversation about her future. How that having someone by her side would be good for her when she gets older! How having a spouse was a wonderful thing.

After many nights of pressure and debate, she asked out Decarabian. She wanted to experience this. Perhaps she was wrong! Perhaps she was just missing out! He was her friend, so it would be just like hanging out.

Before she knew it, people were happy for her. She was happy that they were happy. She was happy seeing Decarabian smile at her. But was she happy?

It felt like an item on a list being crossed out. An obligation she had to fulfill. She got what she asked, but...

...

Its fine! She is fine! Its...

its nothing.

don't worry about it.

(^ doodled them while writing this all down ehehe)

Years later, she and him were wed. Everyone was so happy. It felt like a dream walking down the aisle. The type of dream that you don't remember happening. The type that fogs the mind as you try to recall it. There are rings on her fingers now. It's a cold feeling, the metal against her skin. The ornaments in her hair are heavy. It's... its fine.

She is glad her husband feels so happy looking at her.

As lovers, they didn't really date. Neither of them found the point of all of it. They were basically roommates+ that slept in the same bed. Amos found out she loved to cuddle him as she slept. It's been so long since she had felt a loving embrace, and he had never felt a hug before.

She taught him a lot of things about romance, not quiet understanding him at times but they managed! She yearned to be held, and so Decarabian did! He was doing such a good job at this! He loved the ways she laughed. He loved her dedication to her crafts. He loved looking at her.

Yet the years went by, and soon Amos wasn't leaving the tower as often. Her friends had lives of their own, and she should have a life of her own. Despite having someone by her side, she never felt so isolated.

Before long, she was the only one left alive from that friend group. Decarabian put his arms around her waist, happy that his beloved was spending more time with him. She seemed sad.. so a hug should do the trick!

They never.. talked about this. They never talked about anything! They just existed with each other after a time, enjoying the other's presence but something was missing.

She felt safe. She felt a strong bond between her and Deca. She felt... happy? Complacent. It was nice being in the tower... but it was as dull as the grey sky.

It was only centuries of this limbo before she would meet a duo that would bring that spark back in her eyes.

So yeah tldr neither of them should have been dating each other in the first place but the norm that people who are close together should be lovers pushed them into a situation neither of them was prepared to tackle. Neither of them communicated their needs and thus suffering was caused. At the end of the day, they do care deeply for each other, and this only made it all much more painful. F in chat

Anyways links to my writings and a couple hcs pals and I have about the two

The Sun Post <- THE MAIN ONE TO READ

Bestie's commentary on it (^^^) that I rotate and I think everyone should see

Gifts

Expressions and Metaphors

Everything is fine!

Amos means Burden thing again <- This one is a lot more short story -ish

The one Ring to rule court her

The basics in Language

How they got together

You know other men?

Touch

Should have communicated better oof

Average Deca compliment

The reveal

Speedrunning this huh?

#steel text #decmos #decarabian #amos #genshin #I AM SO NORMAL CLICK ON THE READ MORE LINK ITS NORMAL ITS NORMAL ITS NORMAL #old mondstadt #thx for the ask!

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deluluwonderland · 2 years ago

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Peeks...hi hello, so we can ramble about our crossfandom agendas here? 👁️

If you don't mind me— i have MULTIPLE of them, and would love to share about the multiple brainrots i have about them. heck i even made a whole very self-indulgent casual modern college au for them because i terribly need to shove all these characters in a single room and see what happens

I'll try to keep my first ask short tho, so I'll just drop my agendas and then maybe elaborate on them more in future asks? if that doesn't bother any of you-

(just a heads up, I'll be talking about characters from enstars, genshin and danganronpa!)

So first of all, my main and favorite duo (the one which started the whole college au mess)— my two favorite characters from two games i like, leo tsukinaga and lyney! :]

I have TOO MANY thoughts about them for it to fit here...so i might ramble about them another time. But please think about them for me 👉👈

Next one i am very insane about is the fontaine twins and 2wink because??? I am not the only one to see the multiple parallels between them right??? Especially lyney and hinata??? Both pairs of twins have such a similar past too— grew up on the streets by themselves (fontaine twins because parents died, 2wink because they ran away) and had to perform to earn money to survive

Then there's once again lyney, but with kokichi (danganronpa) this time— it's less i want them to interact, and more like holy fuck why the fuck are they WAY TOO SIMILAR??? they even have the same japanese va....

It all started september 1st 2023, when i was rambling about lyney to my friend who knows nothing about genshin (but was into dr with me), and she pointed their similarity out

And ever since then, i have not been over it at all

(scrolls back up, see: "I'll try to keep my first ask short tho", dies a little inside BECAUSE ITS ALREADY GETTING SO LONG I AM SO SORRY...i am normal i swear (i am not))

OK BEFORE I FINISH I JUST HAVE TWO MORE— do you know the fanganronpa dra? Because I've had a leo and yamato friendship agenda for so long now. I just think they would be the best of friends, because they have a lot of similarities imo? They're also both my faves from their respective medias so,

BUT RECENTLY I'VE ALSO BEEN THINKING OF YAMATO AND FREMINET INTERACTING...because they're both somewhat into machines right? So I'm just thinking...yamato acting like some sort of older brother/senior/mentor figure to freminet? I don't know??? I think it has the potential to be cute and wholesome

OK I THINK THAT'S IT I AM SO SORRY FOR JUST. popping out of nowhere...but finding a blog about crossfandoms just! Made me excited because i am very passionate about my brainrots about it...hope you guys don't mind! Have a nice day :]

OMG OMGGG OMGOGGNAJDHDJKAS YEAH NO ITS COMPLETELY FINE TO GIVE A LONG RAMBLE!! HONESTLY THIS MADE US SO HAPPY!! DEFO FEEL FREE TO ELABORATE IM SO CURIOUS ABOUT THE COLLEGE AU HELLO???

putting under a cut bc this can get long, but also MINOR warning for genshin main story spoilers + enstars spoilers regarding 2wink specifcially, again its minor but still!

'' my two favorite characters from two games i like, leo tsukinaga and lyney! :] ''

I LOVE LOVE LOVE THOSE TWO AS WELL!!

THEY WOULD BE SO FUNNY AS A DUO, im pretty sure leo would love lyney's shows and even made a song based on them a few times, they would be very inspiring!!

as friends i think lyney is the oddly 'sane' one of the two, usually, in a casual normal day lyney has to put idealistic leo in place, honestly

BUT i also feel like in a way leo can ground lyney, bc that guy is someone who lies a lot, its all for a purpose, even someone's good, sure, he even puts on a happy facade bc thats what everyone likes

but all that has GOT to be exhausting and he's surely been in a place where he's just lying to himself even, saying whatever nonsense with a fake smile. leo might be childish but idk i feel like he tell when someone is at their limit like that, ground him back to the truth but not harshly

ykno?/w??/ ajdhasjkdsah am i making sense?? i sure hope so but i will defo be keeping them in my thoughts thank you

'' Next one i am very insane about is the fontaine twins and 2wink because??? --- Especially lyney and hinata??? ''

YEAH I SEE WHERE YOURE GOING WITH HINATA AND LYNEY HONESTLY

LIKE... IVE BEEN TRYING TO READ UP ON 2WINK LORE, I NEED TO READ THAT ONE ! ERA STORY BUT I HEARD WHAT HAPPENED?? DUDE??? HINATA WAS NOT DOING WELL AND I CAN ONLY HOPE HE'S CURRENTLY FINE

THEY BOTH FEEL SO MUCH RESPONSIBILITY AND GUILT FOR THEIR YOUNGER TWIN :((( HINATA WAS LIKE ALSO ANOTHER PERSON WHO PUT ON A HAPPY HAPPY FACADE, AND WOULD CHANGE WILLINGLY CHANGE HIMSELF AND SACRIFICE JUST FOR YUTA??!?? :((( THEN WITH LYNEY ALWAYS TRYING TO TAKE THE GUILT FOR ANYTHING BAD HAPPENING, TRYING TO HANDLE EVERYTHING HIMSELF FOR HIS TWIN + FREMMY NOW :((

TWINS MAKE ME SAD BRO, THESE FICTIONAL TWINS WANT ME DEAD

trust me lyney and hinata both gush about their younger siblings together, then lynette and yuta at the same time elsewhere are complaining about the trouble their elder got them into over tea hasjdhajksfha

'' Then there's once again lyney, but with kokichi (danganronpa) this time— ''

ahh yeah yeah! i remember seeing like, fanart of lyney and kokichi back when the fontaine vas where announced, but man thats a while ago now... BUT YEAH THEY ARE SIMILAR, LIARS, LIARS, PANTS ON FIRE

irl i hate liars sm but in fiction they scratch my brain so much, theyre so... interesting... give me more...

actually on the topic of same vas, wasnt there someone in genshin who had kiibo's va? i cant recall who tho, maybe it was just a random shitpost...

'' you know the fanganronpa dra? Because I've had a leo and yamato friendship ''

'' BUT RECENTLY I'VE ALSO BEEN THINKING OF YAMATO AND FREMINET INTERACTING... ''

hmmm im only familiar with official danganronpas unfortunately, so im afraid i can't comment much, but still by all means encourage you to tell me more about them!! since i know nothing about yamato, please tell me more about how you think these characters interacting would go? :o

please please please give fremmy more people to look up to and to encourage him, he deserves all of it and all the love and care!! imagining him building robots with someone else makes me ahsdkjashdkjahskdjahsjkhasjk EXPLODES /pos

~mod Star

#star.txt #//I CAN MAKE A LONG RAMBLE EVEN LONGER BY COMBINING OUR FORCES #rambles #long post #crossfandom #leo tsukinaga #lyney #lynette #hinata aoi #yuta aoi #yamato kisaragi #freminet #kokichi ouma #ensemble stars #genshin impact #danganronpa #danganronpa another

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magnaflourious-nerdity · 2 years ago

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Aziraphale/Crowley Ace Attorney AU

So the thing is.... I couldn't stop myself...? There are two response here, both of which are significantly longer than three sentences, neither of which are like, very good, but! I hope you enjoy them regardless!!!

Take one:

[Book!A and C. This has no direct corollary with a specific PW time period, but would have to take place at least post game one and most likely sometime after the six official cannon games have completed.]

"I go to Germany for FIVE minutes to see my demon of a little sister-anathema says hello by the way - and when I come back you're on trial for MURDER?!? AGAIN!!!"

Aziraphael looks far too calm, sitting there in the same holding cell as the last time they had been in this position. When he sees Crowley, he has the audacity to smile at him.

"Oh dear," he says, pleasantly, as if he wasn't a mere three days from his own potential doomsday. "Now, there's no need for the shouting, really. it's all just a big misunderstanding. Do give Anathema my best by the way, it's been an age since we've been able to get together."

Crowley huffs out a frustrated sigh at the other man's nonchalance. "And I imagine it'll be even longer when you're serving LIFE IN PRISON!!! A misunderstanding?!? They found you with your hands in the victims pockets, Aziraphael. You're a lawyer. Why would you think that that is in anyway a sane idea!!!!!"

The blonde still looks irritatingly unruffled as he primly adjusts his lapels and levels his gaze at Crowley. "Well, forgive me for wanting to know the identity of the poor soul lying dead in my bookshop- right in front of the first editions, I might add !" That is so far the only point that Azirapheal manages to sound actually distressed about.

Unsurprising, Crowley thinks, almost fond if he wasn't so flustered.

"They could well have ruined those priceless works, which is the real crime here, if you ask me." Crowley hadn't asked him, specifically because he'd already known that that's how he would feel about the whole thing. "Can you imagine the audacity?" Crowley can feel a migraine threatening to start in his temples.

" The fact that he's a murderer sort of tempers the disbelief, so yes." He heaves a sigh, resigned, and plops down in the chair positioned across from the other man, on this side of the glass. "Do you have any idea as to who might want to frame you for murder? A second time." He adds, still slightly incredulous over the whole thing.

Aziraphael makes a noncommittal noise, tilting his head to the side in a move that shows he's thinking, but that he doesn't have much hope for an answer. Instead, he simply shakes his head a Crowley slightly, confirming what the defense attorney had already suspected.

They'll need leads then. He's already formulating his next move in the investigation: obviously, the bookshop will be his first priority. Besides, Aziraphael will probably want an update on his home/bookshop/office- the thought of a herd of strangers rooting through it for clues is likely to ALSO cause him some distress.

Attempting to explain himself a little more, Aziraphael continues to describe the situation, hoping to shed some light on things: "Normally, you know I would never touch the crime scene, but I felt that it would be unwise to simply leave the man murdered in my shop without discovering more abput the situation. Not to mention a sure annoyance for me later. I didn't know that I'd be swarmed the minute I touched the body, while i was looking for his identification. " And there was something odd about that timing, wasn't there? Surely he wouldn't be the only one who thought so... he'd have to ask Newt later, when he stopped by the precinct to bully him for details on their side of the investigation.

Aziraphael sighs anxiously, Crowley- having anticipated the source of it already -knows what is likely to come after, and he is not disappointed. It's almost enough to make him laugh. Almost.

"They had best hope they're being careful with everything over there!" He can't hide the irritation in his voice at this point, and the urge to laugh rears its head again. "Everything had better remain in good condition when this whole mess is over, or else I will be having words with the officers in charge. Several of them. Loudly. This whole thing is so incredibly inconvenient for me, Crowley."

He sounds so indignant that this time Crowley does crack a smile. He is ridiculous.

The defense attorney rolls his eyes at the statement, however, "Inconvienient?" he says, to distract Aziraphael's current train of thought and bring him back to the matter at hand. "Yes, because going to trial again is so convenient for the both of us. Shouldn't you be showing more concern than this?!"

Last time someone had tried to frame him, and Crowley had met him here- in the very same positions they were in now! -Aziraphael had been significantly more distraught, having run through and been rejected by all of his other options before Crowley had shown up, stone faced, and flat out told him that he was going to be his lawyer, refusing to take no for an answer and in spite of Aziraphael's hand-wringing objections over what this would mean for both of their legal reputations.

This time, he only looks at Crowley, unfazed, his eyes filled with a trust so soul-shatteringly sincere that it makes Crowley's breathing hitch. Aziraphael continues on, unfazed by his slight reaction: "WeIl, as I do have complete faith in you dear, I can't see the point of worrying when I know you'll free me once again. Go get them, as they say." He chuckles a little at his own joke, as if what he'd just said hadn't completely gut-punched Crowley with the totality of his belief in him.

A groan and Crowley gets up from the detention center chair, avoiding further eye contact with Aziraphael, cheeks heated and glowing red, hopefully beyond the other man's notice behind the glass- entirely too cheerful for a prosecutor with two consecutive false arrest arrests for capitol murder. He knew without ever asking that he was innocent, though. That someone was simply trying to frame him again. For what purpose though, still remained to be seen, but neither of the two of them them had any shortage of enemies with both the capacity and inclination for such a thing.

He sighed again, already tired. It felt like his friend was being divinely punished for something particularly heinous, at least, with the way their luck was going. His mouth thinned into a stern line, contemplating his next moves in order of priority- Well, he supposed if that were true, heaven would have to go through him first. Nothing would keep him from defending Aziraphael, no matter the circumstances.

-----

Alternate take- v.2

[TV!A and C, takes place in the PW cannon period right after Rise from the Ashes and right before Justice for All. Think, "Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death"]

-----

Crowley stares at the note in his hands, trembling. Through the choking veil of his shock, he wills his eyes to stop burning at the corners as he clenches the paper in his grasp, as if it was the only thing anchoring him to the spot. He re-reads it, trying to understand.

He reads it a third time, and then a fourth, always hoping the message will change. It doesn't.

Prosecutor A. Z. Fell chooses the path of Heaven.

The type-face on the letter glares up at him. This alone, these words and what they mean for his friend, would be enough to destroy him he thinks. It would be enough without--

Scrawled beneath the type-face, in Aziraphael's own handwriting, the most decimating part of the whole thing:

I forgive you...

Blinking rapidly at the sudden blur of his vision and silently glad for the dark glasses he always wears, Crowley looks up at the person behind the counter who'd handed him the envelope with Azirapheal's final note to him. They are smiling beatifically at him, as if nothing in the world is wrong, as if this is normal. Apparently they'd been hired to run the shop, now that.... well, he supposes the arrangements had to have been made beforehand, to ensure the sanctity and protection of his beloved books without him. And that is a secondary knife in his guts, the knowledge that- at least in certain aspects of this -it had to have been thoroughly considered in advance. There had been PLANS. Contingencies. He had put real time and thought into the circumstances surrounding his-- but he cannot think the word, won't let himself.

a sob escapes Crowley's throat, harsh and desperate, then another one as he feels himself disconnecting from his own body and his surroundings appear to fade slightly around him. He notes distantly that his shoulders appear to be shaking, and that it is hard to catch his breath, and he can't even bring himself to be ashamed of such a flagrant display of emotion in front of this stranger, this person who was NOT Aziraphael. Who would never BE Aziraphael, because Aziraphael was GONE. He had left him behind.

Coward. He thinks, the word forming dark and bitter and still an arms length away from his own sense of overwhelming grief as his mind seeks to separate itself from the reality of the situation.

Crowley wonders- still in that foggy, detatched, sort of way -if he should have checked in with him sooner, after the SL-9 trial. Aziraphael had taken it hard, the corruption and the betrayal the two of them had discovered and exposed from within the City's legal system, sending the entirety of the police force and prosecutorial offices into a rioutus recovery spiral as they tried to mediate the damage done by the revelations of forged evidence and falsified records that were now surfacing with increasing frequency, as more and more of the heinous details Micheal and the others in charge had attempted to cover-up of the case begain resurfacing. It had opened the door to questions on every case Aziraphael had ever worked in conjunction with them. But surely he would have said something, if he was this desperate. He would have-

I forgive you...

And Crowley feels himself pushing down the overwhelming sense of LOSS, of WRONG, of INCOMPLETE, as he feels a rising tide of hot, bitter, anger bubbling up within him to take their place. It's only reinforced and twisted back in on itself as he comes to grips with the fact that the person he is angry at is not here, can't ever be again, and so his anger is largely useless in the face of that reality. An ugly thing clawing his insides and squeezing his heart, and serving no purpose but to color his memories with bile and spite and the thick, dripping ichor of his own devistation. Still, he let's that rage wash over him, because it feels better- is better -than the alternatives. Easier.

Aziraphael had always been so willing to believe in the illusion of truth and justice the prosecutor's office purported to uphold. He had the NERVE to forgive CROWLEY? Because, what, he'd chosen to be a defense attorney instead? because, according to Aziraphael, he protected the guilty, and brought himself misfortune because of it? As if it wasn't his client's given the short shrift 98% of the time. As if it was some kind of moral judgement on Crowley's character that he tried to make sure people didn't have to suffer for things they weren't responsible for. He'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

It was fine, he told himself. Who needed that kind of self-righteousness on their side, anyway. Better that he was gone really, if he couldn't handle the truth of what it actually meant to uphold the law, and not just Aziraphael's own fairytale notions of it.

Crowley's hands were shaking as they held tight to the note. His breathing coming hard and fast, and unsteady. The person at the counter was staring at him more openly now, looking slightly anxious. They opened their mouth- probably to ask after his well-being, since he'd been crying and almost-hyperventilating while staring into space for the better part of the last five minutes -but before they could give voice to their concerns, Crowley scowled up at them and straightened up, crumpleling the last communication he'd ever have from his Ang- his former legal associate in his fist before shoving it deeply into his inner-coat pocket. He turned sharply and, without another word, walked out of the familiar comfort of the bookshop, and into a world that Aziraphael was no longer a part of, that he never would be a part of again.

He tries to hold on to the anger, reaches for it inside himself once again, almost desperately, but the only thing that comes to him is a deep, bone-weary emptiness that labors his breathing and seems to settle on him with a solid, almost-tangible weight. He takes a breath, deeply and with careful attention, and he sighs. He would be fine. Aziraphael had made his choice, but Crowley was now the one who'd have to live with it. He would manage fine without him.

He had no choice in the matter, anymore.

#yooooo guess who wrote too much #this is just a bunch of rambling nonses dont mind me #are they ooc perhaps i cant twll anymorenove been trying tonpost this for like an entore day so #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens spoilers #kind of

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queerholmcs · 2 years ago

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okay. you know the drill. i do need to elaborate on some of these, moreso than is allowed within the character limit of the polls; see the read more at the bottom of the post. yes it gets a bit long, i'm sorry, i'm not normal about this show, we've established this.

stop making me watch this. this is indecent. this is not suitable for public television. please get a room.

they all know sherlock and they know that he's insane. where they go wrong is in assuming that john must then be the sane one of the pair of them. (save mycroft; see number five.)

'here, use mine' as the obvious opener. but then we also get the bit where john returns to baker street and sherlock's like 'oh haha yeah i called you across town to ask you to send a text' and john gives him the most exasperated, reluctant look before giving sherlock his phone (heart). because at this point, there is no other option. (i won't say more. essays have already been written on the matter.)

the way a point is made to demonstrate sherlock's deliberate ignorance of molly's attempts at flirting. and john's painfully awkward attempts to hit on mycroft's PA. contrasted with their every moment on screen together. 'we can't giggle, it's a crime scene!' SHUT UP.

where do i start with this one. (mycroft is my favourite. i'm not sorry.) he puts so much effort into this stupid little trick and john completely holds his own against him. he's also the only one to see that john is also not sane and that as much as sherlock is going to be some sort of influence on john, john is going to do the same to sherlock. 'might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?' → 'i can see from your left hand that's not going to happen' → 'time to choose a side.' hello??????? thank goodness mark gatiss mycroft holmes is here to spell things out for us.

it all starts when john says 'i looked you up on the internet last night' (weird move, it has to be said) and then doesn't immediately praise sherlock's blog. but then he also doesn't tell sherlock to piss off for deducing him and airing his family secrets like that? and from that point on, every remotely clever thing sherlock says, he looks to john for his response. ('do you know you do that out loud?' 'sorry, i'll shut up.' 'no, it's... fine.') i maintain that he only points out anderson and donovan's little affair to show off for john.

look. do i even have to say anything here. we establish that everyone sherlock interacts with thinks he's gay. we establish that john and sherlock are both unattached and that girlfriends definitely aren't sherlock's area and that it's fine to have a boyfriend, by the way, john thinks this is fine, just if you wondered, he's also unattached and it's fine if girls aren't your cup of tea and have we mentioned they're both unattached? and they have what is about the most intimate eye contact ever for far too long while doing so.

chance or chess? play the game. engage with the story. read between the lines. is it a bluff? or a double bluff? or a triple bluff? play the game. (mention the game one more time. i dare you. shut up.)

this is in both the physical and the metaphorical sense. they have no concept of personal space, either of them, and it is a bit awkward for everyone else in the room who's forced to watch them make bedroom eyes at each other. on the metaphorical side—john is the first to say 'actually, it's not obvious, so get on with it and share your thoughts with the class, would you?' and '...bit not good, yeah. maybe be slightly more sensitive to people's emotions, there.' and 'you're so full of it. you absolutely do guess, admit it, i can tell when you're lying.' lestrade watches them interact for all of ten minutes and then declares that, though he's known sherlock for five years, he still doesn't know sherlock nearly as well as john does.

who is he? well, he's with sherlock. it's sherlock holmes and doctor watson. they're a set. (do not separate!) they go together, they are defined by each other, they balance each other far too perfectly to ever be removed again. welcome to The Dynamic. you'll never know peace again. (or is that just me?)

#bbc sherlock #asip #sherlock #i know which one is going to win and i am SO tempted to not even offer it as an option. nevertheless.

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tsunderedoctor · 4 years ago

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Hello! I hope you are having a wonderful day! Or night, whichever works for you.

I wanted to request a headcanon with Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, and Mihawk finding out that their rival(Sanji//Zoro, Zoro//Sanji, Shanks//Mihawk, Mihawk//Shanks) got their twin sister(reader) pregnant and had already proposed to them. Like would they go about telling them, and would they freak out or would they be pretty accepting of it?

Drama, drama is what would happen, dear anon. (at least for Sanji and Zoro-) Lmao the only victim here is the sister- like poor her for putting up with these men-

TW/CW Warning: mentions of pregnancy

Babes Below~!

Vinsmoke Sanji

The audacity of it all! Man is completely offended, not only at you (for picking him of all people) but also at Zoro for acting like it was no big deal! Will give out the longest gasp once he learns everything, how dare you!

Will protect his sister at all costs from the marimo! Hisses at him while he hides her behind him, will kick him too! It will take a lot to convince him the relationship is mutual and that you two are getting married (whether he likes it or not-).

Acts more like the nervous father than nervous brother as you get farther along, he wants to go to the baby check-ups and even the parenting classes, will also be attending the birth, you cannot stop him-

It’s almost nice having someone worry, as Zoro tends to go at a chiller pace (he cares, but he knows pregnancies are common so like, can’t be that bad right? Oh, Zoro-). He also hopes it’s a girl so he can spoil her and make sure she never gets married!

Nami has to hold him back to stop him from objecting at your wedding, a quick “Sanji-jun~” and the man finally shutted up- (was also the caterer of your wedding, will not let you settle when brother is best chef!)

Roronoa Zoro

Thought he was dreaming at first when he heard the news, mumbling an “ow” as he hit himself made him realize how real this was. Now he just looked annoyed, like he had missed a scheduled nap.

Will question your sanity on how you could fall for the pervert cook, asks Chopper to check you too, to see if you are sick in the head. Once it’s been shown you are mentally sane, he has given up on you completely, it’s all Black Leg’s fault-

He gets dragged to the wedding with the promise of booze (make sure there is booze though because if Sanji has his way, it will be an alcohol free wedding just to be spiteful). Get him drunk enough to pass out or not understand what objection means.

The uncle who acts like he doesn’t want to be there, but the kids love him and he low-key likes it. Don’t leave him alone with the kids though, because he will teach them how to use a sword-

Will still argue with Sanji and the kids love it, I headcanon that the kids will pick him over Sanji just to get a reaction out of their dad, and Zoro secretly lives for it! Will forever have a smug smirk on his face.

Dracule Mihawk

He honestly doesn’t mind it as much as you think, he respects Shanks enough to know he is a good hearted man who would love and respect you. Plus my dude doesn’t get angry that easily and sees you as an adult who can make her own decisions.

Will wish you the best of luck and attends events respectfully, will not let Shanks have fun and drink, he’s a father now and needs to act like one. Will be a great influencer for Shanks to take parenting classes, like he goes with him and the teacher thinks they are a couple- it’s cute!

Will attend the wedding and clap, Shanks asked him to be his best man jokingly, but he refused, you had already picked him to be your man of honor. Shanks will then ask if he will wear a dress and Mihawk just gives you The Office look.

He comes to the birth, but stays in the hospital lobby like a normal person would, waits until he is allowed to see you and the baby. Shanks will cry on his shoulder the entire time about how you hurt his only good hand, again he questions what he did wrong in his past life.

That uncle who just nods at the kid and the kid is like “Wow so cool-”, your child now wants to be a swordsman pirate and begs Mihawk to teach them swordsmanship. Refuses until they are old enough to understand the meaning of having a sword and it’s true purpose, strict cool uncle!

“Red Hair” Shanks

Is honestly so happy for you! Man has no qualms with Mihawk and is excited to be his brother-in-law (Mihawk now stays up at night, truly questioning what he did wrong in his past life-)!

Wants to go to the wedding so badly! Will beg/ask to be Mihawk’s best man, he agrees but only because he cannot think of anyone else, Shanks says it’s because they are friends, Mihawk just stares down at his feet wondering where he went wrong-

Shows everyone that baby ultrasounds! Even if it’s not his child, it’s his niece/nephew and in Shank’s world that’s close enough! Will also beg/ask to go to the baby’s birth, Mihawk finally puts his foot down and refuses, not wanting anyone to see you in such a vulnerable state.

Gets drunk at the wedding and sings “Kumbaya” and other songs, says there is so much love in the air it wants him to settle down and find a lover. Mihawk just wanted a nice quiet wedding, why did he have to come?

He’s older now so he’s much better with kids, knows now not to give them a knife, but still shouldn’t babysit, he will teach them things no parent wants their child to know (”How did you manage to climb that high? I hid the cookies so well too-”).

Tag List: @chloe-nanami @musical-apple @luxiditea @macdonaldsmanager @onepieceya @undercoverweeeb @pebbsie @athenaportgas @my-one-piece-experience @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @nephytale and whoever else wants to join in!

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doubledgesword-2 · 4 years ago

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So someone stole my work, thought it was a good idea to impersonate me and claimed it was their own. So I’m posting it here so people know I’m the original author. Art is not mine. Part 1 Soulmate au! Please do not te upload somewhere else!!

WARNING NON-CON AND EXPLICIT SMUT

It was weird but not unheard of to have three soulmates. Lots of people reassured you it just meant more love for you. You, on the other hand, didn't felt it. Reading the names on both your wrists and the one on the top right corner of your back, just gave you chills. Not the good kind.

After doing some research on the names and better yet the last names of the three, you concluded that nothing good was going to come from this. You weren't a hunter, neither were you powerful. One could almost say you were average or normal when it came to brute strength.

So you did what any sane person would do. You disappeared. With some expert help and a lot of money involved, you erased yourself from the records, not leaving so much as a hair behind. It wasn't ideal, but you didn't want to spend the rest of your life running from a new enemy every week. Besides, if the three hadn't bothered to look for you, you figured you'd do them a favor, as angsty as it sounds.

Rural life wasn't bad. Leaving the big crowded cities and trading them for the quiet of the forest; it did you some good. You had a little cottage in the woods. Very far from anything and anyone. In the beginning, it was scary. What if something were to happened to you? Who would you run to? But as time went by, your experiences gave you the wisdom you needed.

So here you were gathering some water, inside a wooden bucket, from the nearby river. You pressed the bucket to your hip, leaning over to support the weight as your other hand had a bunch of pretty flowers. A nice touch for the kitchen today.

The forest was quiet today, peaceful with some little bird songs and the stream's running water. You walked amongst the trees happily, breathing in the cold air. Although the sun was beaming right on you, it didn't make you feel hot. The cold weather of the approaching winter contrasted the heat nicely inside your sweater.

Still, you kept walking blissfully, unaware of the stares focused on you. You did felt the paranoia hit you in the back, but this forest was vast, and in the time you'd lived here, no one has come across your little cottage.

Said cottage was in view as you walked. The sun setting meant you were on time to snug inside the house and turn on the chimney. Sure the smoke would be an indication that someone was there. But who would be looking for you? You had no family; cutting ties with your friends was easy since the relationships were shallow, and quitting the job felt like relief. You walked by your little garden, which was your pride and hobby, plus the only thing giving the house feel personality. The cottage wasn't like any standard wooden house. You asked it to be made and even pitched in with the workers to put some sweat into it. Afterward, all plans were equally erased like you. The house worked on solar panels, giving you the luxury of some electricity, which came in handy for the winter. A small chicken coop on the side gave you eggs and helped with the crops. It had the piping and whatnot, but overall everything was very eco friendly as you had insisted. You liked the place, and it seemed like a beautiful house to live the rest of your days without a worry. Sure it did get lonely during those sleepless nights. The ones were you thought too much about why your soulmates never cared to find you and reject you straight out. You didn't felt like dying by their hand. You weren't a fool; you knew their reputation, but something inside you gave you some light to hope. The light that you ended up squashing just because. The four of you were better off without each other. You really didn't want to be involved in their jobs and amusements.

You went inside, placing the bucket outside the front of the house and closing the heavy wooden door behind you locking it in the process. Inside the kitchen, you replaced the dying flowers with the new batch and quickly watched your hands to cook some dinner. You lighted the chimney in the living room, making the house feel warm and snuggly while putting some music on. You had taken off your shoes at the door and were parading around the house in fluffy socks, which made you slide into the kitchen as you danced like no one was watching.

As you stirred the pot and dropped more spices and ingredients into it, you heard a light tapping against the window at the kitchen side. Being in the forest had made you immune to the peculiar noises and the groans of the house when it was cold outside. You were pretty much anti-jump scare, but you were still new, so it was a work in progress.

You cleaned your hands on your apron and made your way to the window. You wanted isolation, but you weren’t completely crazy to be all alone in the woods. That’s why you made a friend.

“Well, hello there, big guy! How was your day today?” You opened the window, letting in the medium-sized fluffy black cat and closing it after he was inside.

You received a mewl as the cat rubbed himself against your legs and jumped on the turned dining chair. The kitchen and the dining room were fused, so you were sitting and reading while keeping an eye on dinner.

“Wow, taking my place? You’re rich, you know that?” The cat almost seems to shrug, giving you another mewl and licking his paws.

You smiled, shaking your head and focusing on dinner.

After everything was done, you washed the dishes and cleaned the surfaces. Just because you had a cat didn’t mean you wanted to give the mice a reason to come in. You rubbed the back of your neck, squeezing the spot as you walked towards your bathroom to wash up. The ball of black fluff eagerly following behind you to enter your room.

“You just want to get on my bed, don’t you? Here I was thinking you wanted to accompany me,” the cat meowed, jumping on the bed and kneading the folded blankets.

You chuckled, lighting the small fireplace inside the room. You turned to your vanity, picking your night clothes and turning to bathe. The warm water did help you relax more, maybe you shouldn’t carry the bucket with one arm. But the flowers you picked were worth it.

You came into the room towel in your hair and dressed in a robe. Only to stop abruptly, eyes widening at the fact that a man was sitting on your bed petting your cat like it was the most normal thing. He didn’t turn to look at you, and you quietly walked back, towel still in hand, but not far. You bumped into a hard chest, and if you hadn’t turned around to look, you would’ve thought it was the bedroom door. You gasped really scared at the fact that there were two men inside your bedroom, and you hadn’t even heard them come in. The man in front of you grinned joyfully and took a step towards you. Your eyes immediately went to the window in your room, and before you knew it, your feet had carried you there.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you” the cliche rolled off one of their tongues, making you annoyed and irked despite the adrenaline rush.

You turned glaring, and that’s when spotted the third man on the other of the room leaning against your vanity with a book in hand. This was bad. Really bad. It had been a short couple of years, but you could see the resemblance. They had found you.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, you’re quite hard to find” the man with the slicked-back hair closed the book looking at you with cold black eyes and the ghost of a smile. One, you didn’t return.

As he spoke the tall and pale, magenta hair one took two steps toward you placing his hand on his waist. You took a step back, eyeing him warily. You didn’t smile or showed any joy at the fact that your soulmates had actually found you. You didn’t felt the overflowing love people used to say you would for having more than one soul mark. Instead, all you felt was cold and afraid for your life, fear running icily in your veins. Despite having a nen ability, you knew little of it ,and you could feel the aura they were letting off. It didn’t reassure you. On the contrary, it made you feel like cornered prey.

“What do you want?” Your voice could be considered an authoritative whisper as it flowed shakily pass your lips.

There was a moment of silence, and then the one dressed as a clown laughed merrily at your question. You could see amusement slip through the cold expression from the man that had spoken before.

“Danchou, I thought she would be smart,” the clown asked, looking to the man to you.

Your eyes hardened, annoyed, but still, you said nothing. The only person who hasn’t spoken was the long black hair one petting your cat—that fluffy traitor.

“Well, maybe she doesn’t recognize us. That gives us the chance to introduce ourselves. My name’s Chrollo Lucilfer.”

“Hiso-“

“I know who you are, who all of you are,” you interrupted, looking at all three of them, making the clown arch a brow in interest. “That doesn’t answer what you’re doing here or what do you want” you were angry and scared, nervously looking into their eyes.

“My dear darling, well, that’s easily answered. We’re here to take you home, make you happy, and all the in-betweens,” the clown expressed, giving you a playful feeling. He was waiting for you to make a move so he could jump at you. They all were.

“Thank you, but I am home. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to sleep, so if you could just leave?” You have them a sardonic smile hoping against hope they would accept the rejection and actually leave. It was a fool's wish.

“But soulmates are supposed to be together,” the man with long black hair finally spoke. His voice monotone and calm. It made your skin crawl. Oh, hell, no.

He finally turned to look at you, his big black eyes almost swirling and enchanting, a manipulator at its finest. You looked to the side, avoiding him.

“Then I could only assume that you three have found your soulmates. You’re together.”

“But it gets oh so lonely without you, little fruit” Hisoka was done playing from afar and slowly walked closer to you.

This made your bloodlust flare in a warning. They all got goosebumps just looking at it, feeling the sheer intention. It wasn’t as developed as theirs, but the fact that you weren’t afraid to push them away made their paints tight.

Hisoka let out a low groan, eyes half-lidded and looking at you with a perverted smile. You looked at your cat; you could get him later, and they were smart enough to survive. Then the towel in your hand and as Hisoka came to stand closer to you, you gripped the towel hard and threw it at him, covering his face for a brief moment that allowed you to pass him. They knew you weren’t a fighter, heck you had run from them in fear. It made you a smart coward in their eyes, but they weren’t expecting you to be so quick-witted and resourceful. They should have with you living in the middle of the forest and all. You slipped into the short hallway, feeling the breeze of something spearing near your face but missing you. It made you run even faster into the living room. What you weren’t expecting was the sudden failure of your body.

The minute you slipped into the hallway, Illumi had launched several needles your way. Even though some missed their mark, one hitting you square in the back was enough. You crumbled to the floor, clutching the small sofa and leaning on it as if you were crying. You might as well be—the intense pain coming from the center of your spine emitting pulse-like electricity. The stinging sensation made a couple of fears fall down. It left you breathless.

The trio calmly made their way into the living room, looking at your slumped form.

“Soulmates are meant to be together, with time you’ll understand. Staying with us is best for you.” Illumi was crouching near your form, grabbing your arms and pulling you to lean on him instead as he petted your hair for comfort. You tried to move away or do something to get out of his cold embrace, but each attempt was met with more pain. You whimpered.

“That was a rush. It makes me wonder...~” Hisoka groaned obscenely behind Illumi, talking to Chrollo.

“She does have spirit. That could prove to be a problem.”

“Oh~ but I don’t want to break her yet. Nice toys are so hard to come by these days.”

Your sniffles cut through their banter. Your form was trembling on Illumi’s lap as he kept petting your hair.

“Don’t move” Illumi’s hand slipped to your back, and you felt the sting of the needle being plucked. Your body relaxed, letting out a sigh and breathing greedily, but still shaking. The phantom pain made you involuntarily cling to Illumi’s arms for comfort, which made the assassin’s heart flutter. It was proof that you needed them, they just had to show you.

“We should show her how much she needs us” Illumi slightly turned to look at the other two, still holding you to his chest. His face expressionless as he spoke, but the excitement in his eyes can’t be denied.

Hisoka’s eyes gleamed, his tongue coming out to slowly lick his lips as he approached Illumi and crouched down close to the two of you.

“Hmmm, splendid idea, we have to show our little flower what she’s been missing all this time” Hisoka took a strand of your hair, twirling it and pulling slightly.

“Then it’s decided,” Chrollo’s voice felt like the judge giving the verdict to seal your fate away.

Hisoka didn’t wait for Illumi, he simply took you from his arms, bridal style and clutched you tightly to his chest. As if you were some long lost heirloom, he just found and couldn’t part with. You struggled a bit, jerking in his grasp, but the recent pain had left your muscles tender and sore.

Fighting was encouraged by them but had been diminished with their antics.

The way to your room felt like a death row walk, and you couldn’t help but keep wiggling pathetically in Hisoka’s strong arms. He looked down at you, his yellow half-lidded eyes were already a telltale of what’s to come. He bit his lips when you gave him your best wide doe eyes, and you swore he sped walk, feeling the vibration of a suppressed moan deep in his chest.

He brought you down on the bed, tenderly like a lover would on their first time. Your tired body succumbed to the comfort of the mattress and the warmth of the sheets. Hisoka lowered himself, pressing his body to yours and letting you feel his arousal hot in his trousers. Alarmed, you tried once more to move, but he brought his face close to your ear.

“Don’t worry, little one, we’ll be gentle….at least this time.” He bit your earlobe, kissing the spot to soothe the sting “Mmmm, but do forgive me if I just can’t help it~” he moaned slowly, grinding his hips into yours dragging the length up and down your thighs.

You whimpered and brought your hands up to his chest, pushing him as best as you could. He grinned and sat up, still hunched over you. Looking deep into your eyes, he took his shirt off, never cutting off the eye contact. Hisoka then took your hands, trying to push off his thighs and placed them on his chiseled chest, dragging them to touch him. He moaned obscenely, and you couldn’t help but blush at his well-built frame. Your hands felt the muscles contract and relax as your fingers, guided by him, gingerly touched every single spot. Hisoka bit his lower lip, looking down at you. You haven’t even noticed he had let go of your hands, and you were freely roaming, touching so softly his chest, his stomach...it made it all the more difficult to not take you right here.

He didn’t want to scare you; after all, this was the beginning of countless nights and days of pleasure to come. Your red nose, puffy eyes, and pouty lips made him hot. As your fingers grazed his nipple ever so softly, he bursted, throwing his head back and to moan loudly. You retracted your hand alarmed, and that’s when you noticed you had been almost lying down on top of Chrollo’s lap. The man’s fingers were tangled in your locks as he massages your head.

“Hisoka, you’re going to scare her away being so loud,” Illumi said from behind Hisoka. His face on leaning over his shoulder and his hands grabbing his hips. Hisoka’s hand came up to caress Illumi’s cheek, and he once more looked down at you through glazed and sensual eyes.

“Mmm, I just can’t help it. She’s so innocent...those eyes...It turns me on~” his hips jerked up quickly, grinding against you.

“Make her feel good first,” Illumi whispered in Hisoka’s ear, making eye contact with you, as he kissed the clown’s neck.

Hisoka crawled back, his hands softly running down your thighs. Chrollo unmade the knot holding your robe closed, and uncovered your body to them. You gasped, remembering you had just showered and had nothing but your dignity. The sight of your skin glowing under the dim moonlight coming from the window mixed with the reds and oranges from the crackling fire made their mouths water. Your squirming was pitiful at best, hands trying to grab the robe and close it, but Chrollo snatched your wrists pinning them down beside your head. He lowered his face closer to you and dive into your lips. His locks coming to the sides of his face and his soft lips molding against yours. For a moment, you forgot who these men were. Their sweet caresses here and there as Hisoka brought his face to nuzzle your stomach leaving kisses and marks wherever his lips touch. Chrollo took your alarmed gasp as an opportunity letting his tongue inside to explore. He groaned when you trying to escape him, lightly bumped into his arousal. He let your lips go, both of you breathing heavily.

He wanted more. "You are the greatest jewel I have ever stolen" he muttered his minty breath fanning over your abused lips.

Hisoka lowered all the way in between your legs, but you self-consciously closed them from him. He pouted like a kid who had seen his new toy but couldn't have it. Illumi pried them open, putting everything on display. Hisoka chuckled darkly, his hands rubbed your thighs and knees, and then they rested on the bed. Seeing your chance, you attempted to close them once more, but couldn’t. Looking up, you saw Hisoka smirking at you with a dark knowing look. He did it and now you could see the pink substance sticking your legs open to the bed.

“Bungee gum, love, has the capabilities of both gum and rubber.” His face came closer to your core, you could feel his excited breath, and it gave you goosebumps. He moaned bitting and kissing the inside of your thighs “I can’t wait to see your beautiful nen. The thought makes my pants so tight~” he licked his lips and dived into your entrance.

You moaned a bit overwhelmed at the sensation of his tongue, sucking and exploring inside without a care. The slurping sounds made you blush even harder. Still, you couldn’t deny the arousal building up, or the knot in your stomach tightening even more. At the same time, Chrollo and Illumi took it upon themselves to suck on your chest. Their teeth grazed your nipples, with the danger of biting down, and your back arched perfectly, allowing them more access to your perked nipples.

The pleasure was overriding all the red flags and alarms going off in your head, not too long ago. It was making you pliant, your heated body melting into their touches. You bucked your hips into Hisoka, and his hands came to rest on your hips, making you whine. He smiled, his tongue licking a slow and torturous strip up your slit ending on your clit. He latched on to your bud, eliciting a whine, brows furrowing at the electric feeling surging through your body.

Then something snapped inside you; you shut your eyes, letting out a loud moan, your body shaking as pleasure rolled all over your body. Faintly you heard Hisoka moaned equally loud, slurping all your liquids like he was starved. While still in your high, you didn’t notice Hisoka take off the rest of his clothes, his arousal standing proud. He crawled back on you, taking your knees and lodging himself between them.

Chrollo caressed your cheek, petting your hair. He lowered to give your forehead a tender kiss. “It’ll only hurt for a moment, (Y/N)”

Your eyes widened when you felt Hisoka’s length prodding at your entrance.

“W-wait,” you slurred, but he entered you gently, moaning at the warmth and slick coating him, beckoning him further into your depths.

You cried out as he went further inside until he was buried to the hilt. He keened in satisfaction, waiting a bit, and soaking up your walls’ sensation spasming around him.

“You’re so tight…so warm, mmm, it feels sooo good~” his hips started to slowly move.

Illumi, went behind Hisoka, kissing his neck and leaving marks all over. Meanwhile, Chrollo couldn’t have enough of your chest. Sucking and biting all he could, hands grabbing both your mounds and squeezing, decorating your skin in purples and reds. You mewled at all the sensations, eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

“Make her cum” Illumi whispered to Hisoka loud enough for you to hear. Hisoka grabbed your hips, speeding up, leaving you breathless, hips bucking, and meeting his thrusts.

“Mmmm, (Y/N)…I love that look in your eyes~” he moans thrusting even faster, your slick making it easier for him to slip in and out. Illumi went down where the two of you met and started to suck on your clit. You went crazy, the pleasure too much to contain it. “Arghh, she’s getting tighter…I can’t…” Hisoka moaned, burying himself deeper. One of his hands gripped your hip hard, surely to bruise, while the other held back Illumi’s hair as he sucked on you.

Suddenly the forming knot in your stomach tightened until hot white pleasure exploded through you. You squealed, liquids gushing around Hisoka, making his hips stutter, feeling your walls spams around him. He came, bursting inside you as your walls milked him for what his worth.

“Take it…Take it all~” Hisoka gasped, moaning breathlessly, his hips dragging out the orgasm.

Hisoka pulled out, making you mewl. The oversensitivity and tenderness were a bit too much. Through half-lidded eyes, you looked as Illumi took Hisoka’s spot, cleaning you up with his tongue. Chrollo stood and shed his coat on top of the vanity, his clothes joining the others on the floor. Illumi’s tongue swirled Hisoka’s cum and yours, lappin everything greedily, he then crawled on you kissing you roughly, making you taste the result of your joining. Your lips separated, leaving a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. With aggressive desperation he hugged you, pulling you flushed against his naked chest feeling how heated you'vemade him. Then you felt yourself being flipped over, Illumi under you.

Alarmed, you moved a bit, but Chrollo grabbed your hips, stilling you. He crawled over you, pulling your robe off of you and kissing your shoulder gently, his hands went softly down your spine giving you shivers. Illumi kissed and bit your neck, making you whimper as you felt his length prodding your entrance.

“It’ll be alright, just enjoy it,” He whispered, his monotone voice breathless as he guided himself into your slit. You mewled at the feeling, and he quietly gasped at your warmth.

Your eyes looked into his deathly ones, watching them swirl with different emotions. Yet, the main one being lust and adoration. His black hair fanning behind him gave him a mystical and beautiful look, he looked majestic, like some forest elf of sorts. You bit your lip holding back the moan. That’s when you felt a bite on your left butt cheek.

“Sorry, you look good enough to eat~” Hisoka drawled, and then you felt a finger prod your forbidden hole. You squealed, trying to writhe away, but it only made Illumi hiss in pleasure and grab your hips hard.

“Don’t tease me, (Y/N),” he groaned into your ear, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his moan, as your walls flustered around him.

“N-no, p-please. Not there,” you cried out, the feeling of his finger weird and alien to you.

“It’ll be alright, (Y/N)-Chan, we only want to make you feel good~.”

Hisoka was in front of you, lowering to your eye level, his yellow eyes lidded as he licked his lips and went in for a fevered kiss.

Illumi looking at the two of you kiss so wantonly, started moving his hips gently, biting his own lips at the display. Chrollo added another finger preparing you for him, the scissoring giving you chills. Yet, as Hisoka kissed you tasting himself in your tongue and lips, he distracted you from the prodding. He separated, panting heavily watching as some drool came down the corner of your lip.

He enjoyed your fucked out state.

Without warning, Chrollo entered the tip. It made your eyes widen to feel the burning sensation contrasting your skin with the coldness of fear. You gave a muffled screech, your walls closing on Illumi and making him unable to hold back the groan.

Chrollo slowly pushed inside until he was buried deep. He inhaled shakily, feeling you tighten around his intruding length. The feeling made him groan lowly.

Tears came rolling down your cheeks, you had never felt so full. In one night, the entirety of your virginity was lost.

Hisoka watched as the two men he liked the most, made sweet slow love to you, pulling adorable noises from your swollen and abused lips. He couldn’t help bit his own lip, looking at how they ruined you for the better. He loved the scene.

Chrollo dragged you away from Illumi. His face resting in the crook of your neck as Illumi’s hand grabbed your jiggling mounds, squeezing them and marveling at how they fit perfectly in his hands. You were made for them and only for them. Your body hasn’t known pleasure before, and you had clearly neglected yourself, you needed them as much as they craved you.

Hisoka came close to where you and Illumi met, his tongue coming out to lick his lips as his fingers came to rub on your hooded pearl, holding back the whine of pleasure. Everything was becoming too much. You convulsed a bit, the pleasure overwhelming you.

“She’s getting tighter,” Chrollo grunted, speeding his thrusts.

“Mmm, are you close, (Y/N)-Chan, hmm?” Hisoka got close to your face, his lips close to yours, teasing, “Are you going to cum on Illumi, like a good girl~? Milk them both for all they’re worth~?”

He kissed you, rubbing harder and faster, and you moaned into the kiss. He slipped his tongue in and sucked on yours, still tasting his arousal’s tanginess on you. That was the moment you became undone, your liquids squirting around Illumi. Both men thrust faster, almost competing with each other until Illumi came inside you, ropes of cum filling you up until he deemed it was enough.

Chrollo moaned lowly, biting your neck to muffle it as his cum shot into you, filling you on the other side.

Hisoka bit your lip and separated for air. Your eyes were almost closing, body shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure still rolling up and down your body. Chrollo pulled out, his cum dripping down the back of your thighs, making him lick his lips in satisfaction. Illumi pulled you abruptly towards him, making you land on his chest. Hisoka was surprised and annoyed that he couldn’t watch your tongue lolled out, and your lidded eyes look at him.

Illumi grab your face with both hands and brought you in for a passion-filled kiss. It was aggressive and possessive the way his lips pressed into yours until you both couldn’t breathe. He let you go, pulling out and laying you down on your side. Your body was tired, filled to the brim, marked, and pounded to their heart’s delight. Chrollo pulled a blanket over you as your eyes finally closed in exhaustion.

“Mmm, that was delightful. Our little fruit might not be as innocent as we thought~” Hisoka sat by you, caressing your cheek as you sleep.

“We should move her in the morning. She shouldn’t stay alone in the woods.” Illumi sat at the other side of the bed, calling out to the black fluff, making his way into the room.

“We shouldn’t forsake this place. It could be useful when we need a place to get away for some time” Chrollo put on his pants and dressed in his coat, leaving the shirt of out the equation as he leaned against the vanity.

“Mmm, vacations here with our darling pet should be divine~” Hisoka kissed you, making you snuggle cutely into your blanket. He warmly smiled at you. “Danchou, let’s keep her here. She doesn’t exist in the world, and our line of work is not the safest. She’s still hasn’t shown us her nen, but I’m afraid she’s not as developed as we are. She’s not ripe yet.”

“Hisoka is right. Bringing her with us will only endanger her. Illumi, can you persuade her to stay?”

Illumi sighed, going to his clothes and pulling out a single needle. He went to Hisoka’s side, his eyes looking down at you with warmth. He sat by your head, almost on Hisoka’s lap, the clown giving a suggestive buckle against Illumi’s back, making him annoyed.

Illumi caressed your face, pulling your locks away from your forehead.

“She won’t be able to leave the forest, without us or our consent. She’ll stay here as she has but will always expect us. The moment her mind thinks of leaving, she will have the most painful headache. The more she fights it, the worse it’ll get until she stops.”

Illumi then pulled you to face him. Your close eyes made you look so calm and sweet, and your puffy lips called out to him. He then pressed the tip of the nen infused needle to the middle of your forehead and pushed it in. You whimpered in your sleep, brows furrowing in pain and discomfort as the needle lodged inside your cranium. Then as quickly as the sting had come, it went away, leaving you blissfully unaware.

The three men then showered in your bathroom and slept all around you smothering with their heat until morning came. Arms clutching you possessively as if the minute they let go, you would fade away.

You woke up with a start. Heavily panting and looking around to see if you were alone. Maybe everything was a bad wet dream, and they hadn’t found you yet. Your first thought was to leave this place that you had constructed and built with sweat and tears. It pained you, but having them found you, was too much of a risk. So you turned, placing your feet on the floor and wincing at your lower region’s discomfort, in all the lower part of your body. You whimpered but made your way to the mirror on your vanity.

The sight almost made you scream.

Deep red and purple marks were littered all over your neck and chest. You brought your hand to cover your mouth as tears rolled down your cheeks. You looked down to see bite marks and bruises all over your stomach, hips, and thighs. You took your robe from the floor and put it on tightening the knot with shaky hands. You opened your bedroom door and quietly walked to the living room.

The embers of last night’s fire were still slightly lit; the windows were opened, letting in the fall breeze. But the place was empty, no well built handsome devils were in sight.

You sighed in relief. At least you were alone was once more, and they may never come back.

That’s when the front door opened, making you jump startled. You stayed in place watching as Hisoka came in carrying a hay woven basket with eggs, he took off his heels at the door placing them beside your shoes and looked up at your still form.

“Good morning, (Y/N)-Chan~” he brightly smiled at you, eyes closed in joy as he made his way to you. You didn’t move, baffled by what was going on. Hisoka placed a kiss on top of your head and went into the kitchen.

As soon as he left your space, Illumi came through the door, carrying your black cat in one arm and a bucket with water in his hand. He did the same as Hisoka putting his shoes beside his and the bucket near the kitchen. The black fluff jumped down his arms and trotted joyfully towards your legs, Illumi followed suit. He took your hand, kissing your forehead and bringing you into the kitchen. He pushed you gently to sit on the dining chair, and you winced a bit at the discomfort and slight pain.

Everything was tender.

“I’ll run you a warm bath,” his monotone voice and void swirling eyes gave you shivers, but his intentions were sweet. You nodded, still unsure of this picture, and he left you.

“I’ll make us some breakfast; you need to be strong if we want to have more fun~” Hisoka winked suggestively, and you hugged yourself unconsciously. “Now, now don’t be like that, darling.” he came closer with a spatula in hand, his big strong arms coming to cage you between the chair and him.

“I know you enjoyed it~” he gave you a peck on the lips and went back to cooking.

You looked at the door expecting Chrollo to join this weird play/reality show, but he didn’t come in. Curiosity got the better of you.

“Where’s...”

“Danchou? Hmm, he was busy and had to leave, but he left us to take care of you~”

“Is he...coming back?” You asked shyly, hating how you already missed the man or the fact that this domestic scene made you feel peaceful and right.

“Huh?” Hisoka looked at you, your shy demeanor let him know all you were thinking. He beamed with glee, you were already theirs. “He’ll be back tonight, maybe he’ll bring desserts~”

You hummed in response. Your eyes looked at the door, and a scheme came to mind. With Hisoka distracted and Illumi away, you could run. Run fast and not look back.

Your hands gripped the edge of the chair, and you almost took impulse to stand and go. Hisoka side-eyed you, his yellow eyes beaming with joy. You were such a fighter, he just wanted to ravish you now. The thought of you wanting to run made his pants tight.

“Do try it~” he said casually not even looking at you “I want to see how far you’ll get”

At that moment, Illumi came back, and you looked like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. He knew what you wanted to do, your intentions were clear in your eyes. It pained him a bit, but he knew you were acclimating still. He had to be patient.

You stood, and both men got ready. The tension could be cut with a knife. You looked at Illumi and went to him, seeming a bit defeated. He slightly let out a sigh in relief as he grabbed your hand and guided you into the hallway.

“Good girl,” Illumi said, pulling you inside the bathroom and closing the door behind him, snapping the lock to seal your fate.

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jesterofwords · 4 years ago

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hello,,,,, i read that you write for genshin? may i request general headcanons of where the tall boys would take you out on a date? (diluc, childe, kaeya, zhongli) bulleted form would be great, thx!

Of course! Im a newbie genshin writer, so I'm sorry if it isn't good! Sorry these are so short too, it's all I could think of at the moment 😅

Where Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, and Zhongli would take you on a date

Diluc

This man would take you adventuring ngl

Like, the prettiest place he knows you haven't been.

A picnic date, basically.

He would bring all the things and lead you to a tall mountain or something

A very isolated place so you won't be bothered

Once it gets dark, he would lay back (and prompt you to do the same)

Then, he'd point out constellations that he knows and if you want, tell you their story (I hc that he had a constellation phase when he was younger lmao)

He'll walk you home like a true gentleman when it gets too late, if you don't already live at Dawn Winery with him (I don't know if he actually lives at dawn winery or not, I'm so sorry)

10/10, would listen to him ramble about constellations all day

Childe

This man is SO RICH

You don't have to worry about a single money-related thing as long as he's around, my god

He'd probably take you around Liyue (not the city) for a bit and defeat monsters for you (show off-)

One it gets late though, he'd bring you back to Liyue, where he has reservations for a nice restaurant (again, rich)

He'd tell you to order anything you'd like

You two would talk about anything and everything that comes to mind, like when you met Teucer for the first time (a headcanon for another time, wink wink)

Eventually, it's late, so he will walk you home because he won't be able to sleep until he knows you got home safe

You'll talk more as you walk, and when you get to your door, it'll be the usual, "I had a great time tonight", and "I'll see you tomorrow"

10/10 he will spoil you, so please thank him by letting him lay his head on your thighs while you play with his hair

Kaeya

He would take you to eat lunch at Good Hunter, making idle chit-chat

He'll take you around Mondstadt and buy you anything you want, cheap or expensive

Once you've stopped by all the stores, he'll have you get on his back to walk around Mondstadt (the nation, not the city)

Near sunset, he'll take you by the hand and lead you out to Stormbearer peak to watch the sunset with him

He'll get sentimental though, and will be watching you watch the sunset

He'd be the type to say, "It's so pretty, isn't it?" while looking at you instead of the sunset

Eventually, he'll look back at the sunset and lay his head on your shoulder

You two will sit in silence until the sun goes down completely, basking in eachother's prescience

Once it gets dark, if you have a gliding license, Kaeya will suggest you glide as close to your house as possible from Stormbearer peak

If not, he'll walk you home normally

10/10 would watch the sunset with sappy Kaeya

Zhongli

He'd ask Childe for money so he could buy you things lmao

You two would spend a few hours walking around Liyue before he leads you somewhere outside the city

Turns out that place was Qingyun Peak, and if you're not athletic, he'd offer to carry you on his back while he climbs

He has to take more frequent breaks to regain his stamina, but it's so worth it

Once you reach the peak, he'll activate... something? You don't quite understand, but it creates a current and lifts you two higher

Now you understand why he grabbed your hand before activating it

Once you two get to the real peak, it'll be almost sunset (I'm obsessed with sunset)

He'll offer you a sandwich he managed to carry up there

You two will sit up there and enjoy the sunset for a while

After the sunset is over, if you have a wind glider, he'll glide down with you

If not, you two will go down the sane way you went up

He'll walk you to wherever you live after you reach the ground

10/10, don't need money for a good date

I hope you enjoyed! Please give me feedback and have a good day/night!

#genshin impact hcs #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin childe #childe headcanons #zhongli headcanons #kaeya headcanons #diluc x reader #diluc headcanons #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader

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zacharybosch · 3 years ago

Text

Tasseomancy - chapter 5

🥪time for a little impromptu lunch date and a Very Interesting Topic of Conversation🥪

chapter 1: tumblr / ao3

chapter 2: tumblr / ao3

chapter 3: tumblr / ao3

chapter 4: tumblr / ao3

read chapter 5 of Tasseomancy below or on ao3!

The next time Ed showed up at the Cleanery, he made sure Stede was there to witness it.

He did have a legitimate reason to go there: his cashmere and silk t-shirt, the short and sexy little one that he’d almost had a meltdown over, had a big stain on the front. He fully intended to explain to whoever asked that it was, in fact, mayonnaise. Or yoghurt. Or face cream or soap or just something else that definitely wasn’t cum.

His original reason for going to the Cleanery was because he wanted to ask Stede out for lunch, in order to then ask him out again to the fundraiser. But being a normal guy who was well-versed in being both sane and regular, Ed couldn’t just show up without some other excuse, what if Stede thought he was desperate and clingy? No, it had definitely been the right decision to put his fancy t-shirt on and rub one out and accidentally cum all over it.

When he entered the shop, Stede was nowhere to be seen, but a big man who wasn’t the one that Ed had given the sunglasses to was at the counter, idly flicking through a magazine. That must be John.

“Hi mate, I er, need some dry cleaning done please. On this.” He plopped a plastic bag containing the t-shirt onto the counter.

John sighed and got up off of his stool, pulling a stack of job tickets towards him. “Right, what’s the name?”

“Edward Teach—” Behind the counter, in the back of the shop, Ed could see Stede folding some clothes. He was facing away, and he bent down to grab something out of a basket. His trousers were very tight. “—arse like a peach. Um, no need to write that last bit down.”

“Ohh, Edward, you must be Stede’s new piece, eh? Yeah, I see it, I see it. Okay, what’s the damage on this then?” John asked, pulling the bag open and examining the t-shirt.

“It’s— soap. You know, the liquid hand soap you get in the bottles with the pump. I was trying to wash my hands and I guess I pushed too hard on the pump thing because it just shot right out and hit me in the chest. Completely by accident. It’s silk and cashmere, by the way. The top.”

John looked at the stain for a long minute. “Soap.”

“Right. That’s what I said.” This wasn’t going quite like Ed had planned. Thankfully, Stede chose that moment to turn around. Ed called loudly through to the back, “Hi, Stede! It’s me! Hello! Just dropping off some stuff to get cleaned, heard this place was good, heh!”

Stede came rushing over, looking endearingly flustered. He was wearing one of the silk scarves that Ed bought for him, tied in a pretty little knot around his neck, and Ed had to focus very, very hard on not letting all of his blood immediately rush to his dick because seeing Stede wearing something that Ed had bought for him was really doing things to him. Stede hesitated at the counter, clearly unsure whether he should come round and— give Ed a hug? Was that what he was thinking of doing? Giving him a little hug and maybe a kiss? A little kiss for Ed? Ed would love a little kiss.

Whatever was running through Stede’s head, it was abruptly cut off when he saw what was on the counter. “Oh no, Ed, is that the t-shirt—? What happened? I hope it’s salvageable!”

“It’s fine, just face cream. I was trying to moisturise, you know, be nice to myself. Skin care and shit. Got a bit messy.”

“I thought you said it was liquid soap?” John interjected. When Ed didn’t respond, he just rolled his eyes and wrote ‘CUM STAINS’ on the little job ticket.

“So, hey, Stede, since I’m here and it’s,” Ed casually pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time and yes, he nailed it, he practised that move earlier, flawless execution, “almost lunch time, do you wanna go grab a bite to eat? Maybe we can hit up Jackie’s, I’ve not tried their proper food yet. My treat, of course.”

“Of course,” John muttered under his breath.

Stede’s face immediately lit up with that goofy little smile of his, and fuck, Ed really was a goner wasn’t he? “That sounds lovely, Ed, thank you. I don’t get off for lunch for another half hour though, do you want to go have a wander and I’ll just meet you over there?”

“Nah it’s fine, I’ll just hang out here. Never been in a dry cleaners before.” Ed looked around the small shop and smiled. Much less depressing here than it ever was at the warehouse. “Love that hot laundry smell.”

For the next half hour, Ed sprawled on the plastic chairs at the front of the shop while Stede sat at his work table and dealt with a seemingly never-ending pile of shirts that were missing buttons. They chit-chatted about nothing and everything; Ed mentioned his weirdly helpful clash with Izzy and how he vowed not to waste his life drifting aimlessly around the warehouse anymore (“I’m so proud of you Ed, that sounds like a very healthy thing to do. And I’m sure Iggy will enjoy the peace and quiet!”), and Stede shyly thanked Ed for the sunglasses with the cute little note.

When Stede eventually put his needle and thread down and proclaimed it time for lunch, Ed was almost disappointed. It was so calm and cosy in the shop, and the dappled sunlight coming in through the window lit up Stede’s curls in a fuzzy golden halo, and Ed just wanted to stay here forever, warm and happy.

While he waited for Stede to run off to the loo and get his coat, Ed had a little poke around at Stede’s work space. There was a chipped and coffee-stained table, currently covered in the half-finished stack of buttonless shirts, and next to it a factory-style sewing machine built into its own little desk, with all kinds of buttons and knobs and levers that he definitely should not start touching. A cheerfully-painted metal stool on castors sat between them, and Ed sat down on it and started gently spinning around.

On the third or fourth whizz round, something caught Ed’s eye, tucked up round the back of the sewing machine. It was purple and a little bit velvety, and when he pulled it out for a better look he discovered that it was a half-finished tote bag, no doubt Stede’s latest creation. This one had a swirly design on the front, picked out in sequins and wobbly stitches. In one corner, the stitching formed the letter ‘E’.

Was— was there a dog nearby? Ed was allergic to dogs. If he touched a dog then he got sniffly and his eyes started leaking and—

“Oh! I was hoping you wouldn’t see that. It’s not finished yet,” Stede said with a sigh as he emerged from the back of the shop. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Ed twirled around on the stool and looked up at Stede, blinking furiously and doing an absolutely amazing job of keeping his bottom lip from wobbling. He was still clutching the bag. “You made this for me?”

“Yes, I— oh Edward, have I upset you? I didn’t mean to, it’s just that you seemed so taken with my bag the other week and—”

“No it’s just fuckin’— allergies, dogs, fuckin’, onions or some shit…” He wiped roughly at his eyes several times and then stood, shaking his head to try and clear it and taking several very deep breaths. He couldn’t believe Stede had actually taken the time to design and make Ed his own lovely little bag. Ed could spend his entire fortune on all the amazing designer crop tops in the world and none of them would even come close to giving him the same feeling that was currently vibrating in his chest. Was he doing this on purpose? Or was this just what Stede did for all his friends?

He had to say something, Stede was still looking at him with those careful eyes, worried he’d done something wrong— and fuck, the only thing that was wrong right now was that Ed wasn’t hoisting Stede up onto that counter and kissing him stupid.

“It’s beautiful, I love it,” he said instead, still feeling a little wobbly and on the verge of tears. “Thank you so much, Stede, I— no-one has ever done something that nice for me before.”

“Would’ve been nicer if I could’ve kept it a surprise,” Stede said, still looking a little miffed. “But I’m glad you like it, even if the stitching is all over the place. Shall we go?”

***

Jackie’s was bustling with activity when they arrived, but they managed to grab a table that was tucked away in a corner. They placed their order (poached eggs and salmon on sourdough toast for Stede, ploughman’s lunch with local cheddar and preserves for Ed, a pot of tea to share) and settled in to wait, and when the tea arrived Stede poured cups for both of them.

Stede inhaled the waft of steam contentedly. “There really is nothing like loose-leaf. So many subtle flavours in the leaves that don’t get a chance to spread out and develop when they’re all crammed together in tea bags. But I do wish you’d let me pay for this sometimes, Ed, at least my half. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

God, I wish you would take advantage of me, Ed thought, but only said, “I want to pay. I— like being able to do that. Spend money, get you things. Feels nice.” In fact, it felt mind-bogglingly, skin-shiveringly, dick-hardeningly nice to take care of Stede and buy him whatever he wanted, and Ed really wished he knew why. To say that he liked it because he liked Stede having nice things was part of it, but it wasn’t all of it; it was also the act of buying, spending his hard-earned money on something and then giving it away, liberally and without a care, just for a look or a smile in return. It felt decadent and indulgent, and maybe even a little bit powerful if he was being completely honest with himself, which was just fucking weird because why would giving his money away ever feel powerful? He even —and wow, this really was embarrassing, how could he even be thinking like this— liked the idea of buying Stede a gift only for him to reject it, or being charmed by it only briefly before putting it aside and forgetting about it.

A little bit humiliating. A little bit pussy-whipped. As if Stede had Ed wrapped around his little finger and could make him do whatever he wanted. Fuck, that really did put a spicy little edge on things, didn’t it? Ed covertly adjusted his trousers and refocused his mind to the actual point of this lunch.

“So, anyway, I’ve been invited to this thing, like a party or something, some business fundraiser shit. Looks kinda lame, but Izzy gets social anxiety at parties so I said I’d go instead. You know, just like as a favour or whatever. Rep the business. But, um, they gave me a plus one, so, if you’re not busy or anything, I thought we could maybe, might be a laugh, you know, and we can totally ditch it as soon as it gets boring which I bet will be right away, but maybe… we could go?” Amazing, Ed totally nailed that. “Together, I mean.”

“I’ve been to quite a few fundraisers in my time and I have to admit, you’re pretty spot-on with your judgement,” Stede said. “They tend to be very dull indeed, full of local celebrities who think they’re all that, waffling on about their boring careers and trying to kiss the arse of whoever’s got the most money to invest.” He smiled then, fondly, as he held Ed’s gaze across the table. “But I think it could be fun with you. When is it?”

“Around the end of October, I think, can’t remember exactly.”

“Okay, so we have a few weeks to prepare. Are you going to be getting yourself something new to wear? A party’s always a great excuse to treat yourself to something really special.”

“Yeah, actually, I was gonna ask— will you come shopping with me? It was fun last time, and I could do with your expert fashion advice.” And also I want to dress you up in something beautiful and buy it for you, Ed didn’t say.

Stede’s whole face lit up. “Edward, I would love to.”

Presently, their food arrived and they lapsed into comfortable silence as they got stuck in. Although the café was busy, their corner was protected from a lot of the noise thanks to some strategically-placed plants and decorative screens. It was a private and cosy little spot and being here with Stede was just fucking blissful. It could be like this all the time if he wanted, this could be Ed’s life; tranquil and—

“Oh fuck off,” Ed growled, as his phone buzzed for the tenth time in the space of a minute.

“Urgent business?” Stede asked.

“No, just— thirsty twinks on Grindr. Shoulda fuckin’ deleted that shit ages ago.” He picked his phone up and swiped about on the screen, grumbling to himself. Why were phones so fucking complicated these days, why did you have to submit a written statement and three forms of ID just to delete a fucking app, sometimes he just wanted to drop his phone on the ground and jump up and down on it a few hundred times… There it was. Uninstall. Fuck off.

Stede pushed the last of his salmon around his plate and frowned slightly. “Oh, er. I didn’t know you used that.”

Ed immediately locked his eyes on Stede. “Jealous?”

“What? No. As if.” Stede took a long, very long sip of his tea. When he couldn’t pretend to be sipping any longer, he put it down and did one of his pressed little sighs which Ed honestly just found fucking adorable. “I tried using Grindr once. Went about as well as you might expect for a forty-something-year-old fresh out of the closet. It was humiliating. Made me feel like I’d failed at being gay before I’d even really had a chance to start.”

“Aw man, Grindr’s not the be-all and end-all of the gay experience, just the most direct route to one specific part of it. It’s not to everyone’s taste.”

“But it is yours?” Stede asked, and then quickly amended: “Not that I’m judging, your business is your business.”

“Used to be, yeah. For a little while. Not so much these days,” Ed said, as if his mind hadn’t been filled with nothing but thoughts of Stede for weeks. “Honestly, I always preferred cruising down at the docks anyway, doing it all over instant messaging takes a lot of the fun out of it.”

“Was it… easy?” Stede asked, sounding very fragile.

“Was what easy, mate?”

“I don’t know… everything? I suppose I had the admittedly quite naive thought that once I came out, everything else would just fall into place. I would just… meet people, understand this world that I’d never been a part of, and know how to navigate relationships and start having all these experiences that I missed out on for the last few decades of my life.” Stede looked down at his cup, and swirled the dregs of his tea around with a small sigh. “Didn’t really work out like that.”

“You’re talking as if your life is already over, Stede. You’re not even fifty!”

Stede gave a forlorn little laugh. “I’m close enough.”

“There’s nothing stopping you, man. Literally nothing. All you have to do is decide what you want first, and then just go get it. You got nothing in your way any more,” Ed said, and clasped a hand over Stede’s to give it an encouraging squeeze. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Terrified, more like. Where do I even start? And…” Stede squeezed back, and then pulled his hand out from under Ed’s and covered his eyes in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. What if the reality doesn’t match up to the… the fantasy? I’ve not… been with a man, yet. You know. I’ve spent so long watching porn and building it all up in my head that now I’m just too scared to even try. At this point, I honestly don’t think I can handle any more disappointment in my life.”

Ed’s heart just about broke in two. This poor fucking guy. “Stede… I promise the real thing is so much better than your imagination, or porn, or whatever weird sex dreams you’ve been having. Even if it’s not perfect and shiny and full of fuckin’ rainbows and sparkles and six-packs and huge dicks like you imagined, it’s real, and that automatically makes it better. Don’t the fantasies get a bit boring? Don’t you want to…” Ed groped around for some words, anything that wasn’t just a list of all the ways Ed himself would be a perfect boyfriend for Stede. “I dunno man, don’t you wanna act like a little goblin with someone and then still get to make out? Trip over in your pants when you’re tryna be sexy and just laugh and fuck anyway? Show your real stupid self and have someone still get all googly-eyed over it? So much more interesting than a fantasy, if you ask me.”

“I do want that, more than anything. That’s not what worries me, not really, it’s the—”

Understanding flooded over Ed all at once. It wasn’t the whole intimacy, romance, authentic self thing that freaked him out. Stede was just deathly afraid of being shit at gay sex. “Mechanics. The sex. Fucking a guy.”

Stede deflated in his seat. “Yes. I know that porn isn’t real, and the only way to know what I’m doing and get good is to practise, but even that… I don’t want to have a string of meaningless tutorial-fucks, you know? I want… I want something nice. Intimate. Like what you described.”

“You can practise on your own, you know,” Ed said, before he could stop himself. “At least some of it, anyway. Just get a dildo.”

“I, um.”

Judging by the look on Stede’s face, it would probably be wise for Ed to change the subject. But his mouth had never been very interested in waiting for his brain, and he also desperately wanted to continue talking about Stede and sex, so he carried on. “Don’t get anything made of that jelly shit. It’s impossible to sanitise it properly, and if it’s going in your arse it has got to be clean. Glass and metal stuff is cool, but you probably want something a bit more on the realistic side to start with.” He really should stop talking now, Stede’s face was going on quite the journey. “Are you wanting to just practise the actual penetration bit, or like blowjobs and stuff too? I can give you recommendations if you need ‘em, mate, I got you covered.”

“That’s, wow, that’s a lot to think about, isn’t it? Very, ah, very interesting indeed. Much to consider. Um,” Stede glanced nervously down at his watch, swore softly, and then hastily downed the dregs of his tea. “I’ve got to get back, lunch break is nearly over. Well, it is over. It was over twenty minutes ago. Sorry, Ed, I hate to rush out on you, but maybe… maybe we can pick this conversation up again soon?”

“I’d love to,” Ed said with a smile, already rifling through sex toys in his mind and deciding which one he was going to order for Stede as soon as he got back home. “Have fun at work!”

Once Stede had left, Ed lingered a little while longer to finish the remainder of the tea. Stede was right, loose-leaf really did taste so much more vibrant than the bag variety, even when it was just a plain and simple black tea with nothing fancy blended in. Ed didn’t even miss the sugar anymore. Got something far sweeter now, his brain helpfully supplied.

His only prior experience with tea leaves, before Stede got him hooked on the stuff, was from an old woman who used to do palm-readings and fortunes out of a little hut on the beach. It was always nothing but good news and great fortune for the tourists who came to see her: bad for business, otherwise. But she would sit and talk with the other traders, vendors, and beach workers sometimes, and she’d swirl tea around in her mouth and spit it out onto the pebbles, and read their true fortunes in the leaves that were left behind in the cup.

Ed believed it when he got good fortunes, and dismissed it as a load of shit when got bad ones, but he listened to everything she told him all the same and let it all settle in the back of his mind, slowly brewing over the course of years.

On his way out of the café, he stopped at the counter and bought a matching pair of pretty little tins, full of fragrant tea leaves and tiny, colourful flower buds. One for him, one for Stede, and maybe they would have some good fortunes packed up inside for both of them.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd fic #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #edward teach #stede bonnet #my fic

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wonderful-writes · 4 years ago

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Oooh! For the Charlie Weasley prompt list, 5, 8, and 14, where the reader and charlie have lowkey had feelings for each other for a long time, but then he went to Romania, but finally the reader is about to go into their last year, and they're spending summer at the burrow when Charlie comes back and they talk about being together after the reader graduates

Next Year

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: You had always been close to the Weasley family, and the second-oldest, dragon-loving brother was no exception. He was a few years ahead of you, tall, funny, and ruggedly handsome — all that you could ever want in a boy. It was a shame he didn’t feel the same way. But could one summer together at the Burrow change all that?

Prompts:

5) There’s always next year.

8) I never forgot you.

14) Is that my jumper?

“Y/N! Y/N! Over here!”

You turned to see Ginny Weasley calling to you from the entrance of the Burrow. At her side was a broom and a dustpan. Mrs. Weasley had probably asked her to sweep the front porch.

“Ginny!” you exclaimed, running over to her. You had apparated to the Burrow with nothing but a small suitcase, so it didn’t take long for you to reach her.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” the young red-headed girl gushed as she pulled you into a hug.

“Where is everybody?” you asked when she finally let go of you.

“Percy, Ron, and Harry are upstairs cleaning the bedrooms with Mum,” Ginny answered. “Hermione was helping me out here, but she went inside to grab paper towels for the windows.”

“And Fred and George?”

“They went out with Charlie. I’m not sure when they’ll be back.”

“Charlie’s here?” you asked in surprise. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming. In your letter.”

“Huh, I probably made a mistake,” she said. “I meant to write that Bill wasn’t coming home this summer, not Charlie.”

“Oh,” you said. Part of you was excited to see Charlie again, but another part of you dreaded it. You hadn’t seen him since the end of your fifth year at Hogwarts, an entire year ago. You had finished your fifth year when he finished his seventh, and he headed straight for Romania after that. He had left immediately after graduation, not even staying to spend one more summer with you.

It was not like he had any reason to spend another summer with you. You were only a family friend, after all. The Weasleys had loads of family friends, and you were no different. Charlie probably thought of you like he did Harry or Hermione. But you couldn’t help but wish that he thought of you as something more than that.

You were heartbroken when he left, but you didn’t let it show. You spent that summer with your family, who missed you dearly when you were away at school. You had a happy time, taking trips and enjoying the company of those you love, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Charlie was gone.

When fall came, you returned to Hogwarts to begin your sixth year. You had school to occupy you — and you were very busy with that, being your studious and ambitious self — but you never let go of the memory of Charlie Weasley. You often looked back at why you fell for him in the first place.

You had met in your first year and his third. As members of the same house, you saw each other frequently and became fast friends. Over the years, you became acquainted with the rest of the Weasley siblings and grew to consider them your second family. You spent parts of your school breaks at the Burrow, and your muggle parents became close friends with the Weasleys as well. It was hard not to fall for Charlie when you were constantly around him and his wonderful family.

Though he was two years older than you, he treated you like an equal, not like some bothersome younger sister. He was kind and respectful and had a love for animals. In your mind, he was perfect. But you never had the courage to tell him so. You were always too embarrassed about your crush and too scared that your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. He never showed any signs that he fancied you, so why would you humiliate yourself by admitting that you fancied him?

“I’ll take that for you, dear,” someone said, breaking you from your thoughts. You looked up to see that Arthur Weasley had come out of the house and was reaching for your suitcase.

“Thanks, Mr. Weasley!” you said, handing over the suitcase. “I assume I’ll be staying in Bill’s room since he’s not here?”

“Sure are,” he replied. “He’s been so busy at Gringotts. They just shipped him out to Egypt not even a week ago.” Mr. Weasley smiled broadly, clearly proud of his son.

“Wow, Egypt?” you marvel. “Bill must be some curse-breaker.”

“He sure is,” said Molly Weasley, joining the throng conversing on the front steps. “Hello, Y/N. How are you, dear?”

You stepped into Mrs. Weasley’s outstretched arms and told her that you had never been better. School was swell, your friends were keeping you sane, and there was nothing getting you down. She seemed happy at your reply and led the way back into the house.

Inside, you greeted Ron, Hermione, Harry and Percy. Unlike Ginny, whom you haven’t seen since Christmas holiday, you saw the four the them at school everyday. Percy was a year younger than you, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione were itty bitty soon-to-be second years. You were happy that Ginny would be starting at Hogwarts in the fall. Your last year would be her first, but at least you could go to school with her for one year.

For the rest of the day, you helped the family tidy up the house and prepare supper. When evening rolled around, Charlie, Fred, and George returned from wherever it was they went to. Fred and George said hello to you first, before heading upstairs to work on a new prank idea. Charlie was the last to approach you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, looking up at him. He hadn’t changed a bit. Same messy red hair, same freckles dotting his face. He was as handsome as ever. You quickly looked away, feeling the heat creep up your neck. The last thing you wanted was to out yourself on having a crush on Charles Weasley, especially in front of Charlie himself and his family.

“Hey, Y/N!” called Ron. “Wanna play a game of chess before dinner?”

“Sure,” you answer gratefully. You wanted any excuse to distance yourself from Charlie. Being around him only intensified your feelings for him.

After a heated round of chess, which Ron, the strategic genius, obviously won, Mrs. Weasley announced that dinner was ready. Everyone took their seats at the table, you squeezing yourself in between George and Ginny. To your dismay, Charlie chose the chair directly across from you.

He flashed you a smile. You smiled back weakly before quickly looking down at your plate. Act normal, you told yourself. When you still went to school with Charlie, you had gotten the same nervous, fluttery feeling whenever you were around him. After he left to pursue his dream job in Romania, he wasn’t nearby to make your stomach do somersaults anymore. It had been a full year since you felt this dizzying feeling, and now it was all rushing back to you.

“You okay, Y/N?” asked Hermione, who was sitting next to Charlie.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

You looked around and quickly realized that everyone had already piled food on top of their plates, but yours was still empty. How long had you been sitting there?

“Right,” you said as you picked up a serving spoon, about to dish mashed potatoes onto your plate. “I was thinking about someone, and I guess I zoned out for a bit.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow at you. “Who were you thinking about?”

You froze. You replayed your words and realized that you had accidentally said you were thinking about someone instead of something.

“Did I say someone?” you asked with a laugh, attempting to pass off your error as a simple mistake. “I meant something.”

“Sure you did,” Ginny teased, winking at you.

You rolled your eyes at her. You acted as if it was all a joke, but you were dying of embarrassment on the inside. You hoped you weren’t being too obvious.

“Pass me the green beans, Y/LN,” Charlie said.

You felt your face burning as you handed over the green beans. Even though you didn’t touch him, extending your hand that close to his sent electricity through you.

“Thank you,” Charlie said cheekily.

You spared him a glance, flashing him a smile. You were trying to act as casual as possible, but it was difficult when your stomach churned every time you looked at him. There was no denying to yourself that you were crushing hard.

After dinner was done, you helped Mrs. Weasley wash up. When everything was cleaned and put away, you headed over to the living room, where Fred, George, and Charlie were playing cards around the coffee table. Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were talking upstairs, Percy was in his room reading, and the Weasley parents had decided to retire for the night.

“Can I play?” you asked, taking a seat next to Fred.

“Sure,” he answered, not looking up from his deck. “Next game.”

“So, where did you guys go earlier today?” you questioned.

“We just went to town,” George replied nonchalantly. “Fred and I needed to get some stuff for our next prank, and Charlie offered to take us.”

You hummed in response. It made you feel warm inside to know that Charlie was so attentive with his siblings. Family was very important to you, and you were glad it was important to him as well. Just another reason for you to fall even harder for him. Godric, why did he have to be so perfect?

The boys continued to play. The game finally ended when both Fred and Charlie ran out of cards, leaving George the winner. You began picking up the cards and shuffling them, preparing to deal them to everyone.

Before you could complete your task, however, George interrupted. “Actually, Fred and I are going upstairs to work on our new idea.”

Giving them a wave goodbye, you watched as the two younger boys got up from the coffee table and headed upstairs.

“You and me?” Charlie asked, a mischievous smile on his face

“Sure,” you replied.

You handed him his cards, and the two of you began to play. You were both concentrated on the game, and the only noise that could be heard was the sound of cards slapping on the table.

“So, how have you been?” Charlie asked, trying to make conversation.

“I’ve been good,” you responded. “You?”

“Never been better. Working at the dragon sanctuary has been a dream come true.”

You were genuinely happy to hear that he loved his job and his new life. Although, you wished you could be a bigger part of it. Charlie wasn’t much of a writer, and he hardly sent letters to his family, let alone his friends. You had written to him once when he was away, and he had responded. That was the extent of your communication over the last year. You didn’t bother to send another letter, fearing coming off as clingy or obsessed. When he failed to write to you again, you knew you had made the right decision.

“Wanna tell me more about Romania?” you asked, setting your cards down.

“Sure!” he answered enthusiastically. “But can we sit on the couch? My bum is sore from sitting on the floor.”

The two of you moved to the sofa and sat about a foot away from each other. He told you all about his experiences working with dragons. He went into detail about the training process, the proper way to handle a baby dragon, and the different breeds he got to study. You smiled as he talked, enjoying the way his eyes lit up whenever he discussed something he was passionate about.

“So, what about you?” he asked finally. “What have you been up to?”

“Well, I just finished my sixth year, which you already knew,” you said. “I aced most of my exams, I was invited into the Slug Club, and I’m currently working towards becoming Head Girl.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Charlie said. “You must be proud of yourself.”

“I am proud. Exhausted, but proud. Sometimes I wonder how I got this far. I look back at all the hard work I put in and still can’t figure out how I managed to do all that.”

“You’re pretty incredible,” said Charlie. “If anyone could accomplish that much, it would be you.” He paused. “Well, maybe also Percy. He’s a know-it-all.”

You blushed at his compliment. “Thanks, Charlie.” When you first told him about your achievements, you were worried he would think you were bragging. But his kind words put your fears at ease, reassuring you that it was okay to be happy for yourself and to want to share your goals and successes with others.

“You know, we should keep in touch more when I go back to Romania,” he said.

“Agreed. We hardly exchanged two letters in the past year.”

Charlie smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I sort of didn’t write to anyone at all. I mean, unless they wrote to me first.”

“It’s alright,” you reassured him. “You were probably too busy taming dragons or something,” you teased.

“I never forgot you,” he said, as if he had to make sure you knew his lack of communication wasn’t personal.

You felt your breath hitch. You knew he was probably only saying because he felt guilty for not sending letters to someone who obviously wanted to, but you secretly wished he had meant something more by those words. Did he miss you when he was away? Or did he just feel bad for cutting off a family friend who was desperate for company? Could he sense how you felt about him?

“I know,” you said. “You don’t have to feel bad for not writing. I know it’s nothing against me.” You really hoped he didn’t pity you or think you were pathetic. Your Gryffindor confidence truly gave out on you when you were around him.

“I-it’s not that,” he stammered. “It’s just, well, um.”

“It’s just what?” you questioned. Since when did Charlie Weasley get so tongue-tied?

“I, uh, I want you to know that I never forgot about you,” he finally spitted out, red in the face. “You’re, you’re different to me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was Charlie Weasley, the boy you’ve been swooning over for years, confessing his feelings for you?

“Different how?” you asked, wanting him to get to the point. You needed to know how he felt about you, but you were slightly afraid of the outcome. What if it was all a misunderstanding? What if you had been reading the situation wrong, and he didn’t actually have feelings for you?

“Well, you’re like a friend,” Charlie began slowly. He seemed to have regained his natural confidence and composure. “But more than that.”

You stared at him, unable to speak.

“You’re like family,” he went on, “but I don’t see you as my sister or anything like that. I see you more as someone I could fancy, or rather, someone I do fancy.”

You were dumbstruck. The boy you were head-over-heels for actually liked you back. He had said it himself. He fancied you. No one else, you.

“Could you please say something?” Charlie asked.

You looked down to see him fidgeting with his hands. Was he really that anxious? The calmest person you knew was nervous around you?

“I can’t believe you just said that,” you said, looking him in the eyes. Those gorgeous brown eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, turning red again. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” you hurriedly told him. “I like you, too.”

“You do?” he asked, breaking into a grin that could make you melt into the ground.

“Yes, I do. I’ve liked you for a long time, but I never had the courage to say anything. I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Same here,” Charlie admitted. “I’ve liked you for a while, but it felt wrong of me to say so. You are my friend, after all. Plus, you’re two years younger than me.”

You nodded in agreement. You often questioned if it would be wrong to date someone who wasn’t your age. Would people think weirdly of you and Charlie if the two of you were in a relationship? Would either of you get in trouble?

You couldn’t help yourself from asking, “How long have you liked me for?” You were still flabbergasted and didn’t think you’d ever get over the news.

“Well, I’m not sure. Maybe since my sixth year? Although, it could’ve been before that. We were always such close friends that I didn’t notice when platonic feelings started to turn into something more.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get it. Although, I can’t say it was the same for me. My feelings for you weren’t gradual like that. I knew I liked you all at once. From the moment we first met, actually.”

“Oh, did you?” he teased. “Did you find me that charming?”

“Oh, shut it, you git,” you said while rolling your eyes at him. It felt nice to banter with him without the awkward tension from before. Knowing that he shared your feelings made it easier for you to talk to him.

“So, what now?” Charlie asked you. “Are we dating or...?”

“Well, you have to ask me out first, don’t you?” you said playfully, trying to hide your smile.

He let out a loud sigh. “If I must.”

“Go on,” you said with a smirk. You had missed his goofy side when you were apart from him.

“Y/N Y/LN, will you go out with me?” he asked dramatically.

You rolled your eyes again. “Yes, you doof. I will go out with you.”

He beamed. “Brilliant!”

You smiled back at him, reaching for his hands. You gripped his hands in yours and looked into his eyes. Those soft, brown eyes that never failed to make you weak in the knees.

“But what will your family think?” you questioned, finally breaking his gaze.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Will your family be okay with this?”

“I’ve, uh, already told my parents about you,” you said sheepishly. “They’ve known I liked you for a long time, so they won’t have a problem with us dating. It’s your family I’m worried about.”

Charlie nodded. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell them? Not now, at least?”

“That would probably be best,” you agreed. “I don’t particularly want to deal with their judgement right now.”

Just then, the thudding of footsteps coming down the stairs could be heard.

“Charlie, Y/N, it’s bedtime!” Ron called from the landing. “Mum told me to tell you!”

“We’re coming, Ron!” Charlie shouted back. He turned to you. “So, I guess we’re keeping this a secret?”

“Guess so.”

That night, you couldn’t sleep as you laid in bed. You didn’t have to share Bill’s room with anybody, so you were utterly alone with your thoughts. Part of you was too excited to sleep. You couldn’t believe you were dating Charlie Weasley, the boy of your dreams. But part of you was also terrified of what the Weasleys would say once they found out. You already knew they liked you; you had been a friend of their children for a long time. And Charlie was their own son. But would a relationship be too much?

Aside from your worries about Charlie’s family, thoughts about how to make a relationship with him work also occupied your mind. He would be returning to the dragon reserve in Romania at the end of the summer, and you would be starting your last year at Hogwarts. Would you break up? Would you do long-distance? How would you make it work?

The next morning, everything proceeded as usual. You had breakfast with the Weasleys, along with Ron and Hermione, of course, and helped with the dishes afterward. You spent the rest of the day spending time with everyone, particularly Charlie. The two of you snuck off whenever you could, but it was difficult finding time to be alone with so many people at the Burrow.

The rest of the summer went accordingly. You spent your days playing games with the younger children, helping Mr. and Mrs. Weasley around the house, and enjoying quiet moments with Charlie. During your time alone, the two of you talked, made plans, and fell deeper in love with each other. You were infatuated with him, and he felt the same about you. Both of you dreaded the end of the summer, when you would eventually have to part ways.

You would miss the hot nights laying in the field, counting fireflies together. You would miss the sweet way you held each other’s hands underneath the dinner table. You would miss the rise and fall of his chest when he had fallen asleep on the banks of the nearby pond after a long afternoon of splashing around. You would miss the blush that crept up his cheeks when you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You would miss him, everything about him.

The last day of summer crept closer and closer. Before you knew it, it was your final night at the Burrow. You were set to leave with Percy, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny early the next morning. A part of you was excited to finally start your last year at Hogwarts, knowing that this would bring you another step closer to your adult life. Some days, there was nothing you wanted more than to be done with school and to start working in the wizarding world. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be a healer or an auror or some other profession, but you knew you wanted to make a difference and do good things for others. But another part of you was saddened. You didn’t want to leave the warmth and comfort of the Burrow. You didn’t want the carefree summer days to be nothing but a distant memory. And you didn’t want your blossoming relationship with Charlie to come to a close either.

It was past midnight, and you were the only one awake. Having had trouble falling asleep, you had gone down to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. After downing your drink, you had decided to perch on the sofa to contemplate your current situation. Physically, you were exhausted from a long day of frolicking in the fields and slinging rocks into the pond, the perfect end to the perfect summer. Mentally, you were restless as thoughts ran wild through your head. What would happen when you returned to school and Charlie went back to Romania? Your body was telling you to sleep, but your mind was keeping you up. You would be able to sleep on the train the next day, anyway.

“Y/N?” a voice sounded through the silence. “Why are you up?”

You broke free of your thoughts and glanced up to see Charlie staring back at you from the foot of the stairs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged. “Went down for some water and decided to sit here.”

Charlie grinned before plopping down next to you. “Well, then, I’m glad I happened to wake up just now. We can have one more moment together before we both leave tomorrow.”

You smiled back at him. “I think one more moment with you is just what I need right now.”

“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked as he draped his arm around you.

You snuggled closer to his side. “Nothing much. I was just thinking about us. What’s going to happen after tomorrow?”

You peered into Charlie’s eyes and found that he looked utterly content, relaxed even. Was he not fazed by the idea of having to leave you?

“Well, you’re going back to school,” he began, “and I’m going back to the sanctuary.”

“But what about us?”

“We’ll do long-distance, I guess,” he answered with a shrug. “I don’t want to break up or anything.”

You smiled at that and leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek. You were glad he wasn’t too worried. It eased your nerves to see how well he was handling this. “I don’t want to break up either. But you better write me, you git.”

Charlie smirked. “Alright, I’ll write you.”

You punched him playfully. “You better.”

The two of you stayed on the couch for a while, just enjoying being close to each other. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. Its rhythmic pounding soothed you, let you know that everything was going to be okay.

“Hey, is that my jumper?” Charlie finally spoke, gesturing to knitted red garment you wore.

You grinned sheepishly, looking down at the jumper that hung oversized on you. “I wanted to have a piece of you before we go our separate ways. I didn’t think you’d miss it too much. You have a bunch of them.”

“You can keep it, love,” he said with a grin. “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” you replied happily. You knew he wouldn’t have minded you taking his jumper, but it was nice to hear him say it himself. Something about the way he said it looked better on you made you cling onto him even tighter.

You and Charlie fell asleep on the couch that night, entangled in each other’s arms. In the morning, you were awakened by the sound of stomping footsteps and rowdy laughter as the other children got ready to leave. Soon enough, Molly Weasley was ushering you and Charlie to get ready as well. She didn’t seem at all surprised to see the two of you sleeping on the sofa together. Like everyone else in the house, she knew of your relationship without having to be told.

Charlie decided to accompany you and rest of the returning Hogwarts troupe to the train station. He didn’t want to miss seeing you off, wanting to say goodbye one last time. By the time you reached Platform 9 3/4, it was finally hitting you that you would be leaving him again. But this time, it hurt a little less because you knew you wouldn’t be leaving behind an unrequited love. You would be leaving your boyfriend, someone who did feel the same way and would never stop caring about you no matter the distance.

Your goodbye was bittersweet. You were thrilled to be parting ways as two people who were dating at long last, but you were dismayed to leave him at all.

“Did you pack my jumper?” Charlie asked as he pulled you into one last hug.

“Sure did,” you grinned at him. “I’m going to miss you, Charlie.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, planting a kiss into your hair. “But there’s always next year.”

You finally pulled away and boarded the Hogwarts Express with the others. Sitting in between Ginny and Hermione, you waved out the window frantically as the train pulled out of the station. You continued to wave as the train continued to chug forward until the figures of Charlie, Molly, and Arthur Weasley became nothing but specks on the platform.

Tired from staying up late the night before, you allowed yourself to shut your eyes during the ride to school. As you were drifting off to sleep, the last words Charlie had said to you turned over and over again in your mind. But there’s always next year. He was right. Although you’d be apart for your last year at Hogwarts and his second year in Romania, you had your whole future ahead of you. You had the rest of your lives to be together, so it didn’t matter that you weren’t together now. You sank deeper and deeper into a peaceful slumber, letting the noise of the train inching along the tracks and the thoughts of your future with Charlie lull you to sleep.

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #charlie weasley fanfiction #weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

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