#hes gonna make freddys WITHOUT ME?

[beausprouts]

So what if Fazbear Frights opened in the 90s... WELCOME BACK DAVE MILLER-

[kamaluhkhan]

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember. 

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers. 

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.” 

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.” 

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control. 

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.” 

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top. 

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you. 

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips. 

“why’s that?” you ask. 

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go. 

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins. 

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?” 

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being. 

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults. 

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’ 

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world. 

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!” 

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them. 

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.  

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac: 

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work. 

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor. 

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?” 

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs. 

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do. 

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party. 

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke. 

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways. 

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow. 

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says. 

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out: 

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi. 

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with. 

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you. 

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.” 

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws. 

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….” 

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time. 

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?” 

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again. 

so, you do remember. 

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’ 

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years. 

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue. 

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure? 

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses. 

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave. 

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating. 

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun. 

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision. 

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try. 

“you know powder’s graduating this year?” 

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision. 

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely. 

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed. 

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.” 

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…” 

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.” 

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge. 

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.” 

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you. 

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please. 

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice. 

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd. 

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand. 

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock. 

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth. 

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you. 

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile. 

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace. 

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you. 

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out. 

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —” 

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?” 

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying. 

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry. 

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton 

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21. 

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house. 

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.   

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass. 

“you remember.” 

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.” 

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be. 

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours. 

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp. 

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —” 

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder. 

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor. 

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego. 

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again. 

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. 

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact. 

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers. 

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart. 

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time. 

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to. 

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.” 

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work. 

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door. 

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying. 

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear. 

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear. 

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her. 

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl. 

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake. 

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi.  “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek. 

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away. 

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone. 

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move. 

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath. 

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs. 

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin. 

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head. 

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open." 

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer. 

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit.  you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple. 

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess. 

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving. 

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream. 

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers. 

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another. 

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash. 

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before. 

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?” 

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand. 

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday. 

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back. 

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.” 

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling. 

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours. 

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.” 

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.” 

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round.  “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.” 

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder. 

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye. 

“i better go.” 

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room. 

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later. 

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s. 

i’ll see you later. love you!

[kmt123whatsthetea]

A sweet angel and her corrupting devils

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

Requested by: @flowerhetal

Request: “The twins with an inexperienced reader”

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I'm finally back and writing. Also, I really went on a tangent for this one, I’m very sorry. And I had to rewrite most of the book because I wanted it to be a BFB as Ginny's bestie, but by TOOTP Ginny is 14 and the twins are 17-18, and I knew someone would pick it up and yikes. So say hello to Ron's new bestie, who is legal. I’m gonna be honest, this one was difficult to write and I didnt like how slow it was because I was just pushing to get it uploaded after so long. I really don't feel like this is even in my top 10.

T/W: Virgin reader, Twins kinda baby reader, Umbridge causing pain, Fingering, Praise

The Twins were such sweethearts.

Despite their joking nature, they treated you like a glass statue. Even when they picked you up, they handled you with care.

Fred and George were 2 years older than you. Being Ron’s best friend meant that, at first, the twins saw you as an annoying little sister, just without the trademark hair and freckles. But then the attraction became increasingly obvious. Fred and George would pay more attention to you and always wanted to sit beside you when you stayed for a sleepover. After a brief conversation between the two, they had realised that you had become another shared trait for the twins.

It was only fair that they agreed to share your attention.

As the years passed and you all got older, that attraction never faded. The twins flocked to you. Whenever a new prank was ready, you would never be a target. But they’d make sure that you were there to bear witness since they loved the sound of your laughter.

You started going to them more often, telling them about your day and listening to theirs. They never let anyone mess with you, saying that anyone who did would become the next target for their best prank yet. However, you didn't think that threat would extend to staff members.

When Delores Umbridge walked through the doors of Hogwarts School, she didn’t plan to let you all go about your regular business. She had a plan, which involved corporal punishment. They had found you buried under a pile of duvets in your room, missing both lunch and dinner. When they first stepped into your room, they didn’t think you were even there until they heard soft whimpers coming from the blanket pile.

Pulling back a few layers revealed your shaking form. Eyes red and puffy from hours of crying and arm red raw from both Umbridge’s quill and the insatiable urge to itch that comes with any scar. The mantra on your arm read ‘I shall pay more attention in class instead of daydreaming’.

Even when you tried to hide away and burrow back into the safety of the blankets, George cradled your face in his hands.

“Sweet girl, it’s okay. She got you too, did she? Why don't you come out and let me and Freddie look after you”

The effect they had on you was pure magic. They could talk you into anything with their soft voices. You slowly emerged, clinging to George like a baby koala while Fred took the chance to examine your arm. He cooed softly as he pressed a kiss to your palm.

“Baby, you’ve been touching it haven’t you? You know you’re not meant to scratch your scars”

All Hogwarts rooms had a first aid box. Nothing too fancy, just a few bandages and elixirs for those first years who couldn't wait to duel. Although Fred could have used a spell to soothe your wound, a simple bandage had that closeness and cozy feel to it. There's something romantically tragic about bandaging your lover's wounds.

His fingers applied the elixir like a massaging oil before carefully applying the bandage. All the while, your face stayed tucked into George's neck. George splayed his fingers across your back, his lips brushing along your ear.

“We just want to take care of you. That’s all we’ve ever wanted, sweet girl”

Fred set aside the bottle and sat on the bed, his hands finding your hips. He slowly pulled you from George's lap and onto his own, his chest against your back while his hands encircled your middle. You didn't mind when his hands drifted to your abdomen, they always made you feel so safe.

“I bet no other boy has ever taken care of you, have they?”

George cooed while his own hands stroked your thighs, slowly getting higher. When you shook your head, he moved forward to part your thighs and nestle between them, causing your skirt to ride up. Fred pulled your skirt up slowly, letting you object if you wanted to.

“We know how to take care of pretty babies like you. You just have to trust Georgie and I. You can do that, can’t you?”

They already knew that you were putty in their hands, but your meek approval made it so much better. George slowly pulled your panties down and put them in his pocket before he spread your legs more. Just a glance at you told him all he needed to know. You really were a virgin. He shot Fred a glance before both boys just stared at you. Fred pressed a kiss to your ear.

“Are you sure you want this, baby? To give yourself to us like this? We can’t go back afterwards”

Your meek voice filled their ears despite how quiet you were.

“I want you both. Please? Please make the pain go away”

George leaned forwards and kissed your lips, his hand trailing down to stroke your clit. He revelled in the surprised whimper that seemed to escape you. While his thumb rubbed slow circles over your button, his fingers glided down to tease your pussy. George gathered your slick and slowly pushed his finger inside. You were tight. Too tight.

“Baby, do you ever…play with yourself?”

You looked up at Fred first before looking at George, your cheeks pink.

“No, is that wrong?”

Oh, you were sweet.

Fred pressed a kiss to your temple while George's lips kissed the tip of your nose. They wanted to teach you everything. Every kissing technique, every position, every special toy. You would be their eager little student, desperate for kisses and praise. They wondered if you got wet just from being called their good girl.

“It's not wrong at all, sweetie. It just means that Georgie and I get to spend more time with you. Practice makes perfect, right?”

George's finger slid back inside of you, keeping a slow pace to let you adjust. Fred's hand toyed with your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipples while his other hand rested across your middle to keep you still when you squirmed. Every moan filled their ears as if you were their own private singer. Pure music. George could feel how much of your juices was coating his fingers, you were wet enough for more. His second finger joined the first, your walls practically suffocating them. His fingers angled up and pushed deeper.

A loud moan left your lips, your walls clamping down on George's fingers. Your body squirmed in Freds grip. His hand left your nipples to cover your mouth. God forbid anyone heard and interrupted them. George kept his thumb on your throbbing clit, adding pressure to keep you spaced out.

When your moans slowly subsided, George slowly pulled his fingers out of you and brought them up to his lips. Fred kept you in a tight grip, his hand leaving your mouth to stroke your cheek softly. Your body trembled between them, eyes still closed and chest heaving for oxygen.

“You did such a great job, baby. Such a sweet girl. I bet Georgie’s fingers felt so good”

They waited a while before deciding to clean you up, wanting to take in the pretty sight for a while longer.

They liked how pretty their girl looked for them.

[getmeoutofhell]

Slashers getting jealous

i hope you enjoy these!! i made them with love and care ;)

Hannibal Lecter:

yeah, whoever made him feel that way is long gone. he’ll take you, tie you down and make you watch him kill that person in a very brutal sick way. he then will go on and tell you a heart filled message, while looking you in the eyes.

“you forced my hand dear.” oh yeah, make sure you enjoy his next meal. he made it special. 🥩

Will Graham:

he will become nonchalant (no joke), he will stop being him for a minute to process his emotions and how to deal with them. he’ll also become a rude bitch. not just to them, but to you as well.

“how would that make you feel?” he may even roll his eyes. soon, that person will come up missing. 🌪️

Billy Loomis:

takes it to a different level even in public. he will try to embarrass that person in-front of everyone. he takes your arm and you guys leave. if you try to talk to him, he’ll ignore you until he’s ready to talk.

“i want you to stay here, with me tonight.” only later to find out that there’s been a ghost face attack…with them being the first victim. 📞

Stu Marcher:

if you think will is gonna be nonchalant, lemme tell you about this guy. not only will he go crazy if someone takes to much of your time, he then will not talk to you for a little bit, which upsets you ofc.

“i think you should just stay away from that guy.” you can imagine what stu will do from there…📞

Micheal Myers:

death. just death. since he’s a lot older than you (probably) he won’t even waste time trying to explain that he’s jealous. he’ll just go and kill them.

you can feel him staring at you under his mask. very creepy. 🔪

Valak:

wow, valak? being jealous? not a change. now, let’s say you were trying to summon another demon. now we’re taking. as i say in all my post he’s very sneaky. which means not only will he banish that demon, he’ll also banish you as well.

have fun in hell with him. forever. 🪞

Art the Clown:

if you expect art to not get jealous you must be mistaken dear. he’s a man child, a big baby. but when he gets mad, he’s mad. he’ll take you and tie you in a chair. then, he peels the victims skin off piece by piece while laughing without a care.

he will later surprise you with a heart …a human heart. 💉

Malthus:

dealing with a demon such as him will not end up good. also considering he’s mostly in the doll then with you. but that doesn’t stop him from seeing you interact with other people for to long.

that doll is everywhere. including that special persons home…🕯️

Ethan Landry:

will pretend everything is okay until it’s just you two alone. “why were you and them so close?” he stares deep into your soul, making you shudder. ethan is a walking mask. on the outside he’s a sweet boy. but on the inside he’s a brutal walking man.

“you stay the fuck away from her!!” as the knife digs deeper in their chest. 📞

Candyman:

he’s more calm actually. he trust you, not them. so as long as it doesn’t go to far, he’s okay with it. now, if it did go to far he’ll step in and take you away from them. he manly watches from afar tho.

“let’s head home.” let’s hope that person isn’t allergic to bees. 🐝

Pennywise (2017):

this clown didn’t understand what was happening at first. why did he feel that way? he had no idea. all he knew was that he didn’t like it, and he knew he had to do something about it. so if that requires him eating that persons chest out then so be it.

“you’re my friend. not theirs.” 🎈

Freddy Krueger:

oh my this man gets jealous so much it’s ridiculous. he’s so insecure about himself so when you find interest in anything other than him for more than 5 minutes he’s all over the place. it’s kinda sad actually.

just know they won’t be waking up ever again. 💭

[aastroopheel]

i fear im gonna need some fluff w cook all i can find is angst i need my delusions filled 😔✊😫😫

Got'cha

Summary: Cook gets sick and you take care of him.....you get sick too

Hot Mess (Literally)

You knew Cook was getting sick the night before.

He came back from some house party soaked in rain, shirt half-buttoned, pupils wild, and hugging you like he hadn’t seen you in weeks — which wasn’t even true. You’d texted him two hours ago to bring back your lighter. He forgot.

“I feel amazing,” he said, spinning once in your doorway like a soggy tornado.

He sneezed mid-spin and crashed into your dresser. You sighed and prayed that your mother wouldn’t wake up.  You didn’t say “I told you so.” You just gave him some of his, now clean, clothes that he left a few weeks ago when he slept over and made him tea.

Now it’s the next morning and he looks like death warmed over.

You find him half-buried under your duvet, surrounded by used tissues and moaning like a war victim. His nose is red. His hair’s a mess. He’s using one of your shirts as a blanket even though the actual blanket is right there.

“I’m dying,” he croaks when he sees you.

“You have a cold, Cook.”

He groans. “My body’s givin’ up, babe. It’s the end. Tell Freddie I want him to have my speakers. Tell JJ... actually, don’t tell JJ anything, he’ll just bring science into it.”

You smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing your hand to his forehead. He leans into your touch like a needy cat. Warm. Too warm.

“You’ve got a fever.”

“God, you’re so hot when you diagnose me.”

“Shut up and drink this.” You hand him a mug of tea. Your mother made it with a scowl when you told her Cook was in your room resting, and on top of that, sick.

He takes it with two hands like a Victorian orphan. Sips. Immediately makes a face.

“This is disgusting. What’s in it?”

“Lemon, honey, ginger, and care.”

“Care tastes like bin juice.” You roll your eyes, but your heart’s already melting. This version of Cook — grumpy, helpless, all bark and no bite — is rare. You kind of love it.

You run your fingers through his hair gently, brushing it back from his damp forehead. He closes his eyes, his whole body sinking into the mattress.

“Stay with me,” he mumbles.

“I’m literally right here.”

“No, like stay. The whole day. Sick boy needs love.”

You laugh softly. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m vulnerable. And fragile.” He sniffs. “And potentially contagious. You should cuddle me for safety reasons.”

You slide under the covers, careful not to jostle him too much. He immediately wraps himself around you like a sleepy octopus, face pressed to your neck, sighing like he’s just found nirvana. 

“This is nice,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “You’re warm. And you smell good. Not like tea.”

You stroke his back slowly, feeling the tension melt out of him.

“Promise not to make fun of me later for being sweet?” you whisper.

He lifts his head slightly, eyes heavy but soft. “I’d never.” Pause. “...Okay, maybe a little. But only ‘cause I’m obsessed with you.”

You kiss his burning forehead. He hums like a happy kid.

Later, he falls asleep drooling on your collarbone, mumbling something about crisps and penguins. You stay right there, holding him through every sniffle and twitch. A book in your hand and tissues close just in case.

The week after Cook gets better, things mostly go back to normal. He’s loud again. Hungry all the time. Texting you dumb inside jokes during class and showing up at your place without warning because “he missed your face, obviously.” You roll your eyes and pretend to be annoyed, but he sees you smile when you think he’s not looking.

You’ve got a bit of a sniffle, but you chalk it up to tiredness — too many late nights, too many assignments, not enough tea. Cook asks once, “You getting sick?” and you wave him off with a “Nah, just run-down.” He shrugs and tosses you the rest of his sandwich. Business as usual.

But by the end of the week, you’re sleeping through your alarms and keeping tissues in every pocket. He doesn’t say anything yet. He’s watching. Waiting. Figuring out if this is “fine” or Cook-level not-fine.

Turns out: not-fine. And he’s not about to let you be the idiot now.

You shouldn’t be out of bed.

Your head is swimming, your hoodie’s too warm, the cold air cuts like glass, and your bones feel like they’ve been borrowed from someone who just ran a marathon. But you’re still here — dragging yourself to class like a responsible little disappointment-avoider.

Your mother’s voices echo in your head the whole walk: You miss one class, it becomes two. One quiz becomes a failed term. No excuses.

So you sit in the third row of your economics lecture, clutching a leaky pen and trying to focus while your forehead rests on your notebook. Everything hurts. The lights are too bright. The lecturer sounds like he’s underwater.

You’re not even sure how long you last before you start swaying slightly in your seat.

“Are you okay?” someone whispers.

You don’t even answer.

You last one class before your body starts giving up on you.

Now you’re curled into one of the battered old chairs in the student break room — hood up, face pale, limbs heavy like concrete. There's a vending machine buzzing loudly in the corner and someone's leftover sandwich stinks of tuna, but you're too far gone to care. You just need to rest. Just a minute. Just long enough to stop the room from spinning.

You’re half-awake, blinking at a water stain on the ceiling, when the door creaks open and you hear that unmistakable voice.

“—nah, I told JJ I wasn’t goin’ to that seminar. Why would I—?”

Cook stops short mid-sentence when he sees you. You don’t even lift your head as usual when you notice he’s near you to smile brightly at him and offer some of your snacks.

He walks over slowly, like you’re some strange creature he’s not quite sure how to approach.

“Oi. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Break,” you say, like that explains the fact that you’re basically melting into the chair. “Next class starts in twenty minutes.”

“You look like death, babe.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

You sniff, immediately regret it, and groan. “I couldn’t miss class. My mum would go ballistic. She already thinks I’m ‘distracted’ lately.”  He crouches in front of you, reaching out to pull your hood back gently. You don’t protest. Don’t even have the strength to.

His eyes search your face — flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, pale lips. “You’ve got a fever. Christ, how long have you felt like this?”

You shrug helplessly. 

He shakes his head, jaw tense. “You should be in bed.”

“I told you. I can’t miss—”

“I don’t give a shit what your mum thinks,” he says, softer now, but firmer too. “You’re sick. This is stupid. You’re stupid.”

“I’m responsible.”

“You’re stubborn. There’s a difference.”

You try to sit up straight, but your body protests, swaying dangerously. He catches you before you tip forward completely.

That’s it. That’s the last straw for him.

“Nope,” he says, already grabbing your bag. “You’re done. Let’s go.”

“James—” you try to convince by saying his name. It always worked. Until now.

“Not negotiable, babe. I’m kidnapping you. Legally or illegally, that’s up to you.” You groan into your sleeve but don’t resist as he helps you up, his arm wrapping securely around your waist.

“You really gonna carry me out of here?”

“Watch me.”

And he does — not literally, but close enough. He keeps his arm around you the whole walk to his place, muttering things like “bloody lunatic” and “you’d rather die than admit you’re human, huh?”

When you finally collapse on his bed, exhausted and boiling with fever, he doesn’t say I told you so. Instead, he sits beside you, brushes your sweaty hair from your forehead, and says, “I got you, alright?

Fifteen minutes later, you’re wrapped in one of his shirts and every blanket he owns. He brings you water, cold cloths, and cough syrup even though he obviously read the dosage wrong.

“Don’t worry,” he says, flopping onto the bed next to you. “You’ll live.”

“You better not get sick again.”

He grins. “Worth it.”

And for the rest of the day, he doesn’t leave your side — just watches crap telly, holds your hand, and feeds you toast while pretending it’s airplane food.

Cook, of all people, being soft.

Almost makes being sick kind of... nice.

[groovy-rat-man]

Okay so i've played the Date Everything demo like.. a lot, and I wanted to share my thoughts on the characters ive met so far! Fair warning this is gonna be a long LONG post so be warned.

Also im including pictures of the characters (courtesy of the fandom wiki) and the images are fucking huge.

- - - -

Skylar Specs

She works well as a helper and tutorial guide. I really wanna know more about her because she is the personification of the MAIN MECHANIC IN THE GAME so I feel like theres gotta be something deeper, especially with the throwaway "I'm sad inside!" line that I dont think a lot of people have talked about. Also I love all the hearts in her design and how much she loves love <33

Dorian

Aro🤝Ace Solidarity, hell yeah!! But in all seriousness he's one of if not my favorite character I think. I can't wait until I can play the full game so we can be besties <3. Also I like how all the doors have slightly different Dorians. Like the front door has a more serious looking Front Dorian and the tiny door in the kitchen has a Small Dorian standing on a stool and Back Dorian is facing away from you and sounds muffled and if you talk to him during the tutorial he actually mentions that. It's all just really cool!

Phoenicia

She's really fun and I like her personality! I'm not sure if I have much more to say about her tho. Also I didn't know you weren't supposed to leave your phone plugged in over night, I've been doing that for like years. Sorry Phoenicia...

Maggie

Oh hey, that's my aunt's name. I like her whole detective shtick and how she calls you gumshoe I think it's cute.

Betty

I love her. She's big and cozy and sensual and amazing, BUT she looks SO MUCH LIKE ME. I asked my own god damn mother if we looked similar (without telling her the context of the game) and she said yes. I physically cannot look at her without thinking "this is just me if I tried to be sexy." It also makes it weird seeing people thirst for her lol.

Amir

Ohhhh Amir... My darling Amir..... God I love him, I need him, I need him so bad for reals. He makes me so giddy any time he's talking..... (Or maybe I'm just susceptible to pretty men with pretty hair complimenting me.)

Freddy Yeti

I will NOT make a Freddy Fivebears reference, I will NOT! But seriously, I love him too. I don't think it's in a romantic way yet, I'm just a sucker for a big, kind, fun person who loves keeping me fed. I think we could be buddies! (perhaps more, we'll see)

Arma

She's the first character I met that had Skylar's content warning. Let me tell you, as fellow hottie with trauma around fire she is just... relatable. I totally get it, Arma, but at least let me get you some new batteries. Please?

Wilhelmina Work

Willi I am going to be 100% honest with you, you are stressing me the hell out. I do hope she gets back on her feet tho.

THE HANKS!!!!! WOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

I fucking love these guys! I love their energy!! I love their designs!!! I love how each of their little icons in the user interface is a different hanger!!!! I love how they all shit on Hank #3 that one time!!!!! They are my all-time favorite five-man himbo hivemind!!!!!!

Penelope

I really don't have much to say about her other than I like the googily eyes on her skirt and I really wanna know what went on when she went off with that viking treadmil guy.

Ben-Hwa

They're cool i just.. it's just... Like holy shit, right? I do love having a very sex-positive character like this, it's just wild that we were fucking on Betty at 9 in the god damn morning.

Rebel

I'm gonna be real, it took me way to long to get the "rebel ducky" pun. I really do not know how I feel about this design. I love it, I just kinda wish it was more ducky ya know? I also love how much they hate my ducking guts it's really funny. (I also like to imagine me and Amir doting on eachother in the bathroom mirror and they're just sitting on the edge of the tub yelling at us to shut the duck up, I need to draw that...)

Diana

I saw her when skimming the wiki before playing the game and I really liked her Mad Hatter sorta look (also this is probably a coincidence but Dinah was also the name of Alice's cat). I was NOT prepared for when I first talked to her like holy shit. It makes you wonder what's going on with the player character, she is YOUR diary after all.

Duncan "Dunk" Shuttlecock

I like his silly intro and his fun, cocky, sweet attitude. I also like how he's so dedicated to sports being fun for everybody and not pushing yourself. Can't get over that fuckass outfit tho.

Teddy

God I love him. Not like romantically but I love him so so much. He makes me feel safe. That story he told literally make me cry. I was all snuggled up under my weighted blanket with my laptop and earbuds crying like a bitch. It was like 1-2am when I was playing too, so it really was a bedtime story for me! And speaking of bedtime, of COURSE i moved him to the bed. I hope him and Betty get along. I like to think that they're old friends, I bet he's the little spoon.

Captain Jacques Pierrot

I know I've been saying this a lot but I love this guy. He's tiny and angy and talks funny and has pretty hair. Idk how big he's supposed to be but I've been imagining him being about the size of a medium rat. Also I didn't realize that his name was a play on Jack Sparrow until he said it out loud and it pissed me off when I realized lol. I wanna hold him in the palm of my hand and kiss his little face over and over again while he's all grumpy~~ (should I be saying that on the main blog?)

Dishy

☹ /̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

The Sassy Chap

Holy shit you can fuck the credits. But seriously, I loved the quiz thingy with all the developers even tho it took me like an hour. Sassy loved it too so that was fun!

Dasha

Hhhhholy shit,, big strong kind lady with pretty Slavic accent lift me up high and teach me how flirt...... w o a g..

Daisuke Dishware

I'm gonna be real, it was late at night (both irl and in game) and I thought "screw it, I'm fucking the knives" and I fully expected to get a Big Scary Knifeplay Guy but what I got instead.... He's wonderful. Serious, dedicated, mysterious? so so so beautiful, catches me when I fall. God I adore him, I need more. Daisuke, I am SO SORRY I chipped you on accident even though I'm not entirely sure what that means. Ough,, I also love his hair, it's gorgeous I swear the two most attractive features a man can have is pretty eyes and long beautiful hair.... Also I'm only learning this now but apparently his voice actor is also named Daisuke which is really funny.

- - - -

okay that's it you can go now, luv u

[baseballbitch116]

Twins

George Weasley x reader

Prompt: The twins try to trick you

Warnings: none, just goofy fluff and jealousy

Masterlist

"Hey babygirl," George greets you as he sits down on one side of you, Fred sitting on the other. You don't look up from your book but stick out your cheek a little for him to kiss like he always does, however he does not, which makes you finally place your bookmarker in and look up at him. 'George' is sitting to your left and 'Fred' to your right, but you notice immediately how 'George' left a few inches between your legs and 'Fred's' knee is touching yours. You sigh and turn to 'Fred,' placing a kiss on his cheek. "Hey!" The real Fred shouts, throwing his arms up in defeat. Your real Georgie blushes and scooches even closer to you, placing an arm over your shoulder.

"That's my girl," he grins, kissing the top of your head.

"You honestly think I can't tell you two apart?" you ask Fred as you lean into George.

"I told you she would, mate," George shrugs.

"How did you know?" Fred demands, his competitiveness showing.

"It was kinda obvious. You didn't kiss my cheek and you weren't even touching me. Georgie can't keep his hands to himself on any given day," you laugh.

"Hey," George pouts, but pulls you in closer to his chest.

"I'll give you points for calling me babygirl though. Did he tell you to say that or did you just pick up on his pet name?" you ponder.

"He says it all the bloody time," Fred complains, crossing his arms.

"You had me for the first three seconds, Fred. Take your win," you grin, loving to have bested the trickster.

"Nah... We're gonna get you. You just wait and see." George eyes up his brother but says nothing.

~~~

Later that evening, after classes were finally over, you texted George to meet you by the black lake. About fifteen minutes later, Fred and George were walking over. You were unsurprised that Fred tagged along, it wasn't the unusual. He typically wandered off after you guys started getting too affectionate for him. "Hey love," George greets you, wrapping you up in a big hug. You lean into his large frame and exhale deeply, relaxing in his touch. He smells a little different, but you don't think much of it. You look up at Fred over George's bicep and spot him with an angry expression. "What's wrong, Freddie?" you ask, pulling away from George enough to look at him.

"Oh, uh, nothing. You guys just remind me how lonely I am," he fake sniffles and George scoffs.

"You'll get over it," he responds snarkily, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"Aww Fred," you move away from George to give Fred a hug. Fred envelopes you in his arms and holds you closely, almost possessively - and that was your first clue. Then you inhaled and smelled George's familiar scent and cologne, and you sharply pulled away from 'Fred.' "Are you guys serious?!" you shout, hitting 'Fred's' arm.

"What?" 'George' asks innocently, hugging you from behind. You shoot a look between the brothers, taking in their features. You don't miss the way 'Fred' is looking at you and practically glaring at 'George' as he hugs you.

"This is getting old," you huff, pulling away from Fred and crossing your arms angrily. You see the real George trying to hide a proud grin, while the real Fred is trying to keep up the act.

"Y/N we're not tricking you, we already tried today, remember?" 'George' reminds you.

"Oh yeah, George? Prove it," you demand. He furrows his brows and both twins look confused.

"Prove what?" the real George asks.

"Prove that you're actually George and not Fred."

"I can't believe you can't tell us apart," 'George' smirks victoriously.

"I can. I know that you're Fred. But by all means, go on and convince me otherwise." The twins exchange a look - apparently they didn't plan for this. "C'mon, Georgie. Prove it."

Without wasting another second, 'George' pulls you back into his arms and hugs you tightly. You can't see the other twin's reaction because he's put your head in his chest and he's stroking your hair. Wait, did you actually get it wrong?

"See, babygirl? I guess you can't tell us apart so easily, can you?" 'George' smirks.

"Oh I guess you're right, babe. Come here, give me a kiss," you grin up at him, and his face falls instantly. You grab onto 'George's' biceps, feeling him up and leaning up, expecting a kiss.

"Alright alright alright!" The real George literally yanks you off of his brother and possessively grabs onto you from behind, snaking his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. "You win, love," he mutters into your ear. You giggle and lean into him, ignoring the pouting, defeated Fred.

"We almost had her, mate!" Fred shouts.

"You're not kissing my girlfriend!" George shouts over your head.

"I wasn't going to! But if you hadn't been so bloody jealous we could've finally gotten her!" Fred grumbles.

"When you get a girlfriend you better hope I don't do this crap to you, mate." George grumbles, kissing the top of your head and toying with the top of your pants.

"Hey! No! You better not. This is annoying and more importantly, you're not allowed to touch or flirt with any other girl!" you scold George. He grins down at you and grabs your face with both hands, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

"You got it, love," he promises.

[charliedawn]

This is gonna be so random but this agitates me so much so like I have a question: how would the slashers react to a guy pursuing the nurse and she’s silently agitated and uncomfortable? Because I hate it so much, especially if it’s a friend and they start getting more touchy. Like sure it’s fine at first if I’m just comforting you but then they start resting their head on you 24/7 even without asking and I’m just so irked especially when I said I don’t want to even be in a relationship. Ughhh. Love your work btw though, I already feel less agitated on here. Thank you for your service 🫡

Jason Voorhees:

Jason notices immediately. Your body language is everything to him. The second he sees you shrink away, stiffen, or look uncomfortable, he’s on high alert. He physically steps between you and the guy like a wall of death. No words, just presence. If the guy doesn’t get the hint, Jason might just grab him by the collar and silently shove him away harder than necessary.

Jason’s message is clear: You are making them uncomfortable. If you touch them again, you won’t have arms no more.

Michael Myers:

Michael just appears next to you, staring down the guy like he’s sizing up how best to gut him. He doesn’t even blink. You might see him casually pulling a knife from his pocket, tapping it against his leg while staring.

The guy rests his head on you ?

Michael slightly tilts his head—and then grabs the guy’s shoulder and peels him off you with brutal force.

No words. Just pure threat.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms would get insanely possessive and upset, even more so because you’re visibly uncomfortable and polite about it. He hates when you’re nice to people who don’t deserve it.

He starts whining loudly, fake-crying:

"Y/N ! Y/N ! I want cuddles toooo ! Why are you hugging HIM ?! I thought you loved ME !"

He makes a whole embarrassing scene, clinging to you dramatically, and eventually physically wedges himself between you and the guy until the guy leaves in total awkwardness. Then Brahms whispers, "See ? I’ll keep you safe. I am a good boy, right ?"

Yeah. You got another problem now.

Good luck. 🫡

Bo Sinclair:

Bo goes nuclear. He can tell when you’re pissed but too polite to cause a scene. But him ? He doesn’t have that problem. He lives for causing scenes.

He yells at the guy across the room:

"Hey, jackass ! Get yer damn hands off them before I break every bone you’re touchin’ them with !"

If the guy still doesn’t back off, Bo would slam him into a wall or throw something. Or throw hands directly. Like I said. Bo has absolutely no problem causing a scene.

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent quietly places himself at your side, an intimidating silent figure looming taller and broader.

If the guy touches you again, Vincent physically grabs his wrist and shoves it away. If he keeps doing it ?

Vincent puts him in an armlock without hesitation. No anger on his face—just the cool efficiency of someone who is done tolerating disrespect.

Freddy Krueger:

Freddy is mocking and cruel to the guy.

"Ooooh, look at you ! Little cuddle parasite ! Bet mommy didn’t hold you enough, huh ? But that’s alright ! Ya got me now ! And ya gonna looove my hugs !"

He laughs, points, makes it so unbearable and humiliating that the guy leaves out of sheer embarrassment. Freddy loves bullying people who make you uncomfortable. Actually ? Scratch that. He likes making people uncomfortable. Period.

Norman Bates:

Norman notices the second your smile looks even a little strained. He stammers:

"Th-They said they didn’t want—they said they didn’t want to be touched, please don’t—"

He starts trying to verbally defend you, but if the guy persists, Norman has a breakdown and possibly lashes out physically in a desperate, protective mama style.

Thomas Hewitt / Bubba Sawyer:

Thomas becomes very tense, gripping his chainsaw tighter. He won’t attack immediately, but he’s vibrating with the urge to.

Bubba would cry and whimper, clinging to you and trying to “rescue” you from the situation. They both absolutely hate seeing you uncomfortable and would go to extreme lengths to get the guy away from you if it escalates.

Pennywise:

Pennywise sees it as a hunt. The guy who keeps touching you after you said no ?

He’s prey.

Pennywise smiles sweetly at you and then, when you’re not looking, corners the guy in some dark hallway:

"You deaf, bucko ? They said no. I can make it so you never even have a hand to touch anyone again…So back off."

He loves terrifying creeps who don’t listen.

Penny:

Penny acts playful at first, bouncing around you both, making silly noises. Then his voice drops lower, more serious:

"Y/N doesn’t wanna be touched. Go away before I make you disappear, silly human~!"

If the guy still doesn’t listen, Penny would get uncharacteristically serious and physically remove him from your space with surprising strength. Or eat him. Depends on how hungry he is.

Jack Torrance:

Jack would take a second to notice (he’s a little dense sometimes), but once he sees it, his protective instincts kick in hard. He marches up and stands between you and the guy, almost snarling:

"The guy/lady’s not interested. Get lost, pal."

And if that doesn’t work, Jack’s ready to throw hands, no hesitation.

Chucky:

As soon as the guy rests his head on you without asking, that’s it. Chucky climbs up somewhere (table, chair, your shoulder if he has to) and starts loudly, brutally roasting the guy in front of everyone:

"Hey, clingy ! They said they ain’t interested ! What part of ‘NO’ don’t you get, numbnuts ?!"

"Oh, you need a hug ? How ‘bout I rip your friggin’ arms off and shove ‘em where the sun don’t shine ?!"

If the guy still doesn’t back off ?

Chucky’s pulling a knife.

Tiny, furious, screaming and swinging.

Not even subtle about it.

You’d have to physically scoop him up and carry him away while he’s still yelling insults over your shoulder like:

"You touch them again, and you’re dead, ya hear me ?! DEAD !"

And the whole time, he’s fuming to you afterward:

"You gotta stop bein’ so damn nice, sweetheart. Assholes like that think it’s an invitation! Next time, just say the word and I’ll carve ‘BACK OFF’ into his forehead for ya."

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers as dads. (Extending the addition).

So I've been thinking about other slashers that I could write as fathers. And this is just a little list of ones that I've chose and how I feel about them. Usually for the slasher dad drabbles, I like to include at least four slashers. Freddy, Michael, Bo, and Hannibal have been my primary picks so far- and I write them in canon-divergence so they're portrayed as good guys. Now...

Let's talk about who else is fit to be a dad.

Jason Voorhees

I feel like it goes without saying that Jason would be a remarkable father figure. He's strong, protective, compassionate, loves nature, is nice, ect... If we altered his universe a bit and turned him into a good guy, I think he'd be the best father figure yet! I'm already thinking about scenarios where he teaches a child reader how to swim and stuff.

Bubba Sawyer/Thomas Hewitt

So I struggle a bit with Bubba mainly because he can't talk and, frankly, I'm not even sure if he can write. Children take after their parents, and I'm not gonna write a child reader squealing and huffing like he does. That's why I have such a difficult time with deciding what I could do to make him a good father figure. And it's not just his inability to talk, it's also his intelligence and the condition he lives in. My father figures have to have suitable jobs and living conditions. I'm not sure what I could do to make his situation better, you know?

As for Thomas Hewitt? I've never seen a movie with him, so I don't know anything about him, his speech, intelligence or living conditions. I was hoping maybe someone would explain it to me, please?

Weirdo demon people like Pyramid Head, Pinhead, Pennywise and Chucky.

Now, I don't see any of these characters as fit to be a father figure. However, I do see them as fit to be a 'friend'. Let's say a child reader is feeling lonely, scared, sad or neglected, and one of these guys shows up to make them feel better, take them on an adventure, or so on and so forth. I think that it could be it's own special kind of drabble sequence- not necessarily father figures, but more like 'friendly monsters'.

Evan MacMillan

The one character that I turn into an overworked dad in a lot of my stories, lol. I think Evan would make a great father figure. With a little bit of canon-divergence, it'd be easy to give him a suitable home and job. As a father, he'd be one of the best.

Albert Wesker

With A LOT of canon-divergence (and extreme patience and determination on my end), I think I can turn prince blondy into a father figure. It's going to be rough and I'm going to alter his personality a lot, but I can make it happen. If given the chance, I know that Albert can be a great father figure too.

Karl Heisenberg

I need to ring my memory up on this guy, but from what I remember, he's decent. I've actually read stories where he adopts one of the main characters, so he already has some fatherly traits without even needing any altering. But obviously I'd give him some canon-divergence anyway. Not everything about Karl is perfect, but I can see him being a good father.

Writing Vincent or Lester as the father instead of Bo.

This idea would be easy to do since I already write Bo as the father figure in my primary drabbles, but I've often wondered what it would be like to change it up a bit. Either Vincent or Lester would make good father figures. It kind of just depends on future plot that is used.

I need a little bit more time to think of other Dead by Daylight characters who would make good fathers, because I'm actually struggling a bit with it. But other than that, thank you for taking the time to read my notes! I don't know what the future holds, but I'm hoping that one day, all these characters and ideas will be part of it.

[megwritesriddles]

Mike Schmidt NSFW Alphabet

18+ MDNI!!!

A/N: I can't believe how carried away I got with this... can you tell I think about Mike Schmidt a lot...? Also I know I said I wasn't gonna post until maybe June but procrastinating my uni work is a hell of a drug... this time I'm disappearing fr... maybe…

Word count: 4.4k words (omg)

all fandom masterlist | fnaf masterlist

Warnings: fem!reader, period mention, breeding kink/pregnancy mentions (only as fantasy), slight degradation, Mike is bad at feelings, somnophilia (mentioned once in no detail rlly), some pervy behaviour.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I love the guy, but I don’t think he’s great at this. He’d just kinda roll over, maybe keep an arm around you if he’s feeling it. After you’ve been together/hooking up for a long time, I think he might memorise your post-sex routine enough to make sure you have a glass of water on the nightstand beforehand and sleepily remind you: “Aren’t you supposed to go pee or something babe?” in a gruff voice. He’s not pampering or bathing you, but might sit in the bath with you if you run one, and won’t object to holding you in it. If he hurt you in any way, he would apologise and pad away to get you a bag of frozen peas to hold on it. But I can’t really imagine kisses on the boo-boo or cooing as his vibe. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just who he is.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think he takes pride in his arms. He’s not crazy buff, but he’s in shape and has some muscle definition in his arms from his daily push-ups and all the manual labour jobs he’s had to work over the years. He preens whenever he catches you looking at his biceps, going especially crazy if you mention something about them. He likes to show off his strength to you, both in sexy ways, and more mundane ways like coming to help you move furniture. He loves to feel useful, like he’s actually adding something to your life, this is a way he can feel that objectively.

This man is an ASS MAN, I’m sorry but you cannot convince me different. Sure, he likes your boobs, he gets hard when you lean over to grab something and your cleavage is right in his face, but your ass is something else entirely. Obviously he thinks it’s sexy, but he also just likes to rest a hand on it, softly rubbing or squeezing as you stand together in his kitchen or lie together on the couch. He might even be the kind of guy to have a hand in your back pocket in public, although really he’s a bit too reserved for that. He thinks about it, though. Wear some form-fitting clothes or bend over in front of him and you can have him eating out of the palm of your hand (or somewhere else)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I always headcanon Mike as having a breeding kink… idk why. He doesn’t want kids, he has his hands full and wallet stretched thin enough, but he definitely does love to cum inside of you over and over and push his cum back inside of you when it drips out. Sometimes, he might even make comments about how you’d look with a belly swollen with his seed, but quickly regrets the thought once the sex is over. It’s just a fantasy about you, not about actually becoming a parent, he basically already is one.

You better be on the pill or some form of birth control, because he’s feral to come inside of you. If he ever has an opportunity to get a vasectomy (idk how he would but just humour me), he definitely would get one so you two can play about without risk.

If he’s not coming inside of you, I think he’d want it to be in your mouth. He finds it very hot when you swallow everything he gives you, loving when a bit of cum drips down your chin. This will mainly be reserved for quickies though.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Imagining there are no evil animatronics in the equation, he would 100% want to chase you around the abandoned halls of Freddy’s while he’s meant to be working. He’d give you a head start, then chase you down, pinning you to the floor and having his way with you. As much as he plays annoyed, he loves it when you manage to get away halfway through and make him chase you again, both of you laughing from the excitement and adrenaline. He grabs you once more, nipping your neck as you giggle breathlessly. He growls softly, though he can’t keep the amused smile off his face, “I have you now, little bunny,” (or whatever nickname you find hot for this scenario, he’s adaptable).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mike can only go one of two ways in my head.

1. He’s basically a virgin. Maybe, had sex once or twice with like a high school girlfriend between when he was kind of healing from the Garrett thing but his parents were still alive, but that’s a big maybe because was he ever healing or acting well-adjusted? probably not. So between being a traumatised, stunted teenager and then an even more traumatised adult who spends all the time he’s not working caring for his little sister, he has no time for dating and struggles to open up to anyone anyway. If he has any experience, I totally see him as being in a multiple year long dry spell by the events of the movie. So very limited experience.

2. Or! Any time he’s free, he goes to a bar and finds a woman to hook up with as a way of coping and keeping his mind off of things. He’s handsome and has a brooding quality about him that works in his favour picking up these women, and he’s never rude or unkind. In fact, honestly, he might hope that each of these hook-ups turns into true love, but of course they don’t, because he can’t be normal about relationships and drives everyone away, unconsciously or not. So he tries again the next week to the same result.

I usually lean towards 1. but I can kind of see either. Either way, he doesn’t have experience with healthy relationships, and if he has any sexual experience, it’s limited to tipsy one night stands or teenage fumbling, so he needs some training when you come along.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary… doggy… cowgirl… all the basics… but you know what he loves? SPOONING! Wrapped around you and pressed against your back while watching a movie, don’t be surprised if he’s pushing down your sweatpants and slipping inside of you in that position. He loves doing it like that on his couch, or even in bed on a rare lazy morning, his lips trailing up and down your neck and shoulder, his chest warm against your back, his arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand sneaking down your tummy to your clit. He loves it. It gives you the perfect opportunity to tease him when he climbs behind you into bed after his night shift, pressing your ass back and wiggling it against his crotch until he gives in and pulls your sleep shorts to the side for a sleepy fuck. To him it’s like cuddling, which he already enjoys, but with benefits. And he doesn’t have to worry about the faces he’s making, which he feels a bit embarrassed by no matter how many times you say it’s hot.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s serious, teasing or self-deprecating when you’re just making out and he’s lamenting how fast you got him hard again, or teasing you affectionately for being a ‘needy slut’ as you grind back against him for the second time that night, or he finally pins you down against the floor of Freddy’s, but during the deed he is focused and mostly quiet other than groans and grunts.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I don’t think he grooms down there. He washes well so he sees no problem, maybe trimming if it’s causing any sort of issues. He’s not a person who cares much about appearances or presentation, so as long as it’s practical (clean) it doesn’t have to be pretty. He doesn’t care what you’ve got going on down there, as long as you also keep clean. In fact honestly if you were clean shaven or waxed, I think he’d talk you into going natural because ‘who has the time or energy?’. A little hair never stopped him from enjoying his favourite meal anyway.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Depends what your relationship is. I think he can be quite quick and detached if you’re just hooking up, whether it’s natural to him that way or he’s forcing himself to act cool is a different issue. So when he’s starts cradling your cheeks and saying how pretty you are during sex, instead of his usual gruff and clipped dirty talk, you’re immediately suspicious that he’s developed feelings, despite his own obliviousness and confusion when you try to confront him about his change in behaviour.

In a relationship he’s a bit softer, but still more closed off than most. He’ll say you’re beautiful and he loves you, then blush, even if he’s said it a hundred times before. He’ll take more time with you if you’re together, not rushing either of you toward the finish line to avoid getting attached (not that it would work anyway) and rather savouring the closeness. He’s shyer voicing his fantasies in an actual relationship than he is dirty talking with a hook-up, because frightening you away is not an option. His breeding kink sounds much more romantic when he whispers it to you slowly and slightly nervously while stroking your cheek.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t get that many opportunities to get off on his own (he’s a busy guy) but whenever he does, he’s taking it, wasting no time and going as many times as he possibly can, because who knows the next time he’ll have this chance? He’s almost certainly thinking about you as he does this, even if you aren’t together yet. Those little outfits you wear to watch Abby/work at the mall/wherever he meets you just drive him so wild and all your social media accounts are conveniently public for his viewing pleasure.

Once he has you around, this is much less urgent. The time he gets alone is now spent calling you and getting you to come over, or showing up unannounced at your place to hump like animals. He will always prefer being with you over using his hand, so his hand essentially retires.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink as I’ve said. Dare I say… a bit of somno.... he doesn’t mind if he’s the one asleep or not, he just finds it hot. Chasing prey as I also mentioned before, chasing you around and pinning you down, though it’s more playful than serious roleplay, just to get the adrenaline pumping.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Couch!! He has such a couch sex vibe and you can’t tell me different!!! But he also likes the bed, or the wall or floor at Freddy’s when you’re alone there together. He’s too reserved for anything exhibitionistic beyond the abandoned Freddy’s building at night, and I think he’d prefer to keep you to himself anyway.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you bend over or wear a tight skirt or leggings or something that highlights your ass. When you highlight other parts of your body with clothes or positions, like being sprawled out on the couch when he gets home. When you wriggle against him as you cuddle. When you play coy and shy around him or run away just to tease him. When you rub his back after he’s had a rough day at work. When he catches you admiring his arms. When you tell him you’ve missed him in that whiney voice. The list goes on…

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Probably anything overly gross and messy. 1. Because he’s not into it. 2. Because he doesn’t have the time or energy to clean up afterwards. He might consider period sex if he's just about to put a load of towels in the laundry anyway, but if it creates extra work, he's not really up for it. Time is precious and he's a little lazy.

I think he'd be willing to give you a little spanking if you were into it, a little bit of degradation (but affectionately) calling you desperate and slut and such (I think he'd kind of like it if you called him a slut too when he's acting like one, he's happy that he's comfortable enough around you to act that way, or if you say "God, Mike, you're so easy," when he gets hard from something simple and innocuous). He won't slap your face, or choke you, or do anything crazy rough to you. He's not into seeing you in pain, in fact, it actively turns him off and makes him uncomfortable. He's quite playful during foreplay (once he's comfortable with you) so back-and-forth teasing and a (non-painful) slap on your ass is more his thing. Even his chasing kink is more about play than fear.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Mike likes a blowjob as much as any other stressed 20-something guy would. He loves seeing you on your knees, looking up at him with your sweet eyes. He'll play with your hair while you're down there, and maybe guide you by it if you're into that. If not, he's happy to just sit back and let you work your magic. For some reason, I headcanon that the first sexual experience he has with you is a blowjob. You're just hanging out/at work/whatever and you're sick of the tension, so get down on your knees in front of him. Who the hell is he to say no to that?

This is NOT to say he doesn't like giving, because he does, I think he even surprises himself by how much he enjoys it. He enjoys feeling useful as I've said before, so watching you feel so good from his ministrations is a thrill. He might use it to get his way a bit, kneeling in front of you a little while after an argument and silently kissing up your inner thighs, knowing you'll give in to him and forgive him for being an idiot. It's also something he does whenever he gets jealous or insecure that you might leave him. It's like he's reminding both himself and you of what you have together and what he can do to you.

He would definitely enjoy a sixty-nine (with you on top), bringing you pleasure only heightens his, and he enjoys when you get all sloppy and whiney on his cock as he brings you to your peak. Will massage your ass as you sit on his face, he would happily die crushed between your thighs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I kind of see him as being slow and rough, you know? Deep measured thrusts, watching your expression each time he's buried to the hilt. Of course, he picks up the pace a bit toward the orgasm, but I don't think he's ever crazy fast. Lazy sex is his favourite, so he's mostly pretty laid-back in his pace, but no less intense.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's definitely up for a quickie, more often than not, a quickie before work or on the couch while Abby is safely away and asleep is all he has the time for, so they're fairly frequent. He does prefer taking a bit more time with you, so when he can make the time for a longer session, he's happier, but he's also just glad he's getting any action from you at all, so he's not complaining.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I think so, but not crazily so. He knows what he likes and doesn't like, so has some hard boundaries set, but that's not to say he wouldn't try a few things. Handcuffs, blindfolds, acting more dominant or submissive than usual and roleplay (although his acting would be super stiff) would all be things I think he'd be willing to give a go. Who knows? He might incorporate them into your sex life, or quietly tell you that he didn't really enjoy that much.

Risk-wise, a risk he would absolutely NOT take, is the potential to be walked in on by Abby. Couch sex is only fine because you can keep a blanket over you and her room is all the way down the hall so you have time to get decent before she could see anything, plus she's always asleep when you do that anyway, it's never during the day unless she's away at school. He will not take risks in regards to that, and hopefully you wouldn't want to either. You keep quiet and there's a lock on his bedroom door just in case.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I think he does one round at a time. He might go a few times in a day, but there'll be a good break in between rounds. He can maybe push for two in a row on a special day, but more than that is physically not possible for him back to back. He'll happily make you come over and over though.

Unfortunately for Mike, I think he can finish prematurely quite often... he will definitely make up for it with you, but especially in the beginning, it was over quite fast. He's sheepish about it, yet tries to pretend he doesn't care and keeps going with pleasuring you however he chooses to do it, but the slight pink at the tips of his ears gives away his embarrassment. On the flipside, on days he's extremely stressed, he might have quite a struggle to come, and you'll have to stop several times to get him to relax his muscles and take a few deep breaths. Generally though, once you've been hooking up for a while, he'll come at an appropriate time and you can properly enjoy the experience together.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I go back and forth between the idea of him having a fleshlight before he met you. I mean, since I usually headcanon that he was in a dry spell, but he's also a 20-something virile young man, I think it makes sense that he needed some sort of outlet for stress release. He would probably be really embarrassed about buying it, even though the person behind the counter couldn't give less of a shit, then he feels so weird about it that it just sits under his bed in its box for a month or two while he uses his hand. Finally when he does use it (maybe because he wants to pretend it's you) it feels really good, but he feels totally lame afterwards. Still, after that, he uses it every chance he gets, because he spent the money after all, even if it makes him feel like a loser. The second you start to sleep together, he's happy to hide it under his bed again to collect dust like it never existed. Though he might let you watch him use it, if you're into that. (Disregard this if you headcanon him as having hooked up with women from the bar)

I think he might kind of enjoy having you sitting between his legs, your back to his chest, with him holding a vibrator against your clit, his other hand softly kneading your breasts and his lips suckling your neck. Or just holding one to your clit while he fucks you. He finds it super hot if you tell him you used a dildo on yourself and imagined him before you were sleeping together, but he doesn't want to use it on you. Why use a dildo when he has a perfectly good cock right here? (Not related to toys but he loves to hear about fantasies you had about him before you were together, it makes him super hot and bothered, he loves to know that you wanted him as much as he wanted you).

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Once he's comfortable with you and sure that you're probably going to stick around even if he acts a little annoying, he can be very teasing. Like I've said a few times, I think (when he's comfortable) he's actually very playful with foreplay and the other things leading up to sex. He enjoys a bit of 'banter' or playfully swatting your ass. If you proposition him he might tease you and tell you to beg for it, but actually during sex, I don't think he's that teasing. He wants to make you happy and he wants to be happy as well, and to him, teasing usually only pushes that back, so he also doesn't like you teasing him that much. But definitely just throughout the day, like if you're cooking or doing laundry, he might just come up and rub against you from behind, kiss your neck, murmur a few dirty words and then walk away leaving you wanting so that you'll chase after him for more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's pretty quiet, out of both necessity and just his nature. He will grunt and groan quietly, maybe the occasional small choked-out gasp when something surprises him or feels just right. He's up for a little bit of dirty talk or praise during sex, but it's very short and hushed. He isn't a babbler, and the better he feels, probably the less likely he is to talk. So he might whisper a few dirty things right as you get started, but as he approaches orgasm, he goes silent other than his pleased grunts and listens to whatever sounds you're making. He loves hearing your pleasure (as long as you keep relatively quiet, even when you're home alone I think shouting and screaming might freak him out a little), but he loves mewls of his name or soft praise/dirty talk from you. I think he'd find it kind of cute if you were the opposite of him and tended to babble as you came.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's definitely the kind of guy to tell you that you're just hooking up and it's not serious, even though he's already fallen completely in love with you. I see him (maybe because of fanfic) getting into a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Abby's babysitter, and even letting her live in his spare room and spending every moment together, cuddling up every night, even pecking and holding hands in front of Abby, and not realising he's actually in a relationship, because he's too scared to actually say the words. You just let it be because, he's treating you well, he's not cheating on you, the sex is great, he's just oblivious to his own feelings. One day a coworker of his bumps into you in the grocery store and sees you all over each other, then asks Mike the next day about his 'girlfriend'.

"Girlfriend? What girlfr- ohhh... I see what I've done,"

A nsfw headcanon is that if you lived together, or even if you were just around enough to leave some clothes around occasionally, he is DEFINITELY stealing your panties. He's a bit of a perv (though he does feel ashamed of it), but is unaware how much you're aware of it, and how much you like it. It's just a little too easy for him to get his hands on your panties, but he doesn't realise to question it. Another one and this is so random, I feel like he tries to stay away from pornography, and if he does interact with it, it's like vintage or like old playboy type magazines. lol idk why?? and it's all kept very secretively in boxes under the bed... I think Mike carries a lot of shame tbh...

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I've mentioned earlier that I think he has decent biceps. He would have broad strong arms (even stronger than they look, and they look pretty good), but not much muscle elsewhere. He has a little fat around his belly from eating pretty badly for years, but nothing too significant. Downstairs-wise, he's probably quite girthy, average to slightly larger than average length. No matter what he's like under his boxers, I think he's a little insecure about it, having convinced himself there's something wrong because he hasn't ever really had much comparison (staying away from porn), and anyone he's slept with (if with anyone) hasn't mentioned anything about it, so he assumes they were disappointed, when really there was just nothing to say, as saying 'hey nice cock,' is kind of weird and he had no particular features there to remark on.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High, he's young, he's stressed, he's repressed and you are just so attractive to him that it's hard not to want it a few times a day. A good thing about him is that if he gets horny and you're not in the mood, he can quite easily bury the feeling for later, used to hardly having appropriate time to get off so having to ignore his arousal. I would guess you guys are doing it every morning and every evening most days, but this can change with your schedule and cycle. Special days eg. Birthdays, Christmas, Valentine's or anniversaries always include sex in the celebrations in Mike's book.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Mike is weird because sex in the morning energises him, but sex in the evening makes him doze off almost immediately. He can finish up with you and immediately head for work, and then later the same day be practically catatonic after orgasming, wrapping around you ready to sleep, groaning and complaining when you try to get him to move from the couch to his bed. It just depends on the time of day, but sex with you is definitely his new sleeping pill of choice.

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[michwritesstuff]

haven’t written in forever and im not fully prepared to work this one out into a full-fledged story…

ginny’sbestfriendreader x fred weasley

⊹ becoming friends with Ginny during your first year and quickly getting to know the rest of her family

⊹ two years of quietly of sitting in the common room while fred and george whisper away their silly plans

⊹ finally whispering suggestions when their plans don’t seem fully thought out

⊹ “did you hear that Georgie?” “what is it Freddie?” “the quiet one speaks”

⊹ “just because i don’t speak to you doesn’t mean i’m quiet”

⊹ always finding Fred’s wandering eyes after that (in the common room, in the Great Hall during meals, walking in the corridors)

⊹ reaching for a book on a high shelf in the library “here you go love” “I could’ve gotten that” “i know”

⊹ “y/n, saved you a seat” “oh uhm thanks” at dinner that night

⊹ “so you’re really going to hang out with that fourth year?” Ginny asks incredulously

⊹ Fred’s head raising slightly, trying to listen in without being too obvious.

⊹ “a fourth year? in our house?”

⊹ looking over at him in confusion, “no…a ravenclaw”

⊹ *months later* “So whatever happened with you and that ravenclaw?”

⊹ “nothing, apparently hermione saw him being quite intimate with someone during a hogsmeade visit.”

⊹ Fred turning a fiery red that nearly matched his hair before calming down when you touched his arm lightly

⊹ “It’s fine Freddie really, he wasn’t that interesting to begin with. A little too serious for my taste.”

⊹ “You called me Freddie…”

⊹ “Uhh yeah I guess I did, it just always makes me laugh when your siblings call you that,” you admit shyly

⊹ “I like it, when you call me that,” he adds.

⊹ Your eyes widen in surprise at his confession

⊹ “Uhh, anyways, Ginny said you were coming to the Burrow for a week during the Christmas holiday?”

⊹ “Yeah, I was thinking about it”

⊹ “We’ll I hope you do, come visit…”

⊹ *A couple weeks later at the Burrow*

⊹ The first thing that happens when you step out of the chimney is you get hurled back by the force and weight of certain tall ginger twin barreling at you.

⊹ “y/l/n! long time no see. I”m hap—I know Ginny’s happy you’re coming.”

⊹ “Thanks Freddie, I’m happy I’m here too”

⊹ Dancing around each other the first few days, gentle touches and quick glances as you navigate being in such close proximity all week

⊹ One windy night the wood of the Burrow creaks, waking you up in a cold sweat

⊹ Sneaking down the stairs for a glass of water you’re surprised to see another person awake and standing in the kitchen

⊹ “couldn’t sleep?” you hear his voice before his features come to focus in the dark

⊹ “the windows rattling woke me up, what about you?”

⊹ “i like the quiet of being down here at night, it’s peac—

⊹ “peaceful” you finish for him

⊹ He smiles at you, a quiet understanding between you before he grabs your hand dragging you to the middle of the living room

⊹ “Fred, what are you doing?”

⊹ “Freddie” he corrects

⊹ “What?”

⊹ “I told you I like it when you call me Freddie”

⊹ With wide eyes you nod him at quietly, letting his hands direct your body so that you’re standing right in front of him.

⊹ One hand sneaks around your side while the other holds your hand out

⊹ “we’re dancing…?”

⊹ “It appears so”

⊹ The rest of your stay there leaves you feeling confused about your feelings for your best friend’s older brother

⊹ Despite your confusion, the feeling of falling for Fred seemed exciting and safe, as if you already knew that he would never let anything hurt you

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 26, 27 & 28 prompts : blood, scary movies & mask

rated: T | cw: minor injury | tags: Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson, pre relationship, post s4, Eddie Munson takes care of Steve Harrington, elusions to sub space

🩸🩸🩸🩸

Steve is trying to watch the movie, he really is, even if horror was never really his thing. Eddie’s eyes went so bright when he picked it out at family video, distracting Steve. Then he complimented Steve on the pumpkin decorations he’d made for the windows which distracted him further. And finally he handed it over at the counter in a way that made their fingers brush; essentially shutting down Steve’s brain completely. So then, by the time Eddie asked him if he’d seen it, all steve could manage was a no and a nod at the date set to watch it together.

Which somehow ended up with Eddie on his couch and their pinkies entwined.

Steve might have the image of it seared on his retinas, he can’t stop looking at them.

The place where they’re touching. Where he’s touching Eddie. Touching a boy, on his parents couch.

Freddy Krueger jumps out. Steve’s father’s face flashes in his minds eye. His heat rate skyrockets.

Steve jumps up. ‘I’m just gonna go to the bathroom, you I’m, do you want more popcorn?’ He asks.

Eddie jumps too, staring at Steve with wide eyes. ‘Uh, no I’m good. I’ll pause it yeah?’ He asks, already sliding off the couch and shuffling over to the set.

Steve nods and walks out, does use the bathroom even though he didn’t know he needed too. Checks the back door is locked, it is.

It’s started to rain; Eddie needs to drive safe he thinks as he slices an apple for himself.

But his hands are still damp and the blade slips. Nicks his thumb.

He’s bleeding. Red oozing out over his palm.

‘Shit, shit!’ He vision starts to tunnel, something smells weird, something mouldy. He’s bleeding and mouldy and and.

‘Steve.’ Eddie’s there, cradling his hand. ‘Sit for me yeah?’ Steve’s in front of the island stool. He sits. He swallows but his mouth is dry.

‘Wound care was a vital learning stage in my clumsy and overconfident life cycle as a child. Scraped my knee more than I ate Kraft cheese, and grilled cheese is my shit.’ Eddie says, holding a kitchen towel against the wound. ‘Bandaids?’ He asks.

‘Bathroom.’ Steve rasps, replacing his own hand over the towel as Eddie instructs.

At some point Eddie comes back, sticking a plaster over the cut and Steve feels like he’s floated off somewhere else entirely.

‘Woah.’ He says shakily; Eddie prodding around the covered wound in a way that makes everything go fizzy, he focuses on his breathing; on not throwing up.

He comes too laying on the couch, his head in Eddie’s lap. He thinks about sitting up for a moment, but the scratch of Eddie’s nails in his hair is just too good.

His mouth feels slow and awkward but manages to mumble. ‘This’s embarrassing, you saw me bite into a bat and now, ugh.’ He laughs weakly.

‘Steve I would give my single remaining nipple to never see you put on whatever mask you had to in the upside down.’ Eddie’s voice rumbled from above Steve’s closed eyes.

‘Hm.’

‘I mean it. Just relax okay?’ Eddie’s other hand strokes over his cheek. Steve feels like his whole body’s in a warm bath.

His jaw cracks as he yawns sleepily, his mind a dark expanse, thoughts float near the surface but don’t quite breach; the ebb of Eddie’s fingers sending them back beneath.

One slips past though, syrupy slow. ‘Mmm don’t wan, don’t want you to see me as different. As like, without the, the whatever. M’Indiana jones. M’supoosed to be like the hero, or, or the side kick you know? Robin to my Robin. Not, not this.’

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, as Steve’s floats. ‘There’s no mask right now?’ He asks gently.

Steve shakes his head, makes a little nu uh sound.

Eddie’s fingers don’t stop moving. ‘Each year the great pumpkin rises out of the pumpkin patch that he thinks is the most sincere.’ Floats out from the TV, the movie is different, Steve just now realises.

‘Stevie, you’re the prettiest you’ve ever been.’ Eddie whispers.

Sometime after that, sleep makes the world go black.

🩸🩸🩸🩸

Tag list (lmk to add / remove you) : @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m @thecatkingsthrone

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots @chameleonhair @wheneverfeasible

[hitomisuzuya]

Gamer! Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Fingering. Degradation. Edging.

I'd like to tag and thank @wanderingconstellations and @scara6 for letting me run with this idea❤️ Here is what I came up with. In honor of the Five Nights at Freddy's movie coming out next month, that's the game Scara is playing.

The frustration radiating from Scaramouche was almost physically tangible in his room. His eyes were narrowed into a concentrated glare on his computer screen. One hand was poised over the buttons on the keyboard.

The other was thrusting three fingers angrily into your cunt. Your slick was starting to cake on the insides of your thighs, he'd been at it for so long. Your hand was gripping the edge of his computer desk right with every push of his fingers, to the point where you were clawing at the surface. Sometimes he kissed your sweet spot. But, most time he didn't.

"Be-ah-be careful, Scara. I think," You trailed off, a strong jolt of pleasure shooting straight to your throbbing clit when his fingers suddenly hit your sweet spot. Admist the hazy cloud of pleasure, you are still trying to help him out, "I think Freddy is..up..ah, ah,..and about," You could barely get the sentence out.

"Shut up, slut. I'm trying to concentrate," He snapped, withdrawing his fingers to smack your clit, making your body tense before you cried out loudly.

Scaramouche could feel it. You were right, Freddy was gone from his usual place when he checked the cameras. Any second now, he was going to pop out and rock his shit.

It had happened 4 times already, and he wasn't going to let the stupid bear beat him again. The pace of his fingers got harsher, squelching slowly in and out of your cunt, not really caring if he hit your sweet spot or not.

He growled in frustrated concentration, straining to hear any little noise in the game that would warn him of Freddy's impending arrival. You let out some desperate whimpers, moving your hips to seek for friction from his fingers.

Scaramouche grit his teeth. It had been quiet for awhile now. Foxy and Bonnie were on the move as well, but Freddy was nowhere to be seen. He knew he was in Freddy's crosshairs, it was just a matter of when.

"Scara.." You whimpered, however you received no response. Not even an angry thrust of his fingers. He suddenly reached up, pinching your nipples roughly. Bonnie hadn't moved, so he focused on watching Foxy (because he was your favorite character).

You moaned louder, receiving a rough pinch on your nipple. "If you are gonna cum, then cum, empty headed slut," He hissed without sparing you a glance. He abruptly plunged three fingers back inside your your cunt. Your walls immediately clamped around his fingers, making you tremble as his fingers stopped just short of reaching your sweet spot.

Why?

Chica was active now too. "Fuck!" He cursed, slamming his fingers relentlessly into you. Never once hitting your sweet spot. Tears of desperation started to burn in your eyes.

"Camera..outside..the..ah!..door.." You struggled to find the words, you wanted to cum so bad.

Focusing on Foxy had been his mistake. Scaramouche completely missed the warning that would've saved him. And what was worse is that you saw it, and he didn't.

Freddy's music started playing, and then BAM, the lights went out, and Freddy closed in. Scaramouche hissed angrily, tossing his headset onto the desk. "Motherfucking bear!" He snarled, standing up from his chair.

You heard him yanking the button of his jeans undone, his cock harshly pushing inside of you. "How did you see it while my fingers were stuffing your whore cunt full, slut? How?" Scaramouche hissed angrily, groaning as he bottomed out into you.

Now he was hitting your sweet spot with his cock at a pace that was making you drool all over his desk as you moaned. One hand found the side your head, holding it down on his desk as he thrust, smacking a hand on your ass when you cried out.

You mewled in bliss. Scaramouche pinched your clit, rubbing his fingers against it. He groaned when it made your walls clamp tighter around his cock. "Your pathetic whimpers were breaking my concentration," He hissed, gripping your hips tighter.

"Finally, finally! More, Scara, more!" You moaned, feeling dizzy from the intensity of his thrusts.

"What a fucking slut!" His thrusts turned sloppy, his orgasm closing it. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out of you only to slam him cock back inside of you. "So needy..so good for me..fuck.."

His hand stroking through your hair was appreciative after his cum throbbed in ribbons inside of you. He continued mindlessly fucking you through his orgasm.

You were breathless, sobbing weakly from pleasure, cumming hard as your release soaked his cock. Panting, Scaramouche kept his cock sheathed inside of you, leaning around to give you a sloppy, rough kiss. "How about I try again while you cock warm me? Your cunt is a great stress reliever."

He enjoyed the way your cunt quivered and clenched as he lowered you down into his cock.

[holycritchance]

Aside from Chance what do you think of other Dateables like Jerry, Penelope or Mac

anon, you sent me on an adventure and i spent the whole day playing the demo to make sure i meet as many dateables as i could only so i could present a list of my top ten! buckle up folks, this is a long one!

now presenting: holycritchance's top 10 dateables from date everything! (in no particular order)

no. 1: chance, the d20 (location: on the desk in the office)

okay, okay, i know this one was obvious but c'mon. look at him!!!! he's so baby boy and i love his enthusiasm & dedication to creating a fun experience for you and your game companion( jerry & dasha specifically, but lux's run can be fun for the most part ). the way he giggles and banters with you when you flirt with him?? ASKING TO MOVE TO THE ACTUAL SHEETS AFTER TELLING YOU THAT YOURE PERFECT TO HIM??? SIR. i'm beelining for this man the minute i have access to the full game in 9 days

no.2: dasha, the desk (found: in the office)

i just adore how confident she is & how she wants to help the human be able to confidently talk to others - even if she doesn't think that other would be her. i can proudly say i asked her to crush my head between her thighs without hesitation.

no. 3: betty, the bed (location: bedroom)

CMONNNN you thought this was gonna be a valid list without this lovely bed of ours? the frame corset??? the fitted sheet outerwear??? HER VOICE???? oh my GODS her design is PEAK and i'd bedrot for life w her as my bed.

no.4: freddy, the fridge (location: the kitchen)

there's something about the rasp in his voice that has me in a damn chokehold - the things i would do to have this yeti flirt with me are innumerable like stop telling me how to reheat food and tell me how you're taking me to bed. i saw someone caption a tiktok about him with "lemme climb you" and yknow what that's so REALLL

no.5: jerry, the junk drawer (location: drawer in the desk, office)

JERRY MY SWEET,,, he can do absolutely no wrong in my eyes. i personally think he's got some of the funniest lines in the demo, especially if you have him take you on a tour of the drawer (the mold-induced cough had me reeling). no but fr having this man fall for you day one made me wanna keep him safe in my pocket & fight whoever said he'd be attracting rats w his collection.

no.6: florence, the floor (location: any floor)

LOOK AT THIS SWEETHEART AND TELL ME YOU DONT LOVE HER IMMEDIATELY. if florence has no fans i'm dead, plain and simple. she's just the DAMN SWEETEST and i'm so glad celia is looking out for her bc i hate how hard this lovely lady is on herself. and her voice??? UGH LEMME LOVE YOU LIKE YOU DESERVE MAAM

no. 7: mateo, the blanket (location: draped on a chair, living room)

YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THIS SOFT SWEETIE RESUCES ANIMALS??? sold. sat. smitten. oh my god he looks like he gives the best hugs/cuddles and i could listen to him talk all day. i love the concept of the inanimals and you can really tell how much they mean to him even with the first two interactions.

no. 8: dolly, the dust bunny (location: under the couch [interact w the couch without the glasses on first and she appears])

DOLLY ONE CHANCE PLEAAAAASE. beauty AND brains with a southern accent? when i tell y'all i folded like a damn lawn chair. i'm a damn SUCKER for a powerful woman and she IS that. THE MAGAZINE??? OH MY GODSSSS i need more of her NOW

no. 9: miranda, the toaster (location: kitchen counter)

OOOOO ANOTHER BADDIE bro as soon as she had that, like, two second cameo telling off scandalabra i was sold. made a beeline for her right after talking to him. i'd pay for pit tickets to her concerts no matter the price. i absolutely adore her design, i think it's one of the best in the game honestly.

no. 10: scandalabra

he's legit one of the funniest characters i came across thus far, i'm obsessed with this diva. now while i wouldn't romance him, i wanna be best friends just to spill human and object tea w him. his voice is PERFECT for his design, 10/10 no notes

honorable mentions: stella, the stairs; washford, the washer(i desperately need him and drysdale to have their happy ending); phonecia, the phone - there are so many good characters in this game and i'm stoked to learn about the rest when the full game is released!

[lemonstars8583]

lalalaa hello i haven’t posted my fnaf au stuff in a while here’s two recent doodle pages RAMBLES UNDER CUT! but before that who the FUCKKK WAS GONNA TELL ME THEY MADE A TO BE BEAUTIFUL GRAPHIC NOVEL AND REDESIGNED SARAH ENTIRELY??????????

WHO IS THIS NEW GIRL whatever I’m not changing my sarah design ❤️ (mine is inspired by the pic on the left)

idk if I’m gonna go the route of “wow sarah realizes she’s (he’s?) trans!” I just think it would be neat if that sort of makes her realize something and she goes thru a journey of “did i ever really hate myself or did i just hate that i wasn’t what society said i needed to be?” there’s a happy ending for her in there… somewhere… even though she’s dead… 😭😭 uhmmm

but yeah idk transmasc sarah is cool but the more i think abt it the more butch sarah is cool too. like maybe she even goes by he pronouns sometimes but eventually settles knowing that she likes being a woman!! just not in the way she was pressured to be before :)

I REALLY really want funtime freddy and circus baby to parallel millie and sarah.. former best friends who’s relationship got super fucked up and all that yknow.. ik i said somewhere in a former post that sarah and millie didn’t know each other well but that is NOT true anymore sarah is the best friend millie had in CTW who ditched her for the popular people

also i didn’t draw freddy damaged here bc i’m too tired to add the cracks and little details LOL i don’t care ❤️❤️

ALSO!! fun story change! I think it’s fucking stupid that sarah just like. slipped on a fuckin banana peel and her necklace fell off. soooo i think it’d be cool if Millie saw her wearing the old BFF locket she got her back when they were friends and got PISSED that sarah would have the NERVE to wear that when they aren’t even friends anymore and sarah fuckin ditched her to be popular, so they get into a fight, millie yanks the necklace off in the scuffle, and whabam! Sarah’s true form is revealed and everyone freaks the fuck out.

Millie would probably continue clutching the locket tightly without even realizing it, she’s just in shock, and later on when she goes home freddy is able to identify the illusion disc inside. baby probably pressures sarah to go break into millie’s house to steal it back since now they can’t hide anymore so she’s pissed that sarah lost it

Sarah of course gets caught breaking in 😭😭 but millie and her grandpa offer to house her there while they figure out what’s going on and try to help her, during this time millie and sarah become very close again as friends while freddy and baby are at each others throats.

freddy doesn’t want sarah there AT ALL but is also reluctant to tell them why because explaining to millie that her best friend is dead and possessing her own corpse which is being piloted by his ex-friend who tore him apart is really awkward

(also he knows baby is trying to hide and blowing her cover might make her want to kill millie and her grandfather THOUGH as sarah’s corpse continues falling apart, baby already has plans to look for another body to inhabit..)

[raphael-angele]

Queen

NOTE: Post-Azkaban Sirius. He was proven innocent. Did time for around 5 to 6 years. Remus has been raising Harry for that time. They're taking Harry out clothes shopping.

Kid Harry: Oooh! Paddy, can I have this one? *shows a blue jumper with a yellow star on it*

Sirius: Aww, of course, Harry. Put it in the basket.

Harry: Yaay!!

Remus, coming from another aisle: Aw, whatcha got there, Haz?

Harry: It's a jumper! It's cute, right?

Remus: It's very cute.

Sirius: Oh! Harry, look! *shows him a Queen T-shirt*

Harry: *tilts his head a bit* Q-Qu-Queeeen. Queen!

Sirius: Yeah! Let's put that in there *puts shirt in the basket*

Harry: *points to Freddie* Who's that?

Sirius:

Remus:

Sirius: What?

Harry: Who's that?

Sirius: ...Remus...

Remus: Yes?

Sirius: Why does my godson not know who Freddie Mercury is?

Remus: Uhm...

Sirius: I was gone for 6 years. He was in your care. And this is what I come home to?

Remus: Sirius, don't you think you're pushing this?

Sirius: No. Cuz I cannot believe that you would raise him without proper music. What were you playing for him? Disco?

Remus: Sirius.

Harry, confused and scared: D-did I do something wrong?

Sirius: No, Harry. *picks him up* No, you didn't do anything wrong. *kisses his head* I'm sorry. How 'bout we go find you some socks?

Harry: ...mkay...

Remus: *follows from behind with the basket*

---Later---

In the kitchen:

Sirius: ...hey

Remus: Hey. You want some tea?

Sirius: Yeah, sure.

Remus: *gives him the cup* Here.

Sirius: Thanks.

Remus: ...wanna talk about what happened earlier?

Sirius: ...I just- *deep breath* I can't believe you.

Remus: Pads, it was just music. He's a kid. He's gonna wanna listen to music for kids. You're blowing this out of proportion

Sirius: It's not just the music. He barely knows anything about me. And I get it; you want him to know about James and Lily and what they were like, which is great. But I'm like a total stranger to him. When he was a baby, he loved it when I carried him around and played with him. Now, it's like I'm just someone living in the house.

Remus: Pads...

Sirius: It would've been nice if you told him a few stories about me.

Remus: Sirius, you were in jail for murdering his parents and conspiring with the Dark Lord. How was I gonna tell him stories about you in that situation?

Sirius: ...so you really believed that I did that.

Remus: Of course not. But...sometimes I did. I really didn't want to believe that you would do something like that. But if you did, I didn't want Harry to think I was defending you for what you did.

Sirius: Then what about the house? Don't think I didn't notice how there's almost nothing here about me. We lived in this house together for 3 years but there are no pictures of me around, none of the vinyls and records, nothing.

Remus: ...It was hard. Sirius, believe me when I tell you that I wanted to tell Harry about you. I wanted him to know how amazing his uncle Padfoot is. I wanted him to know everything about you. But it was hard for me to talk about you. It was hard for me to look at all those pictures of us together without feeling so empty. I can't listen to those songs without thinking about all the times we danced to them. I can't even get up in the morning without thinking about what it would be like if you woke up beside me. I wanted Harry to know you. I just didn't know how I could have done that.

Sirius:

Remus:

Sirius: I'm sorry. I should've thought it through. I guess, I'm still getting used to being out...I should've thought that that's how you're feeling, too.

Remus: ...if it makes you feel any better, Harry knows about Padfoot.

Sirius: Yeah?

Remus: Yeah. He saw the dog bed and the squeaky toys. He asked me how come I had them if I didn't have a dog. So I told him about Padfoot.

Sirius: What'd you tell him about Padfoot?

Remus: That he's loyal, and kind, and loving...and a troublemaker

Sirius: *chuckles*

Remus: I would really love for Harry to get to know you, Sirius.

Sirius: Yeah, me, too...I love you

Remus: Love you, too

Harry, coming in, groggy from sleep, holding his stuffed snitch: Paddy...Moony...

Sirius and Remus: *get up and approach*

Remus: *picks him up* Harry, what are you doing up? It's past your bedtime.

Harry: *yawn* Couldn't sleep...

Sirius: Okay. Let's get you back to bed.