#and i think amongst it all i’m just reckoning with the fact that i’m never going to be remarkable. i mean neither is anyone else really

[fingertipsmp3]

Also I can’t figure out if my life genuinely does suck or I’m just having an existential crisis because my period starts in approximately 48 hours

[yellowpsyduck]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐘/𝐍 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

Tommy Shelby x Shelby!Reader Warnings: Incestuous, blowjob, period typical sexism

1913

"What will you be wearing, Ada?” asked the younger Shelby twin as she stood in her lace chemise and bloomers, scanning through her wooden almirah for the right dress. 

“I’m not quite sure yet. Maybe I’ll just stick with the yellow voire.” Ada replied as she held up the dress in front of the floor length mirror. “What do you think, Y/N? Does it scream ‘sultry and sophisticated’ or is it more so ‘fuck me like a whore’.” 

“Well, you can wear your knitted cape over it, to ward off unwanted suitors, then remove it when you find someone you want to fuck.” The sisters laughed as they continued prepping for the upcoming party; it wasn’t a party per se, just a little get together with people from school. 

“Is this okay?” asked Y/N as she settled on wearing a scarlet organdie dress that Tommy had bought her for her birthday. “It’s perfect Y/N. I reckon Matthew Barnaby won’t be able to take his eyes off of you in that dress, really brings out your complexion, it does.” 

“Matthew can bugger off to Timbuktu, for all I care. That boy’s getting on my nerves.” she expressed, clearly exasperated with the situation regarding the boy who had been hopelessly pining after her for months. It wasn’t that the Barnaby boy was unattractive, it was more so the opposite, with his caramel eyes and boyish grin, he was quite popular amongst the female population of Small Heath. 

And that also included her best friend, Dorothy Smith, and Y/N wouldn’t dare upset her friend by fraternising with him, by virtue of female friendships and their unspoken rules. 

“Matthew who?” came the sudden voice from the wooden doorway, startling the pair. 

“Jesus, Tommy, don’t you ever knock?” Ada reprimanded, evidently annoyed by her elder brother’s disregard for privacy, as the younger of the two quickly threw a robe over herself.  

“What’s this talk of boys and going out, eh?” Tommy asked as he stood leaning against the door frame, with his hands in his trouser pockets, sending his sisters a questioning glare. 

“It’s none of your bloody business, is what it is.” Ada retorted as she walked out of the room, wanting nothing but to escape her brother’s questioning, leaving her younger twin to fend for herself. 

“It’s just a small get together, Tommy, with people from school.” Y/N answered sweetly. She’d always been the kinder of the two, “We’ll be back before you know it.” 

“Where’s this gonna be held?” 

Y/N wasn’t sure she should answer this. She knew her brother would’ve given her hell if he’d known of the location. 

“Y/N darling, I asked you a question." his voice resounded in her ears as he held her chin up to meet his icy gaze.  

“By the Cut.” came the meek reply. “Now Tommy before you say anything, please just consider the fact that you never let Ada and I go anywhere. Be it Boris’ birthday last week or Janey’s the month before, or any party, in fact. So please, let us go just this once.” she pleaded with her eyes watering and her lips in a beautiful pout.  

“Y/N, you know I’m just trying to keep the both of you safe.” he whispered as he looked into her clear eyes. “Who knows what’s to happen when the men see how devastatingly beautiful you are, eh?”  

“But Tommy, the rest of you go out whenever you want and do whatever you please. It's not fair for Ada and I.” she argued, not willing to let go of her grievance. 

“It’s because Arthur, John and I know how to hold a gun.”  

“Well, Ada chases rats with a revolver, does she not.” came her quick retort, eliciting a chuckle from her brother. 

“Rats. Ada chases rats. That’s very different from firing it at a man.” Tommy reasoned with her. 

“What if I do something for you?” she asked him, almost purring into his ears. 

“Like what, my sweet girl?” 

“Like this.” She traced her fingers along his crotch through the fabric of his trousers, looking at him so very innocently. “And this.” she whispered as she undid his leather belt, and pulled his trousers down, hearing the metallic clang as it hit the ground. 

“You’re sailing perilously close to the wind, my dear.” He breathed raspily, as he looked down at her kneeling figure. He, however, gave no indication of stopping her as she pulled out his cock and stroked it gently, staring into his eyes, as she did so. 

His cock was growing in her hand, giving away his arousal, as it hardened and throbbed with her touch. Y/N would never tire of seeing Tommy’s red cock, it was a beast each time she laid her eyes on his sinful member, and she knew just how to knead it and suck it, to make him succumb to her wishes. 

‘Men think with their cocks’ her Aunt Polly had told her once and young Y/N Shelby had etched that saying into her mind, who would’ve known that she’d ever use it against her own brother.  

Her actions were sinfully graceful as she stroked his length with her soft hands. She glanced at him naughtily and placed a sweet kiss to his reddish tip and dragged her tongue through the length of his cock, she continued all the way to his balls, cupping them and placing sloppy kisses, prompting soft groans from his mouth. 

She spit on his cock, lubricating him as she continued pumping him. The door to the bedroom was wide open and the pair didn’t make an effort to obstruct prying eyes from peering into their lascivious act. 

Ada had made a show of closing the door to the house rather resoundingly, hence, she wasn’t to be worried about. Finn would be at school, while Arthur and John were God knows where with God knows who and Polly wouldn’t be back until teatime.   

Tommy knew the little girl was only sucking him off so that he’d grant her wish of going out with her friends, but God, did she look good doing it. His fingers tightened around her brown curls as he beckoned her to take his cock in her mouth, and she gladly obliged. Her plump red lips parted and wrapped around his thick, dark cock, earning a satisfactory hum from the man above. She sucked him as best as she could, taking him in with great difficulty, his girth simply too wide for her narrow mouth. Her eyes started watering as he bucked his hips into her mouth, his fingers gripped her soft hair as he set his pace. Y/N made a conscious effort to hold back a gag as Tommy continued his hasty thrusts, clearly lost in the pleasure of his sister's warm and soft mouth. 

His sister, his darling sister! God, did she look like a vision. 

Kneeling in front of him, with his dick in her mouth, dewy eyed and ruddy cheeked. She was perfect; utterly and devastatingly perfect. 

His thrusts got faster as his balls slapped against her chin, she was such a good girl, suppressing her gags as he choked her with his relentless assault of her throat. 

He was close, he could feel it. Just a little more. 

“You’re doing so good for me, my sweet girl.” he moaned through stifled groans. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”  

With a final thrust, he spilled his seed inside her mouth as it dripped down into her cleavage, spoiling her chemise which she so adored. 

“Tommy, look what you’ve done, now I’ve got to wash it again.” she grumbled through muffled sounds and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  

Y/N didn’t wait for her brother to gain his composure and sauntered into the lavatory; she didn’t have the time to boil water for a proper bath, hence, she soaked a towel and resigned to rubbing her body clean. It was in times like these that she quite envied Dorothy, for her father was the District Magistrate and they could afford plumbing facilities in their mansion, which meant that they’d have hot water at will, unlike the Shelby’s who weren’t the most well off financially. 

She wrapped a spare towel over her body as she made her way to the twin’s shared bedroom to find Tommy leaning against the window with a cigarette between his lips.  

“Close the curtains, will you?” she asked him as she dropped the towel to the floor and rummaged through her drawers for her inner garments. Tommy did as asked as he took another puff of the cigarette, his eyes raking over her nude body as he watched her shimmy into a blue chemise with matching bloomers. Her movements were unhurried as she sat on the bed and pulled up the stockings. 

Tommy had always enjoyed watching her dress, the way the material of the stockings would dig slightly into her plump thighs, or how divine her legs looked in the garters and she’d always let him tie the corset lace. He'd done it enough times to know just the tightness that she preferred.  

“I’m planning on wearing this.” she announced as she held up the scarlet dress, knowing fully well that he wasn’t going to deny her a night out now. 

“Just be back before dinner and make sure your sister doesn’t make a drunken fool out of herself.” he replied as he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. 

“Will you also be going out?” she asked absentmindedly as she tried on the dress, twirling contentedly in front of the mirror. 

“I might.” The girl quirked an eyebrow at this, “To meet Greta Jurossi, I presume.” 

Tommy hadn’t known that his sister would be privy to his and Greta’s discretions. “And whatever gave you that idea, my sweet girl?” 

“Kitty’s been spewing tales of you and her sister. The whole of Birmingham must’ve heard of it by now, heaven knows that girl can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life.” she answered nonchalantly and opened the window, spotting her sister playing hopscotch with the younger girls. “Ada!” she yelled at her twin, motioning her to come up to the house.  

Tommy took that as his cue to exit and he made his way to the door, “And Tommy, thank you so much.” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his torso.  

He placed a kiss on her forehead and left without a word. 

“Well, did he actually agree?” squealed Ada as she darted into the room, “Of course he did.” Y/N assured her. 

“Well, fuck me, how on earth did you persuade him?” she asked as she hurriedly combed her hair, not wanting to be late for the event. 

“It didn’t take much honestly, and I’ve got a sweet mouth, you know.” Ada nodded, obviously not understanding the innuendo behind her sister’s words.  

And she never would, for that was to remain a secret between Tommy and Y/N. 

[tommystummy]

I mean I think it makes sense for heartstopper to not have anything explicit going on as one of them only Just realised he liked boys and the other one has an ED, they do talk about it pretty directly in the show so its addressed not totally unrealistically. But as for fan response yeah there was a weird thing amongst… a certain subset of fans of making a joke/meme out of a single throwaway line in the books where they mention having sex, maybe the accessibility draws that type of crowd but I don’t think that’s the fault of the show/comic itself 😅 esp as things get fairly explicit in the comics later as they get older

I have complicated feelings about Heartstopper. I actually like it in theory as Baby’s First Gay Show (I would have rather had it then Queer as Folk when I was 14) and in theory it’s a uncomplicated cozy, warm, fuzzy story about two young boys falling in love. It’s the definition of Toothrotting Fluff

However in practice, it feels alienating to me as a gay man when the only two things gay boys are allowed to be in the show are Pure UwU Tumblr Softboy who Speaks in Therapy-ese and Pure Evil Rapist who is brought back into the show after the point the comic counterpart had been written out just to be a punching bag for the Valiant Bisexual Girl to yell at and out in front of their classmates and then Get Dunked On by his ex when he tries to apologize and then have The Symbolism Doodles symbolically reject him from the LGBT community and then get written out of the story.

Combined with the complete stripping away of any mention of sexuality outside of exactly One Scene where they discuss the gay equivalent of Waiting Until Marriage, it does come off as incredibly puritan even if it’s justified in-story by Charlie’s ED and I do actually attribute that in part to the source material. Alice Oseman is by their own admission, pretty uncomfortable with the idea of sex and it shows in the way Nick and Charlie are written. As Trixie and Katya put it: they seem like they just want to hold hands at the post office. The show to this point has been very very uncomfortable with the idea that these two boys might be attracted to each other in a not-purely-romantic way, and when the only other gay character that did show some level of sexual attraction that maybe wasn’t purely romantic is Ben Fucking Hope, the implication seems to be that there’s a Right and Wrong way to be Gay in the eyes of the story.

It also doesn’t escape my notice that Love, Victor petered away into obscurity but Heartstopper is seen as the pinnacle of Gay Representation to a lot of people. Love, Victor was unafraid of teenage boys of all sexualities being sexual beings and in fact reckons with it in ways that were VERY close to my actual experiences, like everything with Victor and his mom coming to terms with him having a romantic and sexual relationship with his boyfriend. Disney shafted LV a lot but Netflix has this Pure Sanitized Risk-free Romance on the front page every time a new season comes out and that also just stings. There’s the feeling that maybe if LV had been more chaste, more palatable, it would have actually been a major success.

I don’t want to sound too dismissive of what HS is for a lot of people but to me there’s just something that makes me feel like it was never for me and that could be because I’m too old for it, but it sometimes feels like it wasn’t for me because it’s not for gay men at all.

[rebouks]

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Transcript:

Norma: It’s not uncommon to find yourself on the wrong path in life, Oscar. Try not to beat yourself up too much. Oscar: I could’ve turned back earlier-.. I don’t know why I didn’t. Courtney reckons it was fate. Norma: That’s one way of looking at it.

Oscar: I was in a bad place.. ignoring everything seemed easier at the time, but the more we got involved, the less freedom we had. I figured they’d get bored eventually, y’know? Find someone better suited to the job than a depressed junkie. Norma: Bumping into Kate, that changed things for you?

Oscar: It felt so personal in comparison-.. these were innocent people; people I knew. I couldn’t sit on it. I knew the cops were in on it as well, so I took her to the only person I thought I could trust. Norma: Joslyn.

Oscar: [nods] She helped Kate, but she couldn’t help us, not after being promoted by Spencer. Norma: She tried her best. Oscar: That Agent Key guy was twice as useless as her, he fucking ghosted us.

Norma: Well, I looked into that after Joslyn told me about it. He had a heart attack-.. recovered just fine, but chose to retire early. The importance of your case was most likely lost amongst a mountain of paperwork. Those local departments are horrendously unorganised, bound by red tape; it should’ve landed on our desk.

Oscar: I was pissed that no one seemed interested-.. but I’m stubborn, so I figured I’d write it up myself, take it to the top. I kinda got waylaid though; Del Sol, Courtney got pregnant, I checked myself into rehab.. it’s all a bit of a blur. Norma: Do you know why Wyatt sent Courtney to Del Sol?

Oscar: It turns out they’d met outside all this; maybe he was jealous, suspicious, unhinged.. all three? The weirdest thing is, after all that, he turned around and helped us? I don’t get it. Norma: Really? That’s interesting.

Oscar: For some reason, yeah. He helped us expose Spencer. Norma: Is there any chance he could’ve felt guilty-.. had a change of heart? Oscar: [scoffs] I doubt it, he’s a pretty disturbed guy.

Norma: It’s no wonder, growing up in that environment. Oscar: He doesn’t deserve an excuse. Norma: Now, now.. don’t get all bitter; we never truly know other people’s intentions. We can guess, but still…

Oscar: It’s hard not to be. Norma: I’m sorry that you fell through the cracks, Oscar.. I really am. If you were a CI, or even an undercover agent, you would’ve been pulled out of this situation a long long time ago. The fact that you persevered is admirable.

Oscar: [sighs] I just-.. I wish Courtney hadn’t been dragged into it. Norma: Life’s too short for regret, dust yourself off and move on. Oscar: How can I move on when-…

Norma: We have a name, a place-.. Eugene’s already in Del Sol; it’s only a matter of time, trust me. Oscar: I suppose it’s your job now. Norma: [chuckles] Not one to hand over the reins easily, are you? You and your friends got us this far, we’ll do the rest.

Oscar: [nods] Thanks for being one of the good ones-.. I think? You haven’t been a dick to us, at least. Norma: Aha, the key is to pick your battles. You’re not the real bad guys here. Oscar: Are you, uh-.. we’re not gonna need lawyers once you’ve wrapped up in Del Sol, are we?

Norma: No, there’s no evidence against any of you; some dealings here and there, racketeering, assault-.. whatever else? Some of our agents do much worse, it’s a means to an end… I told Bruno we don’t always do things by the book, and I meant it. Oscar: That’s.. good to know.

Norma: [nods resolutely] Such a remarkable story-.. anyway, I think you’ve given me enough of your time. Oscar: Well.. I didn’t think I’d be saying this, but it was nice meeting you. Norma: Likewise! I’ll be sure to let you know of our progress, okay? In the meantime, you ought to try and give yourself a break.

[verdantcrimson]

Heaven and Earth / Discernment of Heaven and Earth - 8

(Unproofread)

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[A week later. At the shooting location of the prototype for ‘(Tentatively named) Rumbling Heaven and Earth R’]

Keito: Alright. Everyone is good to go.

Keito: Souma. You look beautiful today too. The sight of you well-dressed makes me feel refreshed.

Souma: Yes- …….Pardon?

Keito: Kuro. You designed and tailored these outfits, correct?

Keito: They’re made with the level of workmanship you’d expect. The costumes you make suit us more than any top designer’s ever could.

Kuro: Don’t start callin’ us by our first names outta the blue.

Kuro: There’s probably a reason, but don’t do it outta nowhere. We’re more stubborn than most other ‘young folk’, so we can’t even react in time.

Kuro: Also, if I’m bein’ honest, it’s disturbin’.

Souma: I- Indeed. I do not fully comprehend, but t’was horrifying.

Keito: Was it that bad? I tried to imitate the behavior of Hideyoshi-sensei, since he’s a people person—

Keito: For instance, he’ll act like he’s practically related to, or been friends with someone for decades, even though they aren’t that close. He’ll use their first name or nickname, casually sling his arm around their shoulder, and shower them in compliments.

Keito: By continuously behaving like this, he confuses the brain of the other person, and before they know it, they start to actually think he’s like a close friend or family to them.

Keito: If you keep repeating a lie, it can become the truth.

Kuro: Personally, I don’t think that’s somethin’ ya gotta imitate.

Kuro: You’re perfect just the way you are, Hasumi danna.

Souma: Yes. We love the usual Hasumi-dono. There is no need for you to unnaturally praise, to flatter, or force a smile.

Souma: Well, I do suppose we may have been influenced unknowingly in a myriad of ways through our interaction with the ‘Three Sages.’

Souma: I, as well, have begun to pay closer attention to my hair and clothes each morning due to the influence of Nobunaga-sensei, for she would consistently critique my appearance each encounter.

Souma: Earlier, Hasumi-dono praised me for being ‘well-dressed.’

Souma: However, recently I have become concerned with earning Nobunaga-sensei’s praise, that is to say, I have become concerned with adhering to what may be in fashion. 

Souma: It is most certainly not being well-dressed. It is mere frivolity.

Kuro: Haha, ain’t that a good thing? You’re real uptight, Kanzaki.

Kuro: I reckon it’d be fine to be a little more flexible, for the sake of becomin’ an idol beloved by all, don’tcha think?

Keito: Agreed. Though Kanzaki is surprisingly self-conceited. No matter how much I lectured him, he never stopped wearing that sword or shed his old-fashioned way of speaking.

Keito: Though with that being said, I think having character is a good thing, because that’s what makes an idol. You truly are a good kid, like a moon that hasn’t waned, Souma. ♪ 

Souma: As expressed earlier, I truly wish for you to cease complimenting me without reason and addressing me by first name. It sends a shudder down my spine.

Kuro: Yeah, feels like danna’s been possessed or somethin’.

Keito: Hideyoshi-sensei is a talkative person. Whenever I was with him, he was always going on about his pet theories and opinions, and I tended to be brainwashed by the contents of his theories.

Keito: So naturally, I suppose I ended up unconsciously trying to play a character that matched Hideyoshi-sensei’s ideal—

Kuro: Haha, but I thought that you were ‘self-conceited’, was it? Thought ya were the type that’d never ever compromise or change.

Keito: I am aware of that quality to some extent.

Keito: In fact, I tried my hardest to be that way.

Keito: To not change, no matter what happened. I clung to the character of ‘Keito Hasumi’ as much as I could.

Keito: Growing up, I was surrounded by people who had a strong influence on those around them. And so, while we mingled amongst each other like colors on a palette, I tried my best to avoid being dyed the same shade of red.

Keito: That was mine, AKATSUKI’s, and perhaps even ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’s greatest fault.

Keito: There may be great things that remain unchanging. However, in order to survive, change is necessary.

Keito: The law of this world is survival of the fittest. Likewise, we need to adapt accordingly to a world upheaved by the establishment of ES.

Kuro: Well, I learnt that one the hard way.

Kuro: We’ve gotta change too, yeah?

Keito: Yes. I hope that the sequence of events surrounding ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’ is a sign of what’s to come.

Kuro: Of course. But don’t go changin’ everythin’ all at once, danna.

Souma: Truly. When the ever dauntless and sophisticated Hasumi-dono, abruptly dons a sycophantic smile and draws close, ‘tis as if he has become a different person, which strikes fear into one’s heart in turn. 

Kuro: Nito got mad and said somethin’ similar to me too.

Kuro: When we change, it’s gotta be in a way that doesn’t cause a disturbance in the surroundin’s. Slow and steady…… Right?

Keito: Yes, like the constantly waxing and waning moon.

Keito: Not just ‘like’, we will become it.

Keito: We’ll become beloved by all, from ancient past to present day, just as that ethereal moon is.

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[mrsalwayswrite]

Sinners and Saints (Sihtric x reader)

Summary: One day you stumble upon your childhood friend, Osferth, whom you have not seen in years. Yet the more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself drawn to his companion, Sihtric….and the butterflies his dark eyes give you.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 followers challenge! Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you! 

My prompt was - "Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints." - Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton (in bold within the story)

Words: 5500

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluff, my poor attempts at humor, Osferth being a good bro. 

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @flowers-in-your-hayr​

This gorgeous moodboard was made by @flowers-in-your-hayr​. All credit goes to her! 

"...so there she was, aye, and next thing I know, she flips 'er dress up and I see the most perfect set of…."

 "I'm going to be sick." Osferth mumbled to himself, trying to block out Finan's retelling of his prior night. To the laughter of his companions, he started to push away from the outdoor table at the alehouse. He was no virgin anymore, Finan and Uhtred had seen to that, but he still felt squeamish when listening to their stories of recent conquests. His mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, things she had told him before her passing, about respect and love. Plus, he could not help but think that this idea of conquests, of women's worth derived from what pleasure a man could take from their bodies, was what brought bastards into this world….like him. 

 "Alright, Finan, we get it. You saw the arse of a goat and couldn't help yourself." Uhtred teased, slinging an arm around Osferth so he could not escape them- most likely to find a church and pray for their souls. 

 "Oi, lord! Ya know that was one time!" Finan feigned mock-outrage, making Uhtred and Sihtric laugh. 

 Osferth put a hand over his eyes as if that would somehow block the image from his mind. Something he desperately did not want there. 

 "How much longer are we here, lord?" Sihtric asked, changing the subject, while twirling a dagger between his hands fluidly. 

 Although Osferth would never admit it aloud, and God forgive him, it was hard not to be jealous of how easily his companions handled their weapons like they had been born with weapons in hand. They continued to tell him it was practice. Recently though, he decided it was a gift that he clearly did not have. 

 "Until I feel satisfied with the training of Lord Godwin's fyrd and his defenses." Uhtred stated indifferently, as if it was something he had to repeat to himself often. 

 "Ya think King Alfred knew how much of a horse's arse Lord Godwin is?"

 Uhtred glanced up, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Probably."

 "But he knew you were the man for the job." Osferth commented. Not necessarily to defend his father but to hopefully bolster Uhtred's confidence. "The men respect you, even if their lord fails to acknowledge his own respect."

 "The baby monk is right." Finan said. "What else needs to be done for the town?"

 Uhtred and Finan began discussing ideas and strategies, Sihtric adding an occasional comment but mostly just listening. 

 Osferth found his attention wandering, since this was an area outside of his expertise. His gaze drifted to the town and its residents who moved about to complete their duties under the midday sun. Their group had only been in this large town for two days and already Osferth was keen to return to Coccham. 

 From amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention. The world tilted off its axis as his entire body went rigid, all his focus zeroed in on her. His heart hammered in his chest and the air whooshed from his lungs painfully. 

 "Y/n?" He muttered to himself, disbelief and shock clearly painted in his tone and on his face. 

 "Baby monk, ya alright?"

 Finan's words did even register, so consumed by the ghost before him. Rapidly, he slid off the bench, almost losing his footing when he went to stand, but pressed on, hurrying towards her. 

 "Y/n!" He called, an almost desperate tone in his yell. 

 When she did not turn around, he shouted louder. "Y/N!" 

 That time she paused, then slowly turned to find him standing still amongst those walking around him, a solid rock in a stream of people. He held his breath as he intently watched her expression, suddenly worried seeing him would not be as meaningful as he hoped. He could see her utter his name silently, eyes wide. Then in the next moment, she dropped the basket on her hip and ran towards him. He opened his arms just in time for her to collide with him, and with her embrace, a painful wave of nostalgia and guilt crashed over him with the strength of a tempest. 

 "It's really you." She finally whispered, peering at him in awe. 

 "Hi." He smiled, his own shock clouding his mind from forming coherent sentences.  

 Then to his surprise, she reared back and punched him in the arm. 

 "Ouch! What was that for?" He whined, rubbing the offended limb. 

 Throwing her hands in the air, they landed on her hips as her voice rose in anger. "For disappearing in the middle of the night without telling me!"

 "I did tell you."

 "That you were THINKING about leaving, not that you WERE leaving!" She reared back and punched him in the arm again, ignoring his pained cry as she continued to berate him. "I spent an entire day running around the monastery trying to find you only for Father Harold to finally pull me aside and tell me you left for Wincheaster." 

 And there was the heaping of guilt he knew he deserved. "I'm sorry….I just….I just knew if I didn't leave that night, then I never would."

 Her face softened at his quiet admission, understanding passing in her eyes. "I know. I wasn't truly surprised…. Just wish you'd have told me before."

 "I'm sorry."

 She sighed, all anger and frustration disappearing, much to his relief. She was a force to be reckoned with when truly in her fury. "So, what are you doing here?"

 "Ah, traveled here with the Lord Uhtred to assist Lord Godwin in his defenses….or something."

 "Uhtred? That Uhtred?"

 He smiled at her, catching the reverence in her tone. "That very one."

 "How did you find him? How did you join him? Wait! Are you a warrior now? We have a lot to talk about and you better get started." There went the hands on her hips again, making his smile widen at the image. Even as a young girl, when her hands were on her hips, you knew she meant business. 

 "Would you like to meet him first?"

 A shy look passed over her face that he was unused to seeing. "I'm…. I'm not presentable to meet a lord."

 He scanned her, noting the dried mud on the hem of her dress and shoes, the small smear of what looked like flour on her left temple. What he noticed most was how the years had made her even more beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl but now, she truly looked like a beautiful woman. A fact he was unsure of how to feel about. 

 He chuckled lightly after a moment. "Well, you certainly smell better than Lord Uhtred so I think it's fine."

 That caused her to tip her head back and laugh loudly, the desired effect of his comment. She gathered up her basket and walked next to Osferth, back to the table where his companions were. It was impossible to ignore their curious stares as they approached. 

 "Lord Uhtred, may I introduce y/n. Y/n, this is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg." Osferth said, standing next to her at the end of the table.

 Uhtred nodded graciously, clearly wondering why this woman mattered and why Osferth was introducing her. 

 "Oh, it's an honor to meet you!" Y/n gushed, a bright smile on her face. "Uncle Leofric told us so much about you, but I never thought I'd ever meet you in person."

 "Leofric?" That caught his lord's attention, his gaze narrowing and eyeing her with renewed interest. "How did you know that turd?"

 "When he came to visit Osferth, he'd tell us stories."

 "Ah….all exaggerated, of course." Uhtred said with a cocky smirk. 

 "Wait. I think we're missin' the most important thing here." Finan leaned forward, dark eyes bouncing between Osferth and her, as he pointed a finger at them, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Ya said 'Uncle Leofric'....are ya related to Osferth?"

 Osferth answered quickly. "No, her family owned the farm next to the monastery, so we grew up together." Then he furrowed his brows as a thought hit him. He had been so amazed to see his childhood best friend (only friend really) that he had not realized that she should be back at the farm and not in this town. "Wait, y/n, why are you here and not at the farm?"

 Her face crumpled for a brief second before she was able to mask it into a neutral expression. She shrugged casually, but he could read the subtle tension in the action. "We lost the farm, so mother and I came here to look for work."

 "Ah." There were so many things he wanted to ask but could tell now was not the right time. If she lived here, he would have plenty of time to hear the full story later. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So, you know Lord Uhtred, the others are Finan and Sihtric…. And Sihtric is also a bastard." He added as an afterthought. 

 That made her face light up as she turned to look at the Dane. "Hey, another bastard! We really need to start a club. We can all rant about how awful our fathers are."

 "You're a bastard?" Uhtred asked, shock evident in his voice. 

 "Yes, my lord. My mother was a servant for a lord. Got pregnant. The lord's wife did not like that so sent my pregnant mother back to her family. Certainly, it was our Lord's Will because how else would I have been able to grow up with Osferth?" She asked, patting him on the cheek affectionately. He blushed and swatted her hand away, much to the other's amusement. 

 "I reckon you have quite a few amusin' stories of growin' up with Osferth, eh?" Finan smirked. 

 "I might….but I don't share secrets for free." She matched his smirk with her own crooked smile. 

 He slapped his hand on the table. "I'll owe ya a drink! I need to 'ear this."

 "No….oh no, no, no." Osferth said but knew it was a lost cause before he even tried to deter them. The rest were already deciding when and where to meet that night. "Lord help me."

 "It's not that bad." She teased, bumping his arm with hers. "The worst one is when we went streaking naked through the monastery."

 Osferth felt his face heat up like the flames of hell itself as everyone laughed. "It was your idea."

 "Yeah, yeah, so you like to remind me." She smiled fondly. "Now, if I don't get back home, my mother is going to think I've run off with some man or I've been kidnapped. Either way, she will raise the fyrd herself to find me. I will see you all tonight."

 The others said their goodbyes but before she could step too far away, Osferth gently touched her arm, halting her movement. 

 "Y/n….I'm….I'm glad our paths have crossed once again."

 She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am too, Osferth. I've missed you." With that, she turned and walked away with her basket still on her hip; but not without glancing over her shoulder at the group before disappearing around some buildings. 

 Once out of sight, Osferth sighed and turned back to his companions, only to see them all still staring intently in the direction she disappeared. 

 "No….y/n is off-limits to you fornicators." He stated firmly, well as firmly as he could be. 

 "She's very pretty…." Uhtred declared, a playful grin on his face. 

 "Lord, no. All of you, keep your hands off of her."

 "Or what?" Finan chuckled, eyes alight with mischief. "You'll fight us, baby monk?"

 "I will if I must."

 "Alright. Her dignity won't be tarnished." Uhtred lifted his cup in Osferth's direction. "Your reputation might be tonight depending on what stories she shares." 

 Osferth groaned, sitting back down next to his lord. "I'm going to need a lot of ale."

 "That can certainly be arranged!" Finan laughed, jovial once more. 

 As discussion started back up again, they all missed the silent, longing glance Sihtric snuck one last time in the direction she walked away….

 *****

 Over the next several weeks Lord Uhtred helped increase the defenses of the town and instructed the guards and fyrd how to better defend against the Danes. 

 During those weeks, you found yourself frequently spending time with Osferth and his companions. First it started off with meeting them in the evenings for ale, laughter and good company. Within days, it became almost expected for one of them to purposefully seek you out. Most of the time it was Osferth and Sihtric coming to join you in whatever your tasks for the day because they were bored or unwanted in meetings. It was not difficult to tell that although they were certainly welcomed members of Uhtred's group, not everyone else saw them in such a positive light. 

 So the three of you often passed the hours away together, waiting until evening to rejoin Uhtred and Finan at the alehouse. Their presence became such a regular occurrence that your mother practically adopted them, they even had their assigned seats at your small kitchen table for meals. Somehow, they seamlessly slipped into your daily life in a way that seemed like they were meant to be there this whole time. 

 Even at the alehouse in the evenings, you usually found yourself nestled between Osferth and Sihtric on the bench. A place you certainly found yourself enjoying more and more….especially next to the Dane. 

 Over the weeks, there was something growing between you and the Dane. It gradually revealed itself with each passing day, growing like the roots of an oak tree. It was through the borderline flirtatious comments that you teased each other with. It was in the subtle touches that caused butterflies in your stomach to dance, from your fingers barely gracing each other when passing something, to the way you leaned your head on his shoulder when your eyelids threatened to close, to the way your thighs would touch under the table and away from view of the others. It was in the lingering looks when your gazes locked and you swore you never wanted to look away. It was in the consistency of being next to one another whenever you could, either sitting at a table or just walking down the street, almost like your bodies were magnetized to one another's. 

 Plus the more you talked to Sihtric, the more you desired to know about him. For he was like no other man you had ever met. 

 Almost a fortnight after you reunited with Osferth, there was one particular evening after staying out far too late with the four men and drinking a bit too much, Sihtric graciously offered to walk you back home. You knew propriety demanded Osferth should be the one to escort you but he was already passed out, head on the table and snores emitting from his mouth. Giggling at your childhood friend, you accepted Sihtric's offer and the two of you easily fell into step. 

 On the walk you learned more about his past, about going up in Dunholm and his cruel father. You had heard bits and pieces while with Osferth and the others. Maybe it was under the cover of darkness, maybe it was the extra ale flowing through both of your blood, but he confessed secrets to you he had never told another besides his mother. When you reached your home, before he could slip away, you clutched his arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. After, you bid him goodnight and slipped inside your humble home. 

 After that night, he always walked you home, sometimes alone and sometimes one of the others would join. But when it was just you two, when you were alone, you would bid him a goodnight with a kiss on the cheek or he would kiss your hand, locking eyes with you in a way that made a fire stir in your belly and your core clench. 

 There was definitely something between the two of you, but neither seemed able to verbalize it or take the next step. 

 *****

 "So, what is going on between you and Cedric?" 

 You turned your head to look at Osferth, who laid on the grass next to you, soaking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. "What?"

 "You know….that blacksmith. The one you were talking to the other day."

 "Oh." The memory hit you. You had stopped by to drop off your mother's damaged cooking pot for Cedric to attempt in fixing, although you personally thought it was a helpless cause. The dent in it was significant, but he offered to see what he could do. As you dropped it off at his workshop, the two of you began discussing an approaching saint's day and the celebration that would occur with it. 

 Several minutes later, you heard your name called and looked over to see Osferth and Sihtric walking towards you. You bid Cedric a farewell, promising to stop by the next day to come pick up the pot. After receiving his promise to try his best at fixing it, you headed off towards the stables with your fellow bastards. At the time, you had not thought the encounter significant but with it happening two days ago and Osferth now bringing it up, you wondered how long he had been ruminating on it. 

 Finally, you simply said, "he's a good man, and has been kind to my mother and I since we arrived here."

 "Is he….pursuing you?" Osferth turned his head to scrutinize you, his lips pursed slightly as if concerned about your answer. 

 You openly laughed at the notion. "No, that's silly. He is just a kind man."

 If anything, you had to fend off flirtatious advancements from some of the young men that worked under Cedric. Those same young men quickly learned to keep their eyes on their work and mouths shut. When one openly called out to you, and before you could offer a sharp retort, Cedric threw a hammer at him from across the shop. He bellowed that he did not allow heathens to work for him and if they chose to act godless then they needed to find a new place of work. Their blatant interest diminished after that and Cedric made a point to be the only one that conversed with you if you came to the shop. Although he was easily ten years your senior, you found him a likeable man with a quick wit and sarcastic comments that occasionally left you in stitches. 

 The idea of him pursuing you was an amusing idea. He was still a bachelor, never having married, claiming that his work and apprentices kept him far too busy for much else. 

 Your answer appeared to satisfy Osferth. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but immediately slowly closed it and turned his head back to stare at the blue sky. 

 A stillness settled after your answer, only interrupted by the frequent bird song and the wind through the tall grass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth and just lying around relaxing on the hill outside of the town, away from the hustle and bustle and chores that demanded your attention.  

 "He was watching you like a man who wants a woman." Sihtric stated after a couple minutes of peaceful silence. 

 Startled by his sour tone, you shifted up to look over at the Dane. He sat on the other side of Osferth, one leg propped up and an arm casually slung over it, but his gaze was focused straight ahead, staring off into the distance. Now that you thought about it, over the past two days Sihtric had become more reserved and sullen than you had ever seen. Even his companions commented on it a few times to which he would shrug his shoulders or make an excuse and walk away. You had thought he just missed Coccham, the group having been away for so long, or something happened that made him introspective. It had also not escaped your notice how the prior closeness between you two had halted. Now you wondered if there was something more to his demeanor.  

 "Well, that is most unfortunate for him since I am not interested in him."

 "Does your mother not want you to marry?" Osferth asked, his voice deceptively neutral. 

 Sighing, you leaned back on your hands. Eventually you knew Osferth would bring up the topic, he was your friend after all and you were certainly of marriageable age. Actually far too old to not be married by some people's standards, but you ignored them. "She does but she has told me that she will not force it upon me. She said I should make my own choice….that if I am able, I should choose love."

 You knew your mother offered you that choice in hopes your life would turn out differently than her own. 

 "But if Cedric is a good, kind man….could you not love him….or someone like him?" Osferth pressed. 

 "Perhaps. There are plenty of men I have seen who the church would call a 'good' man but are cruel in their own home, and there are many men who are calloused but it's obvious they love their wife and children. My love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. I would rather choose a man whom I know loves and cares for me than a man I know is 'good' but carries no love in his heart." You paused, the candid confession rolling off your tongue before you realized it. Sighing, you ran a hand over your hair before quietly saying. "I just….I just want someone that loves me….sinner or saint."

 Not a word was spoken as all three contemplated your statement, the silence hanging heavy like a brewing storm. Tilting your face to the sky, unable to meet the gazes of your companions, you chastised yourself for the candor with which you spoke. Osferth had asked a simple question initially and you chose to make it complicated. They did not need to know how you longed for love, how the hope for it in your potential future was what kept you going. It was foolish and you supposed after this, they would only see you as a silly girl with outlandish dreams of a storybook romance. 

 Finally, Osferth broke the silence. "Well, I shall be praying fervently for this man….hopefully he knows what he is getting into before he marries you."

 You laughed, appreciating his lighthearted comment. Reaching a hand out to smack Osferth's arm, you teased. "Keep that up and you won't be invited to my wedding."

 "Your mother will let me in."

 "Yeah, you're probably right." You glanced over in the direction of the town, regretting that your time away had to end. "I need to head back, those chores won't finish themselves."

 The three of you headed back to the town, quiet contemplation cloaking your group. Yet you feared that whatever spark lay between you and the Dane had been extinguished forever by your unexpected honesty. For still he refused to look your way, keeping his gaze focused forward. If your heart fissured within your chest, you swallowed down the pain. It was better for the spark to die out now then burn brightly only to be smothered later. 

 Or at least that was what you told yourself. 

 *****

 "What you said….about the sinners and the saints…."

 You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat with a silent scream on your tongue. In the small herb garden behind your house, you had thought you were alone. After the awkward conversation on the hill earlier that day, you sought solace in your chores. Thankfully Osferth and Sihtric headed back to meet with their companions on their own accord, leaving you to trudge through your muddled thoughts with all the grace of a newborn foal. 

 Now you found the very person who your thoughts centered on, standing just a few paces from you….and your heart began to race for a very different reason. 

 When his voice trailed off, those dark eyes that set fire licking through your veins dropped to the ground, you quietly stood up from where you had knelt, wiping the dirt from your hands, although you moved no closer. 

 "Sihtric?" You tried to prompt him. 

 "Is it true?" His piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Your love doesn't discriminate?"

 "Yes." You breathed out. 

 He nodded silently before taking a step closer to you. "And what about….what about Danes?"

 Your chest pulled tight at his words, yet a coy smile grew on your lips. The flutter in your belly made your gaze drop for a moment as you tried to stifle the excitement making butterflies dance. Although this was no declaration, it was the closest the two of you had talked about what lay between you. Taking a steadying breath, you prayed this moment would not pass by without confessing the truth that you had harbored in your heart for weeks now. 

 "Not even towards Danes." You shook your head, the smile still on your lips. "And…. There is one I'm becoming quite fond of lately."

 "Yeah?" He took two steps closer, somehow moving cautiously but eating the ground with each determined step. 

 "But….do you think this Dane could be….fond of me?" You softly murmured, feeling as if your heart lay in the palms of your hands for all to see. 

 That last step separating you two disappeared almost before you finished asking your question. His hands ever so gently reached over to take yours, entwining your fingers together. The two of you stood so close, your chests almost touched with each breath you took. Your breathing seemed to cease under the intensity of his gaze and a shiver raced up your spine. Yet you had no desire to withdraw from him.

 "He would be a fool not to." He whispered, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I'd bet you are constantly on this Dane's mind. That he cannot go a day without seeing your face and hearing your laugh. You are the first thought that he wakes to and the reason he falls asleep with a smile. That you have become the north star that it seems the gods have been guiding him towards for his whole life."

  As he spoke, everything faded to oblivion around you. The past and future vanished. Dane versus Saxon disappeared. The world narrowed down to this….this moment….this moment that you had dreamt of but never thought would come true. 

 The two of you continued to stand there, lost in one another's eyes with fingers intertwined. Your heart raced within your chest but a cooling breeze swept away the fears that plagued your mind. For staring at him, you knew he spoke no falsehoods. That he owned your heart just as much as you owned his. That very heart you could feel hammering away in his own chest. His eyes fervently held yours, a silent conversation, a confession, spoken only in looks but you both understood the language. His gaze dipped down to your lips, tracing them before slowly rising once again to your eyes. A curl of pleasure blossomed in your core as you witnessed the fire now in his eyes. 

 "If this Dane wanted to kiss me…. I wouldn't mind."

 A deliciously, sinful smirk teased his mouth. "As my lady commands."

 His head tilted, leaning towards yours. Unconsciously your eyelids fluttered closed. Then the briefest of touches made your knees weak and your mouth part open in a sigh. After a moment's hesitation, he continued to shower your jawline with kisses. Needing to touch him, your hands landed on his chest, feeling the tunic that covered his firm chest. Your hands moved upward to grasp the back of his neck, his pulse jumping for a second as your nails scraped his skin. His hands landed on the curve of your waist, bringing you even closer to him, erasing the unwanted space between your bodies. 

 As his lips began their ascent upward along the otherwise of your jaw, you moved. For the burning sparks in your body screamed if he did not kiss you, you would spontaneously combust. Shifting your face, you stole a kiss on his lips before he could place it on your skin. It was more of a gentle pressing of your mouths, but even then, you heard a sharp inhale from him. Before you could question him, his mouth returned to yours with soft, probing kisses that urged you to respond. Not that you would ever deny him. What started off as a gentle flame quickly became a roaring fire. Breathing became unnecessary, for how could air bring you life when your body craved Sihtric, when your lungs demanded to breathe him in instead. He led you in a drugging kiss that had you melting against him. Your lips drank from one another as if that alone could sustain you forevermore.  

 "THANK YA, GOD!!" 

 The passionate kiss abruptly ended as Sihtric and your gazes darted towards the side of your house. Only to be met with the sight of his three companions standing at the entrance in various states of smugness. 

 "Oh, for the love of Odin…." Sihtric mumbled. 

 You buried your face in Sihtric's chest, face heated in embarrassment but unable to stop the giggles that poured forth. So caught up in finally confessing your feelings and kissing the man who haunted your dreams, you forgot that anyone could walk by and see you. His arms tightened around you, keeping you within his protective, loving embrace….and you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be. 

 "Took the two of ya long enough." Finan continued, leaning against the side of your humble home with a shit-eating grin. 

 "Amen." Osferth had a small, teasing smile on his face. "Thought I would have to lock them in a room together before one of them finally confessed."

 Apparently, you and Sihtric were not as subtle as you previously thought. Now it made sense why Osferth was questioning you about Cedric and your thoughts on love and marriage earlier. Your heart flooded with gratitude towards your childhood friend, for without him you doubted neither Sihtric or you would have spoken up. Peering over, you caught Osferth's eye and mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He nodded, a simple joy radiating from his face. 

 "Lord?" Sihtric called over with a blank expression. "Permission to continue?"

 Uhtred chuckled. "I guess you've waited long enough. Go ahead." 

 Without waiting a moment longer, Sihtric tipped your face back up towards his and claimed your lips once more. You vaguely thought you heard laughter coming from the others but it all blurred away, like a faint sound while underwater. All you could see, all you could feel, all you could hear was Sihtric. 

 Just how you wanted it. 

 Suddenly you yanked your head back, your breathing labored and lips swollen. "My mother is helping at a nearby farm today. She won't be back until it's dark."

 He hummed against your skin trailing small kisses along your jawline and down your neck as if unable to keep his hands and mouth off you now that the dam had been released. 

 "I'm not as pure as Osferth thinks me to be."

 That statement made his actions stop. Carefully he raised his head to meet your gaze. "After dark?" He confirmed, voice rough in a way that sent a bolt of heat through you. 

 "Yes, she planned on having supper with them….so my home is currently empty….and I did just clean my blankets the other day…."

 He swooped in to give you a feverish, greedy kiss that left no doubt where his mind had gone. When he finally pulled back, you were surprised your legs could still hold you upright. Your whole body felt like puddy in his arms and he had only kissed you, albeit you doubted you would ever forget the way his mouth worshiped yours. 

 "You are certain? You want this?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes once more. "You want me?" 

 It was the last question, the vulnerable undertone, the hint of insecurity in it that sealed your decision. Letting your actions be your answer, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door to your home. It did not take more than a second for him to come beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

 With his taste on your lips, the future did not matter right now. It did not matter that he was Dane and you were not. All you knew was Sihtric was neither a saint nor a sinner, but simply a man deserving of love. The river of your love was pointing you directly towards him, and you silently vowed to never let it run dry. 

[mmvalentine]

Lover Like Me pt 14 (epilogue) | Feysand

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

The next year blurs by and I swear I couldn’t even tell you what we filled it with. We just hazed through, the way that you get to the end of summer vacation drunk on long days and the absence of school bells and wonder where the time went.

I can tell you that we moved house, not immediately but eventually, and not very far. Rhys wanted to stay close to the garage, after all. In fact, none of us live in the Velaris blocks anymore, and no, Rhys didn’t buy a house for each of them. His father was wealthy but not that wealthy. He did buy the auto shop though, and start paying an actual living wage once he fired the old manager, and wouldn’t you know it, the guys all started renting decent places once they could afford it.

Mor moved closer to the beach and met a girl at one of Helion’s extravagant parties. Azriel’s got a slick city apartment with a view, and Cassian’s shifted toward the mountains and living his best lumberjack life. They all commute but no one’s complaining.

I often think back on the time we all lived together with great fondness, but I know for the others, painful memories still live there, and we’ve never been back. I don’t mind at all, because I’m home wherever Rhys is.

And Rhys is here, in a house of our very own, and he’s magnificent.

Out from the shadows of his violent father’s past and his dead mother’s house, Rhys is a force to be reckoned with. Business is booming, we go on trips most weekends, and I’ve never heard him laugh so loud. And coming home to him every day is a luxury that simultaneously feels like I’ve been doing it forever, and like I’ll never get used to the thrill of it.

It’s not a giant house, but there’s the loveliest rose and lilac garden out the front, and French doors on the second floor to the balcony that Rhys built. We have a bedroom with a skylight, which he cleans every weekend because he loves to look at the stars. It has a study we converted into an art studio for me, with shelves all along the wall to hold all my supplies. There’s a spare bedroom that is always made up- it was important to both of us our friends could stay with us whenever they wanted or needed to. And it has a garage where Rhys keeps his bike and also a beautiful vintage Bentley that he’s restoring in his spare time.

Rhys runs the shop better than Amarantha ever did, and now that she’s gone the guys actually like going to work. I visit sometimes, bring by boxes of pizza when they work late not because they have to but because they’re enjoying each other’s company. Pepperoni for Azriel, cheese for mor, mushroom for Rhys, and four of whatever there’s four of for Cassian. They wipe black grease off their hands and laugh with their mouths full, and now movie nights happen less frequently but we put a projector in the garage and every month or so we watch on a wall-sized screen.

Sometimes it’s just Rhys who’s stayed back, slumped in the office over the books that were never his favourite part of the job. On those days I feed him Irish tea and chocolate biscuits, and when his blood sugars are revived, we make love on the desk, where I have a perfect view of a certain painting that hangs on the wall and remains my most abstract piece to date.  

As for me, my rent situation may be taken care of, but I will never not have my own bank account again. I’ve earned myself a permanent spot in Tarquin’s gallery by maintaining the highest selling rate of any of his resident artists. It’s not quite enough that I’ve quit my job at the art store, but I’m getting closer. Hey, maybe one day I’ll outgrow Tarquin and open a gallery of my own.

I’m telling you, my life is perfect.

Not because we never fight- amongst the brilliant days there are sad ones, when Rhys is full of trauma and fury and grief, and just because most of the time I know how to bring him back doesn’t mean it always works, or that I always have the energy to do it, or that he always wants me to.

But because he chooses me every damn day, even when I have nightmares about blonde haired men and I kick him in my sleep, even when I have unreasonable expectations that he will read my mind and then get upset that he hasn’t correctly anticipated my needs, and even when he works late and I’ve stayed up painting and we’re both cranky and snappy and rude.

And because I choose him back, just as many times.

And that- I wouldn’t trade that for the world, not for a thousand days of serenity, not for a million dry-eyed nights.

Still, it’s not the fights and the slow, painful healing that I want to replay over and over.

It’s days like today.

When I wake slow in the early morning light with Rhys’s lips on my ankle.

The alarm is set for seven, which is when we wanted to get up and get on the road. Our bags are packed and Rhys’s motorcycle is clean and full of fuel, and there are hours of mountain trails waiting for us to lose ourselves in their alpine embrace.

Yet here is Rhys with a kiss that moves slowly up the side of my calf.

And he’s usually such a stickler for a schedule.

I moan softly without opening my eyes. It’s warm and soft in our bed, and I’ve never been one to rise easy from slumber. Rhys’s tongue hits the corner of my knee, his teeth nip at the inside of my thigh, while the rough of his hands trace the journey his lips have just made. I twitch a little when his mouth lands at the join of my leg and my hip, although my limbs are still so heavy. Then the heat of his breath hits my underwear as he kisses the fabric between my legs, and my back arches up to his touch as if lifted by this string of static that starts in my stomach and ends in the apex of my thighs.

“Good morning, lover,” Rhys whispers, and then his mouth is otherwise occupied.

He pushes my underwear to the side and then it’s the flat of his tongue from pussy to clit. I gasp at the first touch, and then my panties are slid off my legs and I’m kissed on the sharp parts of my hips and the soft parts of my inner thighs and over my bare pussy again. I’m only half-way awake but I’m drowning in something sweeter than sleep as he laps me up and eats me alive. The minutes slide by but Rhys has all the time in the world as he flicks his tongue against me over and over again, winding me slowly round and round his little finger like a spool of thread. It’s not difficult; I’m always his.

His hands slide flat from my hips to my belly to my breasts, and all the while his lips are loving me. His mouth moves slow and dirty and sure. I’m rocking myself onto his tongue, the pleasure is a fog around me, and when he gets my nipples between his fingers, I tip my head back and moan just like he likes.

I could have happily passed the day like this, but my waking dream is cut through my the too-bright ring of my phone alarm.

At first, we ignore it, but of course the stubborn thing rings on and on. I groan in protest when Rhys gets up, but then the silence is restored and Rhys comes back to me and is settling his body over mine. His fingers lace through my fingers, and my hands are swept up and pinned above my head. He’s heavy and hard and as he rolls his hips into me, I’m mollified.

“Sleep well, honey?” Rhys’s voice is husky and low, and I don’t know how he expects me to answer when he’s grinding into me as he speaks. My eyes roll back and my hips lift to meet his, and the dark chuckle that issues from above me is as smug as a Cheshire cat. He kisses me then, sweeping his tongue deep into my mouth to make sure that I can taste myself on him like when he fucks me but finishes in my throat. The memory evoked is so filthy I’m turned on even more, and I start moving up against him looking for friction between my legs.

Rhys obliges me, driving his hips forward and kissing me deeper. I’m fairly sure I could come just from dry-humping this man, but he’s not going to let that happen. I’m rubbing up against his erection and building into a little rhythm that’s getting me where I want to go, and then just when I get to that floating place Rhys shoves his waistband down and pushes inside me.

I’m stretched out faster than expected and Rhys is sliding into me and by the time the tightness eases I’m coming on his cock.

It’s that easy.

And if there’s one enduring thing about us, about our relationship, it’s that it’s easy. It’s so easy and even when it’s difficult and when it sucks it’s easy and that’s why I love him. Or maybe because I love him. I love him so fucking much and I wouldn’t believe that someone so good would love me back except that he tells me all the fucking time and my head has gotten so big with it I wonder how I get in the front door sometimes.

And so here I am, early in the morning with no thoughts in my head and I’m coming hard while Rhys is all the way inside me and then when I’m back in control of my body I fuck him back until he comes, too.

On Sunday night, we’ll get back from our trip and we’ll unpack.

We’ll carry our bags in on tired legs and when I sit down and start unlacing my boots Rhys will look distracted. He’ll start picking through our belongings and I’ll ask him what he’s looking for.

“I’m just looking for… I could have sworn…”

“What, Rhys?” I’ll ask.

“It’s just, it was right here, can you look in your bag?”

“Look for what?” I’ll ask again, even as I start rifling through my backpack, searching for something I don’t know the name of.

“It’s so small, it could have fallen out.”

“Fuck’s sake Rhys, what am I looking for?”

“It’s the black box, you know the one.”

I don’t know the one, and I’ll get annoyed as Rhys continues to be vague while he shoves his hands in the pockets of our discarded leather jackets.

“Would you just look?” Rhys will say, and I’ll start getting mad that he’s sounding frustrated with me when he’s not communicating properly, so when my fingers close around a foreign object I’ll shake it at him.

“Here, is this what you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know, open it.”

I’ll roll my eyes and snap open the little velvet case, and my anger will instantly evaporate because inside will be the most perfect sapphire and diamond ring I’ve ever seen. I’ll be in shock, I’ll look up at Rhys but he’ll be down on one knee with his violet eyes so bright I can hardly stand it.

“Feyre,” he’ll say, and then he’ll swallow because he’s getting choked up. “Feyre from the moment I met you…”

“Yes,” I’ll breathe, and he’ll laugh.

“Feyre, I never thought-”

“Yes,” I’ll interrupt again.

“I didn’t think someone like me-”

“YES,” I’ll yell, and I’ll fall to the floor before him and try to kiss his stupidly gorgeous face, but he won’t let me until he can at least get the question out.

‘Feyrewillyoumarryme?!” he’ll shout, and then he’ll fall backward because I’ve flung myself at him and I’ve covering him with kisses and ‘yes’s.

And then the studio door will burst open and Mor, Cassian and Azriel will be exploding out from their hiding place and dog-piling on to us, and I’ll barely be able to breathe from laughing and crying and being crushed by these goobers, whom I love so very much.

But that will be on Sunday.

Today, we are naked in bed.

And I hope that this is the way he remembers me always, when we’re old and wrinkled and grey. I hope he remembers buckling a helmet under my chin before we get on his motorcycle, I hope he remembers my arms around his waist as we ride. I hope he remembers living in this house, now, with me, before dogs and kids and mess and whatever else he wants in our future. But most of all I hope that he remembers being this deep inside of me while we move, keeping pace with our matching heart beats, with nothing but time and thoughts of being loved, and being a lover.

***

The end, at long last.

My loves. Thank you for being with me in this story, it is the longest one I've written by far (like more than triple the length of The Bargain) and it has been such a joy to hang out with you guys along the way. I really appreciate everyone who read and shared and reblogged!! I will miss you, please dont be strangers ❤️❤️❤️

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[gryffindors-weasley]

Starlit Confession

Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: On a camping trip tradition, your friends have got other plans neither you or Sirius are aware of.

Requested by @expelliarmusmyass : “can i request a classic enemies to lovers "there's only one bed" sirius x reader where all the marauders (+lily!) have a sleepover or camping trip of some sorts and lily and remus finally decide they need to get reader and sirius already and plan to get them to sleep in the same room/bed/tent ? thanks !!”

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: little bit of jealousy, mutual pining, fluff, kissing

A/N: Thank you for my first Sirius request!! I absolutely loved everything about it, I hope you enjoy!

July 1979

The breeze swept coolly across your face against the warm summer sun as you stuck your hand outside the window, the air gliding over the back of it. You were headed to the stretch of woods that you’ve all come to know so well, something that was highly anticipated the moment the summer season had begun. Camping. It was something you and your friends had made into tradition without much discussion against it for the last three years. Lily had saved up for the very Volkswagen bus you’d been sitting in, knowing for a fact she’d get more use out of it than a simple small car; she knew her four closest friends were in it for the long haul and that was something that would always remain true.

It was mostly a golden yellow color, near orange, its roof white with a matching tire cover on the front of it between two round headlights. It was adorable, it was perfect, and most importantly it was big enough to fit a boisterous group of friends that surely needed the space. It’d already housed jovial memories that would be cherished for years to come.

You’d each packed up a bag or two, tossed them in the back and set off to the ever familiar place the five of you had found to be the perfect spot. A clearing amongst the woods, a place not far from the waters edge. It looked near enchanting when sunbeams filter through old yet thriving trees, as much as it could be for being a place without the very magic you’ve known all your life. It was perhaps your favorite tradition out of all others that had been created, one that you never failed to look forward to. No matter what’s been going on with any of you, traditions were never missed or forgotten. That was one thing that was constant and one thing would never change.

Another thing that had been just the same was the constant need for Sirius Black to get under your skin. You’d known him ever since you both were fourteen years old, and every day since then had been a battle of who’d been more witty and your three best friends had yet to determine who had been the rightful owner of that title. You were always bickering about something or another, always tossing narrowed stares and scrunched noses, grumbling under breaths and eye rolls. Even despite that, James, Remus and Lily especially had been convinced that there were feelings amongst it all. It hadn’t been too terribly hard for them to jump to that conclusion. They had their suspicions with each and every look Sirius had found himself giving you when your attention was fixed elsewhere. At the very same look you’d cast upon him when he wasn’t looking. They were absent minded actions to you both, and that was all the more reason for them to think there was something there.

It drove the tight knit group absolutely mad to see their two dearest friends love each other without even knowing of that very fact—James found himself far too close on multiple occasions to flat out complaining of the sheer obliviousness between you two. To simply tell them how blind the two of you must be. But each and every time he’d nearly done so it was promptly stopped by a stern Lily Evans who was not to be defied. They felt another day of this was simply not an option, too painful to watch a second more.

Even now, as you sat in the back with the raven haired wizard, the seating arrangement proved to make for an interesting trip. There was a flurry of jests and quips to match them; it was inevitable when he’d taken the seat right next to you, Remus on his other side. It’d been something entirely intentional on Lupin’s part, though the bickering was something to be expected.

First it had been over who was taking up too much of whose space, something accompanied by a lighthearted series of shoves and stifled laughter when you looked away in hopes the other wouldn’t see it. Then it had been when he’d changed the radio from your favorite song to his with a simple twitch of his fingers, a back and forth battle of rock and ABBA that nearly broke the radio, one that nearly drove your friends insane.

But now, Sirius had found himself staring as he so often does, at the way you waved your hand with the breeze, the way said breeze sifted through your hair and the way you sang along with James to the very same ABBA song that’d been on repeat for the past fifteen minutes. He’d reckon your voice far better than that of the brunette behind the wheel. He doesn’t know just why he always finds himself settling his attention upon you every moment he gets the chance. Or maybe he does and just refuses to admit the reasons for it. But there was something about you, there was always something about you to be admired. You were utterly enamoring even when you’ve got your brows scrunched over something entirely because of him. They never seem to stay furrowed for long.

“If you take a picture, it just might last longer,” you suggest with a raised brow and a smile indicative of your teasing, effectively pulling him from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, it’s just you’ve got a bug in your hair,” he counters quickly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

Your eyes are quick to widen slightly as your hand rises to your head in mild panic, combing your fingers through your hair in a hurry. His laughter was a telltale sign of his deception, that ever so familiar frown pulling down your lips as you swat at his shoulder. “Sirius Black, you’re a pain!”

His laughter was immediate as he caught your wrist from swatting him once more, “I’m not lying! There is something in your hair.”

He releases your arm in favor of reaching upwards, the tips of his fingers pinching the delicate flower petal tangled within your hair. Your words fell silent as his fingertips traveled down to the very end of your hair, a gentle action that had your cheeks staining what must have been an obvious pink as you found yourself looking at the smile on his lips. One that was soft and lopsided, one that grew as he held up the small pink petal before tilting his head at you. You hadn’t even realized you’d been holding your breath until that moment, hadn’t realized the new found quiet had drawn everyone’s attention.

“Told you so,” he states confidently, blowing away the petal and leaving it to flutter to your feet.

You squinted at him and mimicked his words to quickly move on from dwelling on your burning cheeks, something that brought a different kind of smile to his face mere seconds before you’d ruffled his own hair in retaliation.

“I meant what I said,” you remind him, trying to fight your grin as you watch tangled strands of black hair fall back against his cheeks once more.

“I am so terribly hurt,” he scoffs, placing a hand over his heart in a display of faux offense.

In that moment you settle for shaking your head, biting the inside of your cheek in a pitiful attempt to conceal your smile. A smile so awfully contagious he found himself mirroring it, having lingered on his lips even when you’d looked away from him in favor of looking out of the window. In doing so, you missed the way James had been glancing at you both in the rear view, at the way he shared a knowing grin with Lily, who’d then done so with Remus. It was a moment missed by you both, how could it not be with the way your thoughts had entirely been about each other unbeknownst to you.

It’d been quiet after that, save for the radio and James’ occasional startling outburst of song should a part come on that he’s fond of. It’d been peaceful and upbeat as Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, trying desperately not to think of how you’d made his stomach twist and flutter with butterflies. It was nothing, that’s what he told himself.

—

The place was just as beautiful and just the same as you’d left it the previous year, the sun still beaming through tall trees and the birds still chirping just as contently as they always do. Upon closer inspection, your initials had been carved in the very same tree, untouched since the five of you had left your mark on it the very first time you found it. Of course, it’d become weathered over time, moss having flourished over the bark, but the engraved letters remain regardless of that very fact.

The fire pit that James and Sirius had made still sat in the center of it all, it’s crumbled stones and charred logs and sticks sitting in a heap within it, waiting to be lit once more. Even the logs circling around it to serve as seats had still sat untouched by anyone else, unmoved from how they were left the previous trip out there.

It was exciting to finally be back there, to finally be out of the car in a place you longed to see again. All was well, except one thing.

“That is absolutely not happening,” you state matter of factly, the twigs snapping beneath your foot as you frown at Lily before narrowing your eyes at Sirius. One look at his smile, just one look, and you return your displeased gaze to the two in question, James making no effort to stifle his laughter at the situation. “No way, that is ridiculous!”

“Lupin must have forgotten to pack a third, Y/n/n,” Lily sympathizes with the softest of frowns to accompany her words, though you hadn’t missed the grin she’d tossed her friend’s way as he scratched the back of his neck and fought his own. “I’m sorry!”

“Then I’ll sleep in the bus with Remus,” you state quickly with a raised brow, crossing your arms over your chest stubbornly as you squint at Sirius’ very obvious grumbling behind you. His reasons for doing it were entirely unknown to you.

“C’mon, Y/n. Pad’s won’t bite,” James chimes in with a laugh, earning a swat to the back of the head from Lily before he protests her actions in return, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing his head. “Not very hard, at least.”

You purse your lips at the brunette and glared, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. A smile that quickly faded as you glanced over your shoulder at the little tent that hadn’t stood very tall on the other side of the fire pit. Your heart leapt and raced within your chest at the thought of being so close, lips tugging downward as you looked back at them with a huff.

“I would say I can’t believe you, but I can,” you groan, brushing past them to get to the lake before they could become aware of your smile.

—

The last traces of sunshine were warm against your skin as you sat along the water’s edge with Lily, taking a moment to yourselves away from the utter chaos that came with the trio in the water. It was still a bit too cold to swim in but that’d never stop them from doing just that. Despite the chill that ran through you from it, everything around you had been exactly how it’s always been.

Wildflowers had bloomed just about everywhere you could imagine amongst patches of green and overgrown grass, framing the lake in varying hues of blues, yellows, purples, and pinks. When you sat at just the right angle, the reflection of the sky over the water had been absolutely wondrous, painting the water orange and pink. The ongoing breeze had been sifting through the leaves in the trees, leaving some to fall to the ground in its wake.

It was absolutely perfect, and you couldn’t think of just anywhere else you’d rather be in that moment than right where you are. You wouldn’t want to be there with anyone else.

“I think this is our best trip yet,” Lily states, leaning back on her palms as she tips her head back, allowing the sun to sweep across her skin.

“I think so too,” you sigh, letting your eyes fall closed as you hear another aguamenti spell used, followed by a bout of laughter that had a smile pulling at your lips at the sound. Her absence in conversation was sure a sign something was on her mind. It always was without fail.

She hadn’t left you to sit and wonder for too long before she spoke up.

“What do you think about Sirius?” There it is.

Your eyes squeeze shut at the question you anticipated, at the one you hadn’t expected her to wait so long in asked you. A soft huff left your lips as you opened your eyes, brows furrowing as she gave you an expectant look.

“Why do you ask?” You say, the corner of your mouth quirking up at her nosiness.

She shrugs her shoulders as she sits up more, heaps of red hair falling to splay against her back. “Just wondering.”

Her smirk was more than obvious as she looked at you, her smile widening. Lily and Remus had kept an eye on you both for quite a while, they knew that something had been there, it wasn’t that hard for them to figure out. Even if you hadn’t been aware of your own foolish love yourself, they’d certainly picked up on it. Because after every witty remark and every scoff and glare, there was always a smile to follow. After every frown and and nose scrunch as one of you stuck their tongue out at the other, there was always a lingering stare just moments after. Anyone could see that, anyone but to two involved that are far too stubborn and argumentative to realize that.

“Well?” She continues.

“Well what?” You ask, pulling your knees to your chest as you look at her.

“You can’t possibly have nothing to say about him, not after all the banter you do. What do you think of him?” She repeats.

You roll your eyes as you avert your gaze from her, resting your chin on your knees as you look ahead. You mull over your words as a laugh leaves your lips, your head shaking slightly as your eyes fall upon him. He’s got strands of wet black hair stuck to his face, cheeks reddened ever so slightly from the combined heat of the summer sun and the chilliness of the water. His smile was beaming and bright as he tips his head back and laughs at something James had said.

“He’s a pain, Lily,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “He’s a pain.”

She laughed at your words, though she took note of the smile that’d been on your lips as she followed your gaze to the very one in question. She hadn’t failed to notice the smile he had returned to you after having done a double take, an action that was far less subtle than he’d hoped. He couldn’t help it though. Not with the way you’ve got flowers tucked in your hair and the way the sunshine made you glow. But when he found himself looking for what he felt was far too long he’d stuck his tongue out at you, wiggling his fingers before you rolled your eyes.

“Oh really?” She inquires, her smile evident in her voice, laughing when you narrow your eyes only briefly.

You pluck a flower from the ground and hold it under your nose for a moment, twirling its stem as it sat pinched between your fingers. You shook your head once more.

“Yes, really.”

—

The tent was rather average, having danced dangerously on the edge being too small. Every gust of wind, no matter how gentle, had puffed against its very walls, rattling the zippers and the flap of the door until you’d finally closed it completely. You knew for a fact your friends had to have done this on purpose, at this point there was no way they couldn’t have judged by the smiles they’d done a terrible job at hiding.

It was becoming increasingly obvious when you sat around the campfire that evening when Lily sat with James, and when Remus managed to take up the entirety of the log he’d claimed his own. It left you no other option than to sit next to Sirius, his chin in his palm as he hid his taunting smile behind his fingers.

You could tell by the way their gaze fell upon the two of you more often than not, and by the way James had displayed his emotions a little too obviously each and every time Lily had whispered something undoubtedly about the two of you in his ear. By the very way that no matter how much your group of friends could talk and bounce from topic to topic with ease, the conversation would always, without fail wind up circling back to the two of you. You were becoming painfully aware of the plan made by none other than Lily and Remus.

You should have known they’d do something like this; they’ve done it at the spring ball in sixth year. It was the very first time Hogwarts had done something like that, it was magnificent. However, you thought your date had stood you up as you sat with Lily and Remus, the mysterious date they’d set you up with. Said date had finally showed up by the side of James, and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head upon realizing just who they’d set you up with. You’d frowned as you danced with him, accompanied by a few laughs when he twirled you, accompanied by a few eye rolls when he said something witty. The night had been far better than it started, but you hadn’t spoken of it since.

They’d done it at Hogsmeade. They’d told everyone to meet at the Three Broomsticks, having diligently reminded everyone to do so. You and Sirius had been the first ones there, having sat awkwardly across from each other as you sipped your butterbeer. It was quiet until the two of you began to bicker over something too trivial to remember, one smiling when the other wasn’t looking. It took about thirty minutes for you to realize that the rest of the group hadn’t been coming, thirty minutes with Sirius Black.

So yes, you should have known better than to think that they wouldn’t do something like this again.

“Sirius?” His only response is a hum in that moment, a rather dismal one at that. “How do you suppose I’ll get any sleep if you keep huffing and puffing? It’s rather hard to ignore, you know.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” he quips, though you could hear the very smile in his words even without seeing him.

You shake your head at that with a huff of your own, but he could see the shake of your shoulders from your stifled laughter that you had fought so hard to keep at bay. No, he most certainly could not know that he’d been making you laugh, that would be absolutely terrible to your cause for he wouldn’t forget that he’d been able to do something other than make you grumble.

It was quiet for a few moments after that, nothing but the crickets singing just outside the little tent and the whisper of the wind in the trees. He hadn’t huffed anymore after that, and you quickly came to realize that it was in fact not the cause of your restlessness, though a part of you already knew that. You knew as you lay in that tent that you hadn’t hated his company, not in the slightest as much as your protests would beg to differ otherwise on the matter.

“Would you really rather spend the night with him than me right now? Remus?” He asks quietly, curious after a little while, and you didn’t miss the small bit of offense in his tone. It was the most subtle of indicators that he’d been jealous. Not terribly so, but it was enough to have your words stick in his mind for a few lingering moments longer than it should. He found himself to be just a little offended, because while he hadn’t expected this to be the sleeping arrangements, he’d hoped maybe you wouldn’t dread it as much as you seemed to have.

“In this particular moment, yes,” you quip softly, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth when you hear his displeased huff. “I might even sleep outside with the bears should you continue being jealous.”

“That is not happening,” he says, quick to add more once he realizes just what you’ve said. “And I am not jealous.”

As much as you two may have bickered near incessantly, as much as it may have seemed as though you couldn’t stand each other, he didn’t want you to do such a thing. It was dangerous after all. He knows a flimsy tent would do little to protect you, he knows you’re more than capable with magic, but he’d much rather prefer you weren’t out of his sight. It was safer that way.

“Who’s to say?”

Your back remains to him as you close your eyes briefly, your grin having gone unseen. It’d always been your personal mission to get under his skin ever since he was just a boy who had made it a point to get under yours, and now that he was nearly twenty your goals were no different. Maybe they weren’t as childish and filled with a certain annoyance as they once had been in the very beginning, but the habit was still very much there.

“Y/n/n, could you be serious just once in your life?” He asks.

“You know,” you start, rolling over to lay on your other side. Your breath hitched upon realizing your closeness, his face mere inches from your own and you nearly lose your train of thought as he’d done the same. But you quickly gathered yourself as you swallowed thickly, a smile gracing your lips. “I don’t believe I could if I tried.”

He rolled his eyes as he moved to lay in his back once more, his smile bright as his hair splays across his pillow and you follow suit. Your heart had still been beating wildly in your chest at the closeness you’d shared just seconds earlier, cheeks flushed a soft shade of crimson as you dare not look over at him. He supposed he’s grateful for that because he’s too caught up in looking at you, that same smile on his lips that he knows shouldn’t be there. One look at him and you’d have days, even weeks worth of material to tease him with. But he can’t help it.

He also can’t help it when he laughs, his eyes squeezing shut. “What is it?”

He shakes his head as he continues, your own curious smile forming in your lips as you turn your head and look at him. “I’ve got that bloody ABBA song stuck in my head.”

Your smile widens and a giggle falls past your lips as you return your gaze to the sky, the mingled laughter between the two of you having been something not uncommon as of late. “Well I’ve got that dreaded AC/DC song stuck in mine.”

“It is not dreaded, it’s a classic,” he defends, scoffing lightly as a lingering chuckle accompanies his words.

“And so is mine,” you counter, just as much defense in your voice as he held in his.

“That is absolutely false.”

“It is absolutely not.”

He responded with a heaving sigh, a smile on his lips despite it but he let you win the argument this time because surely there would be more. There would always be more when the two of you were together, but he feels as though he can hardly count on one hand the amount of times you had argued over something serious.

Your shared laughter had since died down to silence amongst everything else, leaving you know choice but to think of how close the two of you were. To think of the fact that never in a million years did you believe you’d ever share a tent with each other. You will admit, only to yourself, that you hadn’t hated it as much as he may have thought. A part of you had found yourself thinking that maybe you’d even miss him had you not been less than a foot away. You thought that a lot lately, unbeknownst to everyone else, or so you thought.

It was then, as you lay beneath the stars in a tent you’d felt was far too small to house two, that you felt his knuckles brush against your own, the very tips of his fingers soon to follow it. The simple touch felt far more electrifying than you had cared to admit to, especially for a simple accident caused from the sheer closeness of your proximity. To be quite honest, you felt rather foolish with the way your heart had skipped a beat and fluttered relentlessly within your chest.

And it was then that you risk a glance to your left the same way he had risked one to his right, eyes meeting in a gaze that’d been shared for the very same reason. You both looked away from the other almost immediately, smiles pulling at your lips as you focus your attention on the sky. No attempts had been made to move.

“Something funny, Y/n/n?” He asks, humor in his tone that only made you smile more than you felt you should have been.

“Yeah,” you start, a soft laugh leaving your lips as your eyes flutter closed. “Are you desperate to hold my hand?”

The laughter he exhaled was immediate at your words, but not out of mocking. “Love, if I wanted to hold your hand I wouldn’t waste my time brushing my fingers over yours.”

That most certainly was a lie, it was absolutely false. As brave as Sirius Black can be, as bold as he always was, he was nervous to hold your hand. He felt as though he was tempting fate already by the mere nudge of his hand over yours. To him, the thought of being in love was both exhilarating and terrifying all the same. To care deeply for someone was in his nature despite his hardships, though he’ll never ever admit it aloud. He didn’t need to.

Sirius could and would risk his life for his friends without a drop of hesitation, he always would. But the idea of slipping his hand in yours, of telling you just how he felt—it was a feat that proved to be difficult. You, you were terrifyingly wonderful and breathtakingly beautiful. You always have a quip to counter his wit, and you would never hesitate to cast a harmless jinx upon him.

He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted to tell you until that very moment, that very day for that matter. With the way you sung that song he swears he dreads every time it plays on the radio. With the way you smiled at him, your cheeks stained a rosy pink when you told him he was a pain. Or the way you’d been beaming as you tucked flowers in your hair with Lily by the lake. He hasn’t known how he made it quite this far without telling you, it was beyond him how he did it.

You weren’t just the girl he’d bicker lightheartedly with on a daily basis over the most trivial of things, always ending in scoffs and eye rolls and narrowed gazes that were more humorous than intended. You weren’t just the one who’d turn his hair every shade of the rainbow given the chance, who could outdo him on the scale of stubborn bravery. You were the girl he found himself following wherever you went, who he found himself thinking of far more often than he told himself he should.

He’s pulled from his thoughts at your soft laughter, turning to lay on his side once more. Before he could ask the reasoning behind it you’d already reached up, your fingers brushing through his hair to grab the lone petal tucked pretty and yellow amongst the strands of black. His gaze never left you, gray and admiring as you tucked his hair behind his ear, the tips of your fingers lingering for just a moment before you pulled them away.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, his breath fanning warmly over your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

The question was soft yet confident, having had enough of the question merely sitting at the edge of his tongue for days, weeks, months on end. It’d made your heart skip a beat, and you were nearly unsure if you’d heard him correctly. Because Sirius Black, the boy who’d never failed to get under your skin, who never failed to make you roll your eyes or purse your lips, the one you’d seemingly loved all along was asking to kiss you.

The grin on your lips was nothing short of an indication that your words would be that of something jesting. “It depends.”

“Do tell, on what?” He inquires, the glow of the moon illuminating the mischief dancing in your eyes.

You moved to prop yourself up on your elbow, your grin widening a fraction the more you look at him. “Just how long has it been that you’ve wanted to ask me that?”

“Who’s to say I’ve ever given it thought before this very moment?” He counters, though he knows he has a million times. You roll your eyes then, tipping your head back only momentarily before looking at him again.

“Could you be serious just once in your life?” You ask, copying his earlier words.

“I don’t believe I could if I tried.”

You shook your head as your hand settled on his cheek, quieting his further mocking as you pressed your lips on his. His laughter sounded softly against your lips, soon dissolving in favor of finally kissing you, of finally doing just what he’d longed to do for an amount of time he’s far too prideful to admit. He found himself smiling when your hair brushed against his skin, at the feel of your nose nudging his own and your fingertips just barely tangling in his hair.

His hand came up to rest over your own, the action soft and distracted as you parted from him only briefly. Brief enough for you to smile against his lips, for your giddy laughter to puff softly against his skin. Fleeting before he kissed you again—once, twice, three times more.

You pulled away completely then, his hand falling from yours as you swipe the pad of your thumb across the dimple in his chin, your cheeks flushed and his lips kiss swollen and pink. He followed after you for just one more, gray eyes sparkling and smile blissful as you lay back on your side.

“I love you,” he murmurs, “bloody hell I do.”

“Sirius Black,” you say, taking your lip between your teeth as you looked at him. “I love you too.”

With that he tugged your hand gently, pulling you back to his lips in a soft yet lingering kiss, one that made your heart pound and another bout of butterflies to flutter in your stomach as he held your hand to his chest. He’d waited too long to ask you just that, wasted too much time bickering over this, that, and the next thing.

“Our friends will never let us hear the end of this, you know,” he murmurs, forehead resting on yours. “They’ll go on for weeks, love.”

“Let them.”

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @ch0colatefr0gs @anchoeritic @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime

[stephspurs]

ONLY ANGEL - A John Stones Fanfiction

STEPHSPURS. - THE MASTERLIST ONLY ANGEL - FANFICTION MASTERLIST

The lights go down, the room turns dark, a murmur of people still trying to find their seats settles into the otherwise silence. The floor to ceiling screen behind the runway awakens to show a video montage of arguably the most famous supermodels in the world. “It’s difficult being a woman, and other women understand that...but it’s also fun to be a woman and I think we should be able to own that”

The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show is unlike any other in the world, it is the equivalent of the SuperBowl for supermodels. Bodies like Gisele Bundchen, Heidi Klum, Tyra Banks, grace the runway year in year out for the most-celebrated lingerie event in the runway calendar. A change of scenery for the traditionally American-based fashion show saw the glittery stage set up and a plethora of beautiful women touch down in London town.

Josephine Andersen, a 25 year old Danish-born supermodel found herself sitting backstage in hair and makeup, in a scantily-clad lingerie set with the iconic barely-there silk wrap adorned with the famous branding across the back of her shoulders and ‘Angel Josephine’ across her left side, right above her beating heart. Make no mistake, Josephine was meant to be here. She had worked hard every single day since the last runway event that she was fortunate enough to have walked in for the lingerie brand, to prove her rightful place as an Angel.

Yes, success is the direct result of hard work - and there was no denying that Josephine was a hard worker. She knew that she wasn’t special, and like most, she would have to work for what she wanted out of her life. What she didn’t know before going into the modelling industry at the ripe old age of 13, was that it was as mentally challenging as it was physical. Everyday was a constant battle between her head, her heart, and her agent. Nevertheless, she was aware of how difficult it was to be a woman, but she was also aware of just how fun it could be too.

John Stones, a 27 year old Barnsley-born (although his mate Kyle Walker would argue the point that his postcode says Sheffield but that's a story for another time) footballer for Manchester City Football Club, found himself sitting front row of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show in London. He had never attended an event quite like it before, his mates sat either side of him ready to enjoy the spectacle that he didn’t think he would ever have the pleasure of attending. With the current season underway and the fact that his home club was a whole 4 hour drive away from his current location, it was a small miracle that the group of lads from Manchester were allowed to attend at all. These boys were down for a night of beautiful women, lingerie and getting up to no good.

The music started, the screen went black, the crowd erupted in applause for the first model through the parting screen - Angel Josephine. Strutting down the runway to Harry Styles' live version of Only Angel, John was mesmerised by the woman before him. She was working the crowd, sensual glances, little smirks, a cheeky grin here and there. Standing at the end of the runway, facing the abundance of cameras, Josephine gave her best smile and a confident wink to the camera before tossing her hair over her shoulder and proceeding to walk back up the runway.

John hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of the girl, he wasn’t sure he had blinked since she stepped foot out on the runway - if he closed his eyes for just a millisecond he would miss too much. He was addicted to her beauty, never having seen something so ethereal in his life. Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was the champagne, but he honestly believed that there was an angel before him. Following her with his eyes as she walked back towards where he was seated, he made eye contact with her and she held it. Sending him a wink, and blowing him a kiss before smirking to herself and exiting the stage. She had no idea the effect that she had on the otherwise cocky man, she had reduced him to a puddle of mush, too intimidated by her beauty. The moment she was out of his sight, it was like he could breathe again, the sound that was previously muted around him returned to its full volume and his tunnel vision had widened to take in the whole show. Taking another sip of his champagne, he caught the eye of his best friend Kyle (yes, the same Kyle from earlier) who smirked and gave him a pat on the shoulder. Kyle had seen the whole interaction, albeit limited and largely one sided, and knew exactly what kind of trouble his friend could get himself into here.

Backstage Josephine was being ushered from the runway to the small curtain that was hanging from a clothes rack, providing a make-shift dressing room for her to strip off of the current segments undergarments and into the next set that had been so kindly draped over the top rail by one of the wardrobe assistants. Normally she would be thriving under the fast paced nature of the evening, the adrenaline pumping through her veins like a drug, however she was encumbered by her own thoughts of the devilishly handsome man in the front row. His eyes were engraved in the back of her mind, when she shut her own eyes she could see the intensity of his stare - it was numbing her, slowing her down. She was desperate for another glance at him, being brought back into the moment by the yell of a backstage hand asking for her to hurry and get into her next wings, she stripped and redressed. Was she lightheaded from the pressure that she had placed on herself to prepare for the evening, or was it because he seemed to take up all of the air in the room and space in her brain? She could argue that she was fulfilling her role as an Angel by winking at him and blowing him a little kiss. It was her job to flirt with the crowd and put on a show after all, but she knew exactly what her intentions were and they were nothing but devilish.

Perhaps the only event more iconic than the fashion show itself, the afterparty was what most people involved in the show looked forward to. The humans, even with their celebrity status, had the opportunity to mix with the angels - who, for one night only, let go of their halos and swapped them for horns. For one night, the beautiful women of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show in all of their angelic glory; could be as bad as they dared to. This was the unspoken truth of the after party, and if you had the fortune of being able to attend, it was not an event easily passed up.

John found himself once again surrounded by his mates, mingling with the models and his celebrity pals alike. Not once had he forgotten about the first angel he had ever laid eyes on, he didn’t even know her name but by God did he know her body. It was as though the 30-odd seconds she was before him his eyes scanned her from head to toe, every curve of her body engraved into his memory. He could remember how the light reflected off of the body shimmer she had bathed in before walking the runway, how the curve of her waist continued at the perfect degree to complete her perfectly-sized derriere. Before long, he felt the room get smaller and smaller, the air was thicker and his hearing had started to muffle. She was standing in his direct line of sight - not that it would matter if she was standing on the other side of the room, behind a crowd of people, John’s eyes would find and fixate on her.

John watched as she worked the room, obligatory pleasantries flowing from her lips as she double kissed the cheeks of men who were old enough to be her grandfather. He watched their leather-like hands wrap themselves around her lower back, too low for his liking. He watched her smile and pretend that she was comfortable, but he could see the look behind her eyes scream that she shouldn’t trust their words - that they didn’t want to just buy her a drink. Without realising, his hands started to curl around his scotch glass until he had to put it down on the table before him and excuse himself from the company of his friends and the new company they had invited to their table. Weaving his way through the crowd, eyes never leaving the side of her face, he began to make his way towards her. No plan of action, nothing to say, anything would be good enough in an attempt to rescue her from what is looking to be her own personal version of hell. As though the universe had willed it, she looked into the crowd and locked onto the gaze of the tall man who was currently striding towards her. The look on his face told everyone around them that they weren’t to get in his way, to mess with him.

Reaching her, she held her breath and waited for his next steps. Josephine didn’t know what to expect, but the handsome smile that erupted from his previously pursed lips and filled up his face had sent her heart into a frenzy. For just that moment, she chose to believe that that smile was reserved for her and only her. Reaching forward and coincidentally knocking the older man’s arm from around her waist and replacing it with his own, he leant forward and planted a loud kiss to her cheek before wrapping her in a hug that warmed her soul. Her whole body pushed into his, she was unable to see his face but she could hear his heart and it told her that she was safe.

“I’m so proud of you, babe. I reckon I'm the luckiest guy in the room to be able to call you my girlfriend” He said into her ear, loud enough for the group of older men to hear and begin to talk amongst themselves after realising they had no chance with the Danish beauty, not that she ever gave them that impression to begin with.

Pulling away from the tall man, she looked up at him and gave him her best smile, a sincere smile. She ran her hands down from his back and found his hands that were placed on her waist, lacing their fingers together and pulling him off into the crowd to the bar.

“So, boyfriend, do you have a name?” She spoke whilst picking up the vodka on the rocks - not her favourite drink but it had little to no calories and anything that had a calorie count lower than her weight, which was difficult enough to find in the first place, was a win in her eyes.

“John, but I prefer to be called your boyfriend, even if it's only for one night” John spoke back to her, looking down at the angel who had covered herself up a bit more since the last time he had the pleasure of looking at her. However, the outfit she was currently wearing still allowed John’s mind, and eyes, to wander. A secret moment shared between the two in an overcrowded room.

PART 2. (smut warning)

[jincherie]

four’s company | rapline [m]

✘ — pairing: boxer!rapline x male!reader ✘ — genre: smut!, boxer au, poly au ✘ — wc: 6.4k ✘ — rating: 18+ ✘ — warnings: minor injuries (occupational hazard kind), smut: mxm, light (accidental) voyeurism, light hand kink, baby boy reader, sub/bottom reader, dom/top members, foursome, anal sex, protected sex (don’t forget to wrap ‘em, lads and ladies!), fellatio ✘ — notes: part of a fic exchange within the ghostie network, i’m sorry it’s late!!!!! please accept my humblest apologies!!! @bangtanloverboys​ here you go!! i hope it’s not too shitty!!!

If accidentally walking in on your three crushes in a heated moment, not once, not twice, but thrice isn’t enough to capture their attention, then you don’t know what is. You’re about to find out that you’ve had their attention for a while, though.

— posted; 02.01.2021 || masterlist

For what is far from the first time tonight, you feel the weight of a certain gaze.

Well, to be more specific, it hasn’t just been one gaze you’ve felt on you tonight. More like… three. 

You know who they belong to, unfortunately. It’s the same three people that you found in an… interesting situation earlier. On that was, no doubt, not meant for outside eyes. 

Well, you say that, but you feel like that’s just because you, yourself, are mortified. To be honest, the three boxers you found locking lips and making out in the locker room didn’t seem to be all that ashamed about it.

In fact, when they caught you in the motion of fleeing, they’d had the audacity to grin about it! 

Utterly humiliating. You haven’t been able to bring your gaze anywhere near them all day. To make matters worse, you couldn’t even flee to the safety of your home or anywhere similar, because there is a match tonight and you’re needed as a qualified first aid officer. 

Which brings you to the current predicament; sitting ringside and attempting to avoid the gazes of the three boxers seated on the side adjacent. Try as you might, it’s actually a struggle to keep your eyes on the current match. It’s a rookie night, and you feel extra bad since one of the people in the ring is actually a close friend. 

Though, perhaps you should demote Jungkook from ‘close friend’ status considering he is the reason you started working here and subsequently, had the opportunity to stumble upon a certain scenario this morning. Were it not for him and his stupid, pleading puppy eyes, you wouldn’t have a particular embarrassing image burned into the back of your eyelids.

You know that despite his rookie status, Jungkook is quite a naturally talented boxer. Perhaps that is part of the reason that your brain thinks it’s okay to let your eyes stray from the match instead of watching attentively as you’re expected to. The subconscious certainty that Jungkook can handle himself seems to be your undoing, because in a moment of inattentiveness your eyes manage to reach the area you’d been trying so hard for them to avoid. 

As you’d both feared and expected, they are in fact already looking at you. Well, one of the three. It is the piercing gaze of the club's current lightweight champion, Min Yoongi, that bores a hole into you right now. The two accomplices to his side aren't joining him in drilling their eyes into you across the room for now, instead leaning into each other as though they're whispering amongst themselves. 

There's something about Yoongi's eyes, dark and piercing, that seem to always root you in place no matter where you are. His expression, as it usually tends to be, is unreadable. It's a certain kind of neutrality that graces his features, thin enough that you can tell there is something behind it but too opaque for you to be able to discern exactly what. 

You don't even realise you're trapped in his gaze until the sounding of the bell snaps you out of the spell that seemed to be cast over you. Your head whips back around and you see the referee signalling the end of the bout, and just beyond him Jungkook is standing slightly bent over as he offers a hand to his opponent on the canvas. To your alarm, it is only now that you notice the blood dribbling down the man’s face. The reasonable crowd that has gathered is still cheering (Jungkook was quick to rise as one of the fan favourites) and it’s a wonder you can hear the referee’s call above the ruckus.

“Medic!”

That’s your cue. 

x – x – x 

 “You look kind of on edge, man. Are you alright?”

You’re almost too busy staring into your coffee in a borderline dissociative state to hear Jungkook as he calls for your attention. It has to be about the thirteenth time in the past half hour, but you can’t find the energy to be ashamed about it. Mostly because all of your shame and embarrassment are focused on other areas right now.

It had happened again. 

Is it just your luck? You don’t know whether to dub it as rotten luck, because you feel it would be a bit of an insult to the boxers you’d once more found in a suggestive situation.  But considering it good luck feels kind of sleazy, because although you’re embarrassed as hell, all things considered what you walked in on wasn’t a bad view—

No, that thought is stopping there. Any further and you’ll only incriminate yourself and you’ll have to dose yourself with another fresh shot of shame. 

Realising that you still haven’t answered the concerned-looking boy sprawled in the chair to your side, you offer him a non-committal grunt. It’s the best you can do while you take another moment to form actual coherent thought. 

“I’ve never been better,” you say, and immediately Jungkook lets loose an abrupt snort.

“You look like shit, so don’t bother trying to lie. Are you having trouble sleeping again or something?”

You survey him for a moment, touched that he remembers the insomnia that had ailed you for a few months a while back. “Actually, I’ve been sleeping pretty good the past few months.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, making you squint at him in question. “Oh, I’ll bet you have, considering the things you were saying in your sleep last time I stayed over.”

You simply look at him, wondering whether he’s going to be an ass and continue.  You don’t have to wait long for an answer.

“You were all like, ‘nngh, Namjoon,’ and ‘oh, Yoongi’, and then you said something about Hoseok too but I can’t quite remember, probably because it was so x-rated that my poor baby brain banished it from my memory—”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off, gripping the plastic spoon that came with your drink painfully tight. “Shut up.”

This is most definitely not the conversation to be having in the café barely a block away from the boxing gym where the two of you frequent, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to get the hint. Actually, you’re pretty sure he got the hint and he just doesn’t care enough to heed it.

“You really ought to do something about that crush of yours, bro. There’s three of them, so there’s three times the misery if you sit on your ass instead of—”

“Jungkook,” you attempt to warn him again, glaring slightly this time. You’ve scooped some of the whipped cream off of his plate of pancakes and hold the tip of the spoon back, threatening to fling it at him should he keep talking. 

“—doing something, you know? I’ve seen them practically undress you with their eyes enough times by now that I could fill out a diary with all the incidents I’ve witnessed. Plus, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how often they ‘hurt’ themselves as an excuse to see you? I really don’t think you have much to lose, especially with an ass like yours—well, it’s nothing like the cake I’m serving, but still, it deserves some praise—ACK!”

Ah, so he has chosen death.

You discard the now-empty spoon onto a napkin, taking a long sip of your drink. It seems Jungkook has engaged his ape brain more today than usual as instead of wiping the cream off his face like any normal human would, he’s attempting to reach it with his tongue. His chances aren’t good, to be honest; though you reckon your mutual friend Jimin would be able to get it from that distance. Dude has a tongue like a lizard. 

“You have Seven Days,” you tell him, struggling not to let a smile through as the amateur boxer whines, unable to reach the cream.

“You have seven days,” he grumbles sulkily, reaching with a begrudging hand for a napkin. “Do something or I’ll expose your ass.”

You roll your eyes, ninety-nine percent sure that he’s kidding.

… 

That other one percent worries you a bit though.

x – x – x 

You take back what you decided earlier— something is definitely wrong with your luck.

“And how did you hurt your knee again?”

“I tripped on the stairs.”

Jung Hoseok, the club’s current star welterweight boxer, sits before you in your little medical office. There aren’t any matches on today, but you’re on shift because the club members are doing some of the more rigorous training; there is an important few matches coming up for a few members, and they all want to be as prepared as possible. As tends to be the occupational hazard, training can often lead to injuries that need to be immediately attended to. 

You can’t say, though, that this is the type you were expecting when you rocked up today.

Hoseok is beaming at you, all sincerity and sparkles. There’s a slight bit of dark regrowth in his hair that catches your eye as you survey him, the crimson ends sticking to his forehead lightly from sweat. He looks every bit earnest and honest as he sits in front of you, but you can’t help but suspect him just slightly.

Because you’re not sure any of the club members have ever made their way to your office for a graze that wouldn’t even phase a kindergartener.

“Well,” you say, trying to ignore what Jungkook had said barely a day or two ago that floats back into your head now. “The good news is, it’s not fatal.”

Hoseok lets out a great, dramatic huff in relief. “Oh, thank god. I was so scared this might have been the end.”

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how often they ‘hurt’ themselves as an excuse to see you?’

Is that what this is? An excuse to see you? A look spared for the man before you leads you to conclude: probably not. He’s a little too radiant to be seeking out lil’ ol’ you.

“Not this time,” you say, rummaging through your small box of mismatched bandages. Finding what you’re looking for, you turn back around and begin preparing it to place it on Hoseok’s knee. “You live to see another day.”

Hoseok shifts like he’s about to say something in response, but cuts himself off with a surprised laugh when he sees the band-aid you put on him. “Wh—you have Minions band-aids?!”

“I reserve them for special patients,” you say before you can stop yourself, promptly clamping your mouth shut a little too late. Your cheeks… you just hope the heat gathering there isn’t obvious.

Something shifts in Hoseok’s gaze as he surveys you for a moment, before hopping from the bed, testing his knee out like he’d sprained it instead of scratching it. The look is gone before you can fully decipher it and he’s back to grinning brightly once more. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll have to come back often. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.” Hoseok’s smile adopts a slightly cheeky edge as he makes his way to the door, lifting two fingers to his temple in a lazy salute. “See you later, doc!”

Then he’s gone before you can return the farewell, door closing definitively behind him and leaving the room in silence. 

Are you going crazy, or did Hoseok— one of the three boxers you’ve happened to walk in on twice now—just return your light flirting?

… God, you hope it wasn’t because of the minion band-aid.

x – x – x 

You wish that visit had been an isolated incident, but you had a repeat of it at least twice a week. Each time Hoseok would rock up grinning at your door with some other minor injury, all but demanding a minion band-aid for his troubles. You gave it to him, of course, but you still hope he doesn’t remember you as the minion band-aids guy. 

Surprisingly enough, it isn’t only Hoseok that has been cropping up more often in your day-to-day. You’ve had a few surprise encounters with Yoongi, who lately has taken to giving you a sly, unreadable look before turning away, leaving you in your own confusion. Sometimes you’ll get carried away watching him or one of the other boxers practice, and before you know it he has caught you staring red-handed and you’re forced to flee the room to escape the smug, intrigued look that slips into his eyes. 

It’s after such an occasion that you find yourself in the main locker room, attempting to multitask by looking for a box of first aid supplies hidden in the top shelves and giving your face a chance to cool down. It’s taken you so long to even find the damn box that your embarrassment has all but evaporated by now. By the time your eyes lock onto the scuffed white box peeking over the edge of the highest shelf in the corner of the room, you’re more than ready to snatch it down and escape back to the comfort of your dingy little office. 

Of course, it couldn’t ever be so easy for you. Not given your recent string of poor luck. 

You don’t consider your height to be remarkably anything, and normally you don’t have that much trouble reaching the cookie jar on the top shelf in your apartment but for some reason the shelves in this building are built to cater to giants, and try as you might you simply cannot reach. You’re literally about to abandon the last of your dignity and attempt jumping for it, when there is a light scuff on the floor from behind you and then a firm warmth pressing into your back. 

In all honesty, your brain short-circuits. For a second you think you might have even blacked out, because it takes at least three seconds for you to realise what is happening, and by that time the figure has already retreated back from your form. 

Somewhat dazed, you turn around to see one Kim Namjoon, the clubs leading middleweight champion and the third and final member of those racy scenarios you happened to walk in on oh-so long ago. In his hands is the box you’d been struggling so much to reach, and on his face is a look that somehow blends sheepishness and amusement into one attractive cocktail on his features. 

“Here you go,” he says, and for a shamefully long moment all you can do is stand and soak in the lovely timbre of his voice. By the time you snap out of it, a small smile has begun to curl on his lips. You pointedly avoid looking at the dimples that are beginning to show as a result. 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you say, trying to make it as natural as possible as you reach and take the box from his hold. “Whoever put it up there seems to have a vendetta against me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, and there’s suddenly something a little secretive about the way he’s smiling. It makes you suspicious, and once more the words Jungkook prattled into your ear a week or so ago come rattling back into your brain. 

Is this something similar to what Hoseok had done? Did Namjoon put the box on a higher shelf?

“Are you calling me short?” For some reason, that’s what comes out of your mouth. There is a slight disconnect from what you said and what Namjoon had said previously, but he seems to make the connection. He tilts his head back and a rich laugh tumbles forth. It sounds nicer than you wish to admit to yourself. 

“Never,” he finally answers, grinning. “Though, feel free to come get me next time you lose against a shelf.”

Your mouth drops open in affront, but he makes a departure too quick for you to respond. His laughter echoes down the halls and you’re left reeling in your spot.

This isn’t what you expected to happen after walking in on a few intimate situations. In fact, this is quite the opposite.

What is happening?

x – x – x 

As the weeks go by, there are several big nights and several big matches. Hoseok and Yoongi, among a few others from the gym, emerge victorious. At this point you’re not too ashamed to say that you spent the entirety of their matches watching the way their muscles rippled as they dodged, swung and wove around the ring. If the last shred of dignity still clinging to you had disappeared, then you probably would have drooled like a dog. 

 The nights tend to go by weight classes, and the next upcoming night is to showcase the middleweight boxers. While Jungkook classifies for the class, as one of the newer recruits he isn’t the first choice for the match—much to his dismay.

It is approximately a week before this big match, in which Namjoon, one of the three men who live in your head rent-free these days, is participating, that you’re woken from your sleep and called into the gym.

It’s your night off, actually, so for you to be called in there must have been a pretty serious injury. You’re proven right when you enter the building and walk into the main room.

Before you can even assess the scene, Yoongi spots you and darts on over. He has a look on his face that you don’t think he’s ever sported before, and it fills you with a feeling of dread. It seems an appropriate feeling, considering what you see when you advance further into the room, towed by the frantic blonde who’d fetched you.

“Holy shit, what the hell happened?!” You dart forward, Yoongi’s grip slipping from your wrist as you move out of his reach. 

Namjoon is seated on the floor in a squat, cradling his left hand to his chest. A grimace twists his features, eyes glistening but face clear of tears. 

To your complete and utter surprise, the familiar tenor of Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears. You didn’t know he had stayed behind to practice tonight.

“We were leaving after practicing a bit later than normal, and some assholes drove past and picked a fight. I think—I think they were members from one of the rival clubs on the other side of the city but it was kind of dark and I didn’t get a good look.”

Your brows shoot up—that’s risky behaviour on their part, if it was actually members of a rival club that did this. Judges of this particular tournament don’t look kindly on foul play.

It would make sense if it’s true, though; a lot of local clubs tend to have boxers in the middleweight range, and Namjoon has emerged from enough matches victorious that he’s actually quite a threat. 

“Let me see,” you say, holding your hands out to Namjoon for him to rest his injured one in your hold. “Jungkook, go get the big tin box with the red cross from my office. Make sure it’s the one with antiseptic and bandages.”

You don’t even need to check he’s listened, because you can hear the frantic, obedient pattering of his feet fading away in the distance as you unwrap the blood-drenched towel from the hand in your hold. Namjoon’s busted up limb takes all of your attention the second you lay eyes on it properly, your stomach filling with an unpleasant, nameless cocktail of sensations. 

“Holy shit,” you say, unable to contain your wince.  “Tell me you didn’t get this from fighting them bare-knuckle.”

Namjoon has enough capacity for humour right now that he lets out a little huff. Yoongi fills you in before Namjoon has a chance. 

“No, though I almost did.” His expression is dark, the heat of his anger reaching you even when it’s not directed your way. “They were probably drinking before coming here, since they had a few bottles they threw into the mix.”

That explains the gashes you’re seeing on Namjoon’s palm— it seems he caught one of the bottles, though you’re not sure whether it was already broken or whether it broke on impact. Thankfully, from what you can see, the gashes and lacerations aren’t too deep and shouldn’t cause lasting damage, but they’ll definitely take a while to heal, and one or two of them look like they will need stitches. 

“Alright,” you begin, sighing softly. “I’ll do what I can to fix this up for now, but you’re going to have to go to the ER, because some of these will need stitches…”

You look up, reading the expressions of everyone in attendance and knowing that they have all reached the same conclusion regarding Namjoon’s immediate fate as a boxer.

“Sorry, Namjoon,” you start, watching his features crumble ever so slightly into a look of resignation. “This isn’t going to heal in time for next week, and you definitely won’t be able to train for a while.”

It’s just as you announce that, that Jungkook returns with your box of first-aid goodies. Hoseok, who has remained surprisingly silent the whole time this conversation has gone on, takes the box from his hold and delivers it next to you. Surprising all of you, Namjoon is quick to look up and pin Jungkook with a grin.

“Well, since I can’t participate—how do you feel about making your Big Boy Boxing Debut, Jungkookie?”

Your friend is rooted to the spot in shock for a solid few moments, before he snaps out of it and an excited if slightly nervous expression filters onto his face. 

“I will defend your honour, Namjoon!” he declares, saluting stupidly. “Count on me!”

Cheesy of him, but you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips. You just hope it’s not too late-notice for him, and that Namjoon’s injuries really aren’t that serious, as you surmise.

x – x – x 

 The week passes quicker than you anticipate, and before you know it, it’s the night of the big match—Jungkook’s first big match, that is. Namjoon had done his best over the days to coach Jungkook on the particular fighting styles of the opponents he normally faces, and to everyone’s pleasant surprise, Jungkook has picked it all up with ease. 

You’re more surprised to say that you’re not even that nervous, as you sit waiting for the match to begin. Jungkook stands in one corner, his opponent from one of the more renowned rival gyms in the other. You prepare to be on standby in case either boxer is injured enough to need aid, but cross your fingers that if anything at least Jungkook will be alright. 

In the blink of an eye, the match begins and the first bout kicks off. Jungkook’s opponent is slightly stockier, likely pushing the upper limits of the weight class, and is the first to make an offensive move. The familiar sound of cushioned gloves making impact rings in the air and you find yourself tensing in your seat as you watch the two interchange blows. 

It’s pretty much neck-and-neck for a majority of the bouts. Some of them go quick, and others seem to consist of the longest three minutes of your life. Still, the match goes on, and the night is filled with the siren song of the crowd and the ring of the bell.

After a night of close-call bouts and baited breath, Jungkook finally emerges victorious. 

Ever the fan favourite, the crowd that has amassed erupt into cheers as the referee declares the end of the final bout and Jungkook is held up as the victor. With the match decided, the club members that had been watching ringside burst up and swarm around the young boxer who brought pride to the gym on his very first big match. The three boxers that usually occupy your thoughts wriggle their way up there too, and it’s Hoseok’s bright tone that pierces the ruckus of the crowd.

“Drinks at ours to celebrate our victor, Jungkookie!” he caws, rubbing Jungkook on the back in something akin to pride. “Members of King Hit Gym, we better see you all there!”

You mightn’t be a technical member, but the way you suddenly feel three sets of eyes on you tells you that you’re still more than invited. 

x – x – x

It’s three hours since the end of the match, and you’re more than a little tipsy.

You can safely say that you haven’t ever been to the house where Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi live, but you’re nothing short of impressed. It’s a three-storey townhouse, with three rooms— presumably one for each of them, though from what you’d glimpsed on the way to the bathroom earlier only one of them appears regularly lived in.

It didn’t take you long to ponder exactly why, considering the things you’ve accidentally witnessed in the past month.

Most of your time tonight was spent celebrating with Jungkook as he made the rounds and received congratulations from the rest of the club members. Music thrums through the building, bass vibrating pleasantly through your chest every time you pass the expensive speakers in the living room.

You’ve paced yourself well, all things considered. All you had to do to avoid an early night ending in blackout drunkenness was steer clear of Jungkook whenever he made his way by the kitchen to refill— he’d learnt his mixing skills from Jimin, a verified alcoholic back in the day who spent his time in university trying to throw together his own signature cocktail with the same alcohol percentage as absinthe.

So you’re relatively proud of yourself to only be a little over tipsy at this point in the night. You can’t really say the same for the rest of the club members, though— even Jungkook has reached a point where he is stumbling and giggling. Which, of course, led to the event that splattered drink all over your shirt. 

You’re wandering up the stairs now, mind occupied with everything but what you’re doing as you absentmindedly seek the bathroom to clean your shirt. You haven’t seen any of the homeowners in a while, actually, which is kind of disappointing because you’re really longing for some eye candy right about now. They disappeared about ten minutes ago, and you figured it was just to socialise or maybe grab more snacks but you haven’t paid it much thought since then, and now you’re realising they hadn’t returned to the party yet. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you pause for a moment to try and recall which room is the bathroom. There’s two of them, you remember being told, one ensuite and a main bathroom. There was also a third one on the first floor, but that was too far for you to attempt reaching it. Unable to remember which door is which, you simply decide to wing it and march on forward towards the first door to enter your line of sight. You’re pretty stable, but your head is kind of fuzzy, so your hand hovers by the wall as you walk just in case you stumble. 

Upon reaching the door in question, it takes you about a second and a half to realise the room you have reached is not the one you want, and another second for the shock to reach you.

Because, for the third time in a month, you have walked in on something you shouldn’t have. 

Except this time, you can’t seem to pull yourself away as fast as you should. 

It’s Hoseok and Namjoon tangled before you this time, in a position much more intimate than the last you’d seen. Their lips are locked, Hoseok straddling one of Namjoon’s thighs with one hand tangled in inky locks and the other rubbing over his crotch, where a prominent bulge makes itself known even to your eyes. Just when you remember that you should really be on your way, their lips break apart and Namjoon’s head tilts back, a sinful, velvet moan climbing from his throat as Hoseok leans to pepper it with kisses. It’s mesmerising, and you forget you’re even there as you watch the red-haired man’s hand climb up Namjoon’s stomach and then slip beneath the waistband of his jeans. 

You come back to yourself when you feel a familiar tightness in your own pants and a throb between your legs— of course, you’re hard. You’re too hazy-brained to even be ashamed of it right now. It does pierce through the fog, though, that you’re intruding on something you’re not meant to see. Like you’re trying to move limbs filled with lead, you start to drag your feet and turn around. 

You barely get a step in before you’re face to face with someone strikingly familiar, and your heart drops in your chest before kicking back into motion at double speed. 

“You always seem to enjoy watching, don’t you?” Yoongi’s question catches you off guard and puts you on the spot— before you can panic, though, his lips curl in a kittenish smile. “It’s alright, we already know you do, baby boy.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, stomach flipping giddily. Your eyes track it with surprising clarity as Yoongi’s hand— strong and sculpted and deliciously vascular, as you’d admired many times before— rises to caress your cheek, and he leans forward until his lips brush the sensitive skin of your earlobe.

“Why don’t you join us, this time?”

You find yourself nodding before you even realise it, but it’s definitely a decision you would make again any other day. 

You feel Yoongi smile against your ear, and then he is pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and pulling back. That same strong hand winds around your wrist and you’re tugged into the room, the door shutting behind you. The two on the bed barely bat an eye at the arrival of their third lover and an extra figure, merely smiling dazedly at the two of you. 

“Baby boy is finally gonna join us?” Hoseok asks, eyes lidded and dark to match the tousled look of his hair and clothes. His words are slightly slurred but the keenness to his gaze tells you he is still very much aware of everything he does. 

Yoongi hums in confirmation, coming up behind you to wind his arms lazily around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Mhmm. Don’t stop on our account— why don’t you give him a bit of a show to start, hm?”

Hoseok needs no further prompting, a grin all you glimpse before he is diving back to crash his lips into Namjoon’s, hand moving inside his pants and eliciting a deep, throaty groan. It makes your own cock throb in need, and almost as though he reads your mind, Yoongi's voice sounds in your ear once more. 

“You already hard, baby boy? Like what you see?”

Something about the husky quality of the boxer’s voice makes a shudder roll down your spine, a light whine slipping from your throat. Yoongi presses soft kisses to the skin of your neck as you watch the two on the bed undress each other between heated kisses. 

“Want me to touch you, baby boy?”

As though possessed, your head begins nodding before you even think to act on the urge. Yoongi requires no further prompting; he begins to kiss and suckle along the column of your neck while his hands move— one creeps up beneath your shirt to flick a thumb over your nipple, and the other slips down, down, down beneath the waistband of your pants and boxers, until that hand you admire so much is slipping around your cock and squeezing just enough to make you gasp out a moan. 

Pleasure and desire wind together to mix with the tipsy haze in your mind, and you’re more than happy to surrender yourself to the current situation. Slowly, you’re urged over to the bed, eyes still locked on the pair occupied there as Yoongi’s hand works magic on your length. You don’t even bother attempting to stem the gasps and moans tumbling forth because you know at this point it would probably be futile. 

Hoseok has now stripped Namjoon entirely and is making his way down his body with his mouth, pressing a kiss against every inch of golden skin he can reach. Namjoon is quite generously endowed, and you can’t tear your eyes away as Hoseok finally reaches the apex of his thighs and begins to lavish attention to Namjoon’s flushed cock. 

You can feel Yoongi grinding lightly against you as he strokes your own aching member, the two of you observing the show before you with rapt attention. At some point you’re rid of your shirt and the air feels cool against your flushed skin, your upper body leaning back against Yoongi contentedly. The noises spilling from Namjoon’s throat are downright sinful as Hoseok’s mouth sinks down on him with practiced ease.

It’s almost too much for you, really. Almost sensory overload. You’re urged ever so slowly to the bed, and as you sit on the plush mattress you happily oblige as Yoongi begins to undo and remove the jeans that are now uncomfortably tight. Your boxers follow soon after and then you’re joining the other two in their nudity. As though sensing the change in plans, Hoseok pulls off of Namjoon’s cock with a ‘pop’, licking his lips and ignoring the whine in protest that Namjoon lets out. “In a minute, bubs.”

Yoongi leans over to the bedside table to retrieve lube and something else you soon realise to be condoms as he tosses them on the bed between him and Hoseok. 

“Are you alright with this?”

You turn at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, eyes meeting his own— though heady and full of desire, they’re also determined. You don’t doubt that if you say no, he will stop things here.

“Yes,” you confirm, and you watch as a smile pulls over Yoongi’s face.

“Excellent. Now, lean forward, baby boy. This might be a little cold.”

Without question, you allow him to shift and bend your body as needed, knees digging into the plush bedding. Tilting your head up, you manage to meet the eyes of Namjoon, who is in a similar position to yourself, just in time for you to gasp at the sudden cold sensation at your ass. 

You’d think by now you would be used to the feeling of lube— you’re immediately distracted from that though at the sensation of Yoongi’s finger beginning to toy around your asshole. You allow yourself to relax as much as possible, turning your attention to Namjoon and Hoseok and simply enjoying the sensations Yoongi is eliciting. 

Namjoon’s hand raises, cupping your cheek and dragging down ever so gently. Hoseok catches the movement and lets out a coo, eyes boring into your own. 

“Wanna kiss him, baby boy? Go ahead, he’s good at it.”

You don’t need to be told twice, and neither does Namjoon. You find Hoseok definitely isn’t wrong as Namjoon’s lips meet your own, the kiss quickly turning heated as his mouth moves against your own. He swallows down your moans as Yoongi’s fingers begin to stretch you slowly, one by one.

You lose so much time in the hypnotic motion of bodies against your own that before you know it there is a gentle yet firm hand against your shoulder pulling you back from the man before you. 

“Ready, baby?”

You nod, and soon after hear the familiar tear of foil before the head of Yoongi’s cock is pressing against your hole. You take a deep breath in, allowing your eyes to flutter closed as he begins to press himself in and stretch you open bit by bit. The burn isn’t particularly painful tonight, and to be honest sometimes you’re partial to the sensation. 

By the time Yoongi is fully seated within you, you’re almost panting, soft moans escaping unwittingly. Through the fog of pleasure currently addling your brain, you hear similar noises in front of you and realise Namjoon must be in a similar state. Unconsciously, your hand stretches out, seeking contact, and manages to entwine with the large, warm one you identify as Namjoon’s good hand. 

As soon as Yoongi receives the green light from you, he begins to move. The sensations of him dragging against your walls are enough to almost drive you mad, especially at the slow pace he’s set. It isn’t long before he picks up though, and soon rough the slap of his hips against your ass is one of the many sinful noises echoing in the room, muffled by the loud music still booming beyond the bedroom walls. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you moan, barely coherent enough to respond to Namjoon’s seeking lips. Absently, you hear Yoongi’s soft groans and low murmured praises, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Good boy,” he all but purrs, hand caressing down your spine before finding purchase at your hips. 

Time blurs and you’re wound so tight that it isn’t long before you feel yourself approaching that edge, your hand lowering to begin stroking your own cock again in an effort to reach your high faster. It’s one deep stroke that hits you in all the right places that is your undoing, and with a cry you’re cumming hard, spots appearing behind your eyes. 

The sudden tightness around his cock has Yoongi stilling, a low, drawn out groan sounding from his throat as he joins you in your high, throbbing inside you. Your arms are a little too weak to continue holding you, but he seems to be in tune enough that he notices and his own slip around you, easing you into his embrace as he adjusts on the mattress and hums into your skin. 

Namjoon and Hoseok aren’t far behind you, the two of them reaching their own end not long after. Namjoon flops against the bed, spent and Hoseok hops up to retrieve a bin and some wipes to clean up a bit before he too flops across the mattress, smacking Namjoon’s ass as he does and eliciting a brief whine in protest. 

“Well fuck,” you hum, staring absently at the ceiling. Yoongi snorts, pulling you closer, and like they all share a hive mind you’re very suddenly in the middle of a cuddle pile as the other two join in. 

“Beats just watching, doesn’t it?” One of them queries, probably Hoseok— you’re too tired to really discern it. 

“Mhm,” you respond, basking in content. “Four’s company, I suppose.”

There are a few hums of agreement, and then comfortable silence falls over the room. You find yourself smiling as you sink into the most content sleep you’ve had in a while, in the arms of the three boxers who have nestled their way into your heart one by one 

[vnderoos]

looks like slytherin betrayal to me ✷ fred weasley

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language, underaged drinking, steamy scene word count / 5.4k

masterlist in bio ↴

MUGGLE STUDIES HAD BEEN nothing but boring that day, so it only made sense that Y/N had been so quick to leave. Well, that, and the fact that it was her last class of the day. She sucked in a deep breath as she made her way towards the Great Hall for lunch, happy to get a lungful of something other than the smell of dusty books and parchment paper, but her newfound relief didn't last long. She'd made it not even halfway down the corridor when she felt a presence pop up on either side of her.

"You're coming tonight, right, Y/N?" A voice chimed and she didn't have to look to know it was Fred Weasley, in all of his tall, red-headed glory. She glanced at him, anyways, and she pretended to roll her eyes at the sight of him. Even though he and George had been two of her least favorite people in their first years at Hogwarts, after they'd almost accidentally killed her during one of their firework shows, their persistence had won her affections over somewhere along the way. She'd never verbally admit that to them, but sometimes, she did hope that the two could see through the cracks they'd made in her reptilian demeanor.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows up at Fred, unsure as to what he was talking about, before she fixed her gaze back on where she was walking. "What's tonight?" she questioned, peeking up at George out of the corner of her eye, and he laughed.

The twins knocked their elbows against hers at the same time, on their shared wavelength, as usual, and they grinned. "It's our party, of course," they said simultaneously and Fred placed his hand on the top of her head, ruffling her hair beneath his fingertips. She shot him an annoyed look, despite the way that her cheeks tinged pink, and grabbed his forearm, flinging it away from her.

He looked amused as she reached up to fix her hair, tucking one of the strands behind her ear after she did. "Exciting," she deadpanned and Fred feigned being offended. He reached out to mess up her hair again, but she pressed her palm into his, locking their fingers in order to hold his hand at bay.

His eyebrows lifted and his lips curled into a small smile. "Not that I'm complaining, Y/L/N, but if you wanted to hold my hand, you could've just asked," he teased, nodding towards their interlocked fingers, and her cheeks turned red.

She wasted no time in ripping her hand out of his and shuffling closer to George. "I wasn't— I didn't—" she stammered, feeling the boiling beneath her cheeks, and she resorted to smacking her palms over them. "Oh, shut up," she snapped and both of the twins started to laugh. She glared at George and he only laughed harder. Willing to do anything to change the subject, she sighed. "How would I even get in, anyways?" she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest sheepishly as the flush started to wear off.

"Fortuna major," Fred hummed, throwing his arm around her shoulders and her cheeks heated right up again. She didn't fight it this time, though, as he jerked her into his side and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. In fact, it was quite nice, but she'd rather take the Killing Curse than admit it.

Though she wanted to look anywhere but Fred, she couldn't help but let her eyes flicker over to him. He was wearing that familiarly cocky grin of his and it made her heart stutter, but she ignored it. She silently cursed him and his stupid, charming smile. "What's that?" she asked, like she wasn't thinking about reaching up to the hand he'd draped around her and intertwining their fingers again.

"It's the password, darling."

Y/N's heart nearly melted at the pet name, and if she let him think he could get away with it, she knew it'd only be a matter of time before he made her putty in his fingertips. She held up a stern finger and pointed it in his direction. "Do not call me 'darling', Fred," she told him in a firm tone, like she was talking to a naughty cat, and George chuckled from beside her.

"Yeah, Freddie, no 'darling'," George reiterated, shrugging his shoulders. "She's more of a sweetie pie, I reckon," he teased and Y/N's head whipped over to him. She narrowed her eyes at him and he pretended to fight his smile, holding his hands up in surrender.

She turned her head back to Fred. "Call me sweetie pie and I will hex you, boys," she promised and they let out huffs of amusement. She figured her efforts would be in vain and 'sweetie pie' would be a nickname that would resurface eventually, but it didn't hurt to try. "Anyways, isn't it just Gryffindors? You lot hate anyone from Slytherin," she explained.

Fred only shrugged his shoulders and gave hers a squeeze. "Who could hate you, though?" he quipped with his trademark grin and she shook her head in mock annoyance, the smile tugging at her lips giving her away. "I wouldn't worry, anyways. Everyone'll have a bit of Ogden's in their system by the time you get there, anyways, so I think you'll be quite the hit," he added, his fingers rubbing her arm softly as he spoke.

She flashed a look of skepticism up at him, before she looked over at George to see if the two of them were on the same page. He was quick to dispel her worries with a small nod. "If not, everyone trusts us, anyways. We're like gods to them," he said jokingly and Y/N sputtered out a laugh. He wasn't entirely wrong. "We'll vouch for you if we need to, isn't that right, Fred?"

"That's right, George," Fred sang.

Looking between the boys one last time, taking in their sparkling doe eyes and expectant grins, she sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll come," she caved. At that, the boys laughed in unison and high-fived each other above her head.

—

Y/N looked down at her sweater as she walked up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room. She plucked at the dark red knitting, having decided to wear it for the party in order to seem less... Slytherin, she supposed. Despite being an unusual color for her to wear, the sweater was actually quite cute. She'd tucked it into a pair of high-waisted jeans, thrown on a pair of white sneakers, slipped on a few gold rings, and it looked way dressier than she'd intended.

The Fat Lady in the portrait between her and the Gryffindors crossed her arms over her chest as she watched the girl approach. She raised an eyebrow and Y/N's eyes met her own. She felt her stomach flip as their gazes connected and she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she didn't get in. She could feel her cheeks burning slightly, but she ignored it, shoving her hands into her back pockets instead. Thumbing at one of the seams, she managed a small smile. "Um, fortuna major," she said. Instead of swinging open like she normally would for the students, the Fat Lady stood still, staring down at her skeptically. She felt her nerves replace themselves with frustration and she lifted her eyebrows. "Well, what're you waiting for?" she asked. "That's the bloody password, isn't it?" she snarked, which probably wasn't the best way to go about the situations, but her quick temper tended to get the better of her.

The lady in the portrait rolled her eyes, before the portrait swung open, revealing a hole in the wall. This wasn't the first time she'd been in the Gryffindor common room, as Fred and George had snuck her in a handful of times before, but as she climbed through the wall, she realized it was much different than when she'd seen it last. Instead of being peppered with a couple of students, the room was full. Everyone was squashed together, cheeks tinted pink from the firewhisky as music thumped throughout the room. There were small, multicolored fireworks sizzling through the air in loops over everybody's heads and it wasn't hard to guess where they'd gotten them.

A lot of the students wore beads and crazy charmed accessories that she'd never seen before, but it brought a small smile to her face as she advanced through the crowd. "Hey, check it out," she heard someone yell off to her right, before he pulled out a party horn and blew it up towards the ceiling. Her eyes widened when it rained sparks from above and everyone erupted into cheering. She'd never seen anything like any of this when the Slytherins threw parties and she had an inkling that it was all the twins' doing.

Speaking of the twins, she realized she hadn't seen them anywhere. As she squeezed between two drunken students, she spotted Ginny, her fiery hair sticking out amongst everyone else. She was giggling and propped up against the sofa, with a glass of Ogden's in her hand, and Y/N felt a surge of relief. At least she knew someone. "Ginny!" she called, loud enough for her to hear over the commotion and the red headed girl turned towards her. Y/N watched as Ginny's face lit up with excitement and she pushed herself off of the couch, practically leaping towards her.

"Oh, Y/N!" Ginny's words came out in a slurred squeal. "I am so happy that you're here. George told me you were coming and that Fred was so excited to see you, and now, you're here!" she yelled enthusiastically, throwing her arms around Y/N as she stumbled into her.

Y/N laughed and hugged Ginny tightly in greeting, steadying the girl as she did it, and when she pulled away, she grabbed onto one of Ginny's elbows to make sure she didn't fall flat on her arse. "How many of those have you had, Gin?" she asked quietly, barely even registering the part she'd spilled about Fred. She'd been too worried trying to keep the girl upright.

Ginny's eyebrows furrowed at the question and she began to count on her fingers. Before she could give a proper answer, Fred and George popped up out of nowhere, giving Y/N a start. She clutched her chest as her heart hummed at the sound of her name. "Y/N!" they'd exclaimed at the same time and she let go of Ginny to give them a hug, but she gasped when the girl swayed. She jumped back to catch her, but George beat her to it.

"On second thought, I'm going to get this one off to bed. She's had more than enough, but I'll catch up in a bit," George hummed, prying the glass of firewhisky out of Ginny's fingers and handing it off to Y/N, who took it softly. "You two chat while I'm gone," he said, winking at the two of them, and he was off.

Y/N's eyebrows knit together at that and she turned back to look at Fred. She would've questioned the wink if he wasn't smiling so widely down at her. The same smile spread across her own lips when she took in the knitted hat that he was wearing, with two dangly bits framing his face. It was kind of cute—very cute, actually. "Glad you could make it," he told her and she laughed.

She held up her hand and gestured to the room around them. "Me, too, I've never seen anything like this. Slytherin parties are much less... explosive, I guess is the word," she said and Fred let out a soft chuckle.

He offered her a small shrug and a tilt of his head. "Might've been my idea to pass out all the fireworks."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised in the least," Y/N told him, and instead of saying anything else, Fred chugged what was left of the glass in his hand. It was only then that she noticed that his cheeks were tinged red from the alcohol, and he looked quite handsome, honestly. The flush complimented his complexion and brought out a sparkle in his pretty, brown eyes.

Y/N caught her heart fluttering in her chest at the mere sight of him and she wasted no time in downing the rest of Ginny's drink to ease her nerves. It was alcohol, so it basically killed off all of Ginny's germs, anyways. "Do you think I could get another? And maybe a new glass?" she asked, holding up her empty cup, and Fred nodded quickly.

He took the glass from her hand and set it down on one of the random tables around them, before he reached for her hand. "Sure, come with me," he hummed, just loud enough for her to hear, and her eyes darted to his fingers, which had wrapped themselves around her own. She blushed at the warmth of his hand around hers, thankful that he hadn't looked at her long enough to notice before he began to tug her through the crowd of Gryffindors. He pulled her towards a long table at the end of the room, which was cluttered with half-empty glasses and bottles of Ogden's Old. He let go of her hand gently and set his own glass on the surface. He popped the top off of one of the bottles of whiskey and refilled his cup, before he held the bottle over an empty one. He peeked up at Y/N out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Say when," he said.

Then, he gave the bottle a sharp tilt and the liquid came gushing out. Y/N's face flooded with heat as she watched him. "Oh, my god, stop. Stop," she rushed out and Fred began to laugh. It filled her ears just as the alcohol filled her cup, all the way to the brim, and she looked at him with wide eyes. "What the hell, Weasley?" she asked.

Fred couldn't contain his giggles as he slid it over to her. "What? You're late, Y/L/N. You've got to catch up," he stated matter-of-factly. He picked her glass up carefully and it almost sloshed over the edge, so he brought it to his lips. Fred took a small sip out of her glass and swallowed it down with ease before he registered what he was doing. He then went to hand her glass to her and her eyebrows lifted. She looked at the glass in his hand and back up at him. "Well?" he asked, confused as to what the hold up was, but then, it clicked. "Oh, sorry, I can make you a new one if that was weird. I just figured..." he trailed off, shaking his head. He went to set it back down on the table, but she placed a hand on his forearm before he could.

Fred froze in his tracks and he looked over at her. Y/N could see the color spreading over his cheeks like wildfire and something about it made her stomach flip. She'd never seen him blush before, let alone at her hand. She swallowed her heart, which was thumping its way up her throat. "No, it's fine. I'll take that one, Freddie," she said and she reached to take it out of his grasp, her own cheeks reddening as her fingers brushed softly against his.

He straightened himself up a bit when she took the cup from him and he smiled as he watched her touch it to her mouth. "I'll give you three galleons if you drink it all in one go," he challenged, and Y/N raised her eyebrows over her cup in acceptance.

She tilted her head back and began to guzzle the amber liquid down, squeezing her eyes shut as it tasted more bitter with every gulp. She only got it around halfway down before she had to quit, pulling it away from her mouth and shaking her head as she swallowed the rest of what was in her mouth. She grimaced and a bit dribbled down her chin as she stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I can't," she said. "It's too gross," she confessed in defeat.

Fred shrugged. "To be fair, I did give you a big cup," he countered and she scoffed, sloshing the liquid around in her glass.

"Clearly," she told him.  She looked down at her cup, and then back up at him, only to realize that his gaze was locked on her lips.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion and she watched as Fred's eyes blew wide. "Oh, no, I wasn't—" he started, before he cut himself off with a nervous laugh. He wiped his hand over his forehead sheepishly. "I mean, yeah, it would be nice to kiss you and all, but I'd like to think that'd I'd be a bit cooler about it, yeah? I wasn't going to try anything, I swear, you've just got some..." he trailed off when he realized he was spilling too much and her eyes were as wide as saucers. "You know what? I'll just get it," he blurted, and before she could do anything, he swiped his thumb sloppily over her chin, smearing away the trickle of firewhisky, and she blushed.

She blushed at the fact that he said it would be nice to kiss her, at the fact that he wanted to be cool about it, and at the fact that he touched her fucking face. Her cheeks were on fire, with her stomach warm to match, and she wasn't sure if it was Fred or the firewhisky she'd just downed. Either way, she couldn't help but gawk at him.

Fred's thumb lingered on her chin for a moment, their eyes locking in a moment of mutual mesmerization, and her lips parted softly. He was pretty. He was so goddamn pretty and she really wasn't sure where he got off. Part of her wished he would just grab her by the face with the hand that he was holding her chin with and plant one on her, but she would never, never tell him that. Before the moment could take her mind anywhere else, she blinked up at him. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling shy all of the sudden, and he pulled his hand off of her chin faster than she could even register it.

"Yeah." He flashed her an awkward smile and he nodded. "Um, I like your jumper," he hummed after a minute, clearing his throat, and her eyes widened. She glanced down at the red, knitted fabric and she tugged at it softly with a smile.

She hadn't thought it was anything too special, but it made her feel nice that he pointed it out. "Really?" she questioned, a bit of excitement playing in her voice, and she looked back up at him.

Fred nodding down at her with a grin. "Well, yeah," he stated. "Nothing says 'Slytherin betrayal' like a bright red sweater," he teased.

His words elicited a small laugh from her lips and she shook her head. He took on his signature cocky grin as he touched his glass to his lips once more. "Shut it, Weasley, I just wanted to impress you is all," she hummed.

At that, Fred almost choked on his drink. He sputtered out a small cough and his eyes widened as he looked at her. "Impress me?" he repeated.

Her cheeks flushed pink when she realized how it'd sounded. Granted, she really had put it on just to impress him, to try and fit in for him, but he didn't need to know that. The whole red sweater ordeal was embarrassing enough in itself. "No, no, I mean, not like that. I just meant 'impress you' like 'impress you all'—Gryffindor," she defended and she swore she'd need a whole muggle fire department to put out the flames under her cheeks.

Luckily, she'd worked her way out of that awkward exchange, but she and Fred endured a couple more as they continued to stand next to the drink table talking. Fred chugged the rest of his drink after a bit, and since she'd only taken a couple sips after he'd tried to get her to drink it all at once, she downed the rest of hers as well. Her cheeks had begun to feel a little warm and fuzzy with the bit of firewhisky on her system and her hands had started to feel somewhat tingly by then, but she was still very alert.

Her inhibitions were just significantly lowered.

"We should dance, Y/N/N," Fred suggested after a bit.

Y/N laughed softly at that. "Should we? I'm not really good at it," she admitted, her eyes trailing to the center of the room where the party was still very much alive.

Fred shrugged his shoulders. "You don't have to be good. We're all plastered anyways," he said and he reached for her hand. Y/N nodded, realizing that he was right. She really didn't have anything to lose by dancing in a common room that wasn't her own with people who were too drunk to even remember her in the morning. She met Fred's hand halfway and he smiled down at her gently as she slotted her fingers between his. She wasn't sure where the whole hand-holding thing had come from that night, as neither of the two were usually that touchy with each other, but she wasn't complaining. His hand was soft and warm, and she might've held it forever if she'd been given the chance.

With her hand in his, she let him lead her to the middle of the crowd of students, where a record player sat on top of a table, and he cranked up the dial. The music started to blare louder and the entire common room erupted into absolute chaos. Y/N's eyes went wide as Fred tugged her away, letting the two of them melt into the cluster of Gryffindors, and he looked at her dreamily. He lifted their hands, which were still intertwined, into the air, while he let his other settle on her waist. He straightened himself up with a smile, the balls on the end of his knitted hat bobbing around, and she shot him a look of amusement.

"A waltz?" she shouted over the noise music, which was entirely too punk rock to slow dance to, but to her surprise, Fred nodded his head. "To this?" she asked again, and instead of offering her a proper response right off the bat, he took the lead in their dance.

Y/N tilted her head forward in a laugh, but she stepped with him all the same, finding it rather amusing how their calculated movements contrasted with the jumping and aggressive dancing that everyone else was doing. "But of course," he said as he'd leaned in, muttering it into her ear, and when Fred lifted his arm up, she found herself spinning underneath it, and they were both laughing, then.

Everyone was throwing their arms around and shaking their heads around them to the fast-paced song while Fred danced with her on his own time. It might've been weird to watch, but with his hand on her waist and his eyes locked on her own, she didn't care. Every time he led her in their next step, the party around them faded further and further away, until it felt like they were the only two people left in the common room—which wasn't true by any means. She smiled brightly up at him, regardless, and a soft grin settled onto his lips to match. "You know, you look so beautiful tonight," he told her and even though it was quiet compared to the noise, she'd never heard him so clearly.

Y/N stopped dancing and the two of them stilled. "Fred," she said, her heart swelling in her chest when she noticed the way that his eyes had softened and the way they fluttered over her features. She saw a pink dust fall over his cheeks and her stomach tingled. "Really?" she asked hopefully.

He didn't hesitate in nodding. "Yeah, red is a great color on you," he complimented and her smile only widened. "It's a shame you've got to wear green all the time, but it makes sense, I guess."

She tilted her head at him and pulled her hand, which was still extended in the air, out of his. She set her arms on his shoulders and laced her fingers behind him instead. "And why's that?" she questioned.

His smile turned crooked and there was a glint in his eyes that made her nervous. He leaned in and touched his lips to the shell of her ear. "Well, I doubt any man would pass a test again if you were to wear a Gryffindor robe everyday," he said quietly and she could feel her heart pattering in her chest.

Heat rose beneath her cheeks and she turned her head away from him in an attempt to hide it. "How drunk are you, Weasley?" she laughed and she could feel him shrug beneath her arms.

He leaned his head against one of her forearms, which still rested on his shoulder. "Quite, but I mean it, really," he hummed and with all the butterflies he set loose in her stomach, she was surprised she wasn't floating off of the ground. He pressed his lips softly against the skin of her arm after a moment and she froze. "Can we step out for a second, actually? I need to talk to you about something," he explained.

Whatever it was sounded serious, like something that didn't need to be said when they were both under the influence—Fred significantly so—but the Ogden's kept her from saying no. Instead, she nodded and he slipped his head out from under her arms, slipping his hand around one of her own again. He pulled her back the way they'd came through the pool of Gryffindors and he led her into the boys dorm. He let go of her hand when they were safely inside and he gently shut the door behind them.

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her shoulder against the wall. "What is it, Freddie?" she asked, almost afraid of what was to come.

Fred took a deep breath. "Look, I know you're not a fan of the red and gold. To be quite truthful, I'm not wild about Slytherin, either," he started and Y/N felt a tightness in her chest. What was this? She wondered if she'd done something to upset him in the time that she'd been at the party, but when he opened his mouth again, her worries dissolved. "But ever since I met you, I've thought about nothing else," he confessed.

Any negative thought was swatted from her mind and her stomach flipped. "Wait, what?" she asked, hoping she'd heard him properly.

"Yeah. You got so mad that first day, when George and I nearly blew your head off with that firework—which we're still sorry about, by the way—but you were so stunning," Fred gushed, taking a couple of steps towards her so he could take one of her hands in his. "Why do you think I never left you alone after that?" he hummed.

There was a warmth in her body, radiating up from the hand that he held, and she looked up at him with the softest of eyes. She'd never known that Fred had felt this way about her, too. She'd spent months swallowing down the urges and shutting out the thoughts, clueless to the fact that they were plaguing him, too. "Is that why?" she almost whispered, her eyes searching his. "I'm going to be honest, I didn't like either of you at first because I thought you'd made it your sole purpose to annoy me, but you idiots grew on me. And you, Fred," she paused, pulling the hand that he had wrapped around hers towards her lips so she could press a kiss to his knuckles. "I'm really glad you didn't leave me alone," she admitted.

His eyebrows quirked upwards. "I hope you're being serious, because if you're not, you're going to regret it when I pin you against that wall," he huffed, his voice throatier than it had been a moment before, and it made her heart skip a beat.

"I'm serious, Freddie. I like you."

"You'd better."

"I do," she assured him, and that was all she had to say for him to place one of his hands on her waist, slip the other behind her head, and slam her against the wall.

Fred's lips met hers in sloppy, heated kisses and she'd barely known what had hit her until she melted into him. Her eyelids fell closed and she let her hands slip beneath his hat, sliding it up off of his head and tossing it somewhere to the side. She tangled her fingers in his shaggy, red hair, and her fingers slid through it like butter. She let out a complacent hum when his hips pressed against her own and she rolled her body against his. He took that as an opportunity to hook his hands behind her knees and lift her up off of the ground. She wrapped her legs around him as his hands slid to hold onto her ass and her lips never left his.

His fingers dug into it and she whimpered softly against his lips, tilting her head in order to kiss him better, and one of his hands started to untuck her sweater. She grabbed his hand and placed it back on her ass when she started to slip down the wall, and she made the decision to pull her sweater over her head for him. "Bloody hell," Fred muttered in awe when the sweater dropped into a pool at his feet, leaving her in a lacy, dark green bra. "Couldn't go all Gryffindor for me, I see," he teased breathlessly, his eyes staring at her chest, and she laughed.

"I'm only a house traitor on the outside," she hummed with a wink that made his stomach churn. She grabbed the fabric of his t-shirt and she bunched it up in her hands, pulling it over his head as quickly as she could without having him drop her, and she tossed it down with her sweater. "Quidditch practice does you well, Weaselbee," she complimented when he was bare-chested. His torso was taut, soft lines defining his muscles, and his skin was warm against her hands.

"I'd say the same for you, but considering you don't play quidditch, I'd guess you're just naturally this hot," he rasped and she could feel her skin prickle. One of Fred's hands lifted off of her ass once more, trailing up her spine softly until it settled on the clasp of her bra. "Can I?" he whispered, his eyes meeting hers as he asked for her permission and she nodded. He unhooked her bra in one quick motion and she shimmied out of it for him, letting it fall to the floor. She could feel him still as her torso was left completely uncovered, but just as he opened his mouth to praise her, the door clicked open.

Y/N let out a gasp of surprise but Fred was quick to drop her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her in order to cover her. Her bare breasts were pressed against his naked chest and she started at the door where George Weasley gawked at them. He stared at the two of them wide-eyed, holding up a finger in silence for a second, before he erupted into laughter. "Months. Months you two go tiptoeing around each other but get the both of you sloshed and the air is cleared in an instant," he teased, running a hand through his hair.

He didn't seem to register why the two of them were half naked, just that they were and just that they were pressed against each other. Fred stared at his brother with wide eyes. "Merlin, get out, George," he blurted.

"Alright, alright." George giggled in the doorway. "As you were, lovers," he said with a wink, before he slipped away once more.

[sugar-quilled]

ron weasley x reader

request

a/n: i slipped from the topic a little bit, pretty sure what i wrote isn't teasing, and if you'd like me to change it just tell me :)

summary: While visiting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Ron's clothes get sucked into a machine. All of them, except for his boxers.

genre: comedy and (im not sure if this counts as fluff but) fluff

word count: 1.6k

pronouns: not used

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

Diagon Alley was packed, as it always was at the start of a term. Underneath a beautifully clear sky, students were seen hurrying to purchase potion ingredients and new robes. Those that had already purchased the items on their Hogwarts list were seen crowding around a new and extremely flashy building.

The store front was painted in a shocking orange color, with a large figure standing inside a window and tipping his top hat to the surrounding crowd below. In neat, gold printing, the store was identified to be none other than Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

You entered through the door amongst other eager shoppers, and immediately heard a circus-like music, coupled with the chatter of about 50 people.

Shelves on shelves of brightly colored goods and at least 4 oddly built staircases met your eyes. Immediately to your left was a brightly colored display of candy. Your walked closer, and Fred and George Weasley popped out from a counter nearby.

"Taking a look at those nosebleed nougats are you, Y/N?"

"We've got samples over here if you like-"

"Just eat the red and you'll see the red!"

"And one bite of the other side will stop it just like that."

"And fever fudge!"

"There's only a bit of those puking pastilles left, clearly we're due for a restock, Fred."

"Well, Y/N, welcome to our shop and go enjoy yourself! Call us if you need any help and we'll be right by your side in a jiffy. Now come on, George, one kid over there looks mightily suspicious."

You smiled after the twins' backs, not even angry that they hadn't let you get a word in, when you spotted Ron Weasley taking a look at Headless Hats—now on sale for 1 galleon and 8 sickles! Your previous conversation (could you even call it a conversation?) with the twins immediately left your brain and you made your way over.

Ron had been a long time crush of yours. In fact, the two year anniversary of your feelings was yesterday, and you celebrated by having a whole-hearted sobbing fest while your friends stared awkwardly at each other and tried to console you. Not that your friendship wasn't something to be happy about, but Merlin you just wished you could hold his hand. Romantically. You didn't think Ron could ever like you, what with his being best friends with Hermione Granger who was both insanely smart and jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

"Ron! It's nice to see you!"

He immediately swung around and burst into a very toothy grin. "Y/N! It's nice to see you too! What's up?"

You smiled back. "Nothing much! Your brothers' shop is gorgeous! The, uhh, those nosebleed nougats are really fascinating. And you? How was your summer?"

Ron put a headless hat down and strode closer to you to check out a row of punching telescopes. "Quite uneventful, to be honest. But yeah this stuff they came up with? Have you seen the smart-answer quills? Blimey I'd never have to ask Hermione for help again! And those fainting fancies. Reckon Snape'll believe one of those?"

You laughed. "Are you planning to faint during a lecture? It's our N.E.W.T year, you'll need all the information you can get."

Just then, Fred and George appeared right behind you.

"Having a good conversation, Ron?" Fred said cheerfully, elbowing Ron in the ribs—"Ow, Fred leave us alone!"—"Do you two want to check out the back?"

"Just don't steal anything, Y/N," George winked.

"Unless that something is Ron's heart," Fred muttered. Or you thought he muttered. But the twins' expressions had been wiped blank so that you couldn't tell whether Fred had really said it, and Ron had busied himself in untangling two extendable ears, so whether he had blushed or hadn't, you also couldn't tell.

"Lead the way, George!" Fred chortled, and swept away.

"Alright then. Right this way, you two!"

George led you and Ron, whose mouth seemed to be clamped shut, weaving past shelves higher than you to a door at the very back of the store. A small plaque on the door said: "Weasleys Working: In Progress." He twisted open the door, and beckoned both of you in. Right in front of you was a huge lab and packaging station. You could see potions brewing to your right, and to your left, there were two witches packaging a box of puking pastilles.

"So," George started, "welcome to our work station! Y/N, you might have seen a big gray thing over there upon entrance." He pointed. You looked. "That is actually something we've just installed in and its a bit of muggle machinery. Michelle and Rosalyn over there," he nodded towards the two witches, "used to have to do all the wand work manually but this big old thing makes some parts automatic. Quite useful!"

You stared at the big metal machine. There was a sort of chute at one end, and a big pipe leading up and into the ceiling.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it, and Michelle and Rosalyn," he called, "would you mind helping me out in the main area? Fred's left to check on the upstairs, and there's too many people waiting in line for purchasing." George gave Ron a ginormous wink, and left the room. The door swung back and clicked to a close.

You walked over to the muggle machine, very aware of Ron trailing behind you.

"Blimey, that thing's big. What does it even do?"

"I don't know, it looks like something that deposits goods into this bin under it. I'm not really sure where the goods come from though."

Ron circled the massive thing twice, and the second time, he tripped over a wire. Thankfully, he managed to stand himself upright with one hand leaning on the machine.

You laughed at him, and he looked embarrassedly back with a forced chuckle.

Then there was a loud whirring noise, and as Ron turned around in fright, the thing began sucking.

You were wrong. It didn't deposit things. It took them to be deposited.

With a frantic yell and many grabs at a nearby table, Ron's clothes ripped off. The machine sent them rattling through the chute and the whirring noise came to a stop.

Well. Not all of his clothes.

Ron was left standing in a pair of heart adorned boxers. Red hearts.

He tried his best to cover himself, but seeing as he only had two hands and more than two things on display, it was quite difficult.

You realized that you were staring and quickly looked away.

Ron was carefully looking at anywhere but your face.

After quite a long time's silence, your croaked out, "nice boxers, uh... dude," while looking at the ceiling. A giggle escaped despite your attempts at keeping it in, and you were sure Ron's face now matched the color of his hair.

"If you tell this to Gred- I mean, Fred or Gor- George, I'll-" he started shakily, "I'll die."

Seeing as he wasn't threatening you and assuming this meant friendly conversation could be engaged, you stammered, "they really suit you. You know, the red and all. Although I'd suggest a green pair next time. Because of the color wheel and those two are compl-"

Ron had burst into shaky, suppressed laughter.

"Never- never mind my fashion choices, how the bloody hell am I supposed to get my clothes back?"

"Well I don't see why you want them back. I mean think of the ladies you'd get by walking down the street with this lovely attire. Maybe for accessories you can add a bit more red by eating a nosebleed nougat, I'm sure I saw a few when I entered."

Both of you were laughing now, but a yell of shock from upstairs made both of you jolt.

"Oh no, no, no," Ron muttered, darting his eyes around as if trying to find a hiding spot, "Fred's upstairs, he knows what I was wearing, oh no, no-"

The door swung open. Fred was standing in the doorway looking highly amused.

"Ron, I thought you said you'd never wear those! Aunty Muriel will be pleased her present wasn't a waste of money!" Fred exclaimed, striding into the room and circling Ron, who was shaking fiercely. "They do compliment your hair, maybe I'll have to borrow the pair one day."

You choked back a laugh, bursting a vein for sure, when Fred rounded on you.

"I didn't know you two were already on this level of your relationship. Looks like Ron here neglected to tell me some bits!" Fred said cheerfully, waving his wand so that Ron looked perfectly normal again, except that his entire face was now the same color as the hearts on the boxers underneath the normality.

"Well I daresay you two have looked around, I was up there nearly 10 minutes," Fred continued, gesturing towards the door, "and Y/N, regrettably we have no products that erase recent memories-"

"Shut up," Ron muttered, walking towards the door.

"-but the idea is certainly a brilliant one and I'll be sure to start developing it." Fred gave a hearty wink as both Ron and you had exited the room, and closed the door.

You looked at Ron. He looked back.

"Well you know I never said I wanted to erase that memory. You did look quite marvelous."

Ron laughed, though his face still looked like he supported the UK Quidditch team.

"You should really take my suggestion of that green pair, and I wouldn't mind seeing how that looks either."

Both of you doubled over in laughter.

"And," you choked, "a pair of shoes to match wouldn't hurt either, though I daresay you'd rather go barefoot? Shoes shouldn't be worn to bed, after all."

There were definitely tears coming out your eyes now, and the two of you stumbled drunkily, still shaking with laughter, out the shop and down the ever so full streets of Diagon Alley.

[rayofsunas]

valentines | diluc [3]

A/n: good evening everyone!! I know this story is kinda a slow start to things, but dw reader is actually in this chapter lol. my plan is too write one more part, which would be the finale :) let me know how you guys are liking the series so far <33 I feel like Diluc is sooooo ooc, sawwy... AND I also can’t remember if the Dawn Winery is Diluc’s home, but pretend it is for this if it isn’t- anyways, enjoy and stay safe!!

Summary: the ever so stoic diluc thought he was being secretive when sending anonymous letters and gifts to you during the week of valentine’s day but turns out everyone in mondstadt knew it was him, though thankfully had tight enough lips to not spill the beans to you. kaeya is of no help, so you go seeking answers yourself.

Parings: Diluc/Fem! Reader (for my other mini-series, there will be some gn ones!)

Warnings: valentines (yes, I’m late, shoot me), fluff, Diluc and Kaeya have a mother (the only reason this is a warning, is cause she’s a mood and I love her), swearing

Word count: 4.5k (I’m so proud and happy with this chapter :))

The letters were vague at first and you usually received them early in the morning, at first there was one. But now there was more than one letter, sometimes Cecilia flowers and even little gifts in a delicately wrapped box along with them. You assumed the writer was a serious night owl to have prepared this all and had sent them when you were asleep, leaving them as a sort of gift for you to wake up to in the morning. 

Though, originally, when you received the first handful of letters, you were creeped out, nervous for obvious reasons.

Who was this stranger sending letters of unworthy praise and admiration? Was their identity that much in danger, to have to be anonymous? And without an address as well... 

The more you read his or her letters, you learned that over four days, they were no threat. They couldn’t have been. Whoever they were, most likely was a young teen, caught in the webs of affection for the very first time, nervous to dip their toes into confrontation out of fear of being rejected. 

But the more you scanned the letters at night, reading them over like a series of detective novels, searching for any kind of clue, you realized this person was far too intelligent, smooth, and straight to the point, to be any kind of lovesick teen. That scenario, that possibility wasn’t possible in your mind. 

The only thing that made them seem like a confused teen was the fact that they sounded lost within their feelings, although straight to the point it was hard to decipher exactly what they were saying. Their words were often hidden behind a thick wall of glass; you could see them, but it was hard to grasp exactly what they were, the true meaning of it all. 

Was his or her adoration for you, really, truly love?

Was praising your skill too small of a thing to feel completely doused in love over?

You were never too sure. 

-

letter one.

I know this may seem odd, coming from a stranger. But I can assure you I am not a creep of any kind. I can’t help but say, I admire your skills in battle; you’re a force to be reckoned with. Please accept these Cecilia’s, I hope they aren’t too much nor are you allergic.

Best wishes.

This was the very first letter you received. Something you solely took for another Knight who you unknowingly, until now, of course, caught the attention of. You assumed that they were just praising you because they wished to be like you, of course, you accepted it with open arms. Praise for such a low profiled Knight felt nice.

letter two.

Hello. I realized I never specified an address for you to possibly reply to my letters with. It completely slipped my mind, my apologies. If it isn’t too much of a hassle, you could leave your letters at Barbatos’ Statue and I could do so as well. I also realized that sending letters to your home may seem... very weird and unsettling. I am sincerely sorry, my intentions weren’t to scare you. I am no creep, I can assure you we are acquaintances. Though, I would prefer to keep my identity hidden for right now. I look forward to hearing from you.

Best wishes. 

This letter was completely apologetic, its entire body and being were sincere you could tell. Yes, you would agree, the letters sent directly to your home were unsettling. But if they were an acquaintance and they had no ill intentions, you had no reason to panic. 

letter three.

I received your letter and I’m very glad to hear you’re no longer panicked or creeped out. Those were never my intentions... I appreciate your willingness to communicate with me. It’s very kind and understanding of you. Also, to answer your question, I am a man. I hope that does not disappoint you... Looking forward to your next letter. 

Best wishes.

You were happy to finally figure out more of who this anonymous person was, and knowing they were a man helped you learn more about who they could be. The list of suspects you were acquainted and or friends with, decreased significantly. You didn’t have many guy friends or acquaintances. You could only name a handful. Was he even amongst that handful? People had different meanings of friends and acquaintances after all...

letter four.

I know this may seem too early, we’ve only been properly conversing for a day or two. But, I would like to say you’re one of a kind and I found myself lost for words when writing to you. I hope you’re faring well. Please stay safe. I heard there was a pretty nasty bar fight last night that transitioned into a bloodbath in the streets. Lots of people are upset right now, politics I assume... Nonetheless, stay safe. 

Best wishes.

He was right. You weren’t cleared for such information, but you had heard talk from some of your fellow Knights that there was a pretty bad bar fight that carried out into the streets late last night. Multiple people had ended up in the dungeons, some still walked the streets whispering their opinions on an ancient conspiracy, though, you were unsure of what that exactly meant. 

Poison, sicknesses, and night terrors were a few of the most talked-about stressors for the fight. Who was to tell which ones were true though, if any. You assumed the truth was riddled in there somewhere though, it had to of been. Rumors often stemmed from an over extreme truth. 

What an unfortunate thing to hear, especially the week of Valentine's day. A week of love, already filled with a bitter hatred, not a good start. Thankfully, you had the letters, they kept you hopeful. The other person on the receiving end could also feel hopeful, so you hoped. You just hoped the situation wasn’t the start of something worse brewing.

Sadly, you weren’t cleared to investigate like you had heard Captain Kaeya was; despite how curious and nosy you were. Unfortunately, you were stuck with paperwork and training the younger Knights; you enjoyed the latter. But those were your duties this week, you couldn’t afford to stray from them. 

Hopefully, your anonymous admirer was alright and well. 

-

You hated to admit it. But over the last five days, you had become smitten. Some say, love at first sight, was impossible, a silly tale told to hopeless romantics who would believe anything. For someone who was not one of those people easy to fall in love with, truthfully, you were starting to believe the tales.

This anonymous man was so kind, well versed with words, so well versed that they moved mountains. You know for sure they had moved your heart. He wasn't willing to share a simple thing; his name. But he’d practically told you his life story, thrown it into your palms easily. Though vague, it was enough to help you understand him better and feel ultimately closer.

You’d learned he was a well-known guy, and as much as he accepted and loved the attention sometimes, it was tiring and draining the majority of the time. He’d said he was a protector of Mondstadt, someone who deeply cared for the townspeople and they're well beings. He’d make any deal, cross any sea, walk through hell with his head held high, just to protect them. He was also a brother, though never specified if he was older or younger, you assumed he was older when he said that he had a very annoying brother; only an older sibling could understand another's annoyance caused by a younger sibling. You could blame personal experience from your time around the younger Knights. You felt like an older sister to a lot of them without that older mentor figure. They weren’t all annoying, but they could share similar qualities at times when they didn't pay attention or learn paperwork completion formats.  

A name came to mind as he shared his vague life story. 

Kaeya Alberich. 

He was all of those things, except maybe for the last one. You knew Kaeya and Master Diluc were brothers, very close in age, but they weren’t blood-related, so twins were off the table; one was older than the other. Something was telling you it was the more flirtatious brother. He was the more outgoing of the two, spontaneous, he would surely be one behind the letters, right? But then wouldn’t he just approach you like normal? Hmmm. Maybe not. He did like to act mysterious, but maybe he was scared of rejection, who knows with Captain Kaeya. He was very hard to read. You couldn’t even tell half the time if he truly meant what he’d say when flirting with you or if he was just saying those things to tease you, maybe even make someone else jealous. 

You were curious, so you decided to approach him. Corner the Captain and demand an answer. He’d have to give you one, you wouldn’t leave his side. So that’s what you did, after your duties had finished around five in the afternoon, you waited outside the Knights headquarters. Hopefully, you’d catch him going in and out sometime soon, it was growing late. 

It was nearing six-thirty when you were getting ready to leave headquarters. Thinking, maybe this could wait tomorrow until you could catch the Captain at a reasonable time. But then he came strutting out of headquarters, his uncovered eye glistening with mischief, a smirk plastered on his handsome face. 

“Captain Kaeya, a word?” You interjected stepping in front of the man, stopping him from bounding down the steps deeper into the city. 

His face broke out in a grin, “Ah, Y/n! Nice to see you again, miss me did you?” 

“Not hardly, Captain.” You said, hoping you wouldn’t get in trouble for practically back-talking your superior. Your own Captain would never let you hear the end of it, the blonde man was a strict one. 

“You wound me,” The cryo user feigned pain. You could only chuckle nervously. “So, what is it you wanted to see me for?”

Your face heated up, burning like fire. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.” He said, hand going to rest sassily on his hip. 

“Are you the one writing me letters?” 

He laughed, sending waves of embarrassment through you. It shouldn’t have but now you felt stupid. Even if you held no romantic feelings for the Captain, he was way out of your league. He probably knew that. 

“Me? You flatter me!”

“No... I mean it,” You stated. “Is it you?”

His face turned serious. “Sadly, not.”

You huffed, heart, dropping to the floor. “Damn it,” You muttered, moving to sit on the stone steps of the Knights headquarters. Kaeya stayed standing, shadow blanketing over you, oddly silent. No flirtatious rebuttal, nothing, just silence. Odd. 

“You know something I don’t, I know you do.” You said, head hanging low. He laughed again. So, you were right.

“Of course, beautiful, I know a lot of things you don’t.” He taunted, eye dripping in mischief. 

“Very funny, Captain.” This wasn’t very funny, not at all. You weren’t laughing.

Suddenly, the Captain spoke up, “Speak to Diluc, I’m sure he knows, he has a very keen eye.”

Master Diluc? Wine tycoon Diluc? What did he have to do with this? He was always off doing his own thing, was it possible he knew anything at all?

“Master Diluc?”

“That’s what I said, yes.”

“You think he’d know who this person is?” You wondered. 

“Like I, he knows about lots of things, one being people.”

“Captain, I don’t like games, please just tell me.” You pleaded, eyes meeting his singular visible one. 

“When you beg, it’s cute,” He said catching you off guard. “See Diluc, he’ll know.” With that, he turned around and began walking off. 

“Wait!” You abruptly stood. “Do you know where I can find him?” 

“Dawn Winery.” You nearly froze on the spot. 

Dawn Winery? Wasn’t that Master Diluc’s residence? You possibly couldn’t, not at this hour either. Archons no...

“I’m sorry,” You hurriedly followed after the retreating figure. “I can’t possibly go there at this hour.”

“And why not?”

“Umm, Captain obvious, it seems inappropriate! People would think I’m going for other intentions!” Oh, if news got out that you went to Master Diluc’s residence late in the afternoon, and people assumed you had other intentions, this would surely be the end of you.

“But you’re not and you know that,” He said. “Are you always such a rule follower and strung up? Archons, you’re Diluc, but a girl version...” He commented.

He did have a point, but if someone saw a young woman entering the Dawn Winery of a bachelor late in the afternoon, suspicion would rise. It’s very conspicuous.

“Yes but-”

“Toodles, beautiful!” You stood still like a statue of ice, heart racing. 

“Bastard...”

-

Against better judgment, you ended up making the short walk to the Dawn Winery. You were hesitant to knock on the large doors though. Scared shitless, beyond nervous, only thinking what would others think? What would Master Diluc think? He’d probably shut the door on your face, leaving you like a frazzled idiot.

You probably stood pacing outside for fifteen minutes, before mustering up the courage to knock on the door. But you never got the chance, because you saw a woman with brown hair and a few gray strands peeking out of one of the first-floor windows. She had a small smile on her delicate face as she watched you. How long had she been there for...?

Your heart dropped the minute you’d been caught pacing, leaving you standing frozen. Eventually, the woman disappeared from the window, leaving you confused. But then the door whipped open with a gentle force and there she stood. 

She was a taller, slender woman with broad shoulders, wearing a simple dark green blouse black pants, black heeled boots with golden vine details were on her feet, making her even taller. If it weren’t for the gentle smile she gave you, she would’ve looked terrifying. 

“I saw you pacing outside for a while, I figured you’d muster up the courage to knock eventually.” She said without introduction.

Oh my... was this Master Diluc and Kaeya’s mother... She didn’t look like either of them, but who knows. You wanted to die, that’s for sure.

“I’m so sorry Miss,” You apologized. “I was just-”

“No worries!” She cheered, hands clasping tightly together. “Which one of my boys are you here for?”

So, she was their mother? Oh my... You shouldn’t have come like this, no not now. 

“Master Diluc...” You whispered nervously. Her smile only brightened, she was happy to hear that. 

“Ah I see, are his girlfriend?” Your chest wanted to explode.

“What?! No! I just, have a question for him...” You practically shrunk under her grey steel gaze and for that, began backing away from the intimidating, yet a kind woman. You were hoping to put some distance in between you two, but she moved along with you. “It’s not of importance to be here so late, I just- Kaeya sent me here and-”

“Ah I see, that one is trouble, I’m sorry you had to deal with him...” She seemed visibly distressed by the mention of the Cavalry Captain. You could relate. 

“It’s no problem, ma’am.” You reassured.

“Are you a Knight?” She suddenly asked, still no proper introduction. 

You nodded your head, her smile widened and brightened. 

“A respectable woman you are,” She praised. “And you’re beautiful? If one of my boys don’t marry you right now-” She carried on, you nearly choked on your saliva. “I’m sorry, I get carried away sometimes, I forgot to introduce myself!”

“My name is Victoria.” Finally, you thought. A name to fit her face. 

“Are you the boys' mother?” You suddenly asked. Manners, you reminded yourself. Remember to have manners and keep your curiosity to yourself. 

“Archons no!” She announced loudly, you jumped. “I’m a family friend of Diluc’s mother. You see, the boys were quite young when she passed, and they needed someone to help look after them, Master Crepus was quite a busy man. I stepped up and became a mother figure.”

“Ahh, I see,” You nodded. “I salute you for being able to help raise such gentlemen, must’ve been hard...” 

She laughed, “Not entirely, at first yes, but then it came naturally,”

“Where are my manners!” She suddenly exclaimed, grabbing your hand. “Come in! Diluc will be arriving soon, he’s out taking care of business.” With that, she dragged you into the mansion. 

The door slammed with a loud bang, and Victoria began walking through the downstairs level, almost excitedly. 

“Oh, um, thank you, ma’am.” You bowed your head in respect, watching confusedly as she disappeared into a hallway, before returning with a bottle of wine. 

“A drink?” She offered, showing off a bottle of wine, that just so happened to be the Ragnvindr’s specialty. 

“No, thank you, ma’am. I’m afraid I have an early morning tomorrow, a hangover would be a troubling start to my day.”

“Very good decision.” She praised, scrambling out of the room to look for what you assumed was a glass for her wine, leaving you once again alone. 

Glancing around the main entrance, you were left staring at very few portraits on the wall, framed maps, and personal memorabilia. One thing that stood out to you the most, a black insignia with a star and white skull, a Pirate insignia...

“A pirate insignia?” You whispered to yourself, confused. Captain Kaeya always told stories of pirates, his grandfather being one specifically. You always assumed he was lying... He wasn't. Maybe you should take back your disbelief in him. 

“That’s mine,” Victoria announced proudly, making herself known again. You jumped, startled, before turning to face the beautiful woman. She returned with a glass-like you thought she would and nearly emptied the entire wine bottle into it, cherry red contents filling to the brim.

You retract your statement about Captain Kaeya, he was still a fibber. 

“You were a pirate?” You asked, astonishment bubbling in your chest. You had so many questions for her, you secretly hoped Diluc would take even longer, just so you could listen to her stories. 

Victoria hummed, plopping onto a cherry red armchair, you still stood. 

”Badass...” You whispered to yourself, taking a seat on the nearby loveseat. 

”Thank you.” She beamed. 

“In my younger years of course. I haven’t been on a Pirate ship in a while. I haven’t seen my crew in years, either...” She reminisced. 

“You can’t be a day over thirty-five,” She smiled at your praise. “Why did you give it up? Being a Pirate, though uncertain at times, seems like loads of fun, filled with adventure.” She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. 

“The boys lost their mother around the ages of eleven or twelve and I had just returned from months at sea,” She began. “They had run away from home to get into mischief when they met me at the gates; I think they’d been cooped at home for a while, they were grieving still....”

“Kaeya was excited to see my crew return home, infatuated with our stories. He clung to me for hours, with so many questions. Diluc on the other hand was just happy to finally not be bothered by his little brother,” 

Little brother? Kaeya? Wait did that mean-

“Master Crepus found them after he’d come searching, they’d been missing for hours and he was worried for obvious reasons. He attempted to take them home, Diluc was willing, Kaeya though clung to me. So, Master Crepus offered me a slower-paced life, looking after the boys and help keep them in check,” She continued, a smile on her face. “I agreed. They looked like they had gone through a lot and needed a mother figure. I was more than happy to look after them, I’d never had kids.” She ended her story there, swishing the red contents in her cup. 

“I guess that's the answer to your question,” 

“I was busy being a mother.” You smiled. Her story was inspiring, she was filled with pride despite leaving something she enjoyed behind, you could tell.

Leaning forward in your seat, you admitted, “You’re very admirable, I admire your drive to raise the boys. You’re an amazing woman and mother.”

“Thank you,” She blushed. “There is no perfect woman, no perfect mother, but your admiration for me is very telling, you share my qualities. If I’m as amazing as you say, you’d be an equally amazing mother to your own children.” Your face warmed at her compliment. 

“I’ve never thought about having children before... But, thank you.” She nodded, raising her glass in salute, before throwing the contents into the back of her throat. 

“A young girl such as yourself, curious, strong, loyal- You should accompany me one day if I ever find myself returning to swashbuckling adventures,”

“You’d be a great second mate.” The brunette admitted, sharp eyebrows wiggling with excitement. Was she hinting, no, offering for you to join her?

“I’m flattered. But I’m not so sure it would be right of a Knight to suddenly turn into a Pirate,” You giggled, she joined in. “No offense.”

“None was taken, sweetheart! I can understand. A Pirate would never think to become a Knight,” She explained. “Two different worlds, different rules, loyalties, and such.” 

The silence was deafening, but you had so many questions for the woman. Would she ever return to swashbuckling? Had she ever had any cool encounters? Did she feel like a badass? Archons, so many questions, very little time. 

“I believe I never caught your name, how rude and selfish of me.’ What’s your name beautiful?”

“Y/n Y/l/n, ma’am.” You said proudly. 

She smiled, “A pretty name for a pretty girl.” She praised, steel-gray eyes glistening like the stars. 

The door closing loudly caught your attention immediately, you stiffened on the spot. 

Master Diluc...

“Oh!” Victoria exclaimed, standing to her feet. “Diluc has arrived, my my, we talked for a long time,” Retreating towards the door, all you could hear were her heeled boots thumping against the wooden floorboards, matching the thumps of your beating heart surely. You watched uncomfortably as she helped the wine tycoon shrug his jacket off, poking fun at him every now and then. You could see by the way he tried to brush her off that he was flustered, he still hadn't seen you though, Victoria was persistent in her pestering; a mother's love, am I right?

“Diluc,” she started, voice echoing and bouncing off into the walls, traveling into the living room. “A beautiful, intelligent woman is here to see you. She says it’s not of importance, but with a woman of her beauty and admiration, you’ll make this the most important day in your life!” With that, her boots moving could be heard again and she was suddenly in the living room, a huge smile on her face, standing behind the loveseat you were sitting uncomfortably in. 

Another pair of boots could be heard, a heavier set this time, a jingling was heard as well, maybe keys? You weren’t sure... 

“Mother-” The tall man shut his mouth immediately as soon as he’d set his eyes on your figure. “Oh,” He approached, continuously looking between Victoria and you, probably wondering what the hell was going on.

“Miss Y/n,” He bowed his head respectively, though you were confused. You should be doing that instead, he was your superior in more ways than one. Standing to your feet, nearly tripping as well, you decided to greet him the same way, remembering your manners in your starstruck state. You couldn’t tell if it was from Victoria's story or the fact that Master Diluc was standing in front of you. Probably both. “W-what’re you doing here?” Master Diluc a stuttering mess? What an uncharacteristically shocking sight...

A slap sounded throughout the room, Victoria’s hand making contact with Diluc’s shoulder, ushering him forward, that’s what it was. “Diluc stop stuttering! Why are you suddenly flustered, huh?!” She exclaimed loudly, her son just stared at her embarrassed. Face turning shades of red. You giggled to yourself quietly.

“Mother!” 

“Sorry!” Her hands waved out in front of you, various gold dangling bracelets and chains on her wrists making a jingling sound. “I should be going now,” Te brunette then turned to you, taking your hands in her slender ones. “After talking to this eye-opening Knight, I think I should write to a few of my old comrades.” You smiled happily, hands squeezing hers gently. She was staring at you with pride as a mother would to their daughter. 

“Goodnight Y/n. I hope to see you again soon,” She waved you off, moving towards the stairs. “Come find me when you’re ready to leave behind those Knightly duties and join me for a voyage at sea, I’d love to show you my ship one day.” She beamed.

You nodded, seriously considering her offer. You hoped you as well would see her again, rather sooner than later. She was great company. You loved her deafening presence, an admirable woman she was. “Good night, ma’am.”  

As soon as she was gone up the stairs, Diluc awkwardly turned to face you. 

”She asked you to join her on her voyages I see.” He stated, trying to spark conversation. You nodded, fingers fiddling.

“Ya know, I’m considering that offer. It sounds fun.” You teased with a shrug, voice filled with sincerity. 

Master Diluc sent you a soft smile, “Yes. Life at sea does sound quite tiring, but I’m sure the adventures are worth it.”

“Agreed.”

Another deafening silence, Diluc looked like he wanted to say something.

“Can I get you anything? Wine, tea, juice...”

Not that though... You couldn’t help but giggle at the last part, he blushed. 

“Maybe next time, I’d love to be graced with your mother's presence again, maybe hear a few stories.”

“I’m sure she’d love that. Mother has many to tell.” He admitted with a proud smile,

You couldn’t wait to hear those stories truthfully, so entranced. You had never faced adventures quite like Victoria, never had even considered it, now you were though. Curse Victoria and her entrancement, though not literally, you held too much admiration for the woman to ever wish ill on her. 

”So, what can I do for you?” Diluc suddenly asked.

”Oh right!” You were left flustered. So wrapped up in your conversation, you had completely forgotten what you had come here for. Archons, what the hell.

“I had a question, but-”

You paused. 

Diluc’s eyebrows raised. “Yes?” He seemed to be hanging onto your every word. He was waiting for an answer for a long time. It seems he’d have to wait even longer...

“...I seemed to have forgotten.”

[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)

@gladly-olus​ , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree , @whatishappinesswhatislove , @rrintarou , @sorenthousand , @cvsmix , @nonniechan ,

3.7.21, rayofsunas

[allthingsarmin]

Hello there, so I haven't seen a lot of your works but for what I've seen I really like it! I was wondering how would be Armin's reaction to an s/o who's even more skilled at manipulating people than he is?

Thanks and have a lovely day!

Thank you for the request! I’m sorry this took me a while to write (I came down with a horrible cold), but I hope you’re having a lovely day as well!

GN!Reader

_____________________________________________________

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin values your intelligence. Whether or not you believe you’re smart, he appreciates your insight, open-mindedness, awareness, understanding, and things alike, so he is obviously very impressed that you’re able to read people well and have them right where you want them, listening to the controlling words that smoothly roll off of your tongue and manipulating them with that seemingly innocent glimmer in your eye.

ᵔᴥᵔ Though Armin knows you’re intelligent, he thinks your manipulation works well only because you’re so cute.

ᵔᴥᵔ Look at you, so cute, right? Your mature stature, seemingly friendly nature, wide smile, kind eyes, and a soft voice you only use on others you’re manipulating. It’s enough to fool anyone as it hides your sly nature.

ᵔᴥᵔ And he’s honestly fine with you manipulating playing little jokes on your friends… like when you convinced Mikasa to give you her last piece of bread because you were just feeling so faint, your bones so feeble after you fell off and got trampled by your horse on the last mission. Of course, Mikasa can’t ignore the sadness in your eyes, the way you grab your head and say that you feel so lightheaded, the way you limp up to her to start a conversation, so obviously, she can’t deny you her last piece.

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin watches the whole situation take place and is just bewildered because how did you get someone as quiet and rigid as Mikasa to give you her last piece of food? It never worked when he did it, and he is demanding that you give him some tips.

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin also likes to have a little fun with your skills, and occasionally, you guys will tag-team a manipulation situation to have some laughs.

ᵔᴥᵔ Prepare for trouble and make it double:

ᵔᴥᵔ One time, you tried to convince Sasha that she was technically a cannibal because potatoes alarmingly share so much DNA with humans.

ᵔᴥᵔ “Sasha, look, I didn’t really want to have to tell you this, but you’re behavior is really concerning me,” you said with raised brows and a hushed tone. “The way you’re obsessed with potatoes… don’t you know that potatoes and humans share similar DNA? You’re like a cannibal. It’s frightening!” you exclaimed, shuddering and shaking your head.

ᵔᴥᵔ Sasha erupts with laughter, her mouth full of food. “Yeah right,” she snickers.

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin chimes in. “Y/n is serious, Sasha. That’s why we don’t talk with you as much anymore… I mean, we even call you the potato titan…” he trails off. And there it is. The final button has been pushed as you both walk away, giving disturbed looks to Sasha and exchanging wide grins with one another in secret, interlocking hands. For a while, neither of you saw Sasha eat a potato.

ᵔᴥᵔ Everyone views you two as a power couple. Unbelievably compelling, heroes of humanity, a force to be reckoned with, people who do what they need to and always succeed with the best possible outcome. No one doubts you two, and threats should fear you. You each can’t deny what an honor it is being with one another and working together, especially Armin who is in awe of your fervor and strength, who blushes at your beauty, and whose heart still skips a beat when you grab his hand - (but you do this because you know it makes him feel mushy on the inside). It’s funny, really, the intense atmosphere you bring to the branch, but on the inside, you two are softies who are taking up responsibilities and doing what you are lethally and dangerously good at.

ᵔᴥᵔ You wouldn’t consider yourself to be a “bad person,” but you can’t deny the fact that you love being a little smarter and more manipulative than Armin Arlert because that means you always have him under you - under your control right at the tips of your fingers. Not in a bad way of course… you just love the way that he would do anything for you, that he does whatever you ask, and makes time for you always. And of course you would do anything for him, but can’t you imagine all the things you could make him do for you or to you? Making him only want you and need you? Making him suffocate himself inside your warmth, him being so strong yet so dependent on you?

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin is maybe a tad bit jealous that you can manipulate quicker, easier, and better, but he knows he is better at strategy than you, and he is just lucky that 1. someone can take some pressure off of him. 2. is in the presence of someone so smart, witty… someone that he can learn from, gain knowledge and experience from, and someone that he can have intelligent conversations with, exchange clever jokes with, etc.

ᵔᴥᵔ However, he is a little concerned:

ᵔᴥᵔ Though Armin is strategic, powerful, and extremely useful, he is a gentleman who just happened to get caught up in a terribly hard situation. He had to put his values, dreams, and humanity aside in order to protect others, in order to manipulate enemies… This was very hard for him to do, so he is a bit concerned how you find it so easy to just ‘turn on’ your manipulation mode and are able to control people’s actions so easily and without guilt. Of course he knows you wouldn’t do anything bad, but it frightens him a little that you're this good.

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin also deals with a lot of self-doubt after being bullied and being viewed as weak and useless amongst other things, continuously having to prove himself to others who constantly overlooked his worth. He knows his worth now; he knows he is smart and cunning… but with you being so dangerously clever - a whole other level above him - he can’t deny that he is self-conscious, that he sometimes quivers out of fear and anxiety when he is in your presence. You are so good at what you do - a natural. It’s so easy for you, and he worries that he will have to yet again prove himself to others since you're the "person to go to" now.

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin trusts you - of course he does - but with feeling so weak in your presence, he can’t deny he is a little scared of you using your power over him. What if you’re just using him? As a joke? For personal gain? To get information? These thoughts run through his mind as his heart fills with insecurity.

ᵔᴥᵔ However, Armin is smart too, and he knows that someone who is a better manipulator than he is wouldn’t share their weaknesses with him, wouldn’t share their hilariously embarrassing stories with him, or their fears, dreams, doubts. He trusts your reassurances because even though you’re a master manipulator, he knows who you really are. He knows that when you’re hungry, you become agitated by the slightest sounds because your head hurts so badly, or when you’re anxious, you tend to bite the skin on your lips. He knows that your legs get shaky when you have to tend to the horses at night because you’re secretly afraid of the dark, and he knows how hard it is for you to suppress your laughter when talking to Captain Levi because he is just a little shorter than you. Armin knows you’re a badass - a devious and scheming one at that - and yeah, he can’t deny that you’re the most powerful person he’s met - but when you two are cuddling together in his small bed at night, candles lit, breathing softly, he knows it’s the real you because you’re the one who goes to him for reassurance.

ᵔᴥᵔ You’re both clinging softly to one another, Armin resting his chin on top of your head and giving you forehead kisses while you’re buried into his warm, muscular chest, taking in the distant noises of his heart beats.

“Do you think I convinced him to kill the rest of his team?” you asked, concerned.

“Of course you did, baby, didn’t you see the look on his face?” He reassures you, blue eyes lighting up, and laughing that you’d even ask a stupid question like that. Of course you convinced him… because that’s what you always do.

“Haha, yeah you’re right. He did look pretty pathetic,” you both erupt into hearty laughter. You rest easy, feeling accomplished knowing that you held back a dangerous threat yet again… and Armin takes a deep breath, feeling proud of his robust, intelligent, and manipulative partner, feeling lucky as he gets to sleep beside one of the most powerful minds in the world.

[lilxberry]

Fond Of This Dwarf - Thorin Oakenshield

Requested By: @heyitsgarnet​

Hi! I really love your writing! Could I request a Thorin x elf reader who's with the company? He's kind of an doushe to her but then she saves his ass from orcs or something and he's like "oh shit I'm in love." thank yooou! <3

This probably isn’t exactly what you were looking for but I think it’s sweet and does just a good a job. I’m so sorry it took me forever to finish your request, I really wish I could’ve done something for you sooner. Thank you so much for being patient 

Warnings: Probably a bad word somewhere lmao. I guess racism??? Angst. Fluff. Mentions of war and death. Pretty much it, I reckon.

Words: 2,331

Parings: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (x elf reader) (x female reader)

_______________

How on Middle Earth had Gandalf think adding you to a company that consisted of multiple dwarves were a good decision you’ll never quite know. You’re completely certain that the grey wizard knew of the dwarves hatred for elves, of course he knew, definitely explains the precautions he had taken when introducing you to those who you were to travel to the lonely mountain with.

Luckily, that hatred slowly dispersed as time passed during your journey. All the dwarves had eventually taken a liking to you, apart from the ever grouchy, complacently brooding Thorin Oakensheild. Even Dwalin had begun to be a more civilised dwarf towards you, for Valars’ sake!

The first one to show some form of kindness to you were Balin. Obviously, he had reason to be all sorts of rude and crude towards you because of your race but you figured he has witnessed enough hostility within his lifetime so refused to show any when truly nessicary.

Ori had been next. It took some time considering he was under the watchful eyes and influential words of his older brothers. Fílí and Kílí followed after that and before you knew it, they all began to follow suit.

Needless to say, you and Bilbo had no issues from the get-go. In fact, you were and still are joined at the hip. And Gandalf, well, he’s Gandalf. You’re not even sure he can actually hate anything.

The journey had been long and treacherous, but you were getting closer and closer each day, even with each and every hindrance and snag you faced. Running everyday for survival is outright exhausting but utterly needed, which is what you were currently partaking in.

“I spy-“

Ori was swiftly cut off with a collective groan from the company whilst you and Bilbo shared an amused look, no doubt Gandalf had a similar expression across his face at the front of the group.

“Not again, lad, for the love of Mahal, please.” Dwalin grumbled as he pressed his fingers against his forehead as if trying to sooth a forming migraine. Ori visibly deflates and sighs quietly, looking like a kicked puppy.

“No, go on, Ori. I’ll play with you.” He perked up just as quickly as he had been denied moments earlier. He beamed up towards you as he straightened out his posture.

“I spy, with my little eye, something…beginning with…T!”

“Tree.” The company’s response was almost automatic, the answer as clear as daylight.

You and Bilbo chuckled before you both turned your attention to the dwarf beside you once again looking down and ashamed. “Don’t worry, Ori. I’m sure as we get closer to the lonely mountain, we’ll find more things to spy.” Bilbo’s encouragement was so sweet that you just had to jump in and help brighten the young dwarfs sour mood also.

“Definitely. Don’t get me started about the endless possibilities for ‘I spy’ inside Erebor.” Ori smiled his widest smile towards you and the hobbit as the others chuckled. All finding amusement in your merriment of a silly childs’ game. All except one.

“You humour me how you would think I would allow you to step foot inside my mountain.”

All humour, all happiness quickly faded until there were scowling faces amongst everyone. You furrowed your shaped eyebrows and slowed to a stop and burn holes into the back of Thorins’ head. You shook your head and began to walk once more with haste, shouldering the rude dwarf as you pass him and race ahead of the company.

You wouldn’t admit it, not verbally, not so outwardly, but his words and distain towards you hurt, very much so. Even though Thorin has shown nothing but his dislike towards you, you couldn’t help to admire his strong will, his caring side that he had shown his kin, his handsome appearance-

-‘NO! Y/N, stop it!’ You scolded yourself mentally as you shook your head to rid yourself of those thoughts just as quickly as they had entered your mind once more. He didn’t like you, not your race at least. He made that more than obvious for you and everyone around you.

You sighed inwardly before slowing your strides, allowing the company to catch up to where you had stormed off. You could hear the scolding the few bold enough to do so were giving Thorin, though you knew that the probability of him actually considering of what they were saying were nought.

Someone, who you presumed to be Gandalf, cleared their throat, noting the proximity between you and the group now they have caught up to your small steps. The silence consumed the company as they all sluggishly dragged their feet as they trudged along, awkwardness surrounding each and every dwarf, once again, all except that stubborn royal pain in the jacksie.

“Out of the way, elf.” He spat the name of your kind with such distain and disgust that your heart panged with an immense pain, your chest tightened, your intake of breath quick and sharp. You felt the burning of tears build up within your eyes as he passed you gruffly but refused to let them fall.

You will NOT seem weak in front of people- no, dwarves- like him. Bilbo caught up to walk beside you and places a gentle, comforting hand on to your forearm, smiling up at you sympathetically. The rest of the walk was silent, that was until you all heard the shrill cry of an orcs horn.

_______________

Your lungs begged for air, every inch of muscle within your body burned and longed for rest. Fatigue was catching up with all of you and fast.

“We cannot run any longer, we must stand our ground!” You couldn’t tell if Dwalin was pleading or trying to be demanding with Thorin and Gandalf, all you knew was that his tone was as brass and harsh as usual.

“We can take them, of do you really have such little faith towards your company, Thorin?!” You huffed, clearly just as agitated and enraged as the others.

Thorin halted immediately and swiftly turned on his heel to face you, a deep, raging fire of hatred filled his gaze. He groaned in aggravation and drew his sword, ensuring the others quickly followed suit. You deeply exhaled through your nose and you spun yourself around to face the oncoming threat as you unshouldered you bow and raising it higher.

You withdrew an arrow from your quiver, quickly lining your body perpendicular towards the enemy and drawing the arrow back towards your cheek, staring down the length of the arrow. You exhaled as you released your firm grip and so, first blood had been drawn.

_______________

It was nearing the end of the gruelling battle but in truth, it was difficult to tell, exhaustion taking over every single one of the company. It felt as though the enemy just kept coming, multiplying as you take a singular orc down.

Blood coated you and the others, mainly that of orcs and Wargs alike, dried and cracked. As you took down yet another enemy, you heaved out a shaky breath, exhaling heavily with a slight groan.

You looked towards the others, all seemingly fairing well, all grouped together, all except, you guessed it, Thorin. Two orcs atop their Wargs brought the dwarf down on to the hard, filthy ground, defenceless, weapon astray. He crawled backwards, even that looked like such a struggle for him though.

The Wargs snarled and growled as they closed in on the drained dwarf, the orcs straddled upon their fur coated backs grinning wickedly. As quick as a whippet, you powered through your own exhaustion and pain and sprinted towards the predators closing in on their prey.

You released a cry of anger and frustration as you withdrew your elven sword from its place on your back before bringing it down on to the beasts head, emitting a pained whimper before it fell harshly against the floor, body now limp and lifeless.

The orc that once sat atop the dead creature stood from where it landed next to its Wargs’ corpse with a seething anger and charged towards you. You swiftly cut him down and turned your focus to the final orc/Warg duo all the while Thorin looked on with wide eyes and bated breath, watching you with a new found admiration.

Almost as quickly as the last, you had taken down the enemy and collapsed down to your knees, exhaustion washing over you completely. Your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you inhaled and exhaled heavily in repeat.

“Are you…okay lass?” Balin approached you cautiously as the others watched on, concern and their own tiredness evident on their faces. All you could offer in response was a single nod of your head.

Thorin snapped out of his reverie and slowly came to a stand, but before he could proceed to close the gap between the two of you, you raised to your own feet and began to walk away from the group. “We should keep moving. No doubt another pack or two is a day behind them.”

“Yes, Miss Y/N makes a valid argument. Come on.” Gandalf had gruffly agreed with the statement made from over your shoulder. And with that, the company tiredly trudged further along, leaving behind the corpses of their slain foes and the final dwarves’ disdain towards you.

_______________

“We make camp here.” Thorin’s authoritative command travelled throughout the clearing within trees and into the ears of the company. Pained grunts, relieved sighs and heavy knapsacks thudding against the ground were Thorin’s confirmation that he had been heard.

He dragged his feet as he walked over to lazily slump against the bark of a sturdy tree, exhaling heavily through his nose and closing his eyes, basking in the knowledge that he lives to see a new day. His eyes barely reopen as he scans across each and every member of the company. Or at least, nearly every member.

He luckily caught a smidge of your form disappearing past the treeline and his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Surely you were tired? You had to be from all the walking and fighting you’ve done. Why would you head off away from the others?

With a huff of air, he pushed himself from his leaning position against the sturdy trunk and headed off towards the direction you disappeared in. Thorin kept himself quiet as he walked weaved passed trees, his strides small and light footed. He came to a slight clearing which was perfectly illuminated in the moons light, a heavenly glow across the small, vacant area.

And then he spotted you.

Sat precisely in the centre of it all, eyes softly closed, eyelashes resting on your cheek ever so delicately, the light breeze brushing your hair back from your face, a face that, even though is covered by the dried and cracked crimson smears, looked fair and filled with serenity, a calmness that was affect Thorin in many ways.

He had become so entranced that he hadn’t realised that he walked out into the opening further as he stared, stared at someone who he considered the enemy for far too long, at someone who he now admired, at someone who has kindled a newfound feeling deep within him.

“Are you going to keep standing around like some lemon or are you going to join me?” the sudden sound of your voice actually caused the dwarf to jump ever so slightly, taken off guard. You peeked an eye open, finding the situation amusing at a miniscule amount.

Thorin cleared his throat and wiped his hands down his front with a tinge of nervousness before making his way over and lowering himself beside you, arms rested atop his knees. A silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable passed before he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

The simple two-word statement accompanied by his deep, gruff voice caused your eyes to widen slightly and snap your head towards the dwarf to your right. “W-what?”

“I’m sorry. For how I acted before. It wasn’t fair of me to judge you based purely off of who, or rather what, they are. I’m greatly disappointed with myself. Please forgive my ignorance.”

You were flabbergasted. THE Thorin Oakenshield, a prideful and stubborn dwarf, was apologising, hell, even begging, for your forgiveness. Thorin must’ve thought you were trying to imitate that of a fish out of water, your mouth opening and closing multiple times as you searched for the right words to proceed.

You recomposed yourself impossibly fast before flashing the sheepish, nerve wracked dwarf in royal blue and furs a kind, sweet, small smile. “It is okay, Master dwarf. It isn’t as if you had no base reason for your hatred towards my kind. Hopefully, like the rest of the company, we may put our bad blood behind us and move forward working together.”

Thorins’ sigh of relief was large and fairly loud, causing for a small giggle to pass your lips. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he flashed you the smallest, microscopic of smiles. “I’m glad. Oh, and thank you. For saving me.”

You gazed at him with such a soft and gentle expression that he was certain he could have melted at the sight. “Your most certainly welcome.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his hair covered cheek before ever so gently laying your head atop his broad shoulder. His whole body tensed at the actions before slowly unwinding, leaving him red in the face and bashfully playing with his fingers.

A peaceful, comforting silence quickly engulfed you two as you sat side by side, his arm now loosely wrapped around your waist, basking in the beautiful surrounding area. You weren’t sure how long you two had sat within each other’s embrace, but you weren’t one to rush a nice thing when it presented itself, so you continued in your contented bliss with a dwarf you had grown quite fond of. Fond of indeed.

_______________

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AAYYYYOOOO IS THIS AN UPLOAD??! 

That’s right ya dang bunch of cutie pies, I ain’t dead

My uploading is still extremely slow but I thought, since I’m close to being on top with my college work, I would finally finish this fic

It’s weird and probably makes no sense but it’s the best I can do with the amount of stress I’m enduring ‘cause of college so bare with me peeps

Anywho, I hope you enjoy reading this

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[vanchlo]

Beside

Main Masterlist / Word Count: 4.6k / Warnings: Is angst considered one? Is sadness? Excess fluff?  / Song: Beside You by 5SOS, ofc

Premise: You had been his first fan, before anybody else, arguably. Perhaps, that had been what had made it hurt the worst when he had forgotten you, amongst so many other things. How could you ever tell him that, if you were given the chance?

Pairing: Harry x Reader

“He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.”

- Unknown

You’d be lying to yourself if you said that it looked any different. Sure, the addition of the few cardboard boxes and elliptical could maybe chalk up to that. But, the lie fell away before it was even really thought when a memory was sparked by every item your eyes fell on. What was different about it was how it felt, and how it felt more than different, if there was even a word for that. You were rather sure that there were never words good enough for your feelings after everything that had happened over the years.

You hadn’t even been sure if you could make it this far. That started with the drive, the worst part being driving past his. You thought that nothing could trump that until you opened the door and the multitudes of memories came flying at you. Long ago, you had taken down the pictures tacked to cork boards and shown in frames, but somehow, they had reappeared. Thanks to your mum, you thought. It felt like knives in the back of your eyes when you saw them, reminded for the hundredth time of how much things had changed. You weren’t sure if the reminders would ever stop, seeing as how they had been coming for the last nine years. Although they had dwindled over time, according to your proximity and whereabouts, they still never ceased. They never stopped hurting, or stirred up ‘what if’s inside of you.

*

Tears streamed angrily down your cheeks as the cotton fabric of the curtains left your hands. You had checked maybe twice now, three if you were telling yourself the truth. The thing was, you hadn’t been doing a lot of that lately, but you had needed it right in that moment as his curtains remained still. Then, there were yours, yanked to the side in a blush pink crumple. The images stared back at you, making your head hurt more than it already did. You weren’t sure how that was even a possibility.

“You rang?” a voice nearly demands. “Hullo?” you still don’t know what to do or how to say it, until you do.

“I’m sorry.”

“Reckon it took ya long enough. Now, why’re you cryin’ over Maths? Don’t think it deserves that much attention, don’t you agree?” he replies, making the pages in front of you blur all the more when your bed dips from his weight. “God, remind me again why we’re takin’ Geometry t’gether when we could’ve done somethin’ easier?”

“I dunno. I thought it was your idea,” you answer sheepishly, finding his shoulder with your head.

“Beats me. Whatever helps me avoid mo’ Maths down tha road,” he suggests, and you find yourself humming along in agreement. His fingers calloused from trying to learn guitar are felt on your forearm. “What d’ya say we take a break from this t’ bake some cookies?”

“But I want to finish it now,” you protest, meeting his eyes for the first time. They’re green as ever, and softer than you predicted after the argument you had had last night.

“Ya, and yer not gonna get anythin’ done if yer upset. I think doin’ somethin’ fun, like bakin’ fer a bit will be jus’ tha trick. C’mon,” he almost cooed, shutting the textbook and then tugging on your hand. They had ended up burnt, but the both of you ignored it when you later ate them on your bed as he explained tangents, cosines, and the like.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he answered with enough confidence in his voice that you thought maybe you’d ask for some. You thought to yourself, isn’t that what you had been doing all of this time? Regardless of how many times you had asked that question, the same answer never made you feel any better. You nodded, just like every other time, assuring him you believe him, but you didn’t. How could you?

“You really won’t forget me if you make it big on the show, Harry?”

“Truth or lie, bubs?”

“Don’t tell me,” you whisper.

“‘Course not, love. How could I forget me bestest friend in tha whole wide world, huh? ‘ve known you since we were in nappies, ya don’t f’get that kind o’ rubbish,” and then, you were laughing.

Every time you’d think of that memory, you’d chide yourself for how you’d left it at that. The way that you let him leave you, but more importantly, how he let himself leave you.

*

That was one of the last times things had been so normal, and the last of burning cookies in the oven. There weren’t any more food fights in your kitchen, splashing hot, sudsy water at the other, or snapping tea towels at the other’s bum. A few weeks after the burnt cookies, you’d found the last one at the bottom of the cookie jar, amazed that any were left after his greedy hands. With an emptiness in your chest, you dropped it in the trash bin hurriedly, and escaped to your bedroom. It hadn’t been the first time, and you hoped, somehow and in some way, it would be the last.

Without knowing it, you had started a bad habit of lying to yourself, right then and there. As you stood at the window, pinning the curtains to the side in your secret S.O.S message, you waited. It wasn’t nearly as long as a few days before when your legs had ached for being there so long, but you still waited, too long. He didn’t come or pull his curtains aside. Somewhere deep inside of you, you knew that he never would come to your rescue ever again.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time that you had came home since moving out that a visit hadn’t been marred by the memory of him. Then again, when you thought hard on it, you were sure that there had never been a time where it wasn’t. Even if it had been nine years since things had changed, your eyes still strayed to his window at every visit. Sometimes, you even thought you saw his outline behind his curtains, or in the near dark, on your bed waiting for you. He never was there waiting, and unbeknownst to him, you could never help it but be waiting. It was what you had done best, and worst, for the last near decade.

It was difficult for you to remember the last time you had been home, stretching your thoughts until you figured it was last Christmas. Another one where he left you waiting, seeming as if that was the thing he was best at himself. Leaving you waiting for a text from him, but regardless of the bittersweetness, they came. On Christmas. Your birthday. Random days. The day you graduated with all of your classmates and without him. Then, when you had graduated uni, unable to stop wishing that he had been there, just like he was supposed to at all of the big moments. Most of all, when your mums told him to text you and the other way around, which you think hurt you the worst.

*

The house was quiet after a busy day cooking with your mum for a Sunday lunch. It always had confused you how so much fuss and work could be made just for a meal that lasted shy of twenty minutes. Tick tocking, the clock above the tap was the only sound in the house later that night. A mild summer heat still clung in the air outside, but you had chosen to stay in. You tried not to register the traditional disappointment on your mother’s face when she had asked you to join her to go next door for dinner. After several times of obliging, sitting at his family’s table with memories splashed all around, you found it unbearable to do it ever again. Worst of all, it made you doubt yourself when you’d remember the way your eyes gravitated towards the door, wondering if he’d walk in. It happened every time, even if you knew he was on the other side of the world at the moment. You couldn’t do it again, not just that, but so many other things.

At the memory of fingerpainting on the sliding glass door, much to your mum’s horror at your mere ages of three, you retreated to your bedroom recalling how you had insisted it was his idea. You didn’t believe him when he pulled the same thing then, and certainly you didn’t now, when a Peter Pan like scene waited before your eyes.

Your blink was long and purposeful, but no matter how many times you repeated it, it failed to do its job. It was still there when you opened your eyes, leading you to have a hard time believing them. At first, you weren’t sure if you wanted to believe them. If you were going to lie to yourself, you’d tell them that you wished it was a mirage of sorts just like all of the other times. You wishfully thought that it’ll go away with a blink, but it doesn’t.

If you weren’t lying to yourself? You’d tell them that you should be a lot of things, including wanting it to be imagined, but you couldn’t change the fact that it was not. Deep inside of yourself, you knew like black and white that you wouldn’t ever want to change it. If you thought with your brain, that’d be another story. You should be mad, but you weren’t. For once, you hoped that the good feeling would outweigh all of the bad ones for just enough time so that you could have a good visit. You had wanted that, and so much more, for so many years, more than anything at all, that it could be like old times. That dream had yet to come true, and you had buried it long ago.

Swallowing against a dry throat, you decide with your hand that you’ve been ready for years for this to happen, and the light flickers to life at your fingertips.

“Y’know, ya shouldn’t just leave yer window open. A burglar or someone dodgy like that may very well take advantage o’ it. ‘s quite dangerous.”

Were you lying to yourself right now? No, you weren’t, and so you saw how he had changed. His chocolate curls were longer now, but still cropped around his ears. More rings claimed his fingers, and so did the ink all over his observable body. Self consciously, you wondered if the little train in his noggin was running on the same tracks.

“Reckon it’s also dangerous to just help yourselves into a girl’s window,” your reply sounds anything but firm like your words had implied, but you don’t. It’s a tie between whose lips begin to curl first, but secretly you hope it’s his, so that it means you’re closer to seeing those trademark dimples. “Harry,” it falls before you have the chance to reel it back in. In succession, your name drops from his pair. The ones you had always dreamt of, and according to your mums whenever they got the chance, you had kissed once or twice when the two of you were little. You couldn’t blame yourself, if you were telling the truth.

“Ya didn’t use t’ mind it,” he defends. Only now, do you allow your eyes to stray from that face you weren’t sure was real. Your prior wish is nudged at when you realize that he’s sitting in the same spot he always had been when you found him like this. Whether it was after school, when the moon was high in the sky, or after you’d ripped the curtains to the side, it was always the end of your bed where he sat.

You can’t help it, and you say something that you’ve been trying to for too long.

“Hare, that was almost ten years ago.”

It catches him off guard, just like the words had done in your mind, unspoken for so very long. On your one hand, you could count the number of times you had seen him since he walked on to that stage. Each one was less personal and more unfulfilling than the last, and you hoped undyingly with every fiber of your being that this time wouldn’t be. For once, you didn’t want him to disappoint you, but you couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t. If you tried and if you didn’t lie, you could think of one long ago, you could think of so many. You wanted this time to be different, and at the same time, you didn’t want him to be. No, you wanted him to be him. Your Harry.

“What do you want, twerp? Why are you breaking into my childhood bedroom at nine o’clock at night?” your questioning lips deal. No matter the itch you have, you can’t get your feet to move in his direction.

The fact couldn’t be more of a truth when you hear what he says, “Mum told me ‘bout yer engagement.” Without you knowing, your feet wander across the room and away from him. On your vanity, sits the gold band with diamonds of all sizes set into it. It was the very reason you had come home, but if you were being honest with yourself, it wasn’t the only one. No, that one was sitting behind you on your bed. The biggest one of all, for so very long. “‘m sorry.”

“What could you be sorry for?” your voice is still and rather quiet, but the feelings inside of you are the least bit that.

“Loads. That I didn’t congratulate you earlier, that I didn’t know ‘til now. You should’ve told me, ‘m really happy fer you. Congratulations t’ tha both o’ you, ‘d love t’ meet tha lucky man.”

All at once, words and emotions are flying at you, and you’re unable to make sense of them. First, you want to be mad. Then, you want to be sad. Is there a middle ground or a combination?, you wonder. “Well, you don’t need to worry about it, because I’m not getting married,” it had been the third time you had said a version of these words out loud. The bloke in question, of course, your mum, and now, Harry. You hadn’t thought that this was how it would be playing out.

“What?” hasty questions are riddled in his one breath. The images pass before your eyes until you tear them from the ring, but it doesn’t make them go away. Out of sight and out of mind didn’t really work for this one, you had found, or with this one over there, either. He had been in your mind more than he had ever been in your sight, you think. “Love, why not?”

“Well, Harry, marriage doesn’t really seem to be in the cards for me. I dunno why I ever thought it had,” you confess gently, as if you need to soften the blow for him, of all people. You weren’t sure if he deserved it anymore, even.

“What d’ya mean? That’s all you could jabber ‘bout when we were kids, and teenagers too. It was all ‘bout walkin’ down tha aisle and bein’ a mum . . havin’ four bloody kids, and no less. What were tha names, again? Avery, Margot, Henley, and . .”

“Jones,” your lips decide for you. “I’m surprised you could remember all of those.”

“‘s not hard when you’d already decided our kids’ names when we were only five, bubs,” he wheezes, a nostalgic happiness dripping off of his words, likened to honey. “You’d always insisted you’d marry me one day, and not let anybody else have me.”

The tears had come and went over the last few days, and once again, they had made their fateful return. Sometimes, you had wished that he could know how many multitudes you had shed because of him. For him. At others, if you thought with your heart, you knew that he shouldn’t know. He couldn’t.

“I remember it being the other way around. You said I’d be your wife one day, I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“A truth or a lie, love?” the saying brings your actions to a halt, making your eyes freeze on the bottle of contact solution just within reach.

“Truth.”

“I was sad t’ hear you’d broken yer promise t’ me when Mum had told me you’d gotten engaged,” this time, you’re not sure if his words are imaginary or actual. The feelings bubbling inside of you, demanding to be felt and then spoken, feel quite like the latter.

It was never ‘my mum’ between the two of you, because growing up it was as if the both of you had had two mums and a dad, or for Harry, two. Since the day he went away, she had never stopped being your mum either, and she reminded you with every card and text checking up on you. Sometimes, you’d wished she would just stop, but you didn’t know how to do that. You feared not knowing how to accept that if she had even agreed, if asked. She had spent countless times stroking your hair when you found your way onto her sofa, another sob on your lips from missing her son.

“‘s it shitty o’ me t’ say ‘m tha least bit relieved?” his next words come, and you can hear the sheepish tone in them.

“No, join the club.”

“Did he cheat on you? ‘Cuz if he did, I swear t’ high heavens that I-,” you stop him when his words become unnecessary, but after the ‘stop’ you utter, your lips falter.

How do you tell him that he’s the reason? The very one that led you to end the engagement with a man that was everything you had wanted and more, and yet, he wasn’t. Because, he wasn’t the man who stands behind you now. The exact one who at one time in your lives would walk around your gardens in nappies with you and nothing else. The boy you took baths with as a child, took naps with fighting over who got the Mickey Mouse blankey and the next day who got the Scooby Doo one. Try as you might, you couldn’t find a way or a time to tell your fiancée any of that, in all of the years you had been together, or even just the other day when he wrapped the ring back in your hand with wet eyes.

If you were even able to tell Harry that, how could you ever bring yourself to tell him what you’ve been holding inside of you for all of these years? You had tried again and again to forgive him for what he had done, but each time it had failed sooner than the last. What was to say that even if he was there in front of you, that one more try would work? How could you tell your lifelong best friend who wasn’t really your best friend anymore, who hadn’t been almost longer than he had, that you had never stopped loving him, but never stopped hating him for leaving you?

“No, he didn’t cheat on me. He was perfect . . but not for me.”

“‘m really sorry ‘bout that, love. Mum had good things t’ say ‘bout him afta meetin’ him and I trusted her.”

“Harry, like you ever approved of my boyfriends when we were in school,” you argue with a smile, not realizing you’re facing him until well, you are. His lips are smiling at you until they’re not, and it’s the furthest thing from your own, too. “You never liked any of them, and always were mean to them.”

“I rememba. Only gave ‘em a hard time ‘cuz there wasn’t one who treated you good enough, like you’d deserved,” if he sees the wetness collecting on your cheeks, he doesn’t mention it. His lips don’t, but his eyes do all of the talking, and more.

“Why are you saying all of this now, Harry?” it had been years in the making and there was no stopping it now. You couldn’t lie to myself anymore. No, not with the tears in your voice could you mask another one fed to his ears.

“Truth . . or lie?”

“I’m done playing games with you, Harry! We’re bloody twenty five years old, we’re supposed to always tell the truth. You promised all those years ago that you wouldn’t lie to me, and you did just that, Harry! How could you?” you feel the words swell inside of you, and you’re past trying to figure out how to get them to stop. He stares back at you with a face devoid of any inkling of understanding, telling you what you had always known, despite the lies you’d told yourself. “You left me, Harry! You forgot about me! Y-You went on that tv show and I didn’t exist anymore. How could you do that to me? We were the bestest of friends, ever since we were babies! I cheered you on, Harry. I was your biggest fan before anybody else, listening to your made up songs on guitar before we even started school. We wrote our own songs and we had our own band, The Brunette Bunch, with you on guitar and me on the keyboard . . I always knew you were a rockstar, because you were my favorite person in the entire world, Hare. But, you were there one day, and then you were gone. My best friend never came back after that . . I couldn’t count the hundreds of times that I’d hate myself for wishing that you’d never went on that show.”

“You were never very good at sharing me from tha start,” his words are sugar, perhaps the spice, and everything nice. So many still wait inside of you, left unsaid.

“I couldn’t do it, Hare. I couldn’t marry him, because of it.”

“Bubs, you left him ‘cuz o’ me?” his astonishment is vivid in your eyes and his, as well.

“You never did do that great in Lit, trying to make out what the books were trying to say,” your attempt is measly at a laugh, but amongst the glassiness in his eyes, you see an echo of it. “Twenty years later and I still can’t help but want nobody else to marry you.”

The dimples are home again and they make the same word resound inside of you, too. His steps are quiet but they speak volumes in your skull, and in your chest.

“Seems it was yest’day ‘d find you scribblin’ ‘Mrs. Harry Styles’ over and over in yer Comp journal, ‘stead o’ practicin’ cursive.”

“Oh, I was practicing my cursive still, just the important stuff,” this time, it’s the closest thing to a real laugh you've shared in days. It’s been years and more since the last time you’d heard one spill from his own, until now.

“Sure,” he titters. The soft padding of his Vans on the carpeted floor stops, but your heart tells you that it never will. There had been a lot of never’s that took up rent in your heart for too long now, but another one seemed to be turning to dust in front of your eyes. “Could never tell you how sorry I am fer leavin’ you behind, love. Never could, but I never fo’got you. Ev’ry time I called home I asked Mum how you were and what you were doin.’ At first, I couldn’t take the truth, and Mum didn’t want me t’ know, but I told her t.’ Y’know how she’d hug you ev’ry time you saw her? That was from me, told her t’ give you a hug from me ev’ry time I called, ‘cuz I hated that I couldn’t give you one . . I know ‘s no excuse and that it wasn’t anythin’ compared t’ yers, but it hurt too much afta awhile t’ see you when I came home. I wanted things t’ be the same again, but I couldn’t, knowin’ I was to leave again. But, y’know what, I never stopped. I asked Mum each and every call ‘bout you and made sure she told me ev’rythin.’ Saw photos o’ you graduate school without me, uni too, yer fiancée, passin’ yer driver’s test, movin’ t’ London, and at last, I got t’ send her one o’ when you came t’ that concert o’ ours a few back and saw me backstage. I never fo’got you, or stopped worryin’ ‘bout you, knowin’ how bad ‘d fucked things up. Just didn’t know tha first thing t’ do or say t’ fix ‘em.”

If you were dreaming all of this, you realized, you hoped that you wouldn’t wake up for a while still. You needed this to be real for just a bit more, maybe longer. Definitely, more.

“Truth or lie, Hare?” is all that your lips can utter at this point. You think that you made the right call when his lips sing with a laugh.

“Truth. Always, bubs.”

“Can I give you that kiss I’ve been sitting on for a good ten years, now?” it had been so long since your lips had curled with happiness because of him. Within moments, it feels like mere minutes since the days with your heads resting on each other’s shoulders with textbooks and Red Vines in your laps. Not much further, walking home with scraped knees reading Dr. Seuss to each other, either.

But, when his lips touch yours, it could feel like a million miles away, too. For the first time amongst your own lies and truths, you’re telling yourself the truth when you think that you’re glad that you’re here. Cradled against his chest and with his arm around your waist, you’re at last happy where you are, because it’s finally with him beside you again.

“Can I have a truth, bubs?”

“Sure, Hare. What is it?” you yawn, your forehead nudging against the sandpaper feel of his face. Quickly, you’d realized there were so many things you had to learn about him. You couldn’t be more excited to annoy his ears with questions.

“How set are you on that ‘never gettin’ married’ thing?”

With warmed cheeks and heart, at last, just the same, your smiling lips deal an answer you’ve held for too long.

“I’m still set on not letting anybody else marry you, if that tells you anything.”

In that moment, it had been the easiest it’d ever been to let yourself tell the truth. He’d changed and so had you, but he still smelled the same and felt the same and he was your same Harry, and your heart did too. It greeted him again as his lips did the same to your own, giggles shared underneath the covers like you’d been doing for years with him beside you.