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mysweetgirl2-love · 2 years

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Result of Tina's - Steve Harrington x Reader

(a/n): SO. Uhm. Hi, again. No, I didn't die, yes this did take forever to finish, everything's fine. Life just got a little busy again LMAO.

But! I'm back, hopefully going to finish the rest of these in a timely manner, but I also have been challenged to participate in nanowrimo- and I have a whole fic idea planned already that I know is going to be "novel-length"... so, if you read my Hopper one shot and like how I wrote there, then maybe this might be exciting for you :)

If not, and you just want more of these... "quick"... one shots, I'm happy to provide!

Without further ado, here's Steve getting you out of a considerably tough situation ;-; enjoy-

Content Warnings: you're drunk, and being Billy's a creep in the beginning, but nothing happens? so do with that as you will-

Word Count: 3.6k

Prompt #11: Drunk

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The room hasn’t stopped spinning for awhile, ever since that last drink you knew you shouldn’t have topped off. But, the basketball guys hadn’t stopped with the antagonizing comments ever since the party started and you never were going to back down to any challenge they would’ve presented to you.

So, when the all-hailed Billy Hargrove claimed that Tina would’ve wasted alcohol on you because you wouldn’t finish your drink, you let his provoking get the best of you. Definitely now facing the consequences of your stubborn actions.

Everything was spinning, nauseating in both sight around sound, making the entire experience just that more awful. You also were fighting the urge to fight the nagging man beside you, infuriated he could even begin to feel entitled in spending time with you after pressuring you into drinking that excessive amount of alcohol in the first place.

“Billy, piss off…”

“Hey, Doll, I’m only here to help. You’re not doing too hot,” his bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, chills ran up your spine.

“No, I… I’ll be fine,” your hands pressing into the side of his open vest, sloppily pushing him away. His body was stagnant before you, it was truly no use. “Go… go enjoy the party.”

“What, when I can be spending time with you?” His grip tightened, you revoltingly groaned, “Not a chance…”

“God…” you gasped, like him being this close was suffocating. Arguably, it might’ve been, you almost wished the air would be squeezed from your lungs, and would cause you to faint. Unfortunately, even drunk you were too painfully aware of Billy, and the half-lidded gaze he was directing at you. “Seriously, Hargrove…”

Two days in, and he was already creating an undeniable reputation for himself. An asshole flirt jock, who loved drinking. Nothing new, but never would you think one would be so drawn to you. Not the right jock in Hawkins, at least.

“Hah, I am being serious..” he hushed, breathy and suggestive—your skin crawled at every advance he continued to make. “C’mon, I heard Tina’s parents mattress is a water bed. How fun would that be?”

“Gross!” As though a higher power willed you into sobriety, you finally shove yourself free of the tight arms against your waist and stagger back from the other’s body. “Holy shit, you’re disgusting.”

Intoxication was already beginning to fight back against your consciousness, and you didn’t waste any time in tripping away from Billy. Arguably desperate to escape any further advances he was bound to try pulling on you when everything about reality already felt so muddled for you as it was.

Breaking out from the shadows of the hallway, you tumbled back into the crowd of students who crowded the main rooms, disappearing amongst the noise and costumes—in search of help? You weren’t sure, you just knew you had to get away. Far, far away, out of the danger that was that disgusting Californian and his stupid ass constantly wearing jeans.

“Yo, wait up!” You hear the grading voice of Tommy calling after you, and you just keep pushing. Refusing to let yourself be helplessly guided back to Billy.

Not looking, regardless of the fact that you couldn’t see to begin with, there was suddenly a forceful resistance blocked your escape. Floundering, you brought forward readied fists to fight against the person, already seeing their shit-eating grin in your mind’s eye.

“Fucking hell, can’t you just take no for a fucking answer?! I’m not a fucking object—“

“Woah, woah, woah,” suddenly hands grabbed at your arms, and there was a hasty tone speaking your name in getting you to calm down, “what’re you talking about? I haven’t even seen you tonight.”

Frozen in place, you peer up to find the person before you and are surprised to not find the rat-tailed mess of a mullet above you. Instead, you found a large, brown head of hair above a forehead and darker eyes staring on in worry as the man found himself panicked to find you in your current state.

“St—Steve?”

“Harrington.”

Stiffly, or as stiff as you could be in such a woozy state, you slowly turned to face where the other, all-too familiar voice was coming from. Billy stood before his lackeys with an almost threatening stance angled in your’s and Steve’s shared direction. He made sure to eye you up and down before actually meeting Steve’s gaze, licking at the front of his teeth—and it made the action feel like a threat.

“Where’s Nancy? Shouldn’t you be with her right now?” He asked suddenly, your heart seizing at the memory of seeing the two arrive together. Billy had a good point, where WAS Nance?

Turning over your shoulder, you looked to see what Steve had to say and almost jumped when the obvious glare was narrowed in Billy’s direction. It wasn’t hard to discern what was going on here, you figured, and Steve was already getting to the bottom of it with just these simple questions.

“Why should I tell you?” He countered, and you were relieved that it sounded like Steve wasn’t planning on trying to prove anything to the blonde, “You gotta problem with us being apart?”

“No. Not that.” He nodded in the direction of your self close to Harrington, “I do have a problem with you staking claim to my date.”

What were you all, primal animals? You grimaced at the suggestive tone Billy presented in calling you ‘his date’, which was also the farthest thing from the truth. Neither of you showed up to the party together, you had barely known the guy at the start of the night.

“He—He’s drunk, Steve—“ you felt almost hysterical in wanting to explain yourself to the man above you, the one who felt like your one shot at being saved from this situation entirely.

It didn’t matter, Steve’s scowl remained on Billy and he was quickly coming to terms with what was happening here. Instinctively, Steve suddenly wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you behind him—out of Billy’s direct line of sight and replacing you before his teammates.

“See… I don’t know how much I like what’s going on here.” He began, taking a step forward to the now throughly irritated California boy. Regarding you by name, he tilted his head on its side, a menacing stance against the antagonizing group he too had been a target of. “But, the way you refer to them, on top of how they’re seemingly desperate to get away? Doesn’t… really give me the sort of ‘date’ vibe.”

Billy’s mockery had toned down at this point, and he didn’t see the outcome going his way. Maybe it was because he was too drunk to hold a fair fight, or that he knew there were other’s at this party who would desperately throw themselves at him; whatever it may be, he seemed disinterested now.

“Whatever, ‘King Steve’…” he suddenly stepped forward, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach as he loomed towards Harrington. All he did was knock shoulders with the man, going back to be a head amongst the crowd with one last comment, “You’re definitely not getting anything from a prude like them, anyway.”

It didn’t necessarily sting to hear Billy refer to you, honestly it was more so a relief that he wasn’t hooked on getting you alone after being challenged by Steve. He didn’t seem like the type to let someone confront him and get away with it. Either way, with Billy’s pushing past Steve, the rest of the boy’s fell in line, all moving to follow Billy back on his adventures of fucking around on Halloween night.

Relieved, you slouched forward and woozily leaned into the back of Steve’s shoulder. It felt like you could cry, you were so alleviated that the worst seemed to be over. Then, your brain started to fumble and your ears began to ring with the music in your background—and maybe the worst was yet to come.

“Shit…” you groaned, feeling the body against you turn and readjust you to lean into his chest. It was way more comfortable than his shoulder blade, and your weight was threatening to give out with how nice it felt to be supported.

“Jesus christ…” you could hear the frown in Steve’s voice, “how did you let this happen?”

“Mmm—Billy… he… he dared me-“

“You idiot.” Steve interrupted, not needing anymore information to know how he wanted to handle this situation, and he began readjusting your slackened stance to place your limp arm over his own shoulder and hold you up in that fashion.

Loose-lipped and losing yourself, you’re only grumbling illogical speech while Steve begins stumbling with you in his arms towards Tina’s front door. Determined to get you out of this environment, and at least to fresh air. Nothing you would ever object to, in a moment like this.

Gulping in the cold air that was clean of human sweat, free of cheap perfumes that seemed to coat every other body in that home, and pure of the burning scents of alcohol mixed with weed. Fresh and mitigating of all the pollution a high school party brought to an atmosphere.

Being freed from the suffocating walls of Tina’s Halloween Bash woke your sobriety. And you almost leaped from Steve’s side, his steadying hand keeping you from getting very far.

“Easy, easy…” he hushed, a endearing annoyance coupled in his tone, “I hate to say it, but I really thought you were better than this.”

“Don’t lie.” You gasped, steadying yourself in the night’s atmosphere, acclimating to the drastic change in surroundings. “You don’t hate saying it.”

Steve pathetically snorted, finding your dark humor to make your circumstances less drastic. He felt a pang of guilt, you being taken advantage of shouldn’t be something to laugh about just minutes after.

“Do you know what you drank?”

“That… stupid, fucking punch bowl.” You force out, clearly trying to recall how the chain of events fell into place, “He gave me a whole cup of it. You know… getting his guy’s to chant “chug”.”

Steve grimaced at the thought, and wondered if he remembered that happening earlier in the night or was he really just that caught up in the web of Nancy he felt so trapped in. The thought of Nancy was another pang in his heart, and he leveled to focus back on helping you instead.

“Here, let me take you home.” He suggested, beginning to once again position himself under your arms in preparing to move you to his car.

“Agh, shit… but I drove here—“

“And you’re sure as hell not driving back. That’s your fault for drinking,” he criticized, “hopefully you learn to let things go because of this.”

You let out an exasperated moan, rejecting his words as you tried to keep your mind from drowning back in its incoherent, intoxicated state. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know my consequences have actions!”

“…Your actions have consequences—“

“That too.” You growl, pinching along the bridge of your nose as you reflected on thinking a little more before you spoke. Regardless of your level of intoxication.

You felt yourself being leaned more into Steve suddenly, your bleary eyes scanning over the object in front of you and recognizing you were standing before his car. Harrington using one hand to fumble in the depths of his pocket to look for his keys.

Suddenly all-consuming guilt washes over you, and pushes weight on your shoulders in wanting to hold you down—not wanting to become a potential burden to your fellow classmate.

“Steve…” you feel his movements pause, you pacing yourself to find words that felt right, “Steve, you don’t… you really don’t have to do this—“

“What? Get you home safe?” He countered, the opposition clear, “Yeah, and you never had to prove anything to that dickwad. Yet here we are.”

He threw his passenger’s door open and immediately began folding you to fit past the door frame, inevitably getting you into the car’s seat. Your head fell back without any more protesting at Steve, finally giving in to the fact you maybe needed some ‘taking care’ of tonight.

The sound of your seatbelt clicked beside you, and Steve pulled on the strap to make sure you were securely fastened into the car. Safe, finally.

No words were said until he closed your door and entered from the other side of the car, all the noises were still proving to be a discombobulation for your senses—ears arguably ringing when Steve slammed his door close. You had to bring a finger up and apply pressure momentarily, eventually settling limply back in the seat.

“Hey,” Steve snapped his fingers near the same ear, your body jumping conscious at the sharp noise, “can’t go out on me yet. What’s your address.”

Bitterly, you give him the information requested as he turns the car’s ignition over and let’s the machinery hum to life. “…A please wouldn’t be unappreciated.”

“Let’s remember who’s helping who out here,” Steve retorted, you sending him a deep scowl that immediately settled when catching the smirk peeking up at the corner of his mouth. Biting at the inside of your cheek, you gave a disbelieving huff before rearing your head in the opposite direction.

The slight rumble from the car’s engine, along with the darkened familiar forest you knew to surround Hawkins, honestly made the silent drive a surreal experience. You and Steve hadn’t ever been good friends, not close at the very least. You knew him to be almost like Billy was tonight, exploitive of the girl’s at school just to get the “quickie” in whenever feeling the urge to.

You weren’t aware what had happened behind closed doors, but the Steve you knew a year ago had clearly become someone else. Here he was, going out of his way to drive you home, leaving Nancy at the party no—

“Nancy!”

Lurching forward, Steve’s foot slams on the break in alarm at your sudden announcement out of your comatose state, breathing heavily as he wide-eyed the road before you. No signs of another car in sight.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Steve is suddenly yelling, and your eyes fall to your lap at trying to jog your memory from what you were just remembering.

“Nancy.” You repeat steadily, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to muster out the question you felt necessary to be asked, “She—She’s… she’s still at the party—“

“Don’t worry about her.” Steve shot down, your attention turning back towards him and seeing the evident hurt detailing his features. “She’s got a ride.”

“Who—What?” You shook your head, “She came with you, though?”

“Jonathon showed up.”

That was a name and face you were familiar with, being the two kids decently good at photography to often be found with a camera around town—the minor difference being you didn’t know what Jonathon did with his skill, meanwhile you helped photograph for the school’s paper.

From when you both had spoken together, usually while waiting for photo’s to process in the red room, you knew Jonathon grew suddenly extremely fond of Nancy around November last year. Knowing she had also been seen around with Harrington, you thought it was a pipe dream for someone like him, but didn’t give him your harsh take on reality. His brother had just recently been found at that point, and you knew his whole family didn’t need anymore negativity after losing him in the first place.

On a similar note, who were you to judge who Jonathon pined after or not? You weren’t in a much better boat with obsessing over Nancy’s other half. Obsess is maybe too strong of a word, but since first laying eyes on ‘the hair’ Harrington himself—you couldn’t deny yourself you found him attractive. And he was in love with Nancy, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Nothing changed, clearly: Jonathon was still as single as he was a year ago, and though Nancy and Steve took maybe a month’s time not being seen at school together, around the holiday’s they too went back to normal. Maybe Nancy was found talking to Jonathon more often than she had before William Byer’s was declared missing, but there wasn’t much to think besides friendship.

Not when her and Steve would be subjecting the rest of the student body to their canoodling in the hallways. Gross.

What could’ve changed in the past four, or so, hours that resulted in Steve willingly leaving Nancy’s side. Shouldn’t she be in his passenger seat instead? …What were you doing here?

Never in your life would you have considered this outcome a possibility. Riding drunk in Steve’s passenger, him insisting on getting you home safe. The only times you both had interacted before was when you’d fight back against him and his old friends, emphasis on old, who liked teasing Jonathon. They never seemed to target you as hard, but you knew Carol had done something at one or another. Most of the student body beginning to ignore you like the plague and all, rumors of herpes? Old, run of the mill, shitty high school behavioral stuff.

Again, something had changed, and Steve no longer went after Jonathon like before. Arguably, they became… better behaved acquaintances. But, it took the edge of your interactions with Steve entirely, and it just so happened you shared a math class in your shared senior semester. It wasn’t uncommon you found yourself helping him in class, you thought that was maybe the most progress you were ever going to make with the King himself.

Wrong again—the proof displaying itself before you in the fact that Steve was lecturing you on the dangers of drinking, and seeing it through you made it home.

“…You let her go with Jonathon?” Okay. Admittedly, that was the wrong way of asking why Steve was taking your pathetically intoxicated self home instead of Little Miss Wheeler’s. But, it got your curiosity across.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, his foot easing back onto the ignition as the car resumed its steady pace down the dimly lit road. “Yeah.”

Your lips pressed together in a fine line against your face, hearing the tone of voice and not finding it one to truly befit Harrington. He wasn’t a person you would consider to be seriously hurt by these kind of things, or really you just didn’t know the guy. You didn’t know if it was from guilt or the alcohol jostling your consciousness, but you were overcome with shame and gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, then… thank you for going out of your way to do this for me…”

You closed your eyes and steadied against the headrest of your carseat, reaching your hands forward and pressing them gently into the dashboard in front of you. There was no expectation for Steve to respond in that moment, and you were content in the silence that once again befell the car’s interior. Never having turned on the radio, it was nice to hear the car smoothly driving in the direction of your home.

“…It’s really no problem.” Steve gently spoke up, you tensing in response as you held baited breath in what more he could say. “After all the help you give me in calculus? I think it’s the least I can do.”

“Hah.” You pathetically scoffed and turned in on yourself, “Please. It’s not like I know what the hell I’m doing in that class, anyway.”

“Trying to tell me you’ve been promoting my failure from the beginning?” Steve asked, a hint of laughter behind the question.

“I mean, I’m confident I can understand the concepts better than you. So, it’s more like slightly above failure.”

You felt a light nudge at the back of your arm, giggling slowly to yourself at the pressure.

“Keep your hands on the wheel, one handed is not cool. It’s not cool to be dangerous.”

“You tell the D.D. as you, yourself, can’t walk a straight line.” You hear Steve’s blinker click at a turn, the car eventually shifting in a direction that you couldn’t quite define with your eyes closed.

“Touché,” you grumble, snuggling back into the cushion of the seat, “that doesn’t change my thanks though.”

“Well, your thanks is appreciated.” Steve reassured, “Happy to help.”

It made you smile at how sincere his tone sounded, you glad he was ‘happy to help’. Not knowing where you might’ve ended up if he didn’t. Trying to push the memory of Billy’s over exertion out of your thoughts, you settle more into the chair with a light frown. Steve must’ve sensed that you were drowsily recollecting something, so he reached a hand over again and gave your forearm a reassuring squeeze.

Not entirely expecting the point of contact to be made, you lightly flinched in surprise—but made no move to brush him off. You preferred him holding onto you, it soothed you a lot more than you wanted to admit; and so it went with a silent appreciation.

“I thought I said two hands…”

“Hah, go to sleep.” Steve laughed quietly, you feeling the vehicle resume its movements with his hand still delicately remaining at your wrist. Unwavering.

It was sending you the message that this wasn’t the last time you two would be caught together in this kind of situation. Where one of you may need help, and the other would be there to BE that help. A guiding hand to make sure neither of you didn’t spiral into oblivion.

Not letting yourself get too carried away in that thought, and also just wanting to enjoy the company while it was here, your brain subsided into whispers of thoughts. Drifting consciousness as the car easily glided down whatever the hell street you had made it to by now. No stress, no worry, anxiety subdued… you enjoyed it. Your first car ride with Steve ‘the hair’, King of Hawkins High, Harrington.

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thefoxinateacup · 2 months

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Reading Recap: The Bardugo Bash

It's been quite the Leigh Bardugo year so far. I've filled my time with four of her books in the first half of 2024, and I'm sure I'll throw in another reread of Six of Crows before the year ends.

First up, back in January, I finally got my hands on the pocket version of Hell Bent. I really wanted this size so it would fit with my copy of Ninth House because I'm extra like that. It took me two weeks to devour Hell Bent which I took everywhere with me. I read it at home, at the cafe, on my lunch break at work, even on my walks to and back from work. It was impossible to put it down. After a solid first entry in the series with Ninth House, Bardugo expanded the dark fantasy parallel universe of Yale's secret societies.

I say parallel because it's wild to me to even think that the grimy and dangerous Yale of Alex Stern could possibly be the same as the light and cosy Yale of Rory Gilmore. But then again, Rory's world revolved very much around herself so who's to say she just wasn't completely oblivious to the dark deeds performed on her precious college campus. Anywho.

We meet up again with our ragtag team of supernatural investigators and shit-stirrers as they more or less willingly embark on a mission to rescue Darlington from whichever circle of hell he ended up falling into in the first book. The antagonists this time around are more demons than ghosts but keep the spooky vibe very much alive. Alex leads the charge out of a sense of duty towards Darlington, but also an irresistible sense of attraction, which the Gentleman Demon can't deny either. (Cue the countless pieces of stunning fanart hehehe.) In classic Alex fashion, whenever things can take a turn for the worse, they do, but it also allows her to learn more about her purpose and powers. No pain no gain, I guess.

In conclusion, I was hooked from the start and can hardly wait for the final installment in the series to come out, see where our dashing demon and wicked witch take us for one last ride in the dark underbelly of New Haven.

Next up, I cruised through Siege and Storm and Ruin and Rising. Ahead of the Starfury convention where I was finally going to meet Jessie and Archie, I figured it was about time I finished the original trilogy. Bardugo's writing style is so pleasant to read, I finished both books in two weeks. I already knew I liked Nikolai from the King of Scars duology and Paddy Gibson's delightful portrayal on the Shadow and Bone TV series, but boy oh boy did Siege and Storm confirm that, after the Crows obviously, Nikolai is my favourite Grishaverse character. And if I'm honest, as riveting as the plot is in Ruin and Rising, Siege and Storm is my favourite book of the original trilogy. Because it has the most Nikolai? Well yes, duh. But also the domesticity of being at the Little Palace again, even if Alina's newfound leadership and isolation brings its own challenges.

I will say that, as much as it makes sense plot-wise, Alina losing her powers after she spent so much time earning it and owning it feels a little bit disappointing, but at least now her and Mal can be equally ordinary people who live a simple but good life, in love for the rest of their days. Regardless of how it ends, it's amazing to witness the care and detail that Bardugo put into creating a fantasy world that still feels tangible. What a time to be alive!

Finally, another two weeks to savour The Familiar. My boss ordered me the pretty hardback copy with black edges straight from the US so that one was definitely a home book. (Cue Gollum voice: my precious.) The world building was very nicely done, dropping information about the historical context without it feeling like a history textbook, and introducing the special kind of magic that Luzia possesses in a very "show don't tell" way. Bardugo tried out a different point of view style, relying less on first person narrative or character specific chapters to blend the points of view of Luzia and Santangel, for the most part, creating a fuller scope of understanding for the narrative.

You could cut the tension between Luzia and Santangel, the disillusioned ancient magic wielder who takes her under his wing because he doesn't have a choice, with a knife until finally the last thread of propriety snaps, much to the enjoyment of the adult reader. Because it is, dear reader, very much a book for adults. It is full of dark magic, messy and sexy, pain and betrayal, questions of one's mortality, however the tone felt less tragic to me than the Ninth House series. Luzia takes initiative and follows her ambition, even if it might cost her everything. Luzia's rage against a world that would condemn her for merely being alive makes her all the more willing to not settle for less than she is worth. Damn be the consequences!

The 16th century Madrid depicted adds charm to the setting while also grounding it into the sinister period of the Spanish Inquisition. The background of religious persecution adds a layer of urgency to Luzia's dangerous path to greatness. It begs the question of whether she can even escape certain doom. Does she even want to? Read The Familiar to find out.

My point is: if Bardugo writes it, I will read it. Her writing style is so electrifying, it perfectly scratches the itch in me that craves great storytelling and beautiful words weaved into mind-bending sentences. And I'm looking forward to being consumed by her next masterpiece.

Bookishly yours!

#books I've read in 2024 #bookish #book review #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #hell bent #the familiar #grisha trilogy

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ladyniniane · 11 months

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Endings and beginnings

Below some musings and me being emotional on main (and I will try to stay coherent even if my skull is currently being split in two by a headache. Sorry for the typos).

Yesterday I reached 30k in my NaNoWriMo but more than that, I wrote the last words of my Fire Emblem Three Houses Fanfic La geste des preuses/Quatre guerrières (Song of the valiants/Four warriors).

(By the way if you want to read the thing, it's here or here. It's still being updated and it's good. Or so I was told ;) ).

Yes, after 1 year and 9 months working on it, I finally wrote the last words. And it ended with a character who started the story suicidal saying out loud and she wants to live and exist in the present. What a perfect way to end this.

The whole thing is certainly more than 150k long (idk how long it is really.)

It's my first time committing to a project of this scale. So that's a huge personal achievement. I remember that, when I got the idea, I told a friend: "I did something crazy". Because yes, 4 main characters, long fanfic...it was something else. I didn't imagine that I would get this long.

When I began writing it, my mental health was improving and I was starting to get in a better place. However, I still struggled with writing. I had previously finished an original project, but I still somehow lived with a hater in my head. I was afraid of failing and I doubted my ideas and my writing. I even doubted when I saw pretty stupid (IMHO) takes on Tumblr. I was like "no one will ever want to read this". (Since then, I've learned to block and ignore).

Doing it and sticking to it was the best decision I could take. It bolstered my confidence and taught me to write consistently and without worrying. Thanks to this story, I've spend many amazing moments and met amazing people (more about that later).

Here are some of the things I learned

-Write for myself and write what I want to see and be unapologetic about that. Yes it's niche and it isn't the way to be popular in fandom (not that I care about that). But it's what I like. And it's by having fun that I will create something I'm proud of.

-Screw perfectionism. It prevents you from getting things done. I'm doing this for free and on my free time. So it won't be perfect. But that's okay because even professional writers make mistakes.

-My writing style improved, I learned to properly write dialogues and to make my sentences less...wordy. I've also challenged myself into writing stuff that I didn't easily write.

I also want to thank all the people who supported me. First of all is the incredible @lilias42. Thank you for your energy, your advice and for still being there. Your FE stories are amazing and well thought, keep going!

Same goes to all the people who left kudos, votes and comments on AO3 and Wattpad. And even to those who read silently. You made it possible!

Maybe I still don't realize that it's over...because it's not! I still have many chapters to proofread!

In the future, I also want to go back to original projects. I still don't know if I want to get published or not, but I know that I've learned and progressed. And I'm sure that all this will be useful.

So what now? For the rest of the NaNo I will board the Ravka Express and write another chapter for my Shadow and Bone OC, Marya. And I will also begin a brand new project that is a sort of sequel of Four warriors! Did you think I was done with Fodlan ;)?

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2023 #ao3 #écriture #writeblr #french writeblr #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fe3h fanfic #fe3h ocs

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koizumicchi · 2 years

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Fantasia LOVE&KISS Leaflet English Translation

Fantasia LOVE&KISS Animate Limited 4P Leaflet

Draft: HoneyWorks Author: Kousaka Mari Illustration: Yamako

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T/N: Happy New Year! I decided to translate this bonus leaflet from the Animate shop.

Keep in mind that Japanese and English aren’t my first language. I never claim my translation (attempts) to be error-free. As always, if you’re going to use or reference my translations, please do not claim it as your own and credit me.

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【LIP×LIP Stage Play Commemorative Special Interview】

Interviewer: This musical was the first challenge for the both of LIP×LIP. Please tell us what you feel now that you have successfully finished the stage.

Yuujirou: That’s right. Since it was my first time performing a stage play in a musical, it was immensely difficult. There were numerous times I was completely baffled but, from the beginning until the end, I was able to practice in a harmonious ambience, so I was able to challenge the actual performances without being nervous. My co-actors and every staff, were a great help, and above all, it was thanks to the warm guidance of Ookido-sensei.

Aizou: Really, it was extremely difficult in a lot of ways. Particularly my partner’s... Ouch! Or rather than harmoniously, the enthusiasm of Ookido-sensei, the director, was so strong that I was a little overwhelmed by his commitment to the stage; at first, I was worried though whether I would be able to do it and keep up. Nonetheless, Inogawa Rino-san, who plays the role of the princess, including Kurashita Aoi-san, who plays the role of her younger sister, and with the help of all my co-actors, I am grateful that I managed to overcome it!

Yuujirou: Aizou had an intensive training in acting and dancing with Inogawa-san and Kurashita-san, right.

Aizou: After all, it’s a stage play created by all of us, right? They taught me and I learned things about acting that I did not know. On the contrary, I taught them how to dance. It was a lot of fun exchanging ideas about how to make the act more interesting. I was thrilled and I want to show it as soon as possible to everyone who is looking forward to the stage play. Things like, this is what makes the play fun and interesting. I learned a lot... Even in my dialogues with Yuujirou, I put in a fair amount of ad-libs. (laughs)

Yuujirou: Yes, like the scene in the dungeon (laughs). And the scenes after wandering aimlessly alone, sitting on the bed, and destroying things.

Aizou: It’s an amusing scene in the actual performance, right?

Yuujirou: It was, but it must have been difficult for the stagehands, right?

Aizou: I think they really had a hard time. But they were all, “We’ll show you how serious we, in-charge of the backstage work, are!”. They came up with a mechanism that only the middle part caves in so it looked like it was broken. That’s why, that scene was a lot of fun to do!

Yuujirou: It was only in senshuuraku (final performance) that it was so flashy in how it breaks; it made a very loud sound and I was so surprised that I looked at it twice, but what happened to it?

Aizou: That was...they thought because today was the last....they dove as hard as they could and it collapsed. The wooden portion broke with a snap... And afterwards, they were like, “You, you’ve done your best!” and were crying while tightly grasping the fragments of the broken bed... I almost cried, too. It endured well until the last day.

Yuujirou: Huh, I wanted to try it once, too. I couldn’t do it thanks to you.

Interviewer: What was the hardest part of this stage play?

Aizou: I want to say everything but, for me, I think it’s definitely the singing part. There is a scene where I sing along with the organ played by Yuujirou. I didn’t quite pass the singing lessons. And, it is also said that the song was not easy to sing. I trained extremely hard. Because it would be embarrassing if people thought I’m horrible at it (laughs). Thanks to that, I gained confidence and I’ve come to believe that there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. I felt pleased. I think that’s the part where I felt I grew the most.

Yuujirou: As for me...ah, yes. There is a scene where I am riding a horse. Because it was bigger than I imagined and it was made realistically, it was a bit difficult for me.

Aizou: I lifted Yuujirou up and helped him get on the horse. Like, here you go.

Yuujirou: Yes. But, I couldn’t quite get on it properly. I feel like I was going to fall off every once in a while (laughs).

Aizou: Now that you mentioned it, is Yuujirou not very good at modes of transportion? Shinkansen (bullet trains), planes, and you sleep quite a lot in a moving car, too. And even if I talk to you, you won’t respond to me at all.

Yuujirou: Well. I guess I’m not good at it. And, I get intoxicated easily. Ignoring Aizou when he talks to me, though, is a usual thing.

Aizou: Why are you ignoring me. And to think, I’m talking about something important here.

Yuujirou: People are sleeping and yet, he asks me things like, “Hey, the ice cream is coming over. What are we going to do!?”

Aizou: If I only ordered for coffee, he asks me, “Why did you not order my ice cream as well?” And afterwards, with a sour look directed at me....That hurts!

Yuujirou: A mosquito landed on his leg (laughs).

Aizou: ----!

Interviewer: The two of you are close, huh. (laughs)

Yuujirou & Aizou: Yes! We’re really close!!

Interviewer: The two of you LIP×LIP are perfectly in sync but please tell us where are the highlights of this stage play.

Yuujirou: It’s undoubtedly the scene when Aizou was in trouble and I gallantly came running to him and defeated the dragon with a single blow. That part must have been the best highlight, right? Everyone who came to see the play watched my performance with bated breath. Even in the questionnaire, there were several comments saying, “Yuujirou in that scene is the coolest I’ve seen and I was impressed!” and it made me happy.

Aizou: Was there a scene like that~?

Yuujirou: There was. Have you forgotten already?

Aizou: If anything, there were a lot more scenes where I rushed to you who’s in trouble; I think written in the questionnaire was, “The scene where Aizou-kun brought the dragon down made my heart skip a beat!”

Yuujirou: Where was that scene? I was the one who saved Aizou even in the snowy mountains.

Aizou: I was the one who rescued you from the snow.

Yuujirou: It was your fault that I was buried, wasn’t it.

Aizou: I just slipped and fell on my haunches!

Yuujirou: Just as I thought, when I am with you-

Aizou: I heard that line so many times that I have calluses in my ears!

Interviewer: Lastly, I would like to ask the both of you for a message.

Yuujirou: I hope you enjoyed the first musical endeavor of LIP×LIP. We will continue to take on different challenges, so please continue to support us!

Aizou: It would make us happy if a lot of people could get to know the new us, who is different from who we were until now. From now on, please look forward to us evolving day after day!

Aizou: From us, LIP×LIP!

Yuujirou: Devoted to all Julietta....

Yuujirou & Aizou: “LOVE&KISS”. Thank you~ ❤

#LIPxLIP #aizou #yuujirou #honeyworks #fantasia rabukisu #lipxlip translation

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achievunlock · 5 months

Text

That weird emptiness after completion

Yesterday, after over 270 hours throughout last 8 months, I finished Elden Ring. And it feels weird. It's bittersweet.

To begin with, it was never even a game I intended to play. My boyfriend challenged me to try to see how I would play, and reluctantly I tried. I happened to find a playstyle that worked for me, and in all the places where he struggled I breezed through. And that god me hooked. I felt proficient, I could choose my battles, I controlled my pace. It got to the point where I sprang way ahead of him at his game (which wasn't very appreciated), so I slowed down and took a break for a few weeks.

Every time I though I was done with the game, he would nudge me back to it, and again reluctantly I would. It's always so hard to get back to open world games, where you have to remember what all the stuff in your inventory does, where to go next, who had a quest for you etc. And in many ways Elden Ring makes that harder than other games without any quest log. But also it's smart, because it conditions us to remember, as any unfinished tasks stays in our memory, and especially if it's not written down anywhere. So even during my times off from Elden Ring I would still remember the quests and people I needed to talk to and continue.

Before I knew I fell in love with the game world, that epic sense of scale, the unique environments that I have never seen anywhere else. Most of those 270 hours I spent just exploring, running through the grassy and snowy plains to first discover Sites of Grace and map parts, without engaging with the enemies, and then re-running them when I was ready for combat.

At first I really wanted to avoid the "legacy dungeons" (again seeing my partner's many deaths and struggles in those). In the end I got to love those too, with Leyndell and Haligtree becoming my favorites.

I never actually thought I'd finish the game. I thought it would get too hard and I would not manage. And yes, it was hard at times (looking at you, Rennala), but I always managed, and it felt good to finally have that win after so many failures.

As I was approaching the end and struggling a lot against Maliketh and Malenia, I realized how much those fights reminded me of my struggles (and eventual victories) against bosses in Devil May Cry 3. I remember counting over 30 tries in a row on some of the bosses there. Elden Ring made me feel like I did those many years ago - willing to give up, but still pushing through, because I was emotionally invested in a tragic story that I wanted to see through to the end.

So now I'm done. And it feels so empty. Back in the day I would just start over another run of DMC3 and another until I've beaten the hardest difficulty, and then again, to improve my ratings and finish with as many S and SS rankings as I could. But Elden Ring is different. I am not ready for another 100+ hours run, and there's no point just running around a completed game.

Because Elden Ring was never on my to play list, I've been wanting to finish it just to be able to move on, but for now I can't move on - it just doesn't feel right. I don't wanna leave that world.

So me and my partner created new characters, to deal with that weird state of grief after completion. Again, I do not commit to completing the game. Only time will tell. I will dabble a bit, try out a completely different style of combat. Until the DLC comes, and then we will be back!

This experience made me reflect on how it's so similar with other large open world games. Earlier this year I completed Hogwarts Legacy - and it felt just as empty. As I approached the end I created 2 new characters to start the game over. After completion I sped-run the last part with one of the characters and that kinda did it. I felt I was done. Before that I completed Ghost of Tsushima which I also fell in love with. As soon as I finished the game I started NG+, I played half-way and got tired, I was ready to move on. Elden Ring though it's slightly different, because you can make each playthrough pretty unique, and it's so long that by the time you finish you don't really remember how it was in the beginning.

Let's see how far I get on this new character, but I hope I can move on soon, and finally get to the games I've been planning to play for a while, before Elden Ring.

#video game

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meezylovee · 6 months

Text

I knew i couldn't commit

ahhhh, its April 5th.

should i be disappointed in myself for missing a day?

i think not.

although, i sit here and try to recall what i even did last night to make me not complete my daily journal entry.

hmmm...

what.. was it..

what was it...

OH!

its the thing I'm typing on.

yeah that's right,

Mama got a new laptop.

i worked hard to get this bad boy. and i am so excited to have it.

don't ask me anything about it. because i don't know. i don't know the specs the CPU the whatever techy stuff.

all i know is that this thing is a MACHINE.

and its got cute little flashy lights and does everything i need without a lag.

I'm excited to start a new game of sims. but i told myself before i play my sims i MUST do a new entry. ESPECIALLY using my laptop, and also getting to listen to my beats on Spotify. :)

i have a long list of things to do, but i am throwing those out to finish this entry and be able to create.. just one sim before i fall asleep.

will i make it ?

only my Jah knows.

JOURNAL QOTD THEME:

YES!! I said Theme!

✨PLAN YOUR NEW ERA✨

JOURNAL QOTD: what does she look like?

currently she looks like a WFH mom. I ran up to my old agency the other day to borrow a monitor for work. i ran into a former co worker and to give her a fair warning in case a stank, cuz i truly couldn't remember when the last time it was that i showered, now that i think of it... did i even brush my teeth? hmmm.. idk.

ANYWAY- NEW ERA HOT MAMA

my 30th birthday is coming up this month, and i really am wanting to stick to a self discovery journey. i have been so wrapped up in kids and relationships and people pleasing that i am so ready to tart to discover who Michaela really is. Meezylovee needs to step out of Michaela or she will never go anywhere with Michaela holding her back. and maybe that's what it is. Maybe my nEw ErA is Meezylovee. Who is Meezylovee? idk. an artist. someone who is into music and the way music makes them feel. She is someone who is calm and chill. Confidant and smart. She is learning how to self discipline and to become a better version of herself. No matter how many hiccups along the way.

Goals

*Self Care- showers and skin care

*make money out of my hobby

*be more present for my kids and family

*EAT BETTER

*morning mediate & Stretch

*stay true

*keep your word

and last but MOST important

*self disciple.

Goodnight world.

jk i will be playing sims. photo challenge: road- didn't leave my house, so here is some ai art i created

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dandelion-sugar · 3 years

Text

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞 『Adam x Reader』

Summary: Reader was Adam's first wife before he married Eve.

Warning: Angst, a little fluff, death, deities are really cruel

15,8k

Author's note: Requests for Genshin have not been forgotten! I'm working on it BUT I just finished season one of Record of Ragnarok and needed to write about Adam. I think he deserves more writing about him...he's the best husband and father Earth could have!

"A demoness? A succubus? No! A human whose legends turn her into a fearsome ruler of the underworld! She rules an entire army with an iron fist! Made of the clay of creation, she is made in the image of the gods! N°00000000002 : Lilith!" shouted Heimdall to announce your entrance.

You have been chosen to save humanity. The creation of Adam and Eve. You don't know why Brunhilde trusts you to save the humans. What could she possibly have been thinking in choosing you? Were you the best choice for this? Protecting the beings conceived by your ex-husband and his new wife. Unlike your ex-lover, you refuse to walk around naked. Your body is far too precious to be revealed to the world. You stand in the middle of the arena waiting patiently for Heimdall to finish presenting your opponent.

Your eyes rest on your army led by your only son. The only being you have ever given birth to. The third human born. A slight smile appeared on your lips. Your son resembled his father, and you found that particularly funny. You couldn't help but think that Adam's genes were particularly strong. But the way your son stood proudly at the head of your army...he took that from you. Even if you were to perish in this fight, you know that your army and your son will come through.

Your right hand will be around the shaft of your spear. You hear the mocking laughter of the gods, announcing your crushing defeat. You hear the hesitant whispers of humans about your place among the fighters of humanity. You are known in human legends to be a danger to pregnant women and newborns. To be honest with yourself, you hate this legends. You are a mother, how can humans think that you would harm a woman and her child? Your eyes drop slightly to the floor and your lips pucker into an unpleasant pout. After a few seconds, your face frees itself of all displays of emotion and your hand rises to challenge Heimdall.

"Yes, Lilith?" asks the god who has the role of announcer.

"I will not fight under that name," you announce.

"Huh?" he blurts out in surprise.

"I will not fight under the name of the monster the humans wanted to make me," you reply immediately.

"So...what do you want to be called?"

Lying in a meadow, you enjoy the sun and the soft breeze on your bare skin. Rabbits and foxes quickly surround you to enjoy the comfort with you. Everything is perfect in the Garden of Eden. A shadow covers your face, forcing you to open your eyes to discover the obstacle between you and the sun. It is a pleasant surprise when you discover your husband's welcoming smile, his blonde locks framing his face. Adam sits down beside you, placing his fruit basket between his legs. He pulls out a bunch of grapes and takes one between his long fingers. He then brings the fruit to your lips to let you savour the sweet, pleasant taste of the fruit. A sigh of contentment crosses your lips. Your husband's smile widens as he notices your relaxed state.

"You have grape juice running down your chin, Lilith," Adam informs you.

Your eyelids droop slightly as your eyes express your displeasure. Adam only lets a laugh emit from his throat as he leans forward to lick the grape juice off. Your hand gently but firmly pushes him away. You want him to understand that his gestures of affection will not be tolerated again until he realises his mistake. And you know perfectly well that he has understood what he has done.

"Stop teasing me," you say, a frown appearing on your face.

"I like to see your eyebrows furrow. You look like that kitten that was trying to scare us." replies Adam, running his hand over your hip stroking it in lazy circles, as if to soothe you.

"But unlike that kitten, I can bite," you reply sharply.

"I know you can..." he hums in the hollow of your ear. "Y/N."

This memory was a moment of pure happiness that you experienced in the Garden of Eden before you were forced into exile. This name you chose with Adam was the beginning of your independence from the gods. You had never accepted the principle of being subject to a man and Adam always supported you in this choice. But the gods did not like this and in response you abandoned the name they gave you at your creation. Perhaps this is why Eve was created from Adam's rib? To prevent her from becoming like you.

"Y/N. Call me that," you proudly announce.

The gods of your creation frown but do not protest. They hope that you will perish against one of their own and that your soul will disintegrate in space and time.

Adam had slipped out of the room where he was locked up. When he learned of your presence here, he did not expect you to fight for the humans. The children he had with another woman. He snuck into the bleachers to get a better look at your figure. A sense of nostalgia stirs in his heart as he sees that you haven't changed in all this time. You stand with dignity, your weapon in hand. You are strong and independent, you have become the woman you always dreamed of. A woman you could not have become if you were in his company because...everyone wants his wife to be submissive to him.

Adam does not regret his married life with Eve, he enjoys it too. But he has enjoyed the life he has lived with you. He believes in your victory. He wants you to win. He does not want to witness your complete disappearance from the universe without any chance of reincarnation. Your first separation has already split his heart in two, Adam does not want to experience this intense pain a second time.

You swing your divine spear with one hand, deflecting your opponent's first blow. The strength in this attack was not worthy of a god, was he testing your abilities? Your eyes meet. The victorious and arrogant smile on the god's face already irritates you. He underestimated you because you are a human AND a woman. His leg comes to sweep over yours but you manage to dodge by gaining height. You position your spear, blade towards the ground to pierce his skull. The god quickly dodges in a backward leap, leaving you to land on the ground, puncturing the concrete floor which cracks under the impact.

Your exchange of blows lasts for a while. Or should we say: the god throws blows at you that you deflect with your spear. But suddenly, his paterne changes. The force that the god uses becomes more powerful. His leg comes to meet your stomach. You prevent the blow from reaching your skin by placing your spear between your stomach and his leg. Unfortunately, the attack sends you flying a few metres away. You manage to land with difficulty and before you can regain a stable footing, the god launches himself at you. You are forced to fall to the side in a roll to narrowly dodge the punch. Your cheek begins to bleed.

"Mother!" your distraught son shouts.

"Commander! Get up!" your soldiers shout to encourage you.

You let out a breath, your muscles relax, making your movements more fluid and lively. Your eyes fall on the figure of your opponent. The aura around you changes completely, causing the small smile on the god's face to disappear. Your hands grip the spear and your feet anchor themselves to the ground to give you a good foothold.

"Answer my question before we resume this fight. Why are you fighting for the humans?" the god asks.

"Do I need a reason to fight? The gods have forced me to be submissive and men have clothed me in a veil of monstrous lies. It's like choosing between the plague and cholera," you explain. "But I had to choose and I chose my ex-husband's children.

The humans observing the exchange begin to stir, either out of guilt or because they were moved by your story. Humans get teary-eyed easily, you think. But you can't help but find this side of them very touching. Perhaps it was a good thing that Eve was the Mother of humanity?

"Humans have the will to survive and a strength that allows them to constantly evolve. This is a strength that the gods can never possess," you say with contempt.

Your hatred for the gods is much stronger than your hatred for humans. On your words, the fight resumes. You manage to follow your opponent's movements. Like Adam, you were forged from clay in the image of the gods. You are Adam's equal, you have the same ability as him to copy the techniques you see. Your movements remind the gods of Athena. You had copied the movements of this goddess a long time ago.

Your body and that of your opponent are covered in blood. You are bleeding from the wounds inflicted on you, but you were able to avenge yourself by seriously injuring your opponent as well.

Adam clenches his lips into a thin line, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands but he still believes in your victory. You must win. You can't give him up a second time...you can't.

"They've created a second wife for you," you scream indignantly.

"You're the only one for me," Adam admits in an attempt to calm your nerves. He can't bear to see you cry.

"It's only a matter of time before the gods kick me out of the Garden of Eden! I don't understand their desire to have me submit to male authority! Do goddesses submit to male deities?" you growl in frustration. The anger was so strong that you can't hold back the tears.

"If they chase you away then I'll go with you," Adam announces, interlacing your fingers together.

A soft warmth spreads through your chest as a gasp of surprise passes through your lips. A slight blush marks your cheeks as you look away from your husband. You can't help but enjoy the tender feeling. Adam wraps his muscular arms around you in a soothing embrace. His scent calms your restless nerves.

"Spend the night with me tonight," you whisper.

"We always sleep together," he says, tilting his head to the side, not understanding the meaning of your words.

"Adam..." you gasp shyly. It almost sounded like a soft moan.

His blue eyes widen slightly as the implied request is processed by his brain. A teasing smile spreads across his face as he leans in to your blushing ear to whisper provocative words.

That was the last evening you spent in his company before the gods kidnapped you and threw you away from the Garden of Eden. You never tried to return to that place, you knew it wasn't possible. So you did your best to survive. You were able to thrive and enjoy your newfound independence.

That night Adam gave you a gift, your son: Eurynome. A child identical to his father, who grew up with you as his only role model. He has become an independent young man capable of leading an army. But he remains a child... a child afraid to be alone without the reassuring presence of his mother.

It is impossible to understand the pain of losing a parent when you have not experienced it. No one could understand a tenth of the pain of Eurynome's scream as the god's fist plunges into your chest.

Your eyes crinkle under the sudden fatigue your body feels. Your right hand struggles to hold the spear. The humans weep in despair as the gods celebrate the downfall of Lilith, the woman who did not obey divine orders.

Nausea takes hold of Adam's body. All that blood, your blood spilling on the floor. Will you die? Disappear forever...you don't even know that he witnessed your fight. You will never know that he missed you terribly. You will never know that he wanted to feel your warmth in his arms again and whisper those three words to you.

Your eyes linger on your son's tear-streaked face. A peaceful smile appears on your lips. A fire of determination shines in your eyes. Your hand tightens around the spear and you slice the god's jugular before collapsing to your knees. If you must die...then you will prevent the gods from achieving a victory as well.

Your eyes slowly close and your hearing becomes increasingly blurred. The voices are now just an indistinguishable din.

Adam could only watch as your body and the god's dematerialize into a smoke of green glitter. His legs move towards the battlefield as if trying to retrieve the flakes that represent your soul dissolving into space. But your son's crying snaps him out of his trance. His eyes fall on a miniature version of himself.

Cain and Abel have some characteristics of their father but Eurynome is a carbon copy of Adam and you would have to be blind not to notice. Adam walks over to your son and takes him in his arms, sharing his pain. Adam fully understands the tug of war that Eurynome feels.

That night Adam gave you a gift, your son. Today, this gift will show the world that you existed. That you are not like your legends.

You are an independent woman, a mother and Adam's wife.

"Adam," you call to your husband, who is perched on a tree branch.

"Yes?" he hums, keeping his eyes closed.

"Don't you think I'm strange?" you finally question him. "Do you think I owe you obedience too?

Silence passes between the two of you. A pain assails your heart at this lack of response and you instantly regret having asked him the question. The disappointment was much stronger than you had thought. You look up abruptly when you hear a thud only a few feet away. Adam had just jumped from his branch. His back was to you. He turns towards you, his face devoid of emotion. He encircles your cheeks with his warm palms. His piercing blue eyes almost seem to probe your soul and you struggle to hold his gaze. But your desire to know the answer prevents you from looking away.

"We are husband and wife, I accept you as you are. Don't change for the world, for anyone," Adam says with conviction.

"So...you love me like this?" you ask aloud, wanting to sound confident.

Adam looks at you slightly surprised at this sudden question. He hums softly before leaning in to kiss your forehead. The smile he flashes makes your heart race.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too..." you admit after a few moments.

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #ror adam #Angst #shumatsu no valkyrie #Adam #x reader #ror adam x reader

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raggaraddy · 3 years

Note

Can you please do a yandere hyung line reaction to MC being jealous and tries to hide it ( For jin could you please make it as his wife has come back for a short holiday or something)

A/N: My brain did not want to do the writing thing the last couple of days, but I got there. I think these stories are good? but somehow they all ended up a bit soft. I hope you like them though 🤞 because it was a great request! Thank you 💜💜💜

@blacksnow160

Summary: Hyung line reaction when you get jealous.

Trigger warning: Smut, violence, blood-drinking, murder, abuse, yandere themes.

Alpha! Namjoon

Normally you didn't consider yourself clingy. You enjoyed your personal space and your time alone. But at the same time, you've also become accustomed to Namjoon dropping everything to take care of you. This entire week though, he's been preoccupied with a territorial issue, and the last 3 nights he hasn't even come to bed.

Leaving you feeling a little discarded, to say the least.

Nevertheless, you're a mature adult, and you were able to let it go with the knowledge that Namjoon is an Alpha who has responsibilities and knowing that he would still rather be with you.

It is, however, a comfort that you have trouble holding on to whenever you see the new girl around him. It's not like you're jealous. It's just that she doesn't seem to know how to behave respectfully or appropriately around Namjoon. She always stands too close or looks at him a bit too much, and she's way too touchy. Only his elbow, arm, or shoulder. But it's like, get your fucking hands off him.

Rationally, you know Joon is your mate and you own his heart, mind, and body. Still, it doesn't stop you from tossing restlessly, laying in bed at 2 am, once again alone. The two things added together making you feeling sour. Feeling sick of being sent away while this other girl gets to stick around being way too familiar with your Boyfriend.

Coming downstairs in your pyjamas, you weave in among the wolves working your way to Namjoon. Standing at the dining table, looking over a mess of paper, he notices you right away a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"Y/n, what are you doing up?"He asks, checking his watch.

There she is again, right next to him. Her hand casually coming off his shoulder when she sees you.

"It's late. Go back to bed, Beautiful." he coos.

You ignore his instruction. Wrapping to his side by pushing yourself between him and this girl, creating space for yourself with a not-so-subtle shoving of your elbow into her arm. Smiling up at him sweetly as he accepts your presence, hugging you tightly.

"We're going to be busy most of the night. You should go to bed." he leans down to whisper, his breath tickling your ear. He's trying not to draw the focus from the rest of the table into your personal discussion.

"I'll go up when you come with me." You whisper back.

"It's going to be a few more hours still baby." He sighs, seeming frustrated with the circumstances.

"Then I'm staying here."

"You shouldn't-"

"Don't argue with me Kim Namjoon. You're not going to win this one." While it's said in jest, you also mean it. He'll have to drag you upstairs to make you go. And if he steps foot in that bedroom, you both know you'll be able to make him stay.

"Oh really?" He challenges, fighting the smile growing on his face, not wanting to encourage your mischievous behaviour.

Grabbing the collar of his black tee, you pull him down to your height, smacking your lips against his. Kissing him passionately and longingly. Something you haven't been able to do for nearly a full week.

Letting his shirt go, his smile is fully grown. His dimples on display.

"Really." You finalize, looking up at him coquettishly.

You can see the struggle playing in his mind. He's extremely tempted to throw you over his shoulder and take you upstairs right now, his wolf fighting to shirk his responsibilities and give in to desire. His chest rumbling lowly as he winks down at you.

"Okay baby." his fingers dig into your hips, "If you're gonna play dirty, you can stay." He teases with a chuckle. Resisting the bait.

Feeling calmed and relaxed on the warmth of his hold again, a smug sense of pride fills your chest. From the corner of your eye, you can see her attention on the two of you. Your ego is not able to resist, and you shoot a cold pointed glare at her. A smirk creeping onto your face as she looks down, avoiding your eye line.

"Seeing as it's late, do you wanna make coffee for everyone?" You order her in the form of a question, speaking loudly enough for both her and Namjoon to hear your sassy, obvious tone.

She looks a little stunned. She'd just been promoted to the inner circle for this problem-solving session, and she doesn't seem pleased at being asked to perform menial tasks. Trying to go over your head, she looks at the Alpha for confirmation. But he doesn't give it to her. Instead, you can feel him nod, supporting your order. A full smile filling your face as you get his backing.

"Of course, Luna." she obeys, looking a little dejected.

"Thank you." you shoo her to action with a sing-song voice. Curling into Namjoons side, you can't help but feel authoritative. And a little bit victorious.

King! Seokjin

It had been nearly two weeks since you had seen Jin last. As frustrating as it was, you were genuinely missing him. There was a kind of energy he had when it was just the two of you. Something that filled you, and without him you were feeling like your own spirit was draining away.

It would be okay though, today Jin was coming back from visiting his wife and children. You're sure he missed you just as much as you missed him. That he was as excited to see you, as you were to see him. You were a little worried knowing that you would have to satisfy his sadism first, but you can tolerate it, thinking that at least you'll get to see his smile.

As the day is drawing to an end, you've finished all your tasks but you refuse to retire for the night, certain the King is going to call for you at any minute. Feeling a mix of excitement and relief when the staff manager comes to collect you.

Nearly skipping you rush to the dining hall, having been instructed to serve dinner to the King and his guest. Working with another maid to bring the meals from the kitchen.

Walking in, the smile you were trying to conceal disappears completely. Your stomach dropping. Jin's guest is the Princess. His wife.

You have to control your expression to hide your distress, feeling sick while serving him. His wife never comes down. She hasn't in a year and a half. Jin doesn't even really like her. It doesn't make sense why she's here.

With a curt bow, you remove the closh and place the plate down. Meeting the King's eye for a moment, you do your best to placify your appearance. Your efforts cracking when you see his lips pulling ever so slightly into a knowing smile.

He dismisses the other maid, but not you. Sending you to the waiting station by the wall. You're stuck watching over their conversation. Feeling more and more insecure as you look at the Princess's regality and beauty. Getting more frustrated as your mind runs rampant.

How long is she going to stay? It doesn't seem like they brought the Princes, so she has to go back soon. And what kind of mother leaves her children alone? It doesn't even matter that she's here, you know Jin likes you more. So what if she is really pretty, he can't hurt her like he can you. You make him happy. She's just a prop he was given to secure a treaty. He actually chose you.

Slowly, you're building yourself into a craze. Making yourself feel sad until the very end of the meal. Finally, their dinner date ends and he stands, kindly bowing to see her off. Leaving only you and him in the hall.

Relaxing back in his seat, he finishes the remainder of his drink.

"Y/n." Holding his empty glass to the side, he calls you over. You follow his gesture and top up his cup. Avoiding looking directly at him again. Pacing back to your place when he stops you.

"Come here." He grins, enjoying how uncomfortable you are. "You met my wife today." He pushes the difficult topic, again probing for your reaction.

Nodding softly, you're trying to not let your bitterness out. You know Jin doesn't like it when you pout.

"Are you jealous Princess?" He holds his hand out for you to take, leading you closer to him. Leaning back to create a space for you on his lap. Guiding you over him with your legs spread.

"No, your Majesty." You shake your head, your pause and hesitation giving away the truth.

Jin's gentle touch comes off your hand, his grip instead ripping back your hair, arching your back and nearly yanking you off of his lap. Biting back a shriek, you can't keep entirely quiet, whimpering as his fist curls tighter and closer to your scalp.

"Are you lying to me?" His mouth latches onto your shoulder, biting into your muscle vindictively. Unbridling that scream you had tried to smother.

"Yes. I'm sorry your Majesty!" you cry out, tears building in your eyes. "I'm jealous. I missed you. I want you-" all the truth is pouring out, but you hesitate worried you're being too bold, "all to myself."

His grip comes out of your hair. His hand instead raking down your chest, leaving painful red marks as each nail digs along the skin. Continuing lower, tearing the buttons on your dress. Yanking down your bra also, exposing your breasts. His other hand hikes the fabric up around your thighs, stopping on your waist, lowering your hips into him.

Pinching your nipple, he draws you closer until his lips are just off yours. Gasping through the initial pain, you can only whine and bite your lip to further keep quiet.

"Go on Princess. Prove to me why I should have missed you."

Assassin! Yoongi

Over the past couple of weeks, Yoongi would be gone for days at a time. Coming back in a strangely talkative and happy mood. You were as miserable and depressed as always, but his vigour was somehow revitalizing and comforting. It made him easier to deal with. It made him less moody. And it made your life easier. So to begin with you were very happy that he was happy.

That was until he mentioned a name in passing. A woman's name. Someone he was working with on a project.

As soon as you heard him talking positively about her, a pang of anxiety spiked through your stomach. From then on it rested in your gut, making you irritated, uncomfortable, and flustered every time you heard about or thought about her.

It was the strangest thing. You hated Yoongi, you're sure of it. But he was all you had. And hearing him talk about another woman, even though it sounded platonic, the adoration in his voice was hurting you in a way you never expected.

Slowly you had to work through this feeling on your own. You couldn't bear to let Yoongi know, not certain what he would do with the information that you were, in lack of a better word, jealous.

The more you heard about this woman, you knew you could never be as impressive as her. Every detail sounding equally terrifying and awe-inspiring. To be honest the specifics slipped your mind, as you were mostly wrapped up in self-pity when Yoongi spoke about her.

All you know is that you felt inferior, and you were craving, longing to feel that kind of importance to Yoongi, also. Resenting the fact that this other person was so easily able to bring joy and energy out of him.

Over the next couple of weeks, you spent every waking moment thinking about how to make Yoongi happy. Not just avoiding annoying him, like you usually did, but instead thinking about how to bring him genuine enjoyment.

One time you spent hours making him a meal. Making something you knew he would love. But, unfortunately, he only complained about the mess. He said he wasn't hungry and left you to throw the food away and clean up.

Another time, you had planned a full evening of activities. Movies, snacks, games that would help you get to know each other better, anything fun you could organize with your limited resources. Only, he wasn't in the mood to play, or talk. He only wanted one thing, and when he was done, he left you alone in your room, feeling used and a bit sore.

However, that gave you an idea. Maybe you could connect with him physically first. Then that might give you a way for something, anything more to develop.

This time, you set the house up with candles, music, wine, chocolate strawberries, everything you'd seen in movies. Waiting for him on the couch in something a little provocative. But, as soon as he comes in from the garage he looks more annoyed than impressed. Rolling his eyes, ordering you to your room.

By this stage it's late, you're tired, and you're losing your mind trying to make him happy. You were fighting so hard for his attention, and he was barely tolerating you. You aren't thinking clearly as you snap at him.

"Why?!" You yell, stomping your foot down. "I'm working so hard and you're just being an asshole!"

The words come out and you instantly regret them. His straight expression hardening.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You rush to him, wrapping your arms around his chest trying to soothe any reaction. "Just tell me what I can do." You plead. Exasperated by so many failed attempts.

"That depends. What do you want?" He honestly questions, looking down at you.

You weren't exactly prepared to answer this question. You're not sure you really know.

"I'm your's right?" you say with big eyes, your voice coming out so softly, feeling embarrassed even though you're mimicking his words. "I get that I have to be yours. But then you have to be mine too." Your voice trembles.

Finally, it makes sense to Yoongi. Your change in demeanour, and in behaviour. Why you've been so needy. Why you've been trying to get his attention. He understands now. And that was most of what was annoying him. Not knowing why you were acting differently.

He steps out of your grasp, calling for you to follow him upstairs. You're not so nervous as you do. Surprisingly, the revelation has given Yoongi has a warm smile.

Falling back onto his bed, he taps the space beside him, inviting you to join him. You climb into the middle of the bed, resting in the place he set for you, his arm laid out under your head. He curls into you, gently wrapping his arm over your waist. Hugging you.

For the first time ever, he is showing you some kind of affection. For the first time, he's actually making a gesture of warmth and comfort. You couldn't even let yourself think that Yoongi could be capable of this. Having spent so many months isolated and alone. Even when you weren't locked up.

Hating yourself for not being stronger, you break into silent tears. Biting your thumb to stifle any sobs.

While reason is battling in your head, telling you that it's a bad idea to form any kind of emotional attachment to him, you don't want to listen to logic right now. Letting yourself cling to Yoongi and the desperately needed human connection.

Vampire! Hoseok

There was a delicate balance to your relationship with Hoseok. You couldn't exactly rely on his moods to be stable, but you could rely on his obsession with you. It was the only thing that kept you feeling secure. Feeling certain that when he bit you next he wouldn't let you bleed out. Or that when he hit you or cut you or hurt you, that he wasn't going to leave you to suffer in agony but would heal you. Because he wanted to keep you. You were his.

It was a twisted kind of reassurance. But it's what you had, so it's what you worked with.

You knew the source of his obsession. It was you as a person, sure. But you weren't kidding yourself. Mostly, his infatuation was with your blood. Hoseok wasn't specific about it, but you had overheard some of the other Vampires discussing you. Apparently, you smell delicious, and that's why he never lets you wander the house with any cuts. That's why you were locked away every 28 days. And that's why you were his only.

It didn't make sense to you, there was nothing different about you.

But somehow you'd fallen in and become the star of your very own YA horror story.

Whatever the cause though, you were aware that Hoseok's addiction to your blood was the reason that he kept you. Without that, he might simply kill you, or worse, he might throw you to one of the other bloodsuckers who look at you like a happy meal they want to fuck.

Which is probably why you were so defensive when you saw him biting another girl.

Sitting on the back terrace looking over the gated property, Hoseok and a few of his creations were sitting in the moonlight enjoying a drink. You'd come downstairs expecting to be his refill when you see him sinking his fangs into the arm of one of the human pets.

Frustration floods through your body, a new kind of anger making your hands shake. A malicious and honestly, not-all-together thought out idea springs into your head. You've never seen him drink from anyone else before, and you need to remind him that he should only want you.

Taking a serrated peeler from the bar at the side of the terrace, you hold it concealed in your palm, going up to the first Vampire leaning there.

"Are you thirsty?" you ask, speaking lowly. He, like all the others, know you're Hoseok's, and so he rightfully looks uncomfortable being near you. Stepping into his personal space, you raise your arm under his chin and run the sharp blade across the top of your forearm. His eyes immediately going black, his fangs bared. Unable to resist what you're offering.

Behind you, every single one of them turns their heads, smelling you the second blood gathers on your skin.

In a flash, Hoseok is between the two of you. Ripping his teeth into the guy's neck, tearing his throat out. Killing him in an instant.

Breathing heavily, he turns to you with blood washed down his front. His eyes murderous and cold.

Retaliating, you storm towards the human-pet and shove her with all of your might, pushing her down the stone tile steps onto the grass. Watching her tumble into a heap.

Those around you have gone dead quiet, none of them even daring to look directly at either of you.

"How dare you?" He seethes, stalking towards you. But you're not backing down. You know better than to retreat from him when he charges.

"How dare I?" you scream. "How dare you drink from that skank!" An enraged Hoseok is something all of his offspring know to fear. Steadily you can see them clearing the space around the two of you. Withdrawing from whatever this is leading to.

"You want to tell me who I can eat?!" He growls, his hand shooting around your neck, holding you but not choking you. "You're a blood bag that I keep as a toy!"

"If that's all, then I'll let all of them feed on me too."

His hand constricts, restricting your air. "I'll kill anyone that tries."

"Then," you gasp, your words coming out short. "only me." you pull your hair off your shoulder, turning your neck as far to the side as you can. Throwing his head back, he takes the invitation, sinking his fangs into your jugular, swallowing down mouthfuls of your blood.

Holding onto his shoulders, you jump up wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing yourself closer to his mouth. Hoseok's arms wrapping around your ass, keeping you up.

Pushed back by your momentum, he stumbles a few steps, dropping down onto the open sofa chair. You landing on his lap, straddling his thighs.

As more of your blood is drained, and you get lightheaded, the pain starts to slip and your body starts to float. A euphoric sensation, akin to being high consuming you.

You tangle your hands up into his hair tugging it, massaging his scalp. You've become so accustomed to him fucking you when he feeds from you, that whenever he bites you, you get turned on. Your body reacting out of instinct. Slowly grinding down, rocking your hips into him as you start to get him hard. The friction feeling good making you moan. Making you move faster with pleasure tingling through your core also.

"Hobi," you moan. Shivering, as his tongue runs up your wounds.

Your gentle whine catches his attention. A surprised expression on his face that shifts into a smile as he leans back to watch you. His focus on you making you feel slightly embarrassed, slowing your motions until they stop altogether.

Biting his tongue, your eyes meet for a moment before he kisses his blood into your mouth, the copper taste feeling soothing and familiar. Your body relaxing completely knowing you'll wake up healed.

"Mine." He whispers into your lips.

The blood loss pulls you into unconsciousness, your head dropping onto his shoulder. The euphoric feeling swallowing you up as you purr back. "Mine."

453 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

I hope you get plenty of prompts that you enjoy. Thank you.

NMJ bonding with child Wangji. Maybe a few times NMJ beat little LWJ in a spar and the time he knew little Wangji would one day beat him. Mostly Pre Cloud Recesses arc?

Of Few Words - ao3

The first time Nie Mingjue met Lan Xichen’s little brother, he thought he would be just like Nie Huaisang, so he picked him up and threw him.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen gasped, clearly horrified. “What are you doing?”

Probably something forbidden by the rules, Nie Mingjue thought, and shrugged.

He wasn’t good with words, was too blunt and too direct, especially for the Lan sect, and so over the past couple of weeks or so that he’d been here he’d found it was easier not to speak at all. They’d make whatever assumptions they wanted about him, no matter what he did; it was easier to just let them do that and work with that than it was to futilely strive to get them to actually understand him.

“Even if Wangji has done something to upset you, you may only assign him to do copying,” Lan Xichen told him, and Nie Mingjue was briefly surprised that his new friend had assumed he was angry before he remembered that everyone here thought he was angry all the time, so it wasn’t actually that much of a surprise. “Please keep that in mind. Also, I don’t know if I’ve said, but he’s very reserved, so please don’t take offense if he just points things out...oh, I wish I wasn’t needed elsewhere this afternoon! I’d much rather show you around myself, but as it is, he’ll be showing you around this part of the Cloud Recesses in my place.”

Nie Mingjue grunted assent, and watched, a little desolately, as Lan Xichen disappeared down the still confusing twists and turns of the paths of the Cloud Recesses. It was all gardens here, carefully tended to maximize graceful tranquility, and he was sure he would have no chance of ever finding his way back on his own if left to it.

It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if he was. The other Lan disciples hadn’t really taken to him the way Lan Xichen had, much less a younger brother that the (rather reserved, by Nie Mingjue’s standards) Lan Xichen had described as reserved…

Unexpectedly, a small hand slipped into his own, and he looked down in surprise.

Lan Wangji looked up at him, his cheeks flushed a little red.

Nie Mingjue instinctively smiled at him, charmed by the reminder of Nie Huaisang, then remembered that too much exuberance seemed to only disturb the Lan sect and struggled to get his expression under control. He expected him to start leading him around the Cloud Recesses without another word – he had overheard Lan Qiren telling his father that Lan Wangji wasn’t much of a talker, very quiet, and to not expect much interaction with him – but to his surprise Lan Wangji did not move, looking at up at him thoughtfully, lips pursed as if he was considering saying something.

Nie Mingjue waited for his judgment.

“You weren’t angry,” Lan Wangji finally said. “When you threw me.”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“No,” he admitted, breaking his own informal vow of silence. “I wasn’t. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Nie Huaisang loved being tossed around, whether up into the air or into bushes, headfirst shrieking into his bed or ass-first into a pool of water; he’d thought tossing little brothers around was what big brothers were there for. Sure, there was a small age gap – Lan Wangji was six, Nie Huaisang still not quite five – but he hadn’t thought it would make such a difference.

Lan Wangji hummed thoughtfully. He did not speak for another long while, but Nie Mingjue was starting to think that that was just him chewing over his thoughts before forming them into words.

At last, he spoke again: “I did.”

Nothing afterwards. Hesitantly, Nie Mingjue asked, “Would you like me to do it again?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

This time, Nie Mingjue was a little more cautious: he threw Lan Wangji up into the air and caught him, trying to demonstrate that he knew what he was doing, that he could be trusted, and by the third or fourth time Lan Wangji was smiling. It wasn’t quite on part with Nie Huaisang’s giggles and shrieks, but felt rewarding nevertheless.

Satisfied by his success, Nie Mingjue was about to put him down on the ground, but hesitated. “Do you want to ride on my shoulders?” he asked, and waited as Lan Wangji considered it.

“Another time,” Lan Wangji decided. “Not today.”

Nie Mingjue nodded and put him down. Lan Wangji took his hand once again and, this time, led him around the way he’d expected from the start, pointing out various places and naming them in a quiet murmur.

Lan Wangji really wasn’t much of a talker, a person of few words, but that was fine. So was Nie Mingjue.

It was a few days later that he came across Lan Wangji kneeling beside the training grounds and impulsively challenged him. He was getting bored of training alone: Lan Xichen was busy again, and the other Lan disciples had already made clear that they didn’t want to have anything to do with him, the interloper who’d pushed his way into their lessons by force.

It wasn’t actually like that at all – his father had sent Nie Mingjue to learn here for the season as a gesture of goodwill, wanting to support Lan Qiren’s lecture series and make it clear that other sects should follow suit, to encourage Lan Qiren’s goal of eventually creating a safe haven for all the Great Sect’s heirs to come together and learn and build friendships while still in their youth – but Nie Mingjue knew that there was no convincing any of his wary Lan sect peers of that. Even if there was, he certainly couldn’t do it, not with his clumsy tongue and scowling face and too-tall height that made everyone immediately assume he would resort to violence as his first and only argument.

So he trained alone and studied alone, or with Lan Xichen in the rare times when his friend was free, but it was boring, and anyway, he thought he’d gotten on pretty well with Lan Wangji the first time they’d met. It wouldn’t be a real spar, of course, not against a six-year-old, but doing the moves slow and mirroring a smaller opponent would force him to pay close attention to his own technique, which would pay off in the long run.

He explained this to Lan Wangji when the boy frowned up at him in what Nie Mingjue was starting to be able to identify as a silent question – he didn’t use many words himself, just spat out “Mirroring improves technique,” and saw that Lan Wangji understood the rest – and a moment later Lan Wangji nodded and rose to his feet, picking up one of the practice swords and taking a position opposite him on one of the fields.

Nie Mingjue started with a standard warm-up routine, unsure of Lan Wangji’s skills. Supposedly he was the opposite of Nie Huaisang in this respect, too, startlingly advanced for his age, but Lan Qiren had also said something about him pausing his sword training as a result of some incident, not specified; his father had nodded in response as if he’d understood, which was very unhelpful to the eavesdropping Nie Mingjue, who didn’t. Since he didn’t know the background of the incident or when Lan Wangji had picked up sword training again, and more to the point wasn’t inclined to ask since he knew that Lan Wangji wouldn’t enjoy explaining, he just started out with the basics and went up slowly from there.

It turned out his concerns were mostly unnecessary – Lan Wangji was a bit stiff at first, maybe because of the kneeling he’d been doing, but he clearly had the basics down flat, and they were able to progress to something a little more interesting quick enough, trading very slow swipes with saber and sword.

Nie Mingjue didn’t even notice that they had an audience until he heard Lan Xichen say his name in a strangled voice. He finished the follow-through of the move they were on, since stopping in the middle could be dangerous (not for them, not with training swords, but in the future, when it was real, and forming good habits now would help more later on), saluted Lan Wangji with his saber and was saluted in return, and then turned to look for his friend.

Lan Xichen was staring at them as if they’d turned into ghosts, and there was a whole crowd of Lan sect disciples standing around gawking at them instead of doing their own training.

Nie Mingjue hunched up his shoulders, assuming he’d somehow managed to do something wrong again, and automatically stepped in front of Lan Wangji, blocking the others’ views of him. “I challenged him,” he said bluntly, hoping to take the brunt of whatever punishment would need to be imposed here – generally speaking, he’d learned that the Lan sect’s penalties for being lured into misbehavior were less than the penalties for instigating it. “He didn’t seem otherwise occupied.”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen said, or started to say, but Lan Wangji was already turning to put away his training sword. He then formally saluted his brother and trotted away from the training field entirely.

Lan Xichen watched him go without stopping him, then turned to Nie Mingjue. “Mingjue-xiong, how did you get him to fight you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked, confused. “I asked.”

“Yes, but – how?”

“I asked him to train with me,” Nie Mingjue said slowly, not sure if he was missing something. “I pointed out that mirroring improves technique. He probably did it as a favor to me…listen, do you need me to copy lines or something?”

“Copy lines?”

“For whatever rule I just broke,” Nie Mingjue clarified, but Lan Xichen only looked more confused. “Was it because he was kneeling and I interrupted him?”

Everyone is staring at me again and I don’t know why, again. Just tell me what it is that I did, impose the punishment, and I won’t do it again, I promise – but you need to tell me what it was that I did wrong first.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen said, staring at him even more strangely now. “You didn’t break any rules at all.”

That was even weirder. “But –”

“Wangji was kneeling because that’s what he always does during training hours,” Lan Xichen said. “He doesn’t train the sword anymore.”

“He – doesn’t?” Nie Mingjue asked, now even more confused, and in his confusion forgot that he was in the Lan sect with their carefully thought-out sentences and myriad of prickly unwritten rules. “Why not? He’s so good at it! And he seemed to be having a good time, too…listen, I know your sect prizes musical cultivation, Xichen, and that it’s often one or the other, but there’s really no reason he can’t do both.”

He belatedly realized he was talking too much and shut his mouth, embarrassed. He shouldn’t have brought up that subject.

After all, Qingheng-jun had been a sword cultivator with little interest in music beyond battle-songs – still was, Nie Mingjue supposed, although he was in seclusion so much that it might as well be ‘had been’ – and Lan Qiren was an expert at musical cultivation, skilled in both xiao and guqin, but used his sword only to fly. They’d been trained that way, complementary to each other’s strengths – Qingheng-jun the attacking hand, Lan Qiren the supporting arm – which was a pretty decent plan right up until it had all rather been ruined when Qingheng-jun had for whatever reason retreated from the world.

“Of course,” Lan Xichen echoed, and luckily he didn’t seem to notice the implied criticism. “He should, of course, if he wants to…Mingjue-xiong, I’m sorry, I have to go again, I need to talk to my uncle at once. But you should feel free to challenge Wangji again – in fact, I would appreciate it if you did. Liu-xiong, can you tell Mingjue-xiong what Wangji’s training hours are?”

One of the other Lan disciples nodded, and Lan Xichen flashed them both a thankful smile before disappearing again, even though he’d promised that his uncle only needed him for half a day and that they’d be able to go down to visit Caiyi Town that afternoon.

As a result, despite Lan Xichen’s assurances, Nie Mingjue still had the distinct feeling that he’d done something wrong, but he really couldn’t see what. Best not to think too much about it, he supposed.

By the afternoon, Nie Mingjue had retreated to the library to avoid being stared at. He’d thought that the indirect sneers and silent rigid politeness that invited no familiarity was bad, but apparently it was actively worse when the Lan sect disciples treated him like he’d just turned into a performing monkey that had done a neat trick. They still wouldn’t condescend to talk to him, of course, but they felt no issue staring or talking to each other about him – even though Nie Mingjue was sure there was a rule about not talking behind people’s backs.

Maybe it didn’t count if you did it in front of their faces.

Nie Mingjue actually rather liked the library, despite the Lan sect’s general tendency to treat him like an illiterate ape that only knew how to swing a saber – even Lan Xichen had looked a little puzzled the first time he’d asked to spend the afternoon there, though of course he hadn’t said anything out loud beyond reminding Nie Mingjue that they didn’t have to go there and that it wasn’t necessary to sacrifice his own enjoyment for Lan Xichen’s.

It wasn’t his friend’s fault that he was brought up to prefer those were gentle and scholarly, Nie Mingjue reminded himself, even if it chafed a little every time that Lan Xichen automatically sided with someone who could express themselves better, someone cleverer with words than he; that trait was common to just about everyone at the Cloud Recesses, and at least Lan Xichen would eventually listen to him if he kept his temper under control and persisted in trying to make his point.

Nie Mingjue might wish that the Lan sect didn’t view losing one’s temper as an automatic forfeit of the argument – do not succumb to rage had been whispered in his vicinity more times than he could count, though rarely to his face – and he might think in his heart of hearts think that they were simply wrong in dismissing his viewpoint just because he felt too strongly about a matter to contain himself, but he was a guest here and he needed to respect their ways, conform himself to their customs, even if it upset and disturbed him to do so.

At least sometimes those ways and customs served him, including in the deliberate air of quiet contemplation in the Library Pavilion. There were separate rooms for private study, of course, but an emphasis was put on preserving the tranquility of the location, and it seemed that the Lan disciples at least knew enough shame to avoid coming to gawk at him from the door when he was there.

Deciding to entertain himself, Nie Mingjue picked out several books on military strategy utilizing musical cultivation – just because he was all but tone-deaf didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the power of the Lan sect’s core techniques – and settled down for a nice afternoon of being alone.

Until, of course, he wasn’t.

He was pretty absorbed in an analysis of altitude effects on range attacks for a while, deaf and blind to the outside world the way he usually was when he was reading, and then, perhaps alerted by some sound, he looked up to find that the sun had shifted position and also that Lan Wangji was sitting across from him with his own book primly laid out in front of him.

Nie Mingjue blinked and thought briefly about saying something. If it had been Nie Huaisang, he would have – some friendly jibe that Nie Huaisang would return in full measure, before they both settled down to enjoy each other’s company in communal silence – but this was Lan Wangji, who was a Lan, and probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

So he didn’t say anything, just looked back down at his book and continued reading.

After a little while, there was a tug at his sleeve.

Nie Mingjue looked up. Lan Wangji was pointing to one of the words in his book – “Frivolous,” he said, assuming that Lan Wangji was asking for assistance with the more complicated characters the way that Nie Huaisang would have, albeit with much less whining. “Means lacking purpose or value.”

Lan Wangji nodded, released his sleeve, and returned to his reading.

They carried on in this fashion for a while, quiet reading interspersed with occasional reading comprehension questions, and it was nice. Nie Mingjue could feel the stress of the day slowly sliding off his shoulders – more than just the day, maybe the whole week, the entire time he’d been here, or even before, when Nie Huaisang burst into tears at finding out his big brother was going to be leaving him behind. He would need to write to him again soon, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, and send presents; he’d been hoping to pick something up in Caiyi Town today, but then Lan Xichen had gotten busy…

It’d be nice if he could get him something from the Cloud Recesses itself, though.

“Wangji,” he said before he could stop himself. “What is a present you would get for someone who likes pretty things?”

Lan Wangji blinked up at him, then frowned. Nie Mingjue was pretty sure that it was a thinking frown, though, so he just waited, and sure enough Lan Wangji carefully closed his book and stood up.

“Flowers,” he said, and held out a hand as if to help Nie Mingjue up.

Nie Mingjue long ago learned that when a small child offers to help you, you accept regardless of whether or not they were actually capable of performing the action in question – though with Lan sect arm strength, who even knew – so he took Lan Wangji’s hand and scrambled up to his feet.

“Flowers?” he asked, a little dubiously. “I don’t know if they’d survive being sent by post.”

“Flower petals,” Lan Wangji clarified. “Pressed.”

Nie Mingjue blinked, but actually, no, that sounded perfect for Nie Huaisang. Especially if he got them pressed into a bookmark or something.

“My brother will love it,” he said enthusiastically. “Do you know where there are good flowers?” He knew himself well enough not to even try to make that sort of judgment call. “Can you show me?”

Lan Wangji frowned, and this one wasn’t his thinking frown – it seemed sad, almost.

“You don’t have to,” Nie Mingjue assured him, but Lan Wangji set his shoulders in a look of fierce six-year-old determination and he nodded as if he was going to go to war. “Really, if you don’t want to interrupt your reading –”

“The place is sad,” Lan Wangji said. “But it has the best flowers.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. He could tell from the way Lan Wangji’s little lips were firmed up in stubborn intent that there would be no stopping him, that he was determined to get Nie Mingjue the best flowers – truly, Lan Wangji was such a good boy, unlike that junior hellspawn and walking calamity named Nie Huaisang – but also that he thought it would hurt him to do so.

He didn’t want Lan Wangji to hurt.

“Do you want to ride on my shoulders this time?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. “Sometimes having a different perspective on the same place makes it feel different.”

He knew he was butchering the explanation – he really wasn’t good with words – but he didn’t know how else to explain it.

He didn’t know how to explain that he used to spend days and days looking at the place where Nie Huaisang’s mother had gone in to give birth and never come back out, equally drawn and repulsed by it, right up until the day he climbed up the gate of the Unclean Realm on a dare and by coincidence happened to see it when he looked down from that great height, only to realize that the place he’d thought of as dark and depressing and even haunted was just a room like all the rooms right beside it: he couldn’t even tell it apart from the rest.

“…mn,” Lan Wangji said, sounding doubtful, but he hopped onto Nie Mingjue’s back when offered and scrambled up to sit on his shoulders, ducking his head to avoid the doorway to the Library Pavilion as they exited out the side door, and then he showed him the way to a nice looking cottage that seemed a little out of the way but which was surrounded by what were undoubtedly lovely purple gentians.

“Wow,” Nie Mingjue couldn’t help but say. “They’re very – purple.”

Lan Wangji poked him in the head.

“They are! Very purple. I’m sure Huaisang will love them to a ridiculous degree and that my father will write me angry letters about trying to sell him to the Jiang sect again –” There was a very small snort from above his head. “In my defense, he was really annoying when he was a colicky baby, and at the time I thought the Jiang sect were pirates.”

Another snort, this time less small. Somewhat disdainful.

“Listen, they’re ‘known for their watercraft’, right? It was a perfectly reasonable mistake to make…”

Lan Wangji didn’t giggle the way Nie Huaisang did when Nie Mingjue clowned around for him, but he was smiling by the time he edged onto a nearby tree branch to get a particular blossom that Nie Mingjue had set his heart on, declaring it the fattest of all the flowers and thereby a necessary acquisition, and in the end they collected a full basket of the purple flowers, more than enough for a dozen pressed bookmarks.

The smile made Nie Mingjue feel like he accomplished something.

It was almost enough, even, to let him brush off all the stares they got as they walked back together, side-by-side.

Nie Mingjue reported to Lan Qiren’s study with a great deal of trepidation.

It only got worse when he saw Lan Xichen sitting there as well, and when Lan Qiren instructed his nephew to serve them all tea. Nie Mingjue was abruptly seized by the fear that something terrible had happened: that he’d broken some unknown rule and needed to be punished severely, that he’d failed all his tests, that they’d decided he wasn’t actually a good fit for the Cloud Recesses after all, that his father had been summoned to take him back home early in disgrace –

“You’ve been spending some time with Wangji of late,” Lan Qiren said.

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Yesterday, you presented the craftsman with a basket of purple gentians. Did Wangji show you where to find them?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said cautiously. “He helped me pick them.”

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen exchanged glances.

Nie Mingjue somehow felt even more nervous.

“Was I not supposed to take them?” he asked. “Wangji said they’re his mother’s favorites.”

Lan Xichen dropped his cup.

“Xichen,” Lan Qiren said sternly, and Lan Xichen apologized and quickly cleaned it up. Luckily the cup had not shattered. “Nie-gongzi, to confirm, Wangji told you that himself?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

Lan Qiren stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nie-gongzi…if I were to tell you that Wangji has not spoken to anyone in nearly six months, what would you say?”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“He also hasn’t trained with the sword in that time,” Lan Xichen interjected.

Nie Mingjue opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say.

“Our mother died,” Lan Xichen explained, his brow creased in misery and concern. “Wangji didn’t really understand…it took a long time before he understood that he couldn’t see her any more.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Xichen.”

Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “Sorry? For what?”

“For your loss? I mean, she was your mother, too, right?” It occurred to Nie Mingjue that she might not be, the way his mother and Nie Huaisang’s mother weren’t the same, but he was pretty sure the Lan sect only allowed for one marriage, and the age gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji was smaller than the one between him and Nie Huaisang…

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said. “She – was. Thank you.”

Lan Qiren made a thoughtful sound.

“If you’re asking if I did something to convince Wangji to come with me and do all that,” Nie Mingjue said, having finally figured out why he was sitting here having tea and being uncomfortable, “I really didn’t. It may just be that enough time has passed for the wound to scab over.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Qiren said.

“I think he feels bad for me?” Nie Mingjue hazarded. “I’m not sure. I’m still learning how to understand him.”

“The fact that you’ve realized that there’s something there to understand puts you way ahead of most people,” Lan Xichen told him.

“Why would he feel bad for you?” Lan Qiren asked.

Because your sect is full of snobs that all hate me.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “I – have no idea.”

Lan Xichen frowned at him. “Mingjue-xiong, ‘do not tell lies’ is a rule.”

“So is ‘do not insult people’,” Nie Mingjue said sulkily, and refused to say another word no matter how many ways Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen asked. He’d already figured out that not talking was the best way to avoid getting into trouble – the Lan sect was much more insular than the Nie sect, with all sorts of restrictions about getting brought in, and he didn’t have any confidence that expressing grievances would result in anything other than more shunning.

Eventually, Lan Qiren dismissed him, frowning, and Lan Xichen escorted him back to his rooms.

“Is it because you don’t trust me?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “Of course I trust you. You’re my friend.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that there was something wrong?” Lan Xichen demanded. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong, that’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s because we’re friends,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. Most of the time, he forgot that there was an age gap between him and Lan Xichen – three and a half years, same as the gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji – but sometimes it really hit home. “I don’t want to make trouble for you. This is just a place I’m staying for a little while, but you live here; after I go, we’ll still be friends, but you’ll still be stuck with whatever mess I make for you.”

Lan Xichen was scowling, his lower lip trembling a little, and Nie Mingjue cautiously reached out a hand to put on his shoulder, squeezing. He would prefer to give him a hug, but he didn’t know if it would be welcome – he’d already told Lan Xichen that he himself was always open for hugs, but he knew very well that Lan Xichen was uncomfortable with too much contact.

“It’s all right,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” Lan Xichen said. “Wangji noticed that you were unhappy, and I didn’t! What kind of friend am I?”

“You’re a good friend,” Nie Mingjue insisted. “You are. It’s not about you. I promise.”

They still hadn’t resolved it by the time Lan Xichen left him at his room. Nie Mingjue sighed, hoped that he hadn’t inadvertently ruined everything, and went to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up when the door to his room opened abruptly with a slam that seemed, in his sleep-fogged brain, to echo throughout the entire Cloud Recesses.

“Mingjue-xiong!”

“…Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, and rubbed his eyes disbelievingly. “Did you just slam a door?”

It wasn’t really a slam. It was a small shove, at best.

“Why didn’t you tell me people were being mean to you?” Lan Xichen demanded, and Nie Mingjue stared at him. “I would’ve made them stop! Really, I would have! I don’t care if they’re Lan sect and you’re not, they shouldn’t be – I shouldn’t be – making assumptions about you or pushing you out or – or – or anything!”

“Where did you get all of this from?” Nie Mingjue asked, utterly at sea. He was right, of course, about the problems Nie Mingjue had been having, but he certainly hadn’t known it last night before curfew and while, yes, it was only morning by the standards of guest disciples and not Lan sect members themselves – he got an extra shichen to sleep in while he adjusted to the earlier schedule, of which he generally tried to use only half – it still seemed a little implausible that Lan Xichen had managed to puzzle all of that out overnight.

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen said, and threw himself on the bed next to Nie Mingjue and gave him a hug, a good proper one like the ones he used to get all the time back in Qinghe and which he missed rather terribly. “He actually came and talked to us! With words! Well, a few words, anyway, but he hasn’t said anything to Shifu or me for six months up until now. He said you were unhappy because of the other Lan disciples persisted in thinking that you were stupid and angry when you’re neither.”

Nie Mingjue felt warm inside.

“Your brother’s smart,” he said gruffly.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I also thought you were stupid and angry and nothing more than that. I know you’re not.”

“I didn’t think that,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was mostly not a lie. “We’re friends, aren’t we? A friend wouldn’t think that about another friend.”

“That’s right,” Lan Xichen said, nodding firmly. “And friends don’t let friends go around thinking they didn’t do anything when they did something big – I still don’t know what exactly you did, Mingjue-xiong, but you helped Wangji a lot, and I’m eternally grateful.”

“There’s no need for thanks between friends,” Nie Mingjue reminded him, the first rule of their friendship formed in the spaces between discussion conferences that neither of them had any choice but to attend, and Lan Xichen smiled.

“I know,” he said warmly, and Nie Mingjue felt warm in response. “But I’m going to abuse my privilege and ask you to keep spending time with him – with both of us, sometimes, but with him by yourself if you don’t mind – so I think you’re owed at least one ‘thanks’.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Nie Mingjue said, grinning. “You just want a free babysitter, is that it?”

“It is not! Mingjue-xiong!”

Nie Mingjue started laughing. Lan Xichen smacked him – lightly by Lan standards, no doubt, but it was a good thing Nie Mingjue was as strong as he was.

“I don’t mind,” Nie Mingjue finally said. “I like your brother.”

Lan Xichen’s smile was as dazzling as the sun. “Good,” he said. “He likes you, too.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #lan wangji #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #of few words #ivydragon

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secretlittl3whore · 3 years

Text

Out Of Bullets

summary: Y/N has always had a crush on the man who beat her record on the range. So what happens when he returns from a mission to find that the little lady has taken his words to heart and gotten better?!

Warnings: it’s smut y’all. P in v. Unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it). Fingering. Virgin sex.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem/reader

Totz my first smut! Critiques appreciated! Luvs y’all!

————————————————————

The compound was pretty quiet during the twilight hours, and that was the absolute preference of Y/N. She did love people, don’t get her wrong, but there was something about her boots echoing off the empty hallways that brought solace. She continued her path to the shooting range, but almost turned around when she heard that distinct sound of bullets flying towards the paper targets.

“Ugh.” Y/N groaned. Then she caught a glimpse of a figure and couldn’t stop herself from drooling at the sight. He must’ve just returned from a mission, cuz he was still clad in his tactical gear. Holsters still attached and filled with weapons. Her eyes traveled downward resting on his thighs. Even those pants couldn’t hide those delicious features. A fire pooled deep within and subconsciously y/n started to rub her thighs together trying to create some sort of friction.

Did she hate him for beating her in everything? Yes, but that didn’t mean she hated him. No, every fiber of y/n’s being wanted him to bend her over the table and fuck her within an inch of her life. Not caring if someone walked in and saw, though someone definitely would eventually see cause of all the damn cameras Stark installed.

Almost as if he had heard her lustful thoughts, the man turned to look at her. He nodded a greeting and then went back to his drills. Must’ve went bad, y/n thought to herself.

She came to a stop beside him and watched him empty his clip before turning to her.

“Good morning Buck,” she stated cooly. Bucky just stared. “Bad mission?” His nostrils flared. Bingo.

“Sam is...fuck. He never has a fucking plan. Just jumps in.” He roared, gloved hands coming to pinch the bridge of his nose. Y/N stayed quiet, knowing to let him rant and not interject till he was finished. She learned the hard way that by doing so, he would shut down and not talk. Y/N prided herself on being a confidant. “He’s going to get someone killed!”. Absentmindedly he started twirling a vibranium knife in his gloved fingers before sinking it into the target that he had just been shooting at. Y/N closed her eyes quickly, knowing her pupils had blown out and stifled a small moan. Could he be any less sexy when he was mad?! Bucky took a deep breath, a sign that he was done ranting and y/n could talk.

“We both know that he’s stupid and reckless.” Bucky let out a gruff laugh, “and that’s why you are his partner because you balance him. The missions are most always successful with you two. It’s just going to take a few to get the rhythm right.” His eyes narrowed at y/n. She spoke truth, and he hated it. With a smug smile, y/n dumped her bag onto the other half of a table.

“Looking for a challenge or you done for today?” Bucky’s eyebrow raised quizzically and he smirked.

“A challenge? Have you been practicing what I showed you?” Y/N grinned and shook her head,

“No.” But that was a total lie. Before he had gone on the mission three weeks ago, they had spent around 6 hours in the range. It was grueling but he pushed her through drills and training. Since then, she had been in the range every day from twilight till noon practicing. Something flashed across his eyes, but disappeared just as quick. There was no way he could know she was lying...could he?

“You first doll.”

By the time y/n was nearly out of bullets, a small crowd had gathered in the viewing box. She was sure that she could see a certain redhead watching intently as y/n performed drill after drill. So focused on the target that she was missing the fact that his eyes hardly ever left her. How they softly caressed her figure and imagined stripping her, being inside her. Watching y/n go through these drills smoothly caused his dick to strain painfully against his pants.

Y/Ns gun clicked and that was it. She was officially out of bullets. She turned to Bucky and caught his eyes immediately. Had they always been that dark? She shook the thought out of her head and went to retrieve the targets. Bucky joined her silently. As they pulled down their targets he briefly dragged a digit along her hand, the leather feeling strangely cool against her skin. It caused a shiver and immediately a blush formed red hot across y/ns cheeks. No stop it! She told herself, it was an accident. Wasn’t it? Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of his profile. His eyes were still dark and he looked almost like he was in pain. Turning back to her target, she grinned widely. Her splatter of shots were centralized around the winning position. No outliers. She had certainly improved, and he had definitely noticed.

“I think you might have actually won this one.” He said through gritted teeth, enunciating the last word almost painfully. Y/N couldnt stop herself from celebrating out loud!

“Fuck yes! Told you I’d beat you Sarge!” There it was, that flash across his eyes, but this time it didn’t disappear as quickly. Y/N gulped as the man stared at her with such ferocity that she actually felt small.

“Want to try that again?” He asked, his voice quiet. She looked behind him and notice that the entirety of the audience had disappeared, almost as if they had never been there.

“I’m out of bullets.” Y/N said softly, her eyes.

“Did I say drills?” He said darkly, leaning in closely. She tried to sputter out a response but his lips captured hers in a gnash of teeth. Her response was immediately, letting that winning target float to the floor out of sight out of mind as she wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck.

Their lips moved with each other rhythmically. She felt his tongue on her lip and she welcomed him in, his taste intoxicating her, sending her head spinning. He pulled away suddenly, earning a small whine from her lips.

“Doll, I need you.” He said almost in a whisper as he leaned his forehead against hers. She almost gasped when she felt it, his dick pressing against her leg. Eyes darting she found the locker room and grabbed his hand, leading him quickly towards it. She found that small medical bay and locked them inside, pressing him against the door. Y/N leaned upwards to kiss him,

“Let me taste you.” She said seductively. He groaned throwing his head back against the door. She took that as a yes and dropped to her knees, making quick work of his pants. Her release was almost ripped from her when she released his dick and it slapped against his stomach. For a minute she paused. He was huge! Thick and glorious. The tip pulsating red and precun dripping. Was now the time to say she was a virgin? Would that make him stop? No, she had done enough research to know how to please a man...she hoped.

Languidly, she kitten licked along his shaft, taking in his scent and the taste of his skin. Bucky’s breathing quickened and she could hear the whirring of his vibranium arm as he clenched his fist. She licked a long stripe on the underside before taking his tip into her mouth. His breath hitched as she sucked.

“Doll,” his breath strangled, “doll you’ve got to move.” Fear struck, but she fought it and started bobbing her head. “Fuck, yes like that doll.” His flesh hand came to rest on her head, threading into her hair making a makeshift ponytail. He started taking over her movements. Y/N hollowed her cheeks like she learned, but it didn’t help when she felt him touch the back of her throat. She gagged painfully and pulled backwards roughly. Bucky stared down at her, eyes full of concern as she coughed harshly.

“Fuck doll. Shit I’m sorry. You just felt so good.” He cooed as he leaned down, grasping her face. She offered a small smile,

“I’m sorry.” Bucky grimaced, kissing her forehead softly.

“No y/n, it’s my fault. Nat said you were a virgin and I should’ve remembered...” he stopped dead in his tracks at the look upon y/ns face.

“She told you?!” She gasped. Bucky started scratching his the back of his head against he sat against the door, dick still hard and angry at being left without attention. She wasn’t angry at the fact that he knew, more so confused at all the conversation came up...or did Nat just offer that information freely l, that devious Russian mink.

“Ugh, yeah, she um...I’m sorry.” He made a move like he was gonna to get up but Y/Ns hand shot out and grabbed him by the vest.

“Don’t go. I...” she paused to collect her thoughts, Bucky looked at her sadly, pondering at what her response would be. “I still want you.” Bucky’s eyes snapped to hers,

“You do?” He asked surprised. Y/N chuckled at his response and leaned in towards him,

“I wouldn’t have sucked your dick if I didn’t.” The darkness returned to his eyes.

“I’ve wanted you for so long doll, are you sure?” She kissed him ferociously,

“Yes James,” Bucky groaned at the sound of his real name dripping from her lips. So low and sultry. He wanted to have her saying it over and over. He pulled y/n onto his lap, straddling her legs over his hips. He captured her lips as he kicked his pants off, but not before grabbing a certain leather strap.

Y/N’s whole body was on fire. This man’s smell, his taste, the feel of his skin, was so intoxicating she felt drunk and high at the same time. Was that even possible?

Suddenly her legs felt cold and then something warm was pressed against her ass. She pulled away and looked down, no he fucking didn’t. Looking back up, y/n noted a shit eating grin as he embedded the knife in the door behind him.

“You owe me new leggings.” She murmured, reaching down to unzip his vest. He shrugged it off and then took his shirt off. She couldn’t help but letting her hands explore the new territory, even taking a moment to trace the area where the metal met flesh. Y/N placed small open mouth kisses after the trails of her fingers, the scarred skin and metal creating a tingly texture against her lips.

“I’ll owe you a new shirt and bra too.” Before she could protest, they too were ripped from her body, that knife now embedded in the wall behind her. She tried glaring at him but couldn’t help but laugh at his grin.

“You are trouble Sarge.” He rutted his hips into her at the pet name and y/n bit back a moan. The movement caused his dick to slip underneath her and now it rested against her stomach, the red tip pleading with her for attention. She sighed and gripped him softly, before pumping. Bucky’s head hang low against his chest as his hands came to rest at her back. She hissed at the metal’s coldness but didn’t stop pumping. His breath quickened as she quickly spat into her other hand before switching them.

Bucky threw his head back against the door, eyes slammed shut and mouth agape, taking small uneven breaths.

“Doll...doll please,” he begged, his metal hand coming to clasp hers, stopping her actions. “I...want to feel you.” Y/N gulped, she was much smaller than this super soldier, he was going to rip her apart. Slowly she raised herself on her knees and Bucky gripped himself, pumping slowly. “Are you ready?” He asked gently. Despite the pounding in her ears, she nodded, but he didn’t move his dick forward. Instead she felt his flesh fingers touch her lips.

He gathered the wetness on his fingers and then gently circled her clit. Y/N felt her whole body shake and she leaned forward to grip his shoulders. As he leaned forward to capture her lips, he entered her with a single finger. Y/N threw her head back and let out a moan. Bucky took the opportunity to latch his lips against her neck, kissing, licking, biting, ensuring that she was marked. A second finger was entered and she could feel him working in and out of her. Breathing quickening, hands gripping, Y/N felt that she was going to explode. Then his thumb began playing at her clit.

“Ah...Bucky...I....” she moaned and he stopped. She groaned when he removed his fingers and stuck them in his mouth. Licking plump lips, he smiled deviously at her,

“Delicious,” he whispered. Leaning his forehead against hers he gently placed his hands on her hips. Guiding her onto himself, slowly, allowing her to get used to the feeling. Y/N felt tears on her cheeks, she felt full but also a dull burning pain. He kissed her cheeks, licking the tears away. And he was fully inside. He groaned at the feeling, burying his face within her neck.

They stayed like this for a moment before y/n felt a surge of confidence and, as Nat told her, started to rock forward. Bucky moaned against her neck, bringing his flesh hand to grab her ass while his metal tangled within her hair. Y/N quickened her pace, enjoying all the noises she heard from him.

Gripping y/ns hair tightly, he started to rut up into her, creating a rhythm. Y/N bit back a moan. He trailed his lips up to her ear,

“No doll, don’t hold those back, let me hear you.” As he said that, he hit a certain spot and Y/N saw white, moaning loudly. Such a promiscuous sound, she felt embarrassed, but as he continued at that angle, she forgot all embarrassment.

The feeling started in her stomach and started to grow. Her breath quickened and her heart started pounding again.

“Please, please, please” she moaned over and over again. “Buc...James...I, shit, I...”

“I got you doll, just let go. Cum for me.” And she did. He felt it on his legs and smelt it. God she smelled good. He continued his pace, going quicker now, chasing his own release. He pressed hard into her as he groaned her name against her shoulder, biting down on her clavicle.

Y/N leaned her forehead against his, eyes hazy. His blue orbs looked back at her and he chastely kissed her swollen lips.

“That...that was better than I imagined.” She whispered finally. Bucky chuckled,

“Oh so you’ve imagined riding me y/n?” She knew he was teasing her but she still blushed crimson. “You’ll have to tell me what else you’ve imagined and you’ll have to tell me which is better.” Oh she definitely knew now, which was better, but she couldn’t deny that she was excited to feel him inside again.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier smut #tfatws #Sebastian Stan smut #winter soldier #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n

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the-al-chemist · 2 years

Text

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 18

Summary: Héloïse gives Jim a french lesson.

Warnings: more terrible French.

May 1896

Héloïse sat in the library, an open book in one hand, a quill in another, reading intently. She paused as she reached a word she did not understand, and dipped the quill into an inkpot. She wrote the word down on a scroll of parchment, attempting to sound it out under her breath as she did so.

This had become somewhat of a routine for her, spending evenings in the library reading books one chapter at a time, noting down new words to find out their meanings, before going back through everything once she understood what it was that she was reading. It was arduous, but gradually she was starting to find that she could read more and more words without needing to stop, which was good. It meant that she was learning. Slowly but surely, she was learning.

From outside, the Clock Tower bell began to chime. Héloïse counted the chimes in English, realising as she got to the last one that she had been reading for far longer than she had realised. She quickly packed up her belongings and waved farewell to Madame Khanna the librarian, who always had time to help Héloïse find books that were not too challenging to read.

“Have you finished your chapter?” Madame Khanna asked, slowly and carefully. Héloïse frowned for a moment before shaking her head.

“I was not knowing the hour,” she told the librarian. “I have a friend, I am to see him now.”

Madame Khanna smiled kindly and nodded. “I can help you with your new words tomorrow.”

“Yes. Thank you. That will be nice.”

“Or perhaps your friend can help you with them now.”

Héloïse shrugged. She was not certain that Jim Hexley would like to help with her new words even if she had wanted to ask him for assistance. After all, she was supposed to be helping him to learn French, and so far, she did not think that she was doing a very good job of it. As slow as she felt her own progress had been when it came to learning English, Jim’s progress in French had been far slower, almost painstakingly so.

Having bid goodbye to Madame Khanna, she rushed through the castle and up to the top of the astronomy tower, where she found Jim waiting for her, quill and ink at the ready.

“Good evening… That is to say… Bonne soirée, Héloïse.”

“Bonsoir,” Héloïse half-greeted, half-corrected Jim, who cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly.

“Yes. Oui, sorry.”

“Je suis désolée,” Héloïse apologised slowly and deliberately, retrieving her own quill as she sat next to Jim. “Je sais que je suis en retard. Je lisais et-”

“Um, sorry, could you… I didn’t quite catch that, I…”

“Je suis en retard.” When Jim looked baffled, Héloïse reached into her pocket and pulled out an old astronomical pocket watch, one her father had given her as a young girl.

“Oh,” Jim nodded. “Yes, you made it here just in time.”

“Non, je…Oui. D’accord,” Héloïse sighed. Perhaps it would be a better use of time to get Jim to help with her new words after all. Still, she persisted. “Et avant de venir ici…”

“Um, now that you are here.”

“Avant de venir ici…”

“Avant,” Jim frowned. “Is that before or after?”

“Before.”

“Before you came here…”

“Oui. Avant de venir ici, je lisais,” Héloïse told Jim, who still looked confused. “Dans la bibliothèque” - he was still clearly none the wiser - “avec Madame Khanna.”

“Madam… Oh, you have come from the library,” a look of realisation came over Jim’s face. “Tu… es dans la… What was it? Bub- Bib-”

“La bibliothèque.”

“Oui. La bibbothèque. Et quoi… livre es tu… reading?”

“Voici,” Héloïse reached into her satchel and pulled out the book she had been attempting to read in the library. “Il s’agit d’un homme qui crée un monstre.”

“It’s a story about a man who creates a monster,” Jim translated her words perfectly, and Héloïse failed to hide her surprise. “I know the book.”

“Tu l’as lu?”

“I haven’t read it myself, but it’s one of Effy’s favourites,” Jim cleared his throat. “Sorry. Ma sœur aime ça.” He paused, and added, “Um, tu aimes?”

“Oui. Mais je n’ai commencé à lire que la semaine dernière.”

Jim nodded, but Héloïse suspected that he had not understood her. As it turned out, she was correct in her suspicion, for Jim asked her:

“How long have you been reading it?”

“For the last week.”

“And are you enjoying… Sorry, I asked that before. Avant.”

“Avant, oui.”

“Do you understand it all?”

Héloïse shook her head. “I am trying to understand. When I am not understanding words, I am writing so that I can to learn these.”

“Ah. And did you… As-tu… learnt… avant ici?”

“Non.”

“Pourquoi non?”

“Parce que je suis venue ici,” Héloïse held up her pocketwatch. “J’étais en retard.”

“Because you… you had not the time before coming here.”

“Oui.”

Jim frowned. Though he had just understood Héloïse, he did not look happy.

“What is wrong, Jim?”

“Well, I… It seems jolly unfair that you stopped learning English to teach me.”

“Ça fait rien. J’aime t’enseigner.”

“Not that I mind you teaching me. I like you teaching me, I just…” Jim cleared his throat again. “Well, it seems more important for you to learn English than for me to learn French.”

“But you are wanting to learn French, no?”

“Yes, but it is not important. I only wanted to learn to speak French in order to… Never mind.”

“In order to?”

Jim sighed. “Well… In order to speak to you more easily.”

“Oh,” Héloïse blinked.

“I’m sorry, I should not… I did not mean to be… I feel as if I have overstepped.”

“No. I wanted to ask what is ‘in order to’. I do not know these words.”

“Ah. Oh,” Jim’s face had turned bright pink. “In order to. It means… Because? No, not quite ‘because’. ‘So that one may’, I suppose, although… It gives an explanation for why someone might do something.”

“Yes. I am understanding this now, I think,” Héloïse nodded, though she did not stop frowning. “Why is this more easy for you, to speak in French?”

“It isn’t, but I thought that it would be more easy for you,” Jim paused and raised his eyebrows. “Although now I think that teaching me French might actually be more difficult than learning English.”

It took a moment for Héloïse to understand Jim’s words, but as soon as she did, she couldn’t help but laugh at the truth in them. Concerned that her doing so might offend him, she clapped her hands to her mouth, but rather than getting upset, Jim laughed as well.

“Perhaps… Would you rather we speak in English from now on?” he asked. “I do not mind either way, but if it is easier for you, then… Well, it might be better for both of us if we were to speak English.”

Héloïse considered his words, before nodding and pulling out the list of words that she had not had time to translate before.

“Can you help me to understand these?”

“I… Well, I can certainly try.”

“This will be good enough for me, I think.”

#the beginning of a symphony #the hexley legacy #hogwarts legacy #jim hexley #heloise perrault #harinakshi khanna

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psychewritesbs · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 160: How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated? + Megumi the stage-five clinger

Happy JJK-Sunday!

If I had to describe chapter 160 with as few words as possible, I would say: Oh f*ck...

My favorite moment was, of course, Megumi acting like a stage-five clinger. His interaction with Yuji in this chapter is especially ominous in light of Yuji being adamant of protecting Megumi from Sukuna.

A second favorite was Sasaki showing up in this chapter because of the implications moving forward.

Let’s jump right in.

How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated by Kenjaku?

We start the chapter with Kenjaku talking to none other than Sasaki, one of the members of the Occult Club at the high school in Sendai that Yuji used to attend.

Of course, the bomb that Gege dropped on us in this chapter is when Kenjaku thanks Sasaki “for getting along with my son”.

Like... excuse you?

Not only does this 100% confirm that Kenjaku used Yuji’s mother’s body to give birth to him, but this specific moment + some foreshadowing from previous chapters also opens an interesting can of worms about Yuji’s life: just how much of Yuji’s life has Kenjaku orchestrated?

For me, the implication is that Sasaki had an assigned role to play in Yuji’s life that would inevitably lead to him eating Sukuna’s finger.

I am assuming this because although we don’t see Kenjaku’s interactions with the other people in Sendai, we get to see that, in addition for thanking her for getting along with Yuji, Kenjaku is incredibly kind to Sasaki. We also learn that she’s the only one who has received a special message from him (thanking her).

Ready to make this whole interaction more ominous? Someone pointed out that the kanji in Sasaki’s name means assistant.

All of this brings us right back to Yuji’s free will--or lack thereof?

We already know that Kenjaku claims he made Yuji “ingest” Sukuna’s finger and that Megumi is rightfully concerned with this idea because he witnessed Yuji eat Sukuna’s finger “of his own free will.”

It’s also becoming increasingly obvious that Yuji was "created” solely for the purpose of becoming Sukuna’s vessel.

What this new reveal about Sasaki does is that it makes everything feel like certain events have been part of Kenjaku’s master plan all along. While this still feels a little farfetched, it will come down to how Gege works this idea into the story moving forward.

Come to think of it, even Yuji’s grandfather’s dying words to Yuji take on a new meaning since we know Wasuke knew something was definitively up with Yuji’s mother.

Another possible bit of foreshadowing all the way in chapter 1: While the intersection in the second panel below could be ANY intersection in Japan, it sure looks like the Shibuya crossing:

A quick note on the importance of kanji meanings in JJK before moving onto the next section: knowing the meaning of Sasaki’s name tells us that names are important in JJK. If you haven’t, I recommend you read my break down on the meaning of Megumi’s FULL NAME. His first name is important, but so is his last name.

The plans moving forward

Going off to Tokyo Colony #2 are Panda and Hakari.

As the strongest, Hakari feels like he should take on Hajime. As for Panda, it looks like his focus will be on hunting down Angel.

Side note: I love that Hakari is still calling Megumi names. Guess Senpai can’t help himself.

I must admit I was disappointed to find that Kirara will stay behind to report, but it is what it is. I am assuming Gege could see no use for Kirara and decided to leave the character out of the action for the time being.

As for Megumi and Yuji, they’ll be heading to Tokyo Colony #1 to target Higuruma, everybody’s new favorite Law & Order boss.

This brings us to Megumi’s current state of mind...

Megumi the stage-five clinger

I had a hard time coming up with the title for this section because what I see happening is that Megumi is starting to feel the pressure of the looming deadline for Tsumiki joining the Culling Game. What his behavior shows, however, is that he needs Yuji with him and is clinging onto him but won’t come out and say it--opting instead for aggression towards Yuji, the very same person he needs most.

His behavior reminded me of how Megumi could be mean to Tsumiki even though he clearly adores her. Apparently that’s the meaning of being tsundere. I’ve read about the term tsundere before but it never “clicked” until this moment and I just love Gege’s interpretation of the trope through Megumi’s character.

It goes without saying that it was REALLY interesting to me to see Megumi’s dynamic and interaction with Yuji in this chapter because it looks like Gege is letting us know Megumi’s state of mind continues to be one of desperation--remember that dogeza bow from chapter 157?

The thing about Megumi is that he looks stoic on the outside, but he’s actually an incredibly emotional person who doesn’t often show how he’s feeling.

I hadn’t caught on, but in chatting with @justafrenchlondoner about the chapter, they pointed out Megumi’s behavior in his dynamic with Yuji appears nervous and aggressive.

Upon a second look I have to agree that Megumi is acting out of character and aggressive with Yuji when all that Yuji really wants is to protect Megumi from Sukuna.

And yes, let me go ahead and sound like a broken record as I remind you of Yuji’s rather ominous words from chapter 143 yet again:

And this is the part of the chapter that knocked the air out of me: Megumi telling Yuji to stfu about Sukuna but Yuji thinking to himself “as long as I’m around you will suffer” back in ch143 is so damn ominous.

Oh f*ck...

But this is what REALLY gets me about this whole interaction and why I’m calling Megumi a stage-five clinger...

Even though Megumi is calling Yuji selfish, in reality, the one being selfish is Megumi.

This is, of course, my own interpretation of the situation, but to me it feels as though Megumi is clinging onto Yuji’s strength for dear life.

It’s almost like Megumi needs not just Yuji’s physical strength, but also his unwavering conviction or mental strength.

If you think about it, Megumi has only recently started fighting to win. Remember how unsure he was of himself when fighting Sukuna for the first time? It wasn’t until he went up against the Cursed Spirit from the Yasohachi bridge that he let go of his inhibitions.

Megumi’s battles during Shibuya were the pinnacle of his growth as a character in that moment. If I remember correctly, according to the timeline of events, the Shibuya incident happened around two weeks prior to the current chapter. You could say that although he is more comfortable in his strength than before, Megumi is still growing into his strength at this point.

The thing about Megumi is that everybody and their Divine Dog believes in him and sees his potential except for him. As Gojo tells him “you undervalue yourself.”

Looking back, the way Megumi asks begs Yuji for help in chapter 143 is very enlightening of how Megumi needs Yuji’s strength:

I initially had read this to mean Megumi needed Yuji’s physical strength. Upon second look, however, Megumi has always seemed to have admiration for Yuji’s conviction.

With the looming deadline for Tsumiki’s vow to join the Culling Game, as Megumi starts to feel the pressure to make his plan work, who better to keep around than the person who will always go for the home run and whose strength he admires?

In other words, like hell he’s going to let Yuji leave his side. Which, again, only makes it more heartbreaking to think Sukuna is up to no good regarding Megumi and Yuji wants to protect him from that.

Oh f*ck.......

The panel below feels like a bit of a lighthearted and comical moment, but it’s also interesting to note that this is the second time they “fight”.

The first “fight” having taken place during the Cursed Womb Arc.

If you will remember, Gege used the Cursed Womb Arc and the Origin of Obedience Arc to show us how much our favorite trio had grown.

Not sure Gege is going to parallel something here again, but just interesting to note.

Oh f*ck...

Ya, please excuse the French.

Despite the many words I’ve shared here, this chapter left me mostly speechless.

I feel like I’ve been trapped in Gojo’s limitless domain expansion and all I can think is “oh f*ck” or “halloween” (if you catch my drift).

Chapter 160 was incredible because it looks like Gege has finally finished putting all his pieces into place and is ready to go for the kill by:

Starting to unravel the story bit by bit, giving us all of the twists we both saw and did not see coming, and

Ramping up the stakes. Taking into consideration the estimates that JJK is somewhere around 60-70% done at this point, It’s not a matter of whether some of our beloved characters will die, but about who, when and how they will die

One last detail

I love the last four panels of the chapter showing Panda, Hakari, Yuji and Megumi all wearing their uniforms (barring Panda) and getting ready to become official participants of the Culling Game by entering their respective barriers.

Knowing that Gege is a very talented artist capable of showing and expressing emotions through his art, I feel like these panels tell us a lot about what the characters might be thinking and I thought I’d expand on that.

Bear in mind this is my personal interpretation as an artist:

Panda looks excited and ready to fight, perhaps even confident. Panda is saying “bring it!” with his body language

There’s a hint of something I can’t describe in Hakari’s face. It’s almost like he’s coming face to face against how big of a challenge this is going to be and yet he’s resolved to walk straight into “the depths of hell itself”

Yuji looks focused, determined to go in and give it his best no matter what comes his way--that’s just who he is

And then there’s Megumi. I’ve been drawing Megumi recently, and one thing I noticed is that he has very specific micro-expressions. In his panel, he’s warming up his wrists as though he’s getting ready to fight, he has a focused look on his face, but the shadows around his eyes say he might be feeling like he is carrying the heavy burden of the uncertainty surrounding the situation he’s going through

With all that being said... the Culling Game is officially starting and we’re in for a one-way ride straight to hell.

Thank you for reading and happy JJK-Sunday!

What about you? What did you enjoy most about chapter 160?

#fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #god i love jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk ch 160 #gege akutami #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #hakari kinji #jjk meta #jjk theory

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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

Text

Grade A Business//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Brief semi-nudity, slight language, two suggestive comments, y/n drools on fred but like in a cute way

Summary: As one businessman makes a trip across the ocean to talk to new investors, he meets his new partner, someone a lot more familiar than he was expecting.

Prompts: Only One Bed with dialogue prompts “if we get caught, I’m blaming you” and “I don't want to be alone”

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Day 2 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

Fred had never gotten used to traveling on Muggle airplanes. He never had a need to before, not with everything being a train ride, floo network, or apparition away. But as he and George progressed into adulthood, and the businessman life no less, they found themselves constantly on the move and needing a fast and easy way to travel without drawing suspicion. Except for the one time that Fred’s magical briefcase set off every airport security system imaginable, but he’d learned from that mistake.

He was relieved to be exiting the JFK airport in New York City, clutching his luggage and thanking Merlin that his feet could now touch solid ground. Being in one of those huge steel contraptions was nothing like flying in a broom. He had no control over anything and it drove him absolutely insane. Luckily, he was safe now, and one step closer to being done with this awful business trip.

At the beginning of their business endeavors, Fred and George would travel together, trying to pick up business at other locations for Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes. But as the shop grew and the locations became more and more foreign (so far having shops in Paris, Cairo, and Madrid) the brothers realized that the operations would have to be solo missions to allow for the other to run the shop for longer periods of time. Usually Fred didn’t mind taking the trips by himself. In fact, he rather enjoyed the alone time and flexibility in schedule. But this meeting was supposed to be a big one, and he was feeling quite nervous about having to tackle it himself.

Big investors located in the states were meeting with him to discuss opening a joint operation in New York City, combining his shop with another renowned wizard business that they deemed would be most profitable. Fred groaned internally just thinking about it. He didn’t want to have to share this new shop with anyone, no matter what the new investors thought. What if the other co-owner was a horrible person? Or worse, what if they had no sense of humor? They’d ruin the Weasley reputation and make it some boring book store. Or puzzle shop? Honestly Fred didn’t know much about the other business, just that he already didn’t like it.

Hailing a cab, a trick his sister-in-law Hermione had shown him years ago, Fred lugged all of his prototypes--skillfully hidden from Muggle eyes and detection systems by layers of spells--into the trunk before hopping in, giving the address of the hotel the investors had booked for him. He was about to shut the door when a panting scream startled him enough to make him stop.

“Wait! Hold the cab!”

Doing as he was told, Fred kept the door open and allowed the stranger to climb in, suitcase and all.

“Thanks,” you said, Fred noting your distinct British accent and strikingly familiar features. “I really need to get to my hotel, I appreciate it--”

“Y/N?”

Shocked, you finally looked at your ride partner’s face for the first time. Soft brown eyes. Freckled face. Bright ginger hair.

“Fred?! Fred Weasley?” You knew for a fact you weren’t mistaken, this was definitely the Fred you remembered. Or maybe it could have been George? It had been so long since you had seen either of them. Since Hogwarts, in fact.

Luckily, Fred nodded, confirming your belief that this was the older Weasley twin and saving yourself from heaps of embarrassment. “Y/N L/N, what are you doing here?”

Fred and you both wore matching grins, stretching from ear to ear. What an insane coincidence. What were the chances that you two would be in the same cab, in the same city, in the same foreign country?

“I’m actually here for business,” you said. “After Hogwarts I opened my own shop--”

“Excuse me,” the cab driver interrupted, wasting no time with politeness nor formalities. “But I have cars lined up behind me and I don’t know where you wanna go little lady. So let’s get on with it, if you will.”

“Oh, yeah of course. It’s, umm, oh shit which hotel was it? It’s on 53rd and 10th, I know that…” You trailed off, trying to remember what your hotel was called. You dug around in your purse, hoping to find a piece of paper with the name on it. “I think it was called--”

“Lotus Hotel.”

It was Fred who had interrupted you, once again, and once again you were just as bewildered as before.

“That’s right,” you said after a few seconds of confused silence. “Yes, yes the Lotus Hotel please,” you told the driver with confidence. Turning back to Fred you tried in earnest to understand what was happening.

“So same location?” the driver asked, to which Fred confirmed before you were speeding off down the crowded streets of the city.

“Oh, I get it,” you said in understanding. “Same hotel as me?”

“That is correct, love. What are the odds?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a half suggestive half just plain goofy manner, awkwardly shuffling so that his long legs had room amongst your many bags.

“That is quite a coincidence,” you agreed. “Funny thing is, I didn’t even choose the location. I have a business meeting in the morning with possible investors and they set everything up for the stay.”

Fred’s mouth practically dropped open at what you had said. “You’re kidding. These investors don’t happen to be Robbie Goldstein and Rachel McMillan, do they?”

“Ok, you need to stop doing that,” you said, officially freaked. “That’s the third time you’ve predicted something and it’s starting to creep me out. You never were very good at legilimency.”

He hushed you quickly, hoping the cab driver hadn’t caught onto the magical term you just used. Thankfully, he was too focused on the roads to notice.

“Ok, Y/N, one last question.”

“And then you’ll explain how you know all this?”

Fred ignored your question and continued with his own. “You said you opened a business. Are you perhaps meeting with another business owner to discuss a collaboration on a new store opening in the city?”

“Yes!” you said, eager to know how Fred could have known that. Was this another one of his pranks? Did he have hidden cameras in the cab somewhere? “How do you know all this?”

He only laughed, a joyous and very relieved grin overtaking his face. Sticking out his right hand, he grabbed yours and shook it eagerly. “Well, Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to be reacquainted. I’m Frederick Weasley, your new potential partner.”

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

“You know, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Oh thank Godric, I was worried you’d think I was grown up and mature now.”

You laughed heartily as you dragged your bags out of the cab, thanking the driver before he grunted annoyedly and drove off. Your drive from the airport had gone faster than expected, mostly due to the fact that you and Fred had so much to catch up on.

After he and George had left Hogwarts in their grand exit, they’d created the shop they’d always dreamed of, parking it right in the middle of Diagon Alley. You, on the other hand, went about creating your success in a much more conventional way. After finishing your last year of school, you started working full time at Zonko’s at Hogsmeade, trying to save up enough money to start your own business.

Many long hours and tiring days later, you opened up your little place, a toy store and puzzle shop. It was a similar setup to what the Weasleys did, but as you described it, “my toys don’t blow up in the user's face.”

You were now very excited for tomorrow’s meeting, the one you had been dreading beforehand. Your business was much smaller than Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and this would be your first international location. You were afraid that the owner you would be forced to work with would be some stuck up rich big whig who wouldn’t allow you to keep any of your small business charm in the new location. But learning that you would be working with Fred, well that was a relief for many reasons.

Fred rang the hotel desk bell, chatting happily about ideas for the shared shop and new products that fit with what both of you wanted to do.

“Hello there,” said the hotel receptionist, coming around the corner. “What can I do for you today?”

“Two night stay for Frederick Weasley,” said Fred. “Should’ve been booked by Robbie Goldstein.”

The young man typed quickly into his computer before offering Fred a hotel key card. “Here you are Mr. Weasley, room 504. We serve complimentary breakfast from 6 to 9 every morning down in our west hall. If you need anything don’t be afraid to call down and we’ll assist you in any way we can.”

Fred nodded at the man. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” He turned to leave before you grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him back.

“Wait for me,” you said. “I’m not finished talking to you yet.”

Fred smiled and waited behind you as you took your turn at the desk.

“Y/N L/N, also booked by Robbie Goldstein.”

He clicked away again but paused for a few seconds, seemingly confused. “You said Y/N L/N?”

Starting to get nervous, you nodded. “Yes, that’s me. Is the reservation not there?” You didn’t want to think about having to find somewhere else to stay, especially because it was getting so late.

“Oh no,” the man replied. “It’s here all right.” Ignoring the confused looks you and Fred were giving each other, the receptionist handed you a hotel key card and gestured to the elevator. “Thank you for choosing to stay with us. You’ll be staying for two nights in room 504. Don’t forget to enjoy our complimentary breakfast from 6--”

“I’m sorry,” Fred interrupted. “But that’s my room. You did say 504, right?”

“Yes sir,” he replied, not bothering to try to understand the predicament. “Mr. Goldstein booked one room for the both of you.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at Fred, silently asking him to help you figure this out. But instead, Fred just broke out laughing, having to brace himself on the front desk.

“I guess that’s what you expect when you let two investors who specialize in pranking shops make the room accommodations.”

“This isn’t funny Fred,” you said, although you had to give Robbie and Rachel credit for this joke. Turning to the receptionist, you sighed and ran your hands through your hair. “There’s at least two separate beds, right?”

He glanced down at his computer screen before looking back up at you with a guilty smile. “Well, about that…”

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

“Alright, I’ll take the couch, I’m sure it’s a pullout, it has to be.”

Fred stood in the doorway watching you mumble mostly to yourself. As tired as he was and as much as he wanted to just lie down and sleep, somehow watching you freak out about the sleeping arrangements was a much better use of his time.

He watched as you threw the pillows and cushions off of the couch and felt around for a lever, something, anything that would allow you a place to rest. Your face lit up as you felt a small impression and yanked with all your might, only causing you to thump backwards onto your butt on the hotel room floor.

Kicking off his shoes, Fred jumped onto the bed, sighing as he let his body relax. “Come on in darling, there’s plenty of room for the both of us.”

He opened one eye slightly, just enough to see your reaction. You were trying again to make the couch open, although you both knew that it wasn’t a pullout. Nevertheless, you kept pulling at every spot you thought could make a difference.

It reminded Fred of the good old days, back at Hogwarts when you two were so close. You were always so stubborn, and he didn’t realize just how much he had missed having you in his life. He always wondered what happened to you after he and George left, but with the shop opening up and the war around the corner, he never had the thought to write you or track you down. He hoped this time after you two parted ways you would still remain in touch.

You groaned loudly, slapping the couch with one of the pillows you had thrown earlier. Nothing was going as planned and you couldn’t be more annoyed.

“Fine,” you huffed. “I’ll just sleep on the couch, no need for a pullout.” You stomped over to the bed and angrily pulled the blanket from off of him.

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to grab it back but you were too quick. “That’s not fair, it’s cold!”

“If you get the bed,” you said, wrapping yourself up, “then I get to stay warm. Now go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He couldn’t help but giggle at the small bundle of you wrapped up in the hotel quilt, looking like an angry little burrito. Standing, he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in the corner, followed next by his undershirt before he unbuckled his belt. He turned to face you slowly, feeling your eyes on him as they peeked out of your wrapping.

You quickly turned your gaze and glared at the floor. “What are you doing?” you said, hoping Fred didn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. He did.

He continued to undress, leaving him only in a pair of red boxers that left little to the imagination. “Going to bed, as you said,” he replied nonchalantly. He grabbed a toothbrush from his suitcase and made his way to the bathroom, making sure to walk extra slowly and give you a longer show.

“This is so unprofessional!” you yelled after him.

“We’re not business partners until tomorrow, love,” Fred said with a mouthful of toothpaste. “As far as I see it we can do anything we want tonight.”

Rolling your eyes, you shed the large blanket and grabbed an oversized t-shirt from your bag, hoping you’d be able to change before Fred finished in the bathroom. As he emerged, he saw the tail end of you throwing the shirt on, flashing your thighs and part of your panties for half a second. He averted his eyes out of respect, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running away with what he just saw.

You shuffled past him, taking your turn in the bathroom. How in the world had this happened? How had a nice catch-up with a friend turned into an awkward back and forth the night before the most important business meeting of your life?

All you wanted to do was fall asleep, go through with whatever tomorrow brought you, and pretend like this never happened. But as you came out of the bathroom, you saw that Fred had taken the blanket back, leaving you with nothing except your t-shirt and an uncomfortable couch.

“Fred, let me have it,” you said, trying to yank it from his grip.

“No,” he mumbled, voice muffled by one of the many pillows he was cuddled with.

“Frederick Gideon Weasley, give me the blanket now or so help me…”

Instead of responding, he just reached out and patted you on the top of your head before rolling over and pretending to snore. He was infuriating.

You sulked back to the couch, accepting your defeat. You pulled out all of the clothes in your bag, hoping they could form as some sort of makeshift blanket. But after a few minutes of shivering and curling into the smallest ball possible, you realized that you’d never manage to sleep like this. Fred was staring at you, partially amused and partially concerned. You looked away.

“You can always share with me, you know,” he said, patting the bed next to him.

You scoffed and turned away. “Like I said, Fred, we’re soon-to-be business partners. Imagine how that would look! I’m fine right here, thank you.”

After a few seconds of silence you snuck another look at him. He hadn’t moved an inch, and was instead looking more concerned than before. “You’re going to freeze to death over there.”

“Well maybe that’s because someone stole my blanket.”

“The blanket comes with the bed, and the bed comes with me. Take it or leave it.”

It took everything in you not to scream. You wanted that warm, soft, comfortable bed more than anything at the moment. You needed it. Oh but it would send such a bad message if anyone ever found out…

“If we get caught I’m blaming you,” you relented, trudging over to the bed and crawling underneath the covers, ripping the blanket from a very amused Fred.

“Who’s gonna catch us, Robbie and Rachel? They’re the ones that set this up! Trust me, nothing’s going to happen.”

“It better not,” you said. “And make sure you stay on your side of the bed, I mean it! No touching.”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Fred said, rolling slightly closer to you. “You act as if we’ve never done this before. We’ve slept with each other dozens of times.”

Your face went red at his words, wishing he would have phrased it a different way.

“You know what I mean,” he said quickly, hearing how his words came across. “But the amount of times we’ve cuddled up in the Gryffindor common room or up stargazing in the astronomy tower. It’s just me, there’s nothing to be scared of.”

“We were also 17 and a lot closer back then,” you retorted, remembering the fond memories you had from your high school days.

Fred huffed and returned to his side. “I’m not saying we weren’t. I just wish you weren’t acting so different now. It’s like we’re barely friends anymore…” His voice drifted off, wishing that he could go back and change the past. It had been 8 years since he last saw you. 8 whole years. Maybe things would’ve been different if he had tried to stay in touch. You’d never even visited his shop in those 8 years, never seen everything he was so proud of. He was stupid to think that one reunion was going to bring back a friendship that was practically already dead. He was even more stupid to think that maybe, just maybe, fate was giving him one last chance to shoot his shot, close to a decade later. What a right idiot he was.

On the other side of the bed, less than a meter away, similar thoughts raced through your mind. 8 years. Why hadn’t you, in 8 years, made one trip to visit their shop. Sure, there was a war going on and you were busy starting your own shop, but things had been fairly calm the last few years. Why had you never reached out? Almost subconsciously, you reached out physically for Fred. Your hand brushed up against his back before you tensed and drew back. You both stilled for a few moments, before Fred rolled over, facing you.

The two of you just stared at each other, both playing mental images of what your lives could have looked like the last 8 years if just one of you had done something.

“You’re not seeing anyone, are you?” Fred asked, breaking the silence. You shook your head. He moved closer.

“Are you?” you asked. He shook his head. You moved closer.

Your faces were now about a foot apart. You moved your hand to rest it between your face and the pillow. Fred copied your actions. You laughed softly, the movement causing a strand of hair to fall into your face.

Fred reached his hand out to move it before hesitating. “Can I?” His voice was so soft, so full of care. His hand hesitated in the air for a second before you nodded. He brushed the strands behind your ear, fingertips so gentle that you got chills up and down your spine. He let his hand linger before it moved to cup your face. “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled and leaned into his touch. “I’ve missed you too, Freddie.”

His hand left your face and moved down to your waist, eyes not leaving yours in case you ever grew uncomfortable. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him just like you used to do all those years ago. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and hummed contently, before both of you slowly drifted off to sleep.

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

“Freddie, Y/N! How are ya!”

Robbie Goldstein, a plump man with fading hair ran up to greet you and Fred in the lobby of his and his partner’s office, shaking both of your hands fervently.

“Hey Robbie,” said Fred, slapping the man on the back. “I’m glad to be here.”

“Same with me,” you said, glad you could finally meet the man with whom you’d been discussing business through letters in person.

Robbie looked between the two of you, sly grin on his face. “Ah, so I see you’ve already met them. Wouldn’t happen to be because of a little mishap at the hotel last night, would it?”

You groaned internally, hating that someone else knew about the previous night, but Fred only laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“A great prank, I must admit, but Y/N and I actually go way back. I’ve known her since I was 11 years old, so nice try. I couldn’t imagine how that would’ve gone if we were complete strangers.”

Robbie’s face fell a little before he shrugged and nodded his head in defeat. “Well, what are the odds of that?”

“Astronomical,” you said, giving Fred a subtle tap with your foot.

Robbie gestured for the two of you to follow him into the conference room where discussions about the new business would commence. “Well, I’m glad that you two seem to get along then, this is going to make things a lot easier. Oh, and don’t worry about arrangements tonight, I’ve decided not to let my joke stretch on and I booked another room for one of you for your last night in town.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Fred, and stepped into the conference room. “Thanks Robbie, that makes things a lot easier.”

“Yeah,” said Fred hesitantly, “thanks for that.”

He shut the door behind you and straightened up. There was no place for personal feelings in this business negotiation. He needed to do what was best for his company and yours, no distractions. No thoughts of crushed hope that suddenly plagued his mind.

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

Fred hated the bed he was sleeping on. Granted, it was the same bed as the night before, but this time it felt different. It felt like it was mocking him. You had been the one to offer to change rooms and it seemed like you couldn’t wait to get out of there and to your own bedroom, free of any Weasleys. It made Fred sick to think about.

He had just gotten used to the idea of something happening between the two of you. Last night, it all seemed perfect. You had cuddled the same way you had before, talked like nothing had changed. Hell, he even woke up with you lying sprawled out on top of him, a little trickle of drool falling onto his chest. He didn’t mind.

But now, everything that happened the night before seemed like a dream.

Fred knew he’d at least get to see you sporadically from now on. Your business negotiations with Robbie and Rachel went great, and the two of you, three counting George, were going to be combining forces and opening a joke and toy shop in the city sometime within the next year. It went exactly how Fred had wanted it to go, and yet so horribly wrong at the same time.

He didn’t want to only interact with you as a business partner and casual friend. He wanted so much more than you were willing to give him, and having to see you and write you and work with you was going to be torture for him. He buried his face in the pillows, gripping the large blanket to his chest, wishing it was you instead. Stupid Robbie and his stupid pranks and stupid business and--

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Fred lifted his head to check the clock. It was 2 in the morning. Who in the world would be knocking this late at night? Fred slowly got out of bed, too tired to bother putting anything more decent on. He looked through the peephole of the door but his eyes were too blurry to make anything out. Groaning, he unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Standing in front of him, clothed in the oversized t-shirt from last night and a pair of booty shorts, was you, looking nervous and embarrassed. Fred hadn’t noticed the previous day, but the shirt you had been wearing was one of his old Quidditch practice jerseys, all beat up and way too huge on you. He remembered the day he gave that to you, or rather when you stole it from him because you complained about it being too cold. Fred had to hold back a laugh at the irony.

“I, umm,” you started, not knowing what to say to him. How were you supposed to explain that you missed him so much that spending one night away from him was too much for you to bear? How last night had been the best sleep you had in years because of how content and at peace he made you feel. How could you convey all of your feelings to him at this very moment?

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Fred wasted no time in picking you up, laughing as you screamed and kicked your legs around. “Fred Weasley, you put me down!”

He did as he was told and threw you onto the bed before jumping, arms and legs spread out, and landing straight on top of you. “I’m so glad you're here,” he said, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He pushed himself up, scanning your face to make sure what he did was ok, but you grabbed his face in your cheeks and pulled him down into a long kiss. Fred smiled through the kiss, almost laughing at how everything was working out. Maybe fate did have something to do with it after all.

Fred pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “So,” he said, mischief glinting in his eyes, “how about we put this bed to good use?”

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