#fic: a deathly visit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

koqabear · 11 months

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Pretty Privilege (and its complications…)

♫: California Gurls, Katy Perry // Icky, Kard

“You love your boyfriend more than anything; so much so that you decide to pay a visit to him while he‘s on duty, a perfect excuse to gawk at his perfect form and charming self. Unbeknownst to you (like always) the act only causes Taehyun to stress, forced to watch you attract attention like a magnet and have people flirt with you left and right— even your understanding boyfriend has his limits, you know.”

lifeguard!Taehyun x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship, beach au, fluff, smut

Word count: 9.6K

warnings: bimbo/ditzy/feminine mc, mc is called a queencard bc idk, mc gets horny every three seconds, mc has nipple peircings and insane pretty privilege, (I have nothing to say for myself.) everyone in this damn beach wants her, she gets hit on by both men and women. alcohol consumption, (no one gets drunk) use of pet names (baby, my girl etc.) and the words boyfriend/girlfriend, lowkey public indecency.. teasing, possessiveness, a little jealousy.

smut warnings: dom!taehyun, sub!mc semi-public sex, marking, thigh riding, degrading, possessiveness (again!), rough sex, biting, breast play, grinding, oral (f. rec) multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, strength kink, tae picks the mc up, praise, dacryphilia, creampie (lemme know if I should add anything!)

Notes: alternate title: my strange addiction (kang taehyun) this fic is nawt meant to be taken seriously!! (I blacked out halfway through writing and editing this) Can you tell that I have tropes that just have a deathly chokehold on me? Embarrassing…

Kang Taehyun feels his heart stop the moment he sees your car pull up.

A peaceful, thirty-minute break quickly turns into a meditation session the moment he sees your hot pink Porsche convertible pull up, straight from a Barbie movie as the fuzzy dice that hang from the mirror bounce around— even from the top of the hill where the parking lot is at, he’s still able to spot you with eerie ease.

You’re as energetic and bubbly as ever as you exit the car, laughing with your friends as you fail to notice Taehyun’s heated stare; your friends however, are much quicker to catch him, sharing knowing looks amongst themselves and laughing softly.

His face feels hot as he quickly looks back down, his gaze downcast as he goes to scroll on his phone as a distraction— like instinct, he opens Instagram, your newest story popping up on his feed as he finds himself gulping nervously.

Beach day!! >v< the picture is captioned, your bright smile practically blinding as you pose with your friends— you practically steal the spotlight with ease however, especially when you’re wearing a pink halter top with a Hawaiian flower pattern that exposes your breasts perfectly, the dip allowing your gold necklaces to rest in between.

God, Taehyun sighs, running a hand through his hair as he hears your bubbly laugh from a distance, it’s so difficult having such a hot girlfriend.

A hot girlfriend who’s practically an influencer, he adds, counting down the minutes before he has to go back on duty as he remembers how successful your social media page has become. You didn’t mean to do it on purpose— you simply wanted to document your life and style like any other person would— but it seems as though you attracted much more attention than you anticipated.

A few hundred thousand followers and plenty of sponsorships later, however, you quickly found yourself titled a true “queencard”— not that you wanted to be, anyway.

You took your newfound “fame” with a grain of salt however, living your life as normal and continuing to document your lavish and busy lifestyle— in turn, Taehyun asked you to keep your relationship on the more private side.

It wasn’t that Taehyun didn’t want to be seen with you; if anything, he adored showing you off, enjoying the way no one could take their eyes off you whenever you entered a room— off his girlfriend. He was very vocal about the love and pride he held for you, but he also preferred to keep his life away from the media. And like the angel you are, you accepted his wishes without any hesitation.

Like Taehyun, you absolutely adored your partner; you were quite obsessed with him, honestly. If he’d let you, you’d fill your feed with him, your camera roll that was already filled with pictures of him begging to be posted as your mind told you that he could be an influencer as well— because who were you kidding, he’s so smoking hot.

“Girl, you need to stop staring before you start drooling,” Chaewon says, helping Wonyoung unload the bags from the car as they begin to laugh and tease you. You simply whine at her comment, biting your lip before you force yourself to look away; how could someone look so attractive by just scrolling on their phone?

“I can’t help it,” you cry, taking a beach bag from Wonyoung in order to help, “he’s just sooo hot!”

“And you let us know every time,” Wonyoung laughs, nudging your side as she gestures toward the beach before her, “don’t you at least wanna get closer?”

Like an eager puppy, you nod, getting a head start as you walk down the steep path towards the beach; you can hear your friends yelling at you to be careful, but all you can currently think about is Taehyun— Taehyun and his rippling muscles, Taehyun and his tan skin that’ll be left exposed to the hot sun, Taehyun and his chain that you love to tug on when he’s on top of you…

Oh my god, you realize with dread, your thighs rubbing together as you stop to wait for your friends, I’m so horny right now.

The curse of having such a hot boyfriend— you literally got soaking wet from the very thought of him.

The last thing you would do is have your friends realize, however, much too embarrassed to let them in on your more intimate thoughts as you scan the beach, looking past the groups of people for a good spot to settle down; lucky for you, you find a spot between the lifeguard tower and a concessions stand.

“Here here here!” You yell, running towards the spot without hesitation as your friends are forced to keep up; you ignore the feeling of the sand slipping into your sandal pumps, much more distracted by the fact that you’ll be able to see your boyfriend on duty.

Taehyun, ever the innocent victim of your antics, remains clueless as to where you’re setting up at the moment; he sits at the tables on the other side of the concession stand, still scrolling through his phone as he counts down the minutes before he’s on duty once more— sighing, he looks up from his device, his eyes scanning the hill before him as he inevitably finds your car— he can’t help but frown once he sees that you’re no longer there.

Where could you have run off to, he wonders, walking over to the headquarters in order to go back on rotation— he’s unable to stop thinking about you, already dreading how much of a distraction you’ll be to him as he makes his way over to his platform— only to stop, his breath stuttering as he sees the very sight he’s been dreading. (See: fantasizing.)

You’re wearing that same denim mini-skirt that always drives Taehyun crazy— actually, you’re not even wearing it anymore, his teeth sinking into his lip as he watches you strip innocently. The bikini bottom you wear matches your top, the same pink with the Hawaiian flower pattern; the shameful excuse of a bottom barely covers you, yet you don’t really seem to notice as you tie a sheer beach skirt around your hips.

Dangerously, you pull your shirt over your head; and if Taehyun wasn’t flustered enough by your bottoms, the matching top definitely did the trick— how it barely managed to cover you almost impressed Taehyun, his mouth drying as he took note of the way you tied all the strings into cute little bows, adorning your hips and back as your friends complimented you over the cute set— puffing your chest out proudly, Taehyun swore he almost fell to his knees as he took note of the piercings that poked through the thin fabric.

Oh god. He’s screwed.

You and your friends are quick to set everything up; you’re eager to lay back against the towel as Wonyoung runs to the ocean, yelling at the two of you to go with her as she laughs with joy.

“No thanks, I’ll stay here,” you say, getting comfortable as you stretch under the sun, the warmth making you smile as you reassure Chaewon, “Actually, I think the place over there has a mini bar— I might go get a drink.”

With one last goodbye and a yell along the lines of get me one, I’ll meet you there! Chaewon leaves, sand kicking up behind her as she begins to chase after Wonyoung; the two look beyond happy as they enter the water, the sight endearing as you finally get up.

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyun watches like a hawk; he couldn’t get his eyes off you even if he wanted to, the sway of your hips and the shining sun on your skin much too enticing as he watches you leave, bitterly taking note of the way the men nearby begin to drool over you.

Taehyun isn’t an insecure person— he’s far from it, and he knows damn well that you’d choose him over any other man on this beach. But he’s also tempted to run after you, to claim you as his and show everyone just how much you like him— but he remains professional, feeling his ears turn red as he snaps out of his lewd fantasies.

You haven’t even talked to him, but he’s already feeling desperate for you.

Being a lifeguard has its perks— today’s perk comes in the form of his tall seat, being able to get a good look at the whole beach, and you. More specifically, the way you cutely lean against the counter of the bar, pouting like always as you take a second to stare at the menu.

“So…” you trail off, pursuing your lips before you’re smacking your lips, tapping your ID rhythmically against the wood as you feel the worker staring at you intently, “I’ll just have two margaritas. And a water. Please?”

The worker before you is bright and quick to work as he nods, stumbling over his feet for a second before he’s making you your drink; you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone work so fast as he hands you your order, sliding over an ice cold water bottle as well.

“Thank you! How much do I owe you?” You exclaim, placing your purse over the counter as you begin to dig for your wallet; only for him to interrupt you, stuttering out a quiet Oh, wait, as you look up at him with innocent doe eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s on the house,” he smiles, watching as you can only let your jaw drop at his words; unsure of what to do, you glance back at your order, left speechless as you take a second, only to look back up at the worker in surprise.

“Really?” You ask breathily, tilting your head as you lean in closer to read their name tag— Jay simply nods, smiling sweetly as they reassure you that you don’t need to pay, “Oh, you’re so sweet!”

You’re laughing at the way Jay turns slightly red, surprised at his kind act as you ask one last time if it’s really okay— he reassures you once more, opening his mouth to say something before another customer is approaching, taking his attention as he reluctantly leaves your side.

Taking a sip of your drink, you can’t help but feel the smile stuck on your face as Chaewon finally appears to join you; she’s soaking wet as she stands with you under the shade of the bar, thanking you with a cute smile as she takes the margarita you hand her.

“How much? I’ll pay you back,” Chaewon says, gesturing at the drink before her as you simply shake your head in response.

“No need. It was free!” You say, giggling at the way Chaewon looks at you incredulously.

“Free?” She echoes, watching as you only nod eagerly in response, “how?”

“Dunno,” you say, licking at the rim that’s dusted with sugar, “that Jay guy was just really sweet!”

“Or attracted to you,” Chaewon muses, nudging you playfully as she gives you a mischievous grin— she laughs as you shake your head defensively, painfully unaware of your pretty privilege as you fail to notice the way Jay glances back at you, clearly hoping to talk to you again.

“I got this for Wonyoung,” you say, gesturing to the cold water bottle that’s currently dripping over the counter, “gonna go give it to her, wanna come with?”

Chaewon shakes her head, gesturing to her unfinished drink as she tells you to go ahead; watching you go ahead, she waits for you to get out of earshot, turning to the employee before she’s narrowing her eyes at him.

“Can I get a water please?”

Without another glance, Jay nods— “That’ll be one-fifty.”

Barking out a laugh, Chaewon grins, proving her theory right as she watches Jay turn red from the realization that she caught on— being friends with you proved to come with more benefits than she realized, she thinks, biting back another smile as she goes to drink her margarita. Turning around, she watches you fondly— and more specifically, the way you begin to walk past the volleyball game that’s going on, making your way back to your setup as the men playing begin to take notice of you.

“Hey baby,” a man calls out, drawing your attention as you simply hum politely in response, “Why don’t you come play with us?”

You can only muster out a soft laugh at that, shaking your head as you ignore the way your body begins to heat up from all the attention; shyly, you refuse their offer, unsure of what to say as you feel their eyes taking you in slowly.

“Oh, I’m not that good,” you say, shaking off their amused laughs as you hold Wonyoung’s water bottle close to you, feeling the perspiration drip onto your forearm, “I probably wouldn’t be very useful on your team.”

Your response is genuine; you know you’re not good at volleyball after countless failed attempts to learn, much more content sitting on the sidelines and watching your perfect boyfriend absolutely dominate during his games— the thought is enough to have you fighting back a fond smile, brought back to reality by the way the man talking to you takes a step closer to you.

“ ‘s okay, I can teach you,” the man grins, spinning the volleyball expertly in his hands as his teammates nod in agreement. You’re unsure of how to refuse them now, but a sudden sharp whistle is taking all of your attention as your head whips to the source of the sound.

You practically feel like an overexcited puppy as you spot Taehyun, on duty and scolding a group of teenagers for who-knows-what. Without another thought, you run over to him, leaving the group of men who can only call for you to wait— their words fall deaf on your ears as you feel your heart beating faster, calling out his name and watching as he finally spots you running over to him.

“Hyun!” You say, waving cutely as you watch him smile fondly at you— you think your heart could burst as you practically jump into his arms, feeling him stumble back from the impact as you throw your arms around his neck fondly.

“Taehyun!! Baby, hi!!” You say, bouncing on your feet as you pull away to pepper kisses on his cheek; all he can do is laugh as he falls victim to you, muttering a soft “okay, okay” as he pats your back fondly.

“Baby, baby, I’m still working,” Taehyun reminds you, watching you pull away with a small oh right, that tumbles from your lips. His hands are still on your waist as his fingers trace over the fabric of your beach skirt, and you can’t help the way you burst into giggles as you take him in.

“What, what’re you laughing at?” He asks, brows raising as he tilts his head curiously; you can only shake your head, wiping the bottom of your lip as you attempt to calm down.

“My lip gloss is all over you,” you say, watching as he simply laughs at your comment, his dimple on display as he reaches up to rub at his cheek— it barely works, but he doesn’t seem to mind much as he finally lets go of you.

“Did you get yourself a drink, pretty?” He says, nodding his head at the water bottle you hold in your hands; you nod, smiling happily as you recount the events that happened in your head.

“Yeah, the worker there is super sweet,” you gush, glancing back at where you see Chaewon still leaning against the counter, waving at you happily as you’re quick to return the gesture, “he gave me my drinks for free.”

“Did he now?” Taehyun asks, raising a brow at you as he watches you nod innocently. Glancing back at the shop, he sees Jay, who can only avert his eyes and hide from his sight. Looking back at you, his gaze softens as he takes in the way you practically glow under the sun, “that’s very nice of him.”

Taehyun wishes nothing more than to be able to go back off duty and enjoy his time with you; instead, he needs to wait another four hours before he can properly show you just how happy he is to see you— unbeknownst to you of course, much too eager to be outside on such a nice day as you ramble about things with no clear end in sight.

“I need to go back to work, baby,” Taehyun sighs, smiling at the way you begin to whine immediately, “I know, I know— I wish I wasn’t working today either.”

Bringing you in closer, he places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose before he’s taking a step back, the dazed smile you send him enough to have his heart fluttering as he returns it without a thought.

“ ‘m just happy I get to see you.”

His words clearly affect you as you attempt to stutter a response, hitting him with a whine the moment he tries to laugh at you fondly— you can tell he’s reluctant to leave, but the same group of teenagers as before seem to be causing a ruckus once more as he sighs, bidding you goodbye before he’s off.

You can only stand and stare with dismay, pouting as you watch him turn his back to you— his toned, broad back, with a waist so small you’d do anything to wrap your arms around it— or even better, your legs…

You groan as the same dangerous train of thought begins to hit you, your eyes squeezing shut as you force yourself to turn around— to walk straight to where Wonyoung lays without glancing back at your boyfriend, the task much harder than you’d think as you hear his sharp voice scolding the group of teenagers.

He sounds so hot, you think to yourself, wanting nothing more than to run away with your man and have him fuck you stupid behind the concession stand, oh my god, I want him so bad.

“Wow, this thing is freezing,” Wonyoung says, taking the water bottle from your hands gratefully. Watching as you slump down next to her, Wonyoung pauses, trying to guess what might be wrong before she follows your line of sight.

“Ah,” she mutters, taking a long drink from her water before she sighs, “Are you sad you can’t talk to your boyfriend?”

“He’s being professionalll,” you groan, throwing a hand over your eyes as you lay back, the pout forming on your face second nature at this point, “I just wish he’d stay over here!”

“It’d be a danger to the public if he just stopped doing his job,” Wonyoung reasons, watching the way you reluctantly agree with her, “plus, it was your idea to visit while he was on duty.”

“I didn’t think he’d look so fucking hot!” You admit, crossing your arms over your chest in defeat as Wonyoung simply laughs in amusement. Opening your eyes, you’re surprised to find Chaewon looming over you, a smile on her face as she takes her seat on her towel beside you.

“You always think he looks hot. Also, the bartender over there totally wants you.” Chaewon pipes up, calling Wonyoungs name as she gestures to the water bottle in her hands before gesturing back to the mini-bar.

“Don’t tell me,” Wonyoung says, staring down at the item in her hand as Chaewon nods in confirmation, “wow, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s nothing, he was just being nice!” You refute, ever an airhead and your friends simply shake their heads in response, “It’s true!”

“He didn’t bother looking back in my direction once you left,” Chaeryeong points out, glaring playfully at Wonyoung who laughs at her comment, “not to mention, those guys playing volleyball were literally drooling over you.”

“Wait, I saw that— I was kind of scared for a second,” Wonyoung admits, Chaewon nodding along as she confesses that she was about to jump in when you finally managed to escape, “you’re so lucky you managed to leave before things got weird.”

To be honest, you stopped listening around that last part— well, it’s not like you weren’t listening, it’s more like you weren’t really contributing to the conversation as you take notice of Taehyun, more specifically the way he’s playing with a child around the shallow end of the ocean, watching as he manages to make the child laugh, his eyes bright and fond as he takes good care of the toddler.

The sight practically has you melting, and you’re forced to bite your lip to suppress your smile— but then again, you’ve never really been good at hiding things— especially with the way you find your friends looking in the direction you are, the two of them sporting knowing smiles as they exchange a look.

“Oh girl,” Wonyoung sighs, going to lay on her back as she puts on her sunglasses, “you’re drooling again.”

Shit, you totally were.

-♡-

The next three and a half hours pass by painfully slowly— for Taehyun, at least.

It seems that you’re finally able to take your eyes off him after a period of adjustment, and he’s able to watch from his post as you enjoy yourself in the ocean, splashing around with your friends as the three of you have fun and remain carefree.

Carefree is probably one of the last words Taehyun would use to describe himself at the moment— it was a given that being a lifeguard was unpredictable and difficult, but being on duty while having his hot girlfriend that attracted attention like a magnet there with him was next-level.

He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times someone managed to hit on you in the past hour— from what he saw, at least— it was ridiculous, really, even more so because you were never able to pick up on it. Ever.

Taehyun couldn’t take his eyes off you for one second without a new person approaching you; he chalks it up to both your beauty and the fact that you’re one of the most approachable people Taehyun has ever met.

He’s never been happier to own sunglasses than today— or else you definitely would’ve caught him watching carefully as a random woman your age offered to put sunscreen on you, your friends back in the ocean as you opted to take a moment to rest under the sun instead.

“Your swimsuit is so cute,” she told you, her voice filled with a flirty lilt as it managed to travel to Taehyun’s ears; you had been as clueless as ever, holding your top up with your hands as you allowed her to untie your string and lotion your back— he tried to give this random stranger the benefit of the doubt, but it was really difficult to with the way she massaged you gently and leaned over to speak into your ear.

“Are you single?” The implications of her words barely registered in your head before thoughts of Taehyun were overpowering your brain, a smile involuntarily tugging at your lips as you tried to hold back your giddy giggles in order to answer.

“She’s not.”

You could feel the woman’s hands still on your shoulder as the two of you looked up, your smile only widening as your eyes met Taehyun’s— at least you think, he was currently wearing sunglasses. (Which he looked really hot in, of course. You think you would’ve jumped on him by now if it weren’t for the risk of you flashing the entire beach.)

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman behind you said, laughing nervously as she quickly went to stand; you couldn’t help but be confused by the way she hurriedly said goodbye to you, but all your questions were answered once you turned around to meet Taehyun’s irritated face, his brows pulled together in a frown as he let out a soft tsk.

“Hyun, are you jealous?” The question is enough to have him snap out of his daze, blinking wildly behind his shades before he’s pushing them up and onto his head, pushing his wet hair back and exposing his forehead as he did; looking down at you, he can’t help but soften at the sight of you and your cute wide eyes, letting out a soft chuckle before he’s patting your head fondly.

“No, I’m not.”

You watch as he settles down behind you, taking the previous woman’s spot as he murmurs for you to turn around. You’re facing forward once more, taking in the pretty sight of the beach as you shift on your knees, sitting back on your legs as you wait for him to do something.

“You looked pretty jealous,” you muse, looking down to watch as he takes the sunscreen bottle that was left at your side; the smell of the lotion fills your senses once more as you hear him open it, squeezing some on his palm as the sound of his airy laugh reaches your ears.

“Well, it’s not exactly nice to watch another person feeling up my girl,” he reasons, watching as you straighten up at his comment, “why didn’t you ask your friends for help baby?”

“Mmmh, they’re busy and she offered to help,” you confess, shivering at the feeling of the cold lotion against your shoulders, “and she was not feeling me up.”

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyun can’t help but feel frustrated at your comment— your naivety made it difficult to make a point sometimes, and this was one of those moments as he was unable to stop the deep sigh that escaped him.

“She wasn’t?” He asks, and you can’t help but gasp as you feel his touch become further; fingers digging into your flesh, massaging your shoulders tenderly as he leans in close to whisper into your ear, his hands roaming your body so slowly you think you might melt, “so what do you feel now that I’m doing it?”

Horny.

“I… I feel like I’m in the wrong,” you admit, stuttering softly as he begins to come back up to your shoulders, his dainty hands going past your collarbones and down your arms; slowly, he makes his way down, leaning forward as he does so until he’s pressed firmly against your back— his firm chest against your back, his hands reaching for your own as he interlocks his fingers with yours.

You can feel his hair tickle against your neck as he presses a slow kiss against the back of your shoulder, biting your lip as you fight back the desperate whine that threatens to escape from you.

“Glad you realize,” he laughs softly, letting go of you and sitting back as he takes a moment to inspect the beach; you can’t help the sadness that fills you as he begins to stand, only to pause as he notices your dejected state.

“Do you need any more help?” He asks slowly, watching as you nod happily before you’re laying down across the towel; he thinks he might lose his job as you look back at him, batting your eyes prettily as you send him a coy smile.

“Do the rest for me?”

Taehyun hesitates. On one hand, it wasn’t very professional of him to lotion up his incredibly gorgeous girlfriend while on duty— not that the public was aware of the fact that you two were together, anyway— but on the other hand…

“How could I say no to you,” Taehyun sighs, kneeling at your side and taking the lotion bottle from you as he decides fuck it— he has half an hour left anyway.

Your skin is warm to the touch; both of you are sighing in contentment the moment his hands meet your skin, massaging the lotion into the rest of your back as he tries to remain as professional as possible.

You, on the other hand, are not doing that great.

If there’s one thing that tests your self-control more than anything, it’s Taehyun— especially Taehyun that has his hands all over you, his touch firm and soothing as he begins to massage the back of your thighs— if he sees you squeeze them together, he doesn’t bother to let on, your mind fogging with horrible and lewd thoughts that would have your boyfriend red and flustered within seconds.

The last of your resolve crumbles the moment his fingers ghost over your waist; dipping under the skimpy string of your bikini bottom, reaching toward the back before he begins to cop a feel— you can feel your breathing begin to pick up as he’s moving up, tickling against your sides before he’s reaching past your top; fingers massaging against the sides of your breasts, cupping what he can before he’s squeezing coyly. Flustered, you bury your head into your arms, listening to the way he laughs teasingly, his hands drifting away just as quickly as they appeared before he’s going to ask you if you’re alright teasingly.

“I need you,” You whine, the words muffled against your arms as you dig your head deeper into your arms.

“Hmm?”

This seems to be your last straw; sitting up, you scramble to keep your top on as you turn around to face Taehyun, taking him in in all his sun-kissed glory, sure that you look beyond flustered and destroyed by now.

“Taehyun, I need you so bad,” you whine out, scooting closer to him as you watch his eyes widen with your unhinged rambling, “I’ve been trying to be good this whole time and distract myself, but it’s so fucking hard because I’ve been wet from just looking at you— Hyun baby, I’m so hmmf—!”

Taehyun is impressed by how easily you’re able to fluster him— he’s sure his ears are completely red as he presses his palm firmly against your mouth, taking in the way you look at him with wide, teary, and fucked out eyes.

He takes a deep breath in order to control the dangerous feeling of desire that flows through him.

Exhaling deeply, he takes a second to look at the clock posted by the headquarters— he feels his body relax with relief as he slowly pulls his hand away from you, giving you a warning look before he gestures at the time.

“Fifteen minutes,” he says, leaning in and muttering the words in his deep, glorious voice, “can you be good for me for another fifteen minutes?”

You think you might die if you don’t take him right now.

“Yeah,” you breathe out shakily, watching as Taehyun laughs at your pathetic state.

“Good,” he says, standing up and getting ready to leave before another lifeguard realizes he’s been talking to you this whole time, “just wait for me, baby.”

You’re a bit dejected as you watch him leave you, back to being his perfect and professional self as he spots abandoned swimming equipment from the rental shop; he can feel your heated gaze on him the entire time, forced to stifle a laugh as he glances back in your direction curiously— you’re shamelessly staring, a pout on your face as you carefully re-tie your top once more.

Please, you think to yourself, choosing to lie back against your towel and clear out your thoughts, your eyes fluttering shut as you take a deep breath, please let these next fifteen minutes pass quickly.

-♡-

Taehyun knows the exact second his fifteen minutes are up— only because you trot up to him like an excited puppy, your beach skirt flowing in the wind as you wave at him excitedly.

“Will you let me clock out at least?” Taehyun asks, letting out an amused laugh as you immediately attach yourself to his side; you give him a quick nod of your head in response, telling him to lead the way as you refuse to leave him anytime soon.

“Missed you so much,” you say, eyes sparkling as Taehyun can only throw his head back and laugh in bewilderment at your comment, “I’m serious! It’s hard to keep my hands off you, Hyunnie.”

“Don’t worry, I feel the same,” he hums, slowing his steps to place a gentle peck on your cheek, “Wait for me? I’ll only be a moment.”

Nodding happily, you tell him you’ll go get him a drink— you know he could use it, taking in his tired steps as he walks back to headquarters with a sigh— turning around, you spot your friends already at the bar, waving you over as you make your way to them happily.

“He’s finally off?” Chaewon asks, watching as you nod with a bright smile on your face, “that’s good. You two can spend some time together now— especially now that the sun is beginning to set.”

“Not that you weren’t already,” Wonyoung teases, watching as you try to defend yourself with useless stutters as she continues to poke fun at you.

“I— can I just get a water?” Giving up on trying to win the argument, you turn back to the same worker from earlier, watching as Jay jumps in surprise the moment your eyes meet his.

“Oh, of course,” he mutters, placing the ice-cold refreshment before he clears his throat, face turning red as he avoids eye contact with you, “you don’t owe me anything, we’re closing soon and the register is already locked.”

Letting out an embarrassed laugh, you can’t help but glance at your friends, feeling your face become hot as they send you sly looks; Jay seems to be just as flustered as you, bowing politely before turning around and resuming his closing tasks— biting your lip, you suppress another laugh, your friends already mouthing things along the lines of I told you so, as you simply push them playfully, looking around to see if Taehyun has come back yet.

“This for me baby?” Taehyun’s hand is warm on your waist as he appears behind you, looking over your shoulder and smiling as you eagerly hand him the water bottle in return.

He’s quick to drink, much thirstier than he realized as he practically begins to gulp it down; he can feel your stare on him the whole time, fighting back a smile as he closes his eyes in an attempt to ignore it.

He looks like a model, you think, watching him fondly with hearts in your eyes; the day hasn’t looked nicer than it does now, the beach almost empty now that the sun has almost set and the weather growing cooler as the waves crash against the shore, the golden rays of the sun practically leave Taehyun glowing. Playfully, he pushes you away, unable to hold back his laugh any longer as he scolds you to stop staring! You can only laugh sheepishly as you try to deny doing so, but you know he’d never believed you from how clingy you’ve been with him all day.

“You’re so sweet Jay,” Taehyun smiles, the said male practically jumping out of his skin at the mention of his name; turning around slowly, he laughs awkwardly, meeting eyes with Taehyun, who snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer as he tilts his head teasingly, “for not charging my girl. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jay stutters, eyes downcast as he feels his face burning from the attention, “figured it was for you, so I didn’t bother ringing it up.”

Taehyun only hums in appreciation at the man’s comment, slightly irritated at the way he’s able to lie through his teeth so easily; turning away from him, he takes the chance to look at you, smiling fondly and leaning in for a chaste kiss that has you melting against him.

“Gross. Get a room you two,” Chaewon scoffs, covering Wonyoung’s eyes playfully as the two tease you endlessly.

“Gladly,” Taehyun smiles mischievously, rolling his eyes at the way your friends gag in response, pulling you against him as you steady yourself with a hand on his chest, “mind if I steal her away from you guys for a bit?”

“Go ahead,” Chaewon says, waving the two of you away with ease, “bring her back in one piece, please.”

I’ll try, is all Taehyun says, pulling you along and laughing at the way you eagerly follow along with one last goodbye to your friends, clueless to the way Taehyun’s jaw ticks with annoyance as he pulls you away from your friends— and right towards headquarters, making his way to the back of the building, secluded by trees and the hill you came from.

“Tae, what’re we doing here—?” Your sentence is briefly cut off with Taehyun’s mouth against yours, the kiss harsh and desperate as you quickly become a mess of spit, moaning weakly against Taehyun’s mouth as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

The string of saliva that connects you two as he pulls away has you whining breathily, steadying yourself with two hands placed firmly on his shoulders as you allow him to corner you, walking backward as his firm hold on your hips forces you to be pressed against the wall.

“You drive me so fucking crazy,” he growls in frustration, attaching his lips right under your ear as he begins to suck— you’re gasping in response, clinging onto him desperately as you already feel your knees become weak. Pulling away from you, his dark gaze meets yours, heated and sharp as he takes in your fucked out state.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to have my pretty girl get flirted with by everyone that lays their eyes on her?” He asks, shifting your hips towards him as he slots his thigh between yours with ease, “to just watch it happen because she’s too much of an airhead to realize what’s happening in front of her?”

The whimper that escapes you from his words is downright embarrassing; but it’s enough to have Taehyun’s lips back on yours, eager to keep you quiet as his fingers begin to play with the strings of your bikini.

If there’s one thing Taehyun is an expert at, it’s pleasing you with every part of his body— which is exactly why he’s able to have you turn into a mess under him in seconds, flexing his thigh and bouncing it as his strong hands force your hips down on him more; he’s controlling your every movement, his grip on you bruising as you wonder if it’ll leave a mark on you later.

“You’re already wet,” Taehyun muses, feeling the way you claw at him uselessly, throwing your head back against the wall as you try to set the pace yourself, only to fail miserably, “barely took anything and you’re already dripping all over me.”

The pleasure becomes overwhelming as Taehyun begins to litter kisses all over you, biting at you softly as he slowly begins to make his way down to your breasts; with a breathy moan, you jut out your chest, the sight making Taehyun let out an airy laugh as his eyes flicker back up to your face to watch your expression carefully.

“Such pretty tits,” Taehyun grins, kissing on top of the fabric as he watches your eyes flutter shut, his eyes flickering back down to the metal that pushes against the thin top, “which ones are you wearing today baby?”

“The ones you got me,” you reply, biting your lip as you open your eyes, clouded with lust as you grind a little harder against Taehyun’s thigh, “the heart ones.”

His warm mouth against your breast is enough to have you letting out a sigh of contentment; a hand immediately threads itself in his hair as you feel his tongue laving over your nipple through the fabric, tracing the jewelry carefully as you jut your chest out to him in response. His hand comes up to slip itself under the fabric of your swimsuit, grabbing your breast and squeezing teasingly before he begins to circle your other nipple.

You feel dizzy, his touch practically everywhere as your eyes flutter shut, trying your best to keep your noises to a minimum as you bite your lip— but it’s useless, especially with the way he’s practically on you, his warm body on yours as you’re able to feel his erection against you.

Whining hopelessly, you let go of his hair, allowing your hand to trail down as you get a good feel of his body— his strong muscles, his abs that flex in anticipation as you begin pawing at his swim shorts.

“Please please please,” you cry, slipping a hand past the barriers and stroking his dick slowly, your hips picking up the pace as you hear him groan lowly into your ear, “please fuck me Hyun, I need you so bad and I’ve been waiting so patiently for you…”

“Have you?” Taehyun asks, relishing in the way your hand struggles to keep a pace, shivering slightly at the way you tighten your grip on him for a second, “because all seen today is the way my little attention whore of a girlfriend can’t survive if my eyes aren’t on her for a second.”

“Did you have fun seeing the way everyone else drooled over you?” He asks, pulling your hand away from him harshly before he’s stepping in between your legs, hooking one of them around his waist before he begins to grind against you, “did you like seeing me jealous, sweet thing?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you gasp, feeling him prod against your entrance as he unties your beach skirt with deft fingers, the cloth fluttering to the ground as he begins to grind against you harder, “I didn’t know—!”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” He mocks, taking pity on you for a second before his gaze is hardening again, “you never know, dumb little thing.”

It’s almost shameful how hard your pussy clenches at his words; you’ve made a mess of your bottom as Taehyun groans, eyes catching the way you’ve left a damp spot already.

“God, you really can’t control yourself, hmm?” He asks, cooing at you softly as he takes in the way you’ve already begun to tear up. The sound of distant voices has him pausing, and you feel as though you’re afraid to breathe as your wide eyes meet Taehyun’s.

“Did Taehyun leave already?” The voice is immediately recognizable as Taehyun narrows his eyes, listening to Yeonjun, one of the other lifeguards on rotation today, talk to someone else.

“Yeah… he left a few minutes ago,” Jay responds, and you can’t help but raise a brow as Taehyun takes a step away from you, about to mouth what are you doing? before he’s sinking to his knees before you, throwing a leg over his shoulder as you can only watch helplessly.

“With that one girl?” Yeonjun asks, your eyes widening as you glance over in the direction the sound comes from; you’re quickly brought to the man in front of you as he begins to litter kisses all over your inner thigh, biting the skin softly as he murmurs eyes on me. Shakily, you nod, letting out a shaky breath as the conversation from the two filters back to you two once more.

“Yeah, you saw her?” Jay says— Taehyun’s nimble fingers are undoing the ties of your bottoms with such ease that you can’t help but gasp as the fabric slips off, your pussy left for display as your boyfriend takes in how needy you are with a satisfied smile.

Taehyun’s tongue is warm and teasing as he circles it over your clit, letting his spit coat you freely before he’s pressing firm kisses against your bud— you're forced to slap a hand over your mouth as he begins to suck on it, his tongue running over the sensitive bud as you feel your thighs shaking around his head; his hair is wet and ticklish as it touches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you’re forced to concentrate in order to not let an embarrassing sound slip from your lips.

“Man, of course I did— she was fucking hot,” Yeonjun’s confession is enough to have Taehyun working harder, fingers prodding at your entrance and eagerly stretching you out as you choke back on a moan— in any other situation, you would be loud enough that Taehyun would have to stop to tease you about it, but the thought of either of them hearing you was much too mortifying as Taehyun began to slowly pump his fingers.

Your body said otherwise, however.

“I saw you give her those drinks for free,” Yeonjun teased, and you listened to the way Jay simply groaned at the reminder; you, on the other hand, were forced to remain quiet, your eyes rolling to the back of your head the moment Taehyun added a third finger, picking up his pace and bringing you closer to your high as you began to rock your hips against his face subconsciously, feeling his tongue beginning to wander as it licked all over your pussy— curling his fingers, you sighed, feeling the way he flattened his tongue against your clit before he began to pump his fingers once more.

“I thought I’d try to make a move on her or something,” Jay confesses, the embarrassed tone to his voice not lost on you as you feel yourself grow hot— your hand presses harder against your mouth as you reach down to thread your fingers through Taehyun’s hair, pulling him closer against your pussy as you subtly try to communicate that you’re close; he seems to get the hint as he does his best to keep his ministrations up, your eyes squeezing shut as their conversation continues to flow into your ears.

“But that was before I knew she was his girl,” Jay says, sighing as Yeonjun replies with an incredulous seriously? “Yeah, you should’ve seen the way he looked at me when he caught on, man. I was scared for my life.”

You’re sure you know how Taehyun was looking at him— at least, if it’s any resemblance to the way he looks at you now, his eyes filled with pure possessiveness and anger that it has you coming undone in seconds, a weak moan escaping through your hand as you squeeze your eyes shut. Taehyun helps you ride out your orgasm diligently, the lewd sounds of his tongue cleaning you up making you flustered as you cover your face in embarrassment.

He’s sucking teasing marks all over your inner thighs once more before he’s standing back up, prying your fingers apart gently as he whispers for you to look at him; your eyes are needy as you blink up at him, and Taehyun swears you’ve never looked more beautiful as you practically glow before him, his eyes darkening at the reminder that you’re all his— his coworkers could only dream of getting close to you, let alone having you in the position he does now.

“My pretty girl,” he sighs out, smiling at the way you throw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him in closer until you’re pulling him in for a tender kiss— it doesn’t last long however, your breathy whines making Taehyun press against your cunt once more, feeling how much wetter it’s gotten as he begins to kiss you senseless.

“My girl,” he repeats, pulling away to trail his kisses down to your neck, beginning to suck carelessly as he feels you reach down to pull his cock out, “all mine. Mine.”

His sudden possessiveness is new to you as you can only remain pliant under him, allowing him to do whatever he wants with you as he finally aligns himself at your entrance; biting your lip, you bury your head in the crook of Taehyun’s neck, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel him tease you— rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slit, feeling the way you clench around nothing as he grinds against you subtly— it’s enough to have you digging your nails into him, whining into his ear that you need more as you feel his tip begin to nudge at your clit; you think you might lose it as you feel his precum drip all over your cunt, your hips shifting toward him involuntarily to try and chase the feeling.

Your mouth is falling open the moment he’s entering you; stretching you out, sliding in inch by inch as he feels your pussy fluttering around him uncontrollably— he can feel the way you’re gasping against his skin, and he’s hooking your leg over his waist once more as he presses you firmly against the wall of the building.

You’re shaking like a leaf against him; whining for more, biting and kissing at his skin absentmindedly as you grind against him, your cunt dripping and sucking him in as the thought of keeping quiet slowly escapes your mind.

It’s enough to have Taehyun tugging you back, pulling on your hair teasingly before he’s planting his hand firmly over your mouth— his eyes never leave yours, the conversation of the two men nearby muddled in your ears as Taehyun begins to move.

It’s slow at first, the grind of his hips against yours allowing his cock to hit deep into you, the wet sounds of your cunt around him making you feel slightly shy before the thought is completely thrown out the window— you could care less of what’s happening around you as he begins to thrust roughly against you, your body rocking from the motion and your eyes threatening to flutter shut as you feel his cock hit against your sweet spot; but you refrain from doing so, much more entranced by his gaze as he slowly begins to pick up the pace, the sounds that come from you getting more difficult to muffle as you feel yourself getting overwhelmed by the pleasure.

The reminder that there are two people that could hear you has you looking over to where they stand, feeling your heartbeat pick up from the anxiety as you eye that direction carefully— you’re quickly snapped back to reality the moment Taehyun is jerking your head back to him gently, tightening his hold on you as his gaze darkens.

“Eyes on me,” he whispers, rolling his hips just the way you like as though to make a point.

Eyes on him. Eyes only on him, you think, struggling to think anything coherent as his hand reaches up to pull your breasts out from your top, the flesh spilling out and beginning to bounce freely from the way Taehyun is fucking you— the heart jewelry that adorns your nipples shine at him, the sight making your boyfriend let out a weak moan as you feel him twitch inside you.

“So lucky to have you,” Taehyun sighs, reaching over to your other leg as he briefly lets go of your mouth— not before taking one of your hands and placing it over your mouth, pressing his hand firmly over your own as he gives you a stern look— and he hoists you up, leaving you completely at his mercy as he begins to bounce you on his cock, the feeling making you slap your other hand over your mouth as you eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“Stupid little airhead, only has eyes for me,” he rambles, laughing quietly to himself before it breaks out into another moan— he’s practically driving you into the wall behind you as he fucks into you roughly, able to set a much faster pace as he watches your tits bounce in his face lewdly, “god, so glad to have you all to myself— you’re perfect, cute little pussy was made for me.”

You clench down on him at that, feeling as though you’re going crazy from the pleasure— that, and the way your boyfriend looks, feeling your nails dig into your cheeks as you take in his messy, wet hair, his tan skin and muscles that flex from using his strength on you, and his face that’s contorted with pleasure as his lips become bruised with how much he’s biting on them— in an effort to keep himself quiet, he hovers over you, placing his head directly next to yours so he can moan and whisper to you freely.

“Wanna cum?” He asks, feeling the way you’re beginning to clench uncontrollably; frantically, you nod, tears beginning to pool in your eyes as you look at him with pure desperation in your eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he grins, knowing that you’re too fucked to even speak correctly, “mine, and only mine.”

You’re trying to choke back on your sounds as you wonder if doing that is even possible— then he slows down, grinding into you and burying his cock as deep as possible as it begins to kiss your cervix— coyly, he leans down, his hair tickling your collarbone as he wraps his mouth around your breast; circling your nipple with his tongue lewdly, covering it in his spit and tracing over the heart-piercing before he’s blowing air on it— you’re shaking from the feeling of him, unsure of how you’ll do what he asks without blowing your cover completely.

“Hyun…” you whine out quietly for him, sniffling as he slows down his pace, almost stilling inside you as he watches fat tears run down your cheeks with cruel eyes, “Hyun, I’m only yours— I only want you, no one else, promise I only think of you, love you so much…”

The way you’re hiccuping from the effort to choke back on your sounds has Taehyun groaning, taking a deep breath in order not to come before he’s pressing his lips firmly against yours— then he’s resuming his pace, watching as you quickly quiet yourself as your body bounces from how hard he’s fucking you.

It’s too much— you’re falling apart the moment he’s bringing a hand over to circle your clit, supporting you against the wall and holding you up with his other arm as he watches you fall apart, his mouth opening in a silent moan as you tighten around him, pleading breathily for him to cum inside as you do so.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up?” He asks, riding out your orgasm as he buries his head into your neck, “have you dripping with my cum while other people try to flirt with you? Give you a little reminder of who you belong to, fuck…”

With one last harsh thrust, he buries himself deep in you, finally coming undone and filling you up with his hot cum as you moan against your hand— the harsh bite he leaves on the juncture of your neck has you whimpering weakly, hands becoming limp and falling against his chest as he presses the rest of his body against you, holding you up as the two of you pant and try to regain your composure.

“You’re too good to me,” Taehyun finally sighs out, placing soothing kisses over the place he bit you, listening to the way you laugh softly in response. You’re throwing your arms over his neck as one of them moves to his nape, pulling him away from your neck and bringing him in for a sweet kiss— you’re reluctant to part as you speak, unable to hold back from pecking him between your words as you do so.

“You’re too good for me,” you say, pausing to give him a kiss, irresistible as always as he laughs breathily at your words, “you’re always putting up with me.”

“Not your fault you’re irresistible,” Taehyun smiles, watching as you grow shy under his comment despite the fact that he’s still bottomed out inside you, “I still love showing you off.”

“I wanna show you off too, you know,” you pout, hitting his chest gently before you’re pausing, biting your lip uncertainly as you tilt your head, “if you’re okay with that.”

Taehyun realizes quickly what you’re referring to, unable to stop the fond laugh that escapes him as he takes a second to think.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

It takes a second of you celebrating cheerfully to finally sober up and ask Taehyun to put you down— your legs are wobbly as you feel your face grow hot, his cum immediately leaking out of you as you whine in embarrassment for him to not stare— he can only shake his head in amusement at your antics, helping you clean up with the only thing he’s able to find at the moment.

“Wait, that’s my favorite beach skirt,” you whine, not putting up much of a fight as Taehyun kneels before you, your leg thrown over his shoulder as he cleans you up, placing gentle kisses along your inner thighs as he does so.

“I can wash it,” he replies, unable to hide his grimace as he tucks it away in his pocket; the sight is enough to have you giggling, readjusting your swimsuit and fixing your appearance before you’re hiding behind Taehyun, asking him if his coworkers are gone yet.

“The coast is clear,” he hums, scanning the nearly empty beach as he spots your friends sitting by the ocean, chatting idly amongst themselves.

“You don’t think they heard us, right?” You ask, blinking at him innocently as the belief that you did a good job keeping quiet runs through your head— the sight is enough to have Taehyun soften, letting out a sigh before he’s nodding his head.

“Yeah. You were so good for me.”

Taehyun knows better, though— but he doesn’t really mind, because now he knows that he won’t have to worry about either coworker flirting with you the next time you come to the beach.

1K notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 7 months

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Bar Fight

Azriel x reader

A/n: I didn’t mean for this to be over 1,000 words it was supposed to be a silly lil fic but I can’t help myself

Warnings: violence and injuries

Girls night had taken quite the violent turn. You were currently being held up between Feyre and Nesta as Elain, Emerie, Amren, Gwyn, and Mor led you back to the River House.

You never considered yourself a violent person. Especially not in public. There was a reputation to uphold since you work for the High Lord of Night. But all of that went out the window when you heard a few males talking about Elain and Gwyn.

That was something you couldn’t let go. So you calmly approached them. Telling them to watch their mouths and you walked away. You heard the males snicker behind your back, but you kept going forward. But something hit the back of your head. And another, and another, until that something felt like food. You went deathly still, turning and whipped the drinks at the males.

An all out brawl between you and the stronger one broke out. The smaller one was easy to get down, all it took was one punch to the nose and he was on the ground cradling his face, screaming in pain.

The big one put up a fight. He got a few good shots in before you finally got him on his ass. By then Feyre was breaking through the semi circle that had formed, breaking up the fight, pulling you to your feet.

What had surprised you the most was how much energy Elain had after the kerfuffle. She never came out with you guys, nor Gwyn, so to hear her giving the girls a play by play on the walk home was hilarious. “Now I wanna punch something!” The precious flower exclaimed. “Woah, down girl. How much did you drink tonight?” Emerie asked with a smirk. All Elain did was giggle.

You couldn’t help but smile, even if a stinging pain coursed through your split lip. You now sport a black eye, bloody nose, and a bruised rib or two. “Thank god the boys are in Illyria until tomorrow.” Nesta hugged out. You make a half grunt, half humming noise in agreement.

Rhys, Cass, and Az had to make an emergency visit to Windhaven a week ago. You were thanking the Mother that they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night. Azriel would be such a mother hen about your injuries and chastise you for getting into a bar fight.

“You’re goin’ to heal me right Fey?” You were so tired from the fight, your adrenaline finally wearing off, your words came out slurred. “Of course. We’ll go right to the sitting room.”

Finally, you reached the River House and slouched in relief in the sisters' hold. Amren opened the door ushering you all in. Gwyn and Mor went ahead to make room for you on the couch. Through one open eye you noticed the two of them pause in the entryway, eyes wide and panicked.

“Hi guys!” Mor said a little too enthusiastically. Shit, you did not want Azriel to see you like this.

More alert now you, Nesta, and Feyre quickly improvise a new way to get you past the boys. You rip a jacket off the coat rack and throw it over your head as Nesta scoops you into her arms.

Nesta casually tries to walk you past the living room while the others bombard the three males with questions about their trip.

But nothing gets past Azriel and his shadows. You feel the one that’s always beside you sweep across your shin, leaving as quickly as it came.

“Nesta,” Azriel called out sweetly, “is that y/n? I can take her up to bed.” A small smile on his face, hopeful to have you in his arms again.

She panicked and fumbled over her words, “No! No it’s ok…I uh…I got her it’s fine.” She let out a nervous laugh. Azriel gave her a strange look. You could feel your friends hold their breath as your boyfriend moved past them.

Azriel approached Nesta, his nostrils flaring at the scent of dried blood. His shadows moved faster than she could. Ripping the jacket from your face dropping it to the floor.

He audibly gasped at the sight of your face. You shot him an innocent smile. “Hey baby. Welcome home.” You shimmed out of Nestas arms standing in front of Azriel. His shadows were going crazy as they informed him of your injuries. “What happened?” He bit out. You winced a little at his tone. “Bar fight.” His eyes went wide like he couldn’t believe the situation. “I won though. So I got that goin’ for me.”

You gave him a widened smile that broke your split lip, causing the bleeding to start again. You winced moving to hold your bleeding lip. Azriel’s face quickly shifted from shock to worry. “Come on, let me clean you up.”

You begrudgingly nod at him as Azriel ushers you upstairs to your shared bedroom. His silence is driving you mad. You can’t even read his mood even with his eyes piercing the back of your head.

Sitting on the edge of the tub you watched as Azriel pulled out a salve and some bandages from the cabinet under the sink. He stood in front of you tilting your chin up to face him.

Azriel dabs at your still bleeding lip before rubbing salve on it. Then cleans up the dried blood and puts more salve on your black eye.

He picks up your right hand and wipes away the dried blood there, gently wrapping your knuckles. There was no need for this. It would all be healed by tomorrow but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to take care of you. Make sure you heal faster.

“Thank you,” you say quietly with a hint of guilt. “Of course, love.” You look up at his still unreadable face. “Please, say something,” you beg.

Azriel took a deep breath, slouching his shoulders and wings, leaning against the counters with his arms crossed. “I just didn’t ever think you’d get into a bar fight. It was stupid and irresponsible. You could’ve been hurt worse than this, y/n.”

You drop your head looking down at your feet. You could tell he was prepared for a fight. “I know. But they were talking about Gwyn and Elain, then they threw something at me. I couldn’t let it slide.”

Looking back up at Az his face was contorted in rage. “They threw stuff at you.” You nodded slowly. “But hey, I took care of it just like you taught me.” He let out a breathy laugh. At least his mood was improving.

Azriel knelt in front of you, cradling the back of your head leaving a small kiss on your forehead. “That’s my girl.”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel

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peeweekey · 1 month

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i visited idiot street and everyone knew your name!

part i, part ii, part iii

a/n: the well awaited end to this fic is here! enjoy :)

synopsis: the three times you friendzoned Alhaitham, and the one he made damn sure you didn't.

tags: alhaitham/reader ; school setting ; valentine's day special ; reader likes sewing, miscommunication

It’s Valentine’s Day, and the most unusual thing to ever happen to you—happens.

A pristine white note falls out of your locker, and you never thought you would see the day. You’d assume, being a workaholic and being relegated to tasks (due to people pleasing tendencies you can’t seem to shake off), that you’d finish off the school year without falling victim to Valentine’s day sickeningly sweet confessions.

Please meet me in the homeroom lab after classes. – H

If it was any other day, you’d assume one of the teachers wrote you this note, and that you were going to be subjected to a ruthless talking-to. Yet, coincidentally, it’s that time of the year, and everyone else is getting notes like these too.

For the fun of it, you still decide to go where the note directs you. Mostly because you’re deathly curious to who this H person is. No expectations, of course.

When the dismissal bell rings, you quickly scramble out of your classroom, pointedly ignoring your friend’s confused call of your name. Leaving your bag and belongings behind. You’ll get back to her later—but now, the curiosity is killing you.

You navigate the sloppily decorated hallways; passing by lovestruck couples and through streamer paper decor of pinks, whites and reds. Cupid balloons and the overwhelmingly sweet scent of roses suffocate your senses.

The homeroom lab is at the end of the hallway, where all the decorations dwindle or are practically deflating with the lack of attention to detail—it irks you slightly, if this is a confession like you suspect, the surroundings could afford to be somewhat romantic. Not this cheap, unenthusiastic mess, it certainly wouldn’t be helping your case.

Your eyes lock onto one heart helium balloon, it drifts aimlessly across the floor—not enough to float up but not completely deflated. You glare at it, like trying to pop it with only your gaze, then to the door.

Steeling yourself, you take a breath then slide it open.

The last person you ever expect to be there, is there too.

“Alhaitham?” you ask, breathless and puzzled.

Was it him that sent you the note?

You shake that thought away, although you got your hopes up the tiniest bit, it’s probably unrelated to anything hearts themed. You’re pretty sure he’s been actively avoiding people confessing to him today. Maybe that’s why he hid in here, you muse.

“It’s me, yes,” he nods. “I assume you read my note?”

You laugh, shutting the homeroom lab door unceremoniously behind you. “That was you? Dude, you could’ve just told me, what’s with all the secrecy?”

“There’s something that I need to discuss with you.”

“Discuss with me,” you repeat, walking over to lean against the working table. Which, thank heavens, is pristinely clean. “Am I in trouble?”

“No,” he responds and you hum in faux relief. “Though there is something else.”

Alhaitham produces a sleek black chocolate box from seemingly nowhere—or maybe you hadn't seen him hold it—and holds it out to you.

“Sweet!” you grin, snatching the chocolates and examining the box. “This is some really good chocolate, Haitham. Who gave you this one?”

“No one,” he says. Alhaitham picks at his black painted nails—ones that you yourself painted a few weeks ago in his apartment. The polish is immaculate, almost looking freshly painted if it weren’t for the new nail growth starting underneath. “Those are completely from me, for you.”

You double take, taking a long lingering look at the gift. On the smack middle of the box, is the same type of note from earlier in your locker, but this has your name written in elegant cursive:

Happy Valentines. It writes, and you feel strange tingles travel down your spine. Not entirely unpleasant.

“You shouldn’t have,” your eyes widen. “I didn’t get anything for you, I never thought we were getting each other friendship chocolates!”

There’s a lengthy pause before you hear any reaction from him. Alhaitham makes a strangled noise from deep in his throat. “Friendship chocolates?”

He stresses your name, while massaging his temples. “...I wrote you that note, I waited in here for you and have the audacity to think what I gave you are friendship chocolates. Does that sound logical to you?”

“Of course,” you snort, putting down the chocolates to rest on the low table. “The only other reason I can think of would be because you like me, which I doubt—”

His lips flatten in unamusement. “So what if I do?”

“Wait, what?”

He inhales deeply, and you swear you see the slightest hints of pink on his ears that peek from underneath silver hair. The silence now is absolutely deafening, and the anticipation even more so. To you, the knowledge of his bashfulness makes the situation feel all the more real.

Alhaitham utters your name softly, like he’s pleading you to understand so that he needn’t repeat himself. Which he never does, the damn prideful man.

You’d make a teasing remark if you weren’t so frozen with nerves, the sound of your name from his lips is causing ticklish shivers up your spine. It sounds so intimate when he says it.

Like a secret, even. Although Alhaitham might be the most self-preserving and unambitious person you know, when it comes to the things that matter to him—he takes initiative right away.

“So you like me–” you breathe, the button up collar of your shirt feels all too tight all of a sudden, you tangle your fingers together and squeeze tightly. “Like, like like me?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” he sighs, low and long-suffering. “For three whole years.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Your eyes widen and you feel a low simmering heat spreading all over, even till your fingertips. You recall all the other times, past Valentine's days and recounting his strange behavior. All the dots start to connect together and you wonder how you never noticed. “What the hell.”

“So that one time last year when you were offering me your button—” you gasp. You remember, it’s a stupid highschool tradition, a boy would offer the second button of his uniform to a girl if he liked her. It’s the closest to the heart, but to you, it’s a thoughtless way to ruin perfectly good clothing. “Haitham, did you ask Kaveh for advice or something?”

“Matters like these are irrelevant to argue with him about,” he scoffs. Alhaitham folds his arms across his chest. “He ran off and came to the conclusion himself. Ever since then, he’s been bothering me with trying all types of confession tradition.”

Laughter starts to bubble out of you, disbelieving and flustered to the maximum level. “Dude, I basically friendzoned you and had no idea! You should’ve told me.”

His shoulders stiffen and he gives you such a disarmingly attractive look. And if your eyes dare deceive you, he looks the teensiest bit hopeful too. Right now, you feel like your heart is beating right out of your goddamn chest. The sound is so loud, the quickening thumping sound of your chest that you swear he might hear it too.

“...I see that now,” he says, his expression is exasperated—but so unbelievably soft. You feel yourself melting like butter under his gaze. “Though I am disappointed in your lacking ability to identify context clues.”

“Oh whatever,” you bump your shoulder against his, though you don’t move back away. The warmth of him is all consuming and comforting as hell, you could burrow yourself in him and never resurface, you think. He accepts your closeness with a strong arm wrapping behind you to hold you by the hand. Your stomach does somersaults in your stomach. “It’s all your fault. You’re an idiot for not telling it to me straight.”

“Does that mean you reciprocate?” he murmurs, leaning closer to whisper in your ear.

You pull back enough to take the box of chocolates, opening it and popping one in your mouth. “This chocolate is pretty good. Guess I’ll have to let you stick around for more.”

I like you too.

He nuzzles into you, leaving a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. “I guess you do, don’t you?”

#alhaitham genshin #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact #x reader #complete!!#finally #key's-vault #genshin

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 30 days

Note

Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

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A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

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**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

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A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

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asumofwords · 9 months

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my sweet angel babies! Thank you all for the love and kind words! Here is another chapter, now there are going to be two perspectives in this, so when you get to the end, you will see what I am talking about hehe. Enjoy ! <3

Chapter 87: The Other Woman

Days float by as your anger continued to simmer.

Your visits to the Gardens became frequent, irritated energy bouncing through your body, leaving your nights to be restless. And yet to your surprise, Aegon was nowhere to be seen.

You had thought that with his sudden dismissal of his brother to Harrenhal at the news of your pregnancy, that he would make himself present.

And yet, he hadn't.

And when Aemond had returned a few short days later to the Red Keep, you had been just as surprised once more.

Was this a test?

The two brothers working in tandem to see what you would do?

Or was Aemond's visit truly shortened by his desire to come back to you?

When Aemond arrived back to Kings Landing, his demeanour had shifted once again. He walked around you carefully, chose his words with even more care, and had even refrained from touching you. It was as though he was waiting for you to make the first move. Or maybe he was waiting to you to strike him.

Or perhaps the Prince was waiting for you to respond to the letter you had not read.

When the Prince had returned, you had been seated at the Gardens, nibbling upon a honey drizzled slice of pear, the sweet nectar coating your mouth thickly as you gazed out at the water, concentrating hard to see if you could see any speck of Dragonstone or Driftmark.

A large shadow moved across the water, and you had craned your head to look up, spotting your husbands large, green, war dragon flying atop the Keep. Her mossy wings, torn in some places, and a deep scar along her side shining in the sun, curtesy of Syndor.

Your resentment bubbled at the sight of his return, and you suddenly felt no desire to continue munching upon the many sweets and treats that your maids had insisted upon giving you. You stood, dusting the crumbs that had settled into your lap onto the stone floor and moved with little haste, knowing that Aemond would most likely seek you out as soon as he landed.

You let yourself begin to walk down towards the beach of Kings Landing, brushing your fingertips atop the many different flowers that you passed. It was not until you came across the fragrant rose bushes that you paused in thought.

Reaching forward, you grasped a large, blooming, blood-red rose, and snapped it from the bush, bringing it up to your nose to inhale deeply. It was a beautiful colour, and from the exact same bush that Aegon had plucked one for you from.

You smirked.

You continued on your walk, winding down the path until you reached the stone jetty, finding yourself standing deathly still, rose in hand, as you looked out at the water.

You were waiting for the inevitable.

Waiting for him.

For your shadow.

To come seek you out. To speak to you. To see you.

To beg. To plead. To apologise.

Or perhaps, punish you for your temper.

It was not until you heard soft, steady steps behind you, that you knew he had come, just as you had anticipated.

Aemond had come to straight to you.

Not to his King. Not the the Lords. Nor the Small Council. Not even to your shared chambers to disrobe.

The One-Eyed Prince came straight to you from the back of his dragon.

Bringing the rose to your nose, you inhaled again deeply, and hummed. With a cool breath, your voice flitted towards him, not bothering to turn around.

“Didn’t expect to have you back so soon, Aegon. What did Otto want with you?” And with your last word, you spun, rose still raised up to your face to look at your husband that you knew was behind you.

At the sight of him, you dropped the rose limply to your side, “Oh. Aemond.” You sniffed, “You’re back.”

His brows were already furrowed, “What did Aegon want with you?”

Those were the first words from his lips.

His first words after coming back from his whore.

You saw red.

Gritting your teeth you spun away, moving to walk back up the path to the Keep and away from the steady rolling waves of the beach.

“How was the Whore of Harrenhal?” You snipped, taking the steps in lazy strides, unhurried to get away from him as you twirled the rose in view as you passed.

Aemond’s eye flicked to the flower, then back at your face, his jaw tensed.

You continued up on your path, letting your uncle stew in the possibility of you and his brother having spent time together in his absence. The possibility of Aegon courting you with another rose.

And whilst you had expected it, the Prince did not follow you.

Instead, he stayed rooted in his spot at the bottom of the stairs, watching as you slowly walked up them, singular red rose in hand that you brought intermittently up to your nose to smell.

Aemond found you a while later in the Library, clearly desperate to speak to you, his own insecurities about his brother racing in his mind.

He found you seated on one of the armchairs before the fire, tome in lap with the rose tucked behind your ear. The red atop your hair stood out starkly, and brought out the subtle blush of your lips that you nibbled on gently.

To Aemond, you looked as though you were engrossed in the story, or perhaps your mind was wondering to a certain older uncle as your fingers danced over the long, thorned stem. His approach did not rouse your gaze, for you knew it was him, choosing to ignore his presence all together.

The One-Eyed Prince stood in front of you, his height doubled yours, as you sat primly in the chair. The air in the Library was tense, and you played upon it, a finger tracing the petals of the flower absentmindedly as you continued to ignore him.

“Y/n.” Aemond spoke lowly, trying to gage your attention, “I didn’t see her. I attended to my duties, and that was all.”

You hummed boredly, before lifting your gaze to him, the Prince’s jaw locked, hand on the pummel of his sword as he looked at you. You let your gaze drop pointedly at the hand, and to your surprise, he released it, dropping his arm down by his side.

“Aemond.” You sighed, standing, shutting the book in your hands as you stepped forward towards him. You thrust the book against his chest, “I don’t believe you.”

His hand came to grasp the book, ‘The Loves of Queen Nymeria’, as you brushed past him, making your exit from the library as swiftly as possible. Not hearing his footsteps behind you.

You found your way to the Godswood, where you always found yourself in troubling times, still holding the rose in your hand as you looked up through its branches.

You hoped that your parents received the raven.

And even prayed to the Gods that they did.

What would happened?

Would it be done?

Would she be killed?

How would you know if it had happened?

What if they didn’t get your raven?

You swallowed and sat amongst the roots as you always did, needing to clear your mind, your back against the trunk of the tree as you looked up at the light that shone through the leaves. The tree vibrated with the wind, and in that moment, and as through the wind swept away your doubts, you knew they had gotten your raven.

When the sun had begun to lower in the sky, you took yourself back to your chambers, knowing that your husband would be there waiting, and you would have little place to run.

He would talk to you, and you would listen.

For a time.

Aemond was just as you had expected him to be, a creature of habit, sitting in his armchair before the fire, goblet of wine in hand. When you entered the chambers, his head had lazily turned to look at you, eye grazing up and down your body before pausing on the rose you held in your hands. You moved across the chambers and placed it on the small table beside your bed, sighing.

With contagious irritation, you moved to the side of the room and poured yourself a goblet of wine, sitting opposite Aemond on the chaise as you rose the cup to your lips, sipping the strong spiced red, anger simmering beneath your skin.

Though, it seemed as though Aemond had bitten off his tongue, and the two of you sat in silence before the warmth of the fire, words unspoken, until the maids entered to light the candles of the chambers, and shortly after, bring your dinner.

You both moved to eat together, a tension filled silence engulfing the room. The quiet chewing and sipping was drowned out by the ever rising beat of your heart in your ears as you looked at him.

You were furious, and angry at the little part of yourself that was relieved to have him back.

Aemond placed his cutlery down onto his plate politely, sensing your heated gaze upon his face. How you wished you punch him in the side of his mouth. To dig your fingers into the cavity where his eye once sat. If only you ha-

“I did not see her.” His voice cut through the tension, and you swallowed thickly, placing your own cutlery atop your plate as you reached forward to grasp your wine. You took a gulping sip as you watched him from over the rim, waiting for him to undoubtedly continue.

“Kīvin zijo va se Jaes Uēpys se se Sīkuda.” I swear it on the Old Gods and the Seven.

You huffed, taking the goblet from your lips, "Nyke jorepagon pōnta pryjagon ao ilagon syt aōha pirtra.” I pray they strike you down for your lies.

Aemond sneered, "Gaoman daor pirtir. Daor naejot ao. Dōrī naejot ao.” I do not lie. Not to you. Never to you.

You hummed, sipping again, “Pār īlon kessa ūndegon lo iksā pryjatan ilagon iā daor.” Then we shall see if you are struck down or not.

Aemond’s hand on the table twitched, “Kesan daor ūndegon zirȳla arlī, nyke teptan ao ñuha udir.” I will not see her again, I gave you my word.

You pressed the smile away from your lips with a frown. You nodded in agreement, picking up your cutlery again and moved to cut through a steaming piece of meat, dark gravy poured over the top, “Se kostan kivio ao, bona kesā daor.” And I can promise you, you won’t.

You will never see that whore or your bastard child again.

And it will be because of me.

Aemond nodded, but not because he knew, which made you all the more smug, “Iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys, iksā emare ñuha riña. Ñuha jorrāelagon iksis syt ao, se ao mērī.” You are my wife, you are having my child. My love is for you, and you only.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Should have thought about that before you fucked a child into her, shouldn’t you?”

The Prince stayed silent and went back to his eating, cheek twitching with words to say, but none passed his lips.

"Has the bastard been born yet?" You hummed, stabbing another piece of meat and bringing it to your lips as you chewed, Aemond's gaze darkening.

"No."

"Then how would you know that if you had not seen her?" You blinked at the Prince, biting the inside of your cheeks.

"It would be hard to not notice a chil-"

"A bastard of silver hair in a place where Strong blood once resided. I often think on it," You cut another piece of meat with your knife and fork as you felt Aemond's eye burning a hole in your face, "Would the child look like you, or would it come out resembling a Strong boy."

Aemond did not speak, and so you continued, "For years, my brothers and I, despite my obvious parentage, faced the sharp whispers and gossip fuelled by your mother. Exacerbated by you. And now, you are to have another bastard of your own. And not one that you can easily pass off as Aegon's, if she is truly a Strong."

Resting your chin on your palm, you tilted your head looking at him, "Do you even know if Helaena's children are yours? Or at least one of them? I suspected the twins, but Maelor has Aegon's soft face." You paused, watching anger fall over his face, "I wonder if mine will have it."

Aemond's hands slammed on the table as he looked down at his plate, anger radiating off of him.

"Would it not be a cruel joke from the Gods for you to have sired the King's heirs, and he to have sired yours?"

"That child is mine." He growled.

"I suppose time will tell. The bastard certainly is."

"You mean to provoke me. I have performed my duty as well as I can."

"And yet, your whore is pregnant. Who's duty was that? Certainly not that of a Prince."

Silence moved across the table as he stared at you down his nose.

In disgust.

In anger.

In rage.

"I left you a letter." His voice was impatient, as though the piece of parchment would have explained all.

"What letter?" You cocked your head, feigning ignorance.

His brow was drawn, "I left it on the table."

You raised your eyebrows in mock remembrance, opening your mouth, "Oh." Aemond's face seemed, as though the letter would soothe your only rising resentment.

"I burnt it." You smiled at him widely, and resumed your eating.

Aemond's lips twitched as he looked at you, tongue pressing on the bottom of his lip in agitation.

"Sorry, was it something important?"

Aemond did not respond, hands tightening around his knife and fork, his eye narrowed.

You hummed, chewing a piece of potato slowly before you swallowed, "Anything of importance can surely be spoken to me, and not written down on some parchment like a child writes an apology to his mother."

Aemond tossed his knife and fork onto the table angrily, standing from his chair, hands in fists as he looked at you. You looked up at your uncle, and daintily placed your cutlery atop your plate.

"What are you going to do, Aemond? Hit me? When I am with child?" He blinked down at you, eye flickering to your stomach and back up at your face again, shoulders still tensed.

"I told you when you left, when you broke your word to me. I would never forgive you. You did this. Not me." Your hand pressed to your chest angrily, "I am owed this anger. The Gods will surely forgive me, but will they forgive you?"

Sorrow burrowed its way down your throat as anger crawled up it, you looked at him, and the two met in the middle. A thick and heavy stone that was lodged in your throat that you desperately tried to swallow.

Tears stung your eyes, and you watched as Aemond's anger simmered at the sight of it. Any response that was on the tip of his tongue was lost, and Aemond moved away from you to sit at the fire, singular eye staring into the flames, leaving you to sit at the table alone.

Before long, your meal was over, and your two maids came to clear the table, and ready you for bed, slipping a silk chemise over the top of your head, unbraiding your hair, and letting the thick waves cascade down your back.

Aemond had crawled into bed before you, and you had fluttered about the chambers, delaying the inevitable, and enjoying the way he shifted beneath the sheets watching you as he waited.

When you went to bed, and settled beneath the sheets, you rolled and turned your back to him, tucking your hands beneath your chin as you fought the urge to not laugh. It was all too much. Too much anger. Too much joy. It got all twisted and mixed together, turning your chest alight.

You could feel the heat of his gaze from behind you and chose to ignore it, closing your eyes as Aemond blew the remaining candles out beside your bed. The chambers were basked in darkness, and eventually Aemond rolled away from you in a huff.

A grin peaked through on your lips, hidden in the dark, and soon you fell to sleep.

DRAGONSTONE POV

A few short hours away from the shores of Kings Landing, a raven had finally arrived to Dragonstone. The small, black corvid had made its way across the sea to deliver a message to the Queen.

Queen Rhaenyra had been in her chambers, robe wrapped tightly around her body as Daemon leant his head against the front of her stomach. The once Rogue Prince, seated on an armchair by the fire, his wife standing before him, carding gentle and soft hands through his silver white hair.

"Come to bed, my love." Rhaenyra whispered, hand cupping the older mans cheek.

Daemon lifted his head to look up at the woman he adored, her violet eyes glowing in the light of the fire. She was ethereal. Beautiful. And he loved her more than anything in the world.

His large hands came to grasp at her hips, pulling her forward and into his lap, Rhaenyra straddling her uncle on the large chair. Her hands came to the tops of his shoulders, before skimming up to cradle his face.

"The hour is late." She argued, with no true argument on her lips.

"I did not know there were certain hours in which I could love you." The man smirked, hands rubbing against the flesh of her hips.

As Rhaenyra smiled, she dipped her head to catch Daemon's lips, and a knock came at the door.

Both silver heads turned sharply.

It was late.

And there would be only one reason for such a disturbance.

The pair shared a look before Rhaenyra climbed off the King Consorts lap, moving quickly as she called out to the knight to enter.

Ser Erryk Cargyll pushed through the door, bowing and apologising for the intrusion, his helm off, light brown hair pulled back and away from his face. Daemon came to stand behind his wife, always behind or beside her, to show strength, to show unity.

To be there and support her.

As one.

"There was a raven." The pale hand of the knight moved forward, parchment in his open palm as he gave it to the Queen, who all but snatched it from him.

There was no seal, and the parchment was scrunched and bent. As Rhaenyra opened it, and Daemon moved to stand beside her, they read the short message from their daughter, the Queen's hands tightening on the page.

Rhaenyra stiffened, posture straightening as she looked at the knight before her, "Wake the Maester and the Lords. We have word from the Princess."

The knight bowed, swiftly slipping out of the chambers as Rhaenyra turned to face her husband, who's eyes glinted with a dangerous rage. She could feel the fury that curled around him, and she felt her own burn her just as hotly.

"Go," Came the steady voice of the Queen, her hands dropping to her side, parchment still in one tight fist.

Daemon tilted his head, silver hair shimmering in the chamber light, as though he was unsure of what his wife had said.

Before he could open his mouth to respond, the Queen spoke again, tone final, and anger crackling just beneath.

"Before the Council can talk me out of it."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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pettyprocrastination · 11 months

Text

The Deathly Devout

Pairing: Executioner!König x Nun!Reader (Medieval au)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Religious themes and settings, talk of death, religious guilt, nothing much this is pretty tame. I have very little knowledge of how catholic confessionals actually go especially in a medieval setting forgive me. probably many spelling errors im sorry.

Author’s Note: was talking to @thesadvampire about @hffhifjou fucking amazing art of the 141 as knights and now we have Executioner!König. This is mostly just a word burst from this morning but I really like this concept and wanted to share with you all

Tagging some mutuals I think might enjoy this: @sprout-fics @humanransome-note @moondirti @fnny-bnny @yeehaw-djarin @captainsamwlsn

_______________--

It was quite amusing to see the executioner in the confessional booth.

That isn’t to say that he doesn’t visit often, no. If anything it’s the exact opposite, Father Montomgery sees him more than any pious banker or self-hating gambler in the city. But the man was monstrous, broad in his shoulders with thick arms and legs to match, resulting in him having to twist and fold his body to properly fit into the little wooden booth. He could see the silhouette of the poor man’s shoulders hunched in and head tucked low.

It almost made up for how absolutely aggravating he was to listen to.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned.”

“May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you know your sins and trust in his mercy.”

König swallows.

“I killed a man this week.”

The priest, knowing this voice better than others and the hulking silhouette it belongs to, sighs.

“The thief, then?” He asks, voice dripping with indifference. ��The little painter who was caught stealing?”

“Yes father.”

The “little thief” has been a blossoming apprentice under a most respected artist within the city, only for the truth to come out that he had been stealing funds from his mentor for months on end. The king had suggested König simply cut off the painter’s hands and let him live out the rest of his days in poverty. “What better punishment for an artist than a life where he cannot create?”

But the end ruling was for the artist to lose his head in the town-square and König’s hands delivered the blade to his neck.

“That was simply an act of your work, my child.”

“But-”

There is a deep sigh from the opposite side of the booth and König falls silent, like a scolded child.

The irony isn't lost on the priest, that a man who must associate himself with the macabre so often is incredibly devout in his worship. But the humor was drowned out by how astonishingly self-loathing the poor bastard was.

“My child, do you believe our king is the one true king?”

“Of course father.”

“And do you believe our God is the one, true, God?”

There’s a garbled noise that comes from the larger man, an incredulous sputtering at how the priest would ever assume he would say otherwise.

It makes the man chuckle.

“Of course father!”

“Then acting out the King’s law is acting out God’s law, is it not?”

There’s a pause, the priest can see the man shrink down into his seat even further, if that was even possible with how he contorted the bulk of his body to squeeze into the wooden booth.

“I’m not saying you cannot feel-” He waves his hand in the air, despite the fact that König cannot truly see him. “-conflicted, about your career. It’s not one that comes easily, I’m sure. But it is not one that makes you a monster, despite how many people would try to have you believe that.”

“Yes father.”

The man’s voice is a shred of what it should be- all but a trembling whisper that makes even the exhausted priest frown.

“Being an executioner isn’t an easy job. But it’s one that is needed nonetheless.”

König says something softly to himself, but the priest cannot be bothered to ask what.

“For your sins I-”

“Actually, father-” the wooden step creaked under his weight as he shifted on his knees. “There’s something else.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been having impure thoughts about a woman.”

“Oh.”

The priest blinks. He had never heard the man speak of any sin aside from the violence he acted out on the King’s word. Truth be told he had begun to think the lad was so devout such a concept was all but foreign to him.

But this?

“I’m listening, my child.”

This was far more interesting than listening to him bemoan about a town square beheading.

“She is-” König chews on the inside of his cheek, chipped teeth digging into the formed scars he has had since childhood from the nervous habit. “Promised to somebody else.”

The priest hides a snicker behind a well placed cough.

“Married?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“I haven’t…acted upon them.” The man who has killed week after week fiddles with his hands, face turning bright red as simply speaking of his attraction toward the woman. The priest couldn't help but wonder who she was. Whether it be a kind tavern girl who ignored his gaze each day he walked by or a local prostitute that urged on his affection as long as he could afford her time.

It’s no secret that few women would concern themselves with the local executioner, if not even look him in the eyes.

“She’s a good woman of proper virtue, I would not sully her name in such a way.”

This poor bastard.

“Is she beautiful?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The woman you speak of, do you find her attractive?”

König swallows. “Yes, incredibly. Her smile rivals that of the sun and-”

“That’s more than enough.” The priest grins into his hand as the airy tone the executioner’s voice took on, like a poet reciting his latest venture. The man was properly lovesick, how charming. “I do not believe you have committed any sin in appreciating a woman’s beauty.”

“I haven’t?”

“Admiring a woman’s beauty is like admiring a piece of art, is it not?” The priest offers. “You are simply taking in the art that God has created with his own hands, my child.”

Before König has a chance to respond, through the lattice he sees a flash of white through the corner of his eye. A soft voice humming a tune fills the air, echoing through the church hall like a well-respected hymn. In a panic, König begins to stand his full height before he is halted in his tracks as the top of his head slams into the confessional roof.

“My son?”

“Ah, apologies father! But I have to leave because of-”

The priest nods. “Yes, yes of course.You are absolved of your sins, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.”

The final word is drowned out by the slam of the confessional door opening the man’s thundering footsteps receding from the booth.

The executioner stands to his full height as he exits the church. He shields his eyes as he steps outside, suddenly overwhelmed by the burst of sunlight.

In his haste, he did not see the figure at his side.

“Good morning to you, König.”

The man jumps, twisting around to face you where you stand at the bottom church steps, broom in hand and a smile on your face.

“Ah! Yes! Good morning to you as well, sister.”

“A lovely day, is it not?”

Heat creeps up the back of his neck and he struggles to find the words he wished to speak to you. But you, ever patient and kind, wait without judgment.

“Yes, quite lovely.”

As König stares down at you, his heart beating as he watches the sun shine on your figure and your smile, he finds himself thinking of the Holy Father’s words.

“You are simply taking in the art that God has created with his own hands”

What beautiful art indeed.

#executioner!König #könig x reader #König x you #König x female reader #the priest is like. super chill because König comes in EVERY WEEK and hes like YES i KNOW YOU KILLED SOMEBODY WHATEVER MAN #but also said priest is most likely corrupt and gambles and takes bribes and shit. so he doesnt really give a fuck #but anyways. konig big soft for nun gal #konig x reader #konig x you #konig x female reader

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sundrop-writes · 7 months

Text

Kisses Like Fire Whiskey

Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Summary:

When you come back from a long healing apprenticeship in France, you and Fred catch up over drinks, reminiscing about your days as mischievous rebels. In the drunken haze, some important things are realized.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Fluff (with a slight bit of Angst). Set post Deathly Hallows and during Goblet of Fire.

Word Count: 7,500

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is bookended with scenes that take place after the war, but obviously this is a Fred Lives AU; part of this takes place after main storyline of Deathly Hallows and part of it takes place in a flashback during Goblet of Fire (when Fred and the reader are in their sixth year); the reader and Fred are the same age; while part of this takes places post Deathly Hallows, there isn't mentions of the war; it's never mentioned exactly how long the reader was away, but the reader and Fred are both in their early 20s in the bookended parts; drinking and drunkenness are major plot points in this fic, as well as underage drinking; underage characters being in a bar/pub; Fred and the reader both drink, but there are mentions of Fred seeming more sober than the reader/handling his alcohol better; they are drunk to the point of lowering their inhibitions, but not to the point of passing out or forgetting things; mentions of George x Katie Bell as a background ship; mentions of splinching/the dangers of Apparating while drunk (does not actually happen in the fic, everyone is fine); mentions of vomiting due to over consumption of alcohol (doesn't happen to any of the main characters of this fic, it's a very small background element); passing mention of a cursed object that makes people spit up their own blood; creepy men approach the reader (and Fred defends her) - minor sexual harassment from older men toward the reader; this does use Y/N (I started out as a Quizilla girly, I will live and die by Y/N); this is mostly just mutual pining and fluff with a love confession at the end. So please enjoy!!

A/N: when I read the original request, I was inspired to take it a lot further, and after writing The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes, I have realized that I really loving writing simplistic fics that are mutual pining that turns into a love confession. It's so much fun.

...

“So then - so then - Bill says: ‘where’s Percy?’, and Mum looks around the table and realises Perce is even there.” George chuckled brightly, topping off the telling of another one of their chaotic childhood stories.

“‘Course, Mum blamed it on us.” Fred said, rolling his eyes.

“As if she was wrong!” You argued, reaching out and smacking him on the shoulder playfully.

Your words were louder to your own ears than you had intended to say them, slurring slightly on your lips. Perhaps you had more to drink than you had realised, but you were simply having fun catching up with your dearest, oldest friends. So you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care or view it as a problem.

You were simply overjoyed to see Fred and George again.

You were visiting England for the first time in years, and naturally, the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes shop had been your first stop. You had grown up with the twins - since your first year at Hogwarts together, they had been two of your closest friends. Ever since you had been sorted into Gryffindor with them, the three of you had been thick as thieves. Right from the moment you had suggested to them that they actually unscrew a toilet seat lid and send it to their little sister Ginny in the post when they had initially just been joking about doing so. Ginny had found it highly amusing - their mother, not so much.

But when you met Molly for the first time in person, you were always on her good side. You were very good at playing the ‘perfect angel’ in front of authority figures (unlike the twins). So you could very easily bat your eyelashes and say a few sweet things, as well as being on your best behaviour on the surface, before sneaking around with the twins at night and helping them with their pranks - not that anyone else ever suspected you of doing so.

You were the perfect accomplice for them. Someone who was labelled as a goody-two-shoes who was down for mischief at any time.

You had been slightly heartbroken when you found out that they were planning to quit their Seventh Year partyway through in order to start their joke shop. You knew that it had always been a dream of theirs, and it was your dream to see them succeed in it. But a large part of you had been hoping to graduate with your best friends by your side. They had offered for you to come with them, of course. They told you that you could have a very fulfilling career at the shop. But you had other plans for yourself.

So you watched them ride off on their brooms, cheering and hollering for them alongside everyone else. And after your graduation, you had come to visit the shop in its full glory, seeing its whimsical beauty with your own eyes before you left England. As much as you hated that your lives had taken such different paths, you admired them deeply for succeeding.

Since then, you had been in France. You had taken on a prestigious healing apprenticeship in order to become a high level Healer. It was something you had always dreamed of doing - helping people through the skilled art of healing.

Perhaps, in some ways, it was a career choice inspired partially by your two best friends - seeing them blow themselves up or get horrible boils testing their own products, you wanted to be able to soothe the side effects faster. And you knew that there were plenty more children out there like them. Children who would fall from trees pretending to be a dragon or lose their teeth trying to eat a deck of Exploding Snap, children who needed gentle understanding from a Healer rather than scolding.

You had recently finished up your apprenticeship, and you were hoping to get a job at St. Mungo’s to be closer to the people you always viewed as family. But even just stepping foot back in the twins’ shop felt like home. You had been greeted with tight hugs and so much chatter between them about missing you that you could barely decipher the words between two voices. They had invited you up to the flat above the shop for a drink - so now, hours later, you were quite tipsy and feeling the best that you had in years.

“You know boys, I haven’t - I haven’t been this tossed off my tits in quite a while!” You announced loudly, pausing between words to let out a small hiccup, signifying just how drunk you were.

You weren’t at the level of drunk where things were unpleasant - not where the room was spinning and you were on the verge of passing out, battling with nausea. But your normal sense of proprietary had definitely been tossed out the window, you felt fuzzy around the edges, and everything felt delightfully warm. Especially considering you had been drinking Fire Whiskey.

You hadn’t had a drink all throughout your apprenticeship, as much as the other young people working with you encouraged you to ‘take a load off’ every once and a while. Your work was something that you took very seriously (especially when Fred and George weren’t around to tempt you with pranks and daily mischief). So this was the first time in a long time that you had actually taken the time to relax, and the alcohol was hitting you a lot harder than even you realised.

The boys chuckled at your words, George turning bright red from how hard he was laughing. Perhaps the booze was hitting him pretty hard too. While Fred’s eyes were dancing with that brightness they always had when he was having fun, he didn’t seem quite as sloppy. You hadn’t been paying attention, but he likely didn’t have as much to drink, and had simply been enjoying your company the entire time.

“You know, I really missed you, Fred and George.” You said, pure sincerity dripping through your tone, your affection amplified in your chest by your drunkenness. You couldn’t hold yourself back - your emotions bubbling to the surface without your consent. “And I really, really missed you, Fred.”

You turned to him, putting a warm hand on his shoulder, your touch practically burning up through the sleeve of his silken shirt (you were surprised by how nicely the twins dressed now that they were established bussinessmen). You hated that you couldn’t hold back the need to emphasise the fact that you had missed Fred just a bit more. But he had been on your mind a lot more than his brother had, as scarily similar as they were.

Even if you had barely admitted it to yourself, throughout all your years at Hogwarts, you had a romantic inclination towards Fred.

It was never something you had acted on, for fear of ruining the amazing friendship that the two of you had. But as your visit to England grew closer and closer, you found yourself losing focus on your work and thinking about him more and more. You wondered if he had found someone - you wondered if his good looks, his charm, his humour had landed him a wife in the time that you had been gone. It wouldn’t have surprised you if, during the time you had been gone, he had married or even had kids.

Obviously he had a wonderful career nailed down, so a family would have been the natural next step for him.

Those thoughts made you approach the shop’s door with equal parts dread and excitement. You eagerly wanted to see him again but didn’t want to see that there was a ring on his finger. You had been all too happy to find out during your long, winding ‘catch up’ conversation that, in fact, he was still single. George had brought up that fact more than once, actually, nagging on his brother’s lonely status like it was the most recent funny joke he could prod at.

When you heard him talk about it, there was that insecurity still bubbling beneath the surface - the thought that you had missed your chance, or that Fred had never been interested in you romantically at all. It was something that couldn’t even be knocked away by booze, and that was gnawing at you now that storytime was winding down.

Fred and George exchanged a look - one of those silent conversations that could only be had through micro-expressions because of their closeness as twins. It was something that had always deeply irritated you during your days at Hogwarts, desperately trying to decipher if it meant ‘close to expulsion’ trouble or simply ‘skipping a class’ trouble.

“Well, would you look at the time,” George said, loudly and rather cartoonishly as he looked at his watch. It was something that you likely would have found suspect if you weren’t feeling hazy and drunk. “I told Katie I would pop over to hers sometime this weekend, so I should get going,”

Something that had come as a brilliant surprise to you: finding out that George was now engaged to Katie Bell.

Not only were you shocked to know that George seemed more than eager to ‘settle down’ and get married, but you were entirely curious about how they came to be as a couple. Especially considering that, as far as you knew, she had always seemed to find the twins’ pranks more annoying than anything else.

But you supposed that annoyance and attraction were two twigs on the same branch, the tree just needed to be shaken a little for something romantic to happen. The two of them hadn’t officially moved in together yet, as much as George talked about her with those sweet, rose-coloured lenses, and seemed to want to spend all his time around her. The twins still lived in the flat above the shop, two twin beds in the bedroom, as they always had in their room at the Burrow. But from the way Fred remarked on it, and from what you had seen glancing into their bedroom when you had gotten up to use the toilet, George was over at Katie’s far more than he was at their flat.

You couldn’t help but to find it sweet. George was in love.

It made you happy for him, knowing that he had found someone good for him. But thinking about it caused a pang in your chest as you wondered if Fred was lonely. You knew that loneliness certainly wasn’t a feeling that he was used to. If it was you or George, or one of his many other brothers, he always had someone at his side to keep him company.

You could only imagine what those nights were like - when the shop closed up and George popped off to his soon to be wife’s place, leaving Fred to nothing but the quiet. (You knew that Weasleys were never good with quiet - part of the reason that the twins were the way that they were.)

George peeled himself off the floor, where the three of you had been sitting around the coffee table in the lounge. Like a gangly baby deer, he began stumbling about due to his own drunkenness before he gained a proper footing and finally managed to stand up straight. You let out a snorting laugh at the sight and Fred - very clearly the most sober of the three of you - rushed out of his seat to grab George by the shoulders, making sure that his brother was alright.

“You sure that you’re okay to Apparate, Georgie?” Fred asked.

That kindness, that caring - it was something people often overlooked when they saw Fred Weasley. But it was one of the things that had drawn you to him the most. He was such a sweet person, and he cared about the people in his life with such a ferocity that it made your soul ache just to know that you were one of them.

“I’ll be fine, Freddie.” George replied.

Fred picked up George’s coat and began helping him into it, and you barely paid attention to the hushed conversation that the two of them had as you picked up the large (now rather light) bottle of Fire Whiskey and poured yourself another drink.

You caught something online the lines of ‘just go for it, for Merlin’s sake’ - very strained and annoyed, but you honestly had no clue what they were talking about. As you took a sip of your drink - you truly didn’t care.

Fred heaved out a sigh and then George disappeared with a crack. You craned your neck to look at the spot where he had been, just wanting to make sure that there was no blood or unsightly pieces of George left behind. There weren’t any - he had done fine.

“Havin’ another one, are we?” Fred remarked, walking around the coffee table to collapse onto the plush couch behind your back.

You chugged the rest of the Fire Whiskey from your glass all in one go, growling slightly as it burned sharply down your throat before you put the glass down once again.

“I’m celebrating!” You cheered loudly - again, much louder than you intended it to be. “I missed my best friends so much. It’s so - so good to be home.”

“But apparently you missed me just a bit more?” Fred chuckled, referring to your comment from before.

You moved to get up on the couch with him, and found your legs unsteady beneath you. Fred saw what you were doing and put a hand on your upper arm, hauling you back to sit on the cushions beside him. You moaned quietly at the warmth of his large hand on your bare skin, exposed by the camisole you were wearing. At one point, you had been wearing a nice cardigan, but you had stripped out of it as the alcohol drove your body temperature up.

You leaned back into the couch, and cuddled up against him. His body was soft and muscled at the same time, and he felt so nice against you. With your inhibitions lowered, you could see no fault in snuggling tightly into his side and laying your head on his chest. You wanted to simply enjoy the physical affection from a person you had missed so dearly.

You didn’t see the pure warring on Fred’s face as you did this - the confliction and yearning and hurt flashing over his features. He had missed you too, but he knew that you had missed him as a friend, just as a good friend, and not as the ‘one that got away’ that he had been thinking about every damn day since. But he could be cool about this, he told himself. He wouldn’t let his stupid feelings get in the way.

After a moment of pushing those pesky feelings back down, he finally relaxed into your touches and wrapped an arm around you, lazily brushing his fingers across the bare skin of your arm on the other side. You sighed happily at the feeling. From this close, he could smell the feminine floral waft of your perfume in combination with the hot cinnamon of the Fire Whiskey. And though it only made him yearn more, it was heaven.

He was all too happy to have you this close rather than you being so far away in France. He was happy to have you home.

“Do you want to stay the night?” He asked. “George’s bed will be empty, of course.”

He added on that second part quickly - he wanted you to feel comfortable, didn’t want to put any pressure on you to keep up this closeness, even if you seemed cuddly and affectionate because of your drunken state.

Originally, you had been planning to get a room at The Leaky Cauldron, but the twins’ shop had been your very first stop, and they had torn your suitcase out of your hands to bring it upstairs for you, so it was currently sitting off to the side of the lounge with your coat draped over it. And you never did get that room. Now, you realised it was laughable to think that you’d be staying anywhere but with friends, especially with the Molly Weasley hospitality baked right into them. You had to assume that even if George wasn’t at Katie’s, he would have slept on the couch so that you could take his bed anyway.

“Freddie, you know, I don’t think I’m going to get very far.” You said. “You - you got me pretty d-drunk.”

Fred smiled to himself. “Ah, I see. Once again, it is all my fault.”

It was something you did at large during your days at Hogwarts. You blamed him for yourself being late to class, you getting detentions, the few times you had ended up on Molly’s bad side. When in reality, you had always been a cheerful, willing participant in their chaos, you had always ‘blamed’ him for dragging you into it. But it only made him tempt you into more trouble.

“It is,” You sighed, turning your head to give him a wide grin. “You always g-get me into trouble.”

Fred let out a quiet laugh at this, and you laid your head on this chest once again. The two of you mulled in the comfortable silence for a few moments before you thought of something.

“You know, this-s reminds me, of - of the first time you got me drunk.” You told him with a laugh.

“Oh, god, back in sixth year?” He posed, returning to the memory himself. “That was epic. I still don’t know if I’d call it an epic disaster, or epic fun.”

“Bit of both.” You mumbled quietly. “Always is with you.”

Sitting there, curled up next to the lovely warmth of him, you remembered the night so fondly.

…

Leave it to Fred Weasley to pull you out of bed at half past two in the morning with no solid explanation as to why, aside from ‘we have plans’.

When you asked him why he couldn’t conduct those plans with George, as he usually did, he simply smirked and said that George had plans of his own. Which deeply worried you - but you tried your best to ignore it. You knew from experience that Fred wasn’t a walking troublemaker all the time.

In fact, the events of just a short week ago had proven that to you. He had invited you to the Yule Ball (as friends, of course) and the entire evening had been absolutely pleasant. No pranks - no water balloons, no coloured dye, no buckets of feathers, no charmed objects, no floods. It had been nothing but a delightful night of dancing and chatting with your friends.

Even now, as Fred pulled you into the mouth of a very small passageway that you had never seen before (one that caused you to slump over in order to walk through it), you pulled your scarf tighter around yourself and tried your hardest not to worry about what he might be up to. At the very least, if he was planning something large and disruptive, you would know about it, so that you wouldn’t be on the receiving end.

He had told you that these ‘plans’ involved going outdoors, so you had bundled up well, because there was still quite a few feet of snow outside and it was chilly, seeing as it was so late at night. But you hadn’t expected it to be so damn cold, walking in a random mystery tunnel underneath the school. Again, you had no clue where he was taking you or where the thing even led - you were simply glad when it became tall enough for you to straighten your back up.

“Where are we going, Fred?” You demanded harshly.

“You’ll see.” Fred told you, throwing a wicked grin over his shoulder at you as he continued to lead you forward through the darkness - the light of his wand being the only thing leading the way in the musty old tunnel.

“Nothing good ever happens when you say those words.” You replied, heaving a deep sigh.

“Well, perhaps, you could keep your mind open this time.” He said brightly. “Loosen up. Be open to all the possibilities that the universe has to offer you,”

You rolled your eyes at this. He was trying to direct your attention away from whatever scheme he had planned, that much was immediately clear to you.

“Is this an escape tunnel out of the country because you finally did something bad enough for your mother to kill you?” You joked. “Let me guess, you’re meeting George in Germany? What was it that finally pushed her over the edge? Did she find out that you two took bets at the World Cup? Did she find out about the-?”

Your words were abruptly cut off when Fred tapped his wand on the wall in front of him. It was a seemingly a dead end wall made of stone, keeping the two of you trapped at the end of the tunnel. But when he whispered some incantation under his breath, the stone began to grind loudly and it parted ways - letting in a gust of cold air from the outside, revealing the way out.

Fred stepped forward and you continued to follow him. As the stone grinded closed behind the two of you (now disguised as nothing more than a large, natural boulder) you gaped with shock as you saw a cluster of lights just down the hill and you quickly realised what it was.

“Hogsmeade.” You declared quietly, entirely shocked that you had walked through a dirty tunnel and ended up here.

Somehow, without getting caught - without setting off any charms that should supposedly be in place to keep the students on the school’s grounds.

Fred nodded proudly, grinning at you.

“How-?” You gaped.

“I have my ways, don’t I?” Fred said, his chest visibly puffing out with pride.

You decided not to question it. Especially because you fully understood it now - Fred was bored, he knew a way out of the school, and he simply wanted to have fun in Hogsmeade instead of laying in bed that night.

Fred took a hold of your hand as the two of you walked into town, and you took a quiet joy in observing Hogsmeade at night. Quite a few of the shops were closed, due to it being so late, which did make you wonder why Fred had even bothered to bring you there.

But he soon answered your question when he brought you to The Three Broomsticks - which was lit up, bustling and lively at this time. You knew that the front door was enchanted to alert the owner of underage wizards trying to pass through at certain times. Before you could even wonder what Fred’s plan was for that one - he led you around to the back, and he caught the back door out of someone’s hand as they ran outside and began puking in a snowbank, obviously unable to handle their liquor.

The two of you slipped in the back door completely undetected, seeing as it didn’t have those same enchantments to alert the owner of your presence. You began tingling with the glee that you always wore whenever Fred pulled you along to perform some mischief. You felt so joyous when you paired up to share wicked secrets with him. Fred had a talent for getting away with things (and other times, he so fabulously didn’t) - but he got away with a lot more than anybody ever realised, right under their noses. You felt clever just being around him most of the time.

With all the confidence in the world, still holding your hand, Fred pushed past some other rowdy patrons and waltzed right up to the bar. He tossed down a few Sickles (bet money that he and George had won from the World Cup, you could guarantee) and you couldn’t help but to grin at him as so confidently placed an order.

“Two Fire Whiskeys, please.” He announced, never once skipping a beat or faltering as any other underage person in a bar would.

It was strange to say, but Fred wore playful deception so well. You knew that you were staring at him with intense attraction written all over your face as you admired his antics. You simply hoped that he wouldn’t catch the love dopey look on your face and call you out on it.

“Coming right up, love-” Madam Rosmerta began to comply with his request without issue, but she took pause when she looked up from drying a glass with a rag long enough to truly look at the two of you.

That was the moment you thought it was over, for sure. You thought that she would send an angry owl up to Hogwarts, and the two of you would be done for. You began to imagine what kind of sick and twisted punishment McGonagall would have in store for the two of you - scrubbing cauldrons for weeks, trimming all the grass on the Quidditch pitch with scissors.

But somehow, Fred was a lot more clever than that. He wasn’t going to give up and simply let himself be caught.

“Aren’t you two a little… young to be in here?” She posed, glancing between the two of you and then looking back toward the front door, as though she was expecting the enchantments to suddenly begin wailing to alert her to a couple of underage wizards in the pub. Even though the two of you had successfully made it all the way over to the bar without that happening.

“Young?” Fred scoffed, putting on his very best tone of fake offence. “Honestly, woman, why would a couple of kids be in a pub at three in the morning?”

Rosmerta raised a brow at him, making it clear that she didn’t buy this - at least not yet.

Your stomach curled with nerves, and you tried your hardest not to show it on your face. You knew that this would either end in a spectacular punishment, or Fred would pull off one of his greatest hoaxes yet.

“Perhaps you might recognize us from when we were Hogwarts students,” Fred shrugged, trying his best to sound casual. “But we graduated year before last. And we just got off a very long shift with the Department of Cursed Objects, and we would simply like a drink.”

“Yeah, that last one was a doozy.” Your tongue moved before you gave it permission, and you found yourself leaning on the bar as you added onto Fred’s lie. “We had to hunt down this set of silver teaware that poisoned anyone who drank out of it. They were spitting up blood, and rotting from the inside out, choking on their own-”

“My apologies.” Rosmerta said, giving a curt smile. Clearly, she was increasingly uncomfortable with the graphic nature of your made-up story, and simply wanted you and Fred out of her way. “You must be right. The students from the school all start to blend together after the years. How ‘bout that drink then?”

She turned to grab a pair of non-cursed glasses, and when you glanced over at Fred, he was grinning widely at you.

“Good one.” He whispered into your ear, and you couldn’t help the shiver that went through you at the feeling of his hot breath on your neck. If asked, you would say that it was caused by the chill of someone opening the door, and not caused by your unbearable attraction to him.

When the drinks were placed on the bar in front of you, Rosmerta scurried off to attend to someone else. You picked up the glass that was half filled with the amber liquid, feeling intense victory and satisfaction flowing through you. In a predictable pattern, you and Fred gently clinked your glasses together.

But rather than making a congratulatory toast in celebration of getting away with the lies, you grinned widely at him as you said this:

“You’re a menace to society, Fred Weasley.”

“You love it.” He replied easily, giving you a cheeky wink as he tossed back the liquid in one clean gulp. He winced slightly and sucked in a breath sharply through his teeth. But it was clearly not his first time drinking, and you had to guess that Bill was the one responsible for that.

Wanting to match him, you did the same - you tipped the glass back, letting all of the liquid slide past your lips and down your throat in one go. It burnt sharply in a way that you absolutely weren’t expecting, and you began coughing and sputtering, giving away your amateur nature in one glance. It was lucky that Rosmerta wasn’t looking. Fred rubbed your back soothingly, though he did take a moment to laugh at you.

“Burns, doesn’t it?” He chuckled.

“You c-could’ve warned me.”

…

A short while later, the burn of the alcohol was certainly no longer a concern for you. You supposed that was part of the point - if booze made you drunk and detached from yourself, they didn’t have to make it taste good. Because after a while, you just didn’t taste it.

You and Fred were three rounds deep, and even though he was matching you drink for drink, he was far more composed than you were. He hardly seemed drunk at all, other than the cute way he giggled at your jokes. Perhaps it was because of his height, or his Quidditch playing muscles, but he was handling his alcohol surprisingly well.

You, on the other hand - you were properly sloshed.

You had shed most of your winter clothing and spread the pieces haphazardly around the table that Fred had sat the two of you at. And you were currently trying to balance one of the empty shot glasses on your forehead - just to prove that you could, while Fred watched on in amusement.

Of course, he was partially amused by your drunken antics, and partially watching your cleavage threaten to burst out of your tight, V neck tee shirt as you arched your back furiously, trying to keep the glass balanced there. Since you had shed off your jacket and thick jumper, this was what you were left in, along with your tight jeans and boots - and Fred found that he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

“See! Told you I could do it!” You cheered, proud of yourself as you finally reached up and took the glass down, and then moved back to sit in your chair in front of Fred.

He couldn’t help but to smile at you. Honestly, he would never doubt you in anything you set your mind to. If you said that you could walk up walls or make Snape dance a jig, he would simply wait to watch it happen.

As he watched your proud smile and the way that the slightly drunken confidence caused you to sit up a bit taller, seeing the light from the fireplace gently kiss your skin - he was reminded of why he had brought you here in the first place. He let the alcohol in his own system give him courage (something that had been built into the plan) and he reached across the table, grabbing your hand gently with both of his.

The suddenly serious look that befell Fred’s face surprised you. That sense of surprise only grew when he took hold of your hand. He had more than captured your attention as he began to speak.

“Y/N, there’s something I really need to tell you.” Fred announced, his voice taking on a very rare serious quality.

It was something you had only heard from him when he talked about the possible ways to fund his joke shop or when you had fallen off a broom playing Quidditch at the Burrow and he had been worried about you being hurt. You nodded, stunned into silence, wondering if this meant bad news coming, eager for him to continue.

“Y/N, darling, you truly are the most amazing thing in my life.” He said, giving a small smile. Hearing this made your stomach tingle - it made the clasp of his hands around yours feel warmer. “You are so utterly brilliant. And you’re funny, and you’re the only girl I know who actually laughs at the stupid pranks I pull. I absolutely love spending time with you. I genuinely can’t imagine my life without you. So much so, that-”

“Hello, sweet thing.”

Fred’s words were disrupted by a deep voice, someone behind you who grumbled out these words and then let out a low whistle.

It took you a moment to realise that it was even directed at you. But when Fred’s face switched from that sweet smile to a harsh glare - a look that was rare for him, you followed his intense gaze over your shoulder to see what he was looking at.

It was a group of three men, much older than you, greasy-haired, wearing dark cloaks - staring at you like a pack of coyotes would stare at a hunk of fresh meat. Their gaze immediately made you feel naked, and though you were blazen hot, between the Fire Whiskey coursing through your system and the heat of the fireplace licking at you nearby, you had the urge to grab your jumper and pull it on over your head simply so that they would stop looking.

“Now what is a pretty thing like you doing in this dirty old pub?” One of the men asked, his voice feeling filthy in your ears and causing your spine to curl with disgust and something that you would hesitate to admit was fear. “Surely you must be lost, sweet thing. Need someone to show you the way home, then?”

You quickly jumped out of your chair and moved around the table to Fred’s side, where he had risen and easily swept you into his side with an arm around your shoulders. In a moment, you felt safer under his protective touch as he continued to glare at the men.

“Bugger off, then!” Fred ordered sharply.

“Oh, ‘bugger off’,” One of the others mocked Fred’s words in a whiny tone - clearly they didn’t take him seriously because he was obviously younger, even if he was quite tall for his age.

“What are you, her little boyfriend?” Another one of them joked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” Fred stated confidently, tossing in the obvious lie. “And I can tell you that brushing your teeth is one of the first requirements to getting a woman of this calibre,”

You resisted the urge to laugh at how his statement made their faces immediately meek and embarrassed.

“Well, if she wants a real man, that’s up to her to decide.” The man said gruffly. “Innit, princess?”

When he tossed out the nickname, you felt bile curl in your stomach, and it took you only a second to move when Fred uttered his next words to you.

“Grab your coat. We’re leaving.”

You scrambled around the table to get your jumper, mittens, hat, scarf, and your coat. As you were reaching across to one of the chairs to grab the last item, one of the men actually had the audacity to grab your wrist, stopping you from pulling back with the item in hand.

“If the girl wants to stay and have fun, that’s her choice.” He grumbled.

You wanted to tout that no, your idea of fun wasn’t hanging around men like this, but your voice was shrunken down into your throat with fear.

His grip around you was stiff and painful, and you immediately looked to Fred - whose jaw was set with a seething anger that you had only seen in him once before (when Malfoy had dared to insult Ginny right in front of him). He reached one hand into his pocket and leaned on the table with the other hand.

The man still didn’t let go of you, and you wondered if Fred’s hand was sitting on his wand in his pocket.

“Listen, bud, I don’t speak troll, so I’ll say this very slowly for you,” Fred announced, his voice dark with anger. “Let. Her. Go.”

The man immediately became outraged at being called a troll, and he moved his hand off your wrist, curling it into a hefty fist that he moved to swing at Fred’s head.

Fred ducked out of the way seamlessly, and you pulled your coat into the pile of clothes at your chest as Fred’s hand came out of his pocket with a lump of something black that looked almost like ordinary coal. He tossed it down to the floor and it exploded into a cloud of pure, thick darkness. Before you could truly comprehend what was going on, Fred’s comforting arm was around your shoulders, guiding you back out the back door of the pub.

You were thankful to be surrounded by cool air, the anxiety unwinding around you as Fred guided you away from the scene.

“Freddie, that was amazing!” You gasped, more than happy to praise him for saving you from those creeps.

You trudged along through the snow, incredibly chilly now that the wind kissed your bare arms and you held your jumper and your jacket rather than wearing them. But you were distracted from that feeling as you stared at the pub. You heard muffled coughs and voices loudly complaining, and as you circled around to the front, you saw the dark smoke overtaking any light that was inside, so much so that it began to pour out from the chimney and leak out of the cracks around the front door.

“What was that?” You had to ask, looking on in pure curiosity of the concoction that he had released into the pub.

“...new product George and I have been working on,” Fred admitted, his voice quivering with nerves slightly as he heard the coughs and sputters from inside. “Should probably adjust the size of the pellets, though. That was a bit… much.”

“Everything about you is ‘much’, Fred.” You said, still feeling that beautiful drunken warmth. It morphed into pure admiration toward him that you could hardly hold back. “That’s what makes you great.”

Fred chuckled at this.

He helped you get dressed back in your warm clothes, and the two of you walked back to the castle through that secret tunnel once again. He never quite built up the courage to get back to that topic he had so badly wanted to discuss - the entire reason he had taken you to Hogsmeade in the first place. But he basked in the simple joys of the night as the two of you talked in the Gryffindor common room and eventually, you fell asleep cuddled up to his chest while lounging on a couch in front of the fire.

…

Now, all these years later, curled up on the couch with him much like you had been that night - you finally realised what he had been trying to say.

“Oh my god.” You gasped quietly, opening your eyes and sitting stark upright.

Fred was surprised by this, seeing as he thought that you were starting to fall asleep on his chest. He had been sitting there quietly, mentally debating if he should levitate you to bed or risk the neck cramps of sleeping upright on the couch himself.

“What?” He asked quietly, feeling entirely clueless.

“Oh. My. God!” You screamed, jumping off the couch and pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“What? What?!” He asked, the word growing in volume and sense of alarm in his mouth the longer you went without telling him what was wrong.

“That day - that day-” You were struggling to gather your thoughts into words, a drunken slur still slightly evident on your tongue. Though the anxiety and panic that had suddenly set in had woken up quite a few of your senses.

“What? What day?” Fred parroted back, even more confused.

“That day.” You repeated, pressing emphasis on the word. “That time, back in sixth year, when we snuck out to Hogsmeade.”

A look of dawning came across Fred’s features, and he became more sullen than you had ever seen him. It was something that punched you sharply in the chest as the realisation hit you even harder now.

You had been so stupid. How could you not have known it back then?

“You… you were gonna confess your feelings to me.” You said quietly, almost afraid to speak the words aloud.

Perhaps he could have saved himself some pain if he lied, but he saw no good sense in denying it.

“Yes.” He said quietly, unshed tears scraping the inside of his throat.

“What-?” Now it was your turn to gape with confusion. “Was that the only time? Why then?”

“That certainly was not the only bloody time.” Fred chuckled, the laughter sounding heavy and dark in his throat rather than joyous and light as it usually did coming from him. “I tried about a million other times before then - at the Quidditch World Cup, before we ran into your cousins who just so desperately needed your attention. On the train that year, before Katie burst in and stole you away to chat on about what a great summer you had. I thought perhaps you’d get the bloody point when I asked you to be my date to the Yule Ball.”

It felt as though an icy shard was shoved right through your heart.

You had been so stupid.

“I - I thought you asked me to go as friends.” You told him, entirely honest about your viewpoint.

“Well that just makes me feel like the biggest arse in existence.” Fred shrugged.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You barked out, feeling an intense frustration rush over you.

You felt indignant, annoyed. You felt like something had been stolen from you - information, time that you should have spent with Fred as your boyfriend rather than the time you had spent simply wishing he was.

Fred scoffed at this, clearly hurt.

“Well, Y/N, at a certain point, I lost my balls!” He shouted back. That was a harsh thing to imagine - Fred Weasley losing the courage to take a risk. “I thought that after all the damn interruptions, the universe just didn’t want you to know that I’m hopeless bleedin’ in love with you.”

Your throat clenched up when he said it in the present tense - said like he still had those feelings for you. You wanted so badly to say it back, but your voice was caught in your throat for a harsh moment. It caused a pitiable silence over the room that made him rush to continue.

“Honestly, I thought - I thought it might be different after you left.”

He said quietly, his voice breaking around the words slightly.

“I thought that not seeing you every day… that I might be able to forget how I felt. But it only got worse. I thought about you every single day, and I missed you so badly. And now that you’re standing here in front of me - now, you’re not just some girl I fancied in school, now… you have turned into this magnificent woman that I love. And it would be my biggest regret if you didn’t know that.”

Fred confessed, his words so passionate that it caused tingles down your spine, and goosebumps across your arms.

“But you’re probably so drunk that you won’t remember this in the morning, and there’s probably some French arsehole named Pierre waiting for you-”

��There’s no one else.” You quickly blurted out, suddenly finding your voice.

Your body finally caught up to your mind, bursting with the urge for him to know this.

“It’s always been you, Fred Weasley.” You announced, your words slicing through the air like a diamond cutting through glass.

His eyes lit up and this, and he stared at you with the slightest bit of hope dancing across his features as he waited, holding his breath for you to possibly confirm the thing he had been dreaming about for years.

“And I certainly won’t forget this. No booze or potion - nothing could make me forget you saying the words I have always wanted to hear.”

You reached out and took a tight grip on the front of his shirt, pulling him toward you with force - you slammed your lips into his, finally doing the thing you had been dreaming of since you were a teenager. He let out a moan as you kissed him with as much intense passion as he had put into his words. Right as his tongue snaked toward your lips, you pulled back for a breath, and simply for good measure:

“I love you, Fred.” You breathed out.

“Oh, thank Merlin.”

#sundrop writes #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred wealsey fic

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mxlfoydraco · 1 year

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Hi!!! Do you know any fic where Draco join the Golden Trio in their Hocrux Hunting in 7th year? Thnx

Hello! I know some,

Horcrux Hunting

Temptation on the Warfront by Alizarincrimson (180k)

Draco Malfoy is forced into hiding with the Golden Trio and dragged into their search for horcruxes. What ensues is a journey of redemption, unexpected friendships and an unwanted, turbulent romance with Harry Potter. Warnings for swearing, sexual content, and dark themes.

Chronological Displacement by bookinit (89k)

In which Harry and Draco have a time-turner accident, and many things go wrong, but a lot of things also go right. Featuring: reptilian bonding night, canon-inaccurate animagus lessons, and a fuck-ton of pining.

aka the fic where Harry finds his family, and fights to keep them.

Consequences of Redemption by bobbirose (120k)

When Draco makes an impromptu decision to rescue Harry Potter from Malfoy Manor, the two find themselves completely alone and facing the looming climax of the war against Voldemort. Harry must start from the beginning with Draco–and starting over has more consequences than either of them anticipated.

Finite Incantatum by Alysian_Fields (153k)

What should have happened after ‘Half Blood Prince’! It’s the autumn after Dumbledore’s death, the Death Eaters are steadily gaining power, and Harry and his friends are desperate to find the remaining Horcruxes. But then Draco Malfoy arrives at Grimmauld Place, traumatised, starved and drained of all his magical ability. It falls to Harry to show the Slytherin how to adapt to his new way of life, never guessing that Draco has a few things to teach him in return.

The Sum of Your Scars by Tessa Crowley (4k)

Draco will never forgive Harry for making him a better person, and will never forgive himself for falling in love with him.

Earthbound Spook by cest_what (57k)

Two months after Draco Malfoy was reported dead, Harry and Ron found him tangled in Strangler Ivy on the grounds of Hogwarts.

The Serenity of His Rage by Lomonaaeren (152k)

AU of HBP. Narcissa never made Snape swear an Unbreakable Vow, and in the end, Draco decides to accept Dumbledore’s offer of sanctuary. But when Narcissa dies and Dumbledore declares his intention to create a soul-bond between Harry and Draco mainly to get rid of the Horcrux in Harry, Draco becomes enraged. He’ll use the soul-bond and the sanctuary Dumbledore gave him. But not exactly in the ways that Dumbledore anticipated.

Vulnera Sanentur by Zzzara (51k)

When Harry Potter fires a deadly curse at his "arch-enemy", he has no idea what the curse does. He has no idea he will soon beg Draco Malfoy's forgiveness and try his best to atone. He has no idea that the ugly bathroom incident he would rather forget will tangle and bind their lives together with no chance of escape. Navigating a treacherous path between Dumbledore's lies and Voldemort's orders, Draco is trapped and considered to be dead by both sides of the Wizarding War. Against the Golden Trio's wishes, he joins them on the Horcrux hunt. Except that he has no idea what he is hunting for. This is a love-story, a fight-story, very much compliant to the 6th and 7th 'Harry Potter' books and yet, very, VERY different. Because this time - after the Sectumsempra incident - Harry visited Draco in the hospital wing and tried to apologise.

Men Who Love Dragons Too Much by @fencer-x (522k)

[Extensive re-telling of Deathly Hallows] ‘Kill Albus Dumbledore’ is less a challenging task and more a suicide mission, so when Draco Malfoy is presented with the option to either dispatch his Headmaster or suffer an excruciating and most ignominious death of his own, along with his parents, he reaches deep into his black little Slytherin heart and manages to scrape together enough courage to go with option C instead: Spend Sixth Year secretly studying Animagecraft in the hopes he’ll turn into something sufficiently imposing even the Dark Lord himself won’t be able to keep Draco under his thumb. But just his luck, his Animagus form turns out to be a dragon, and a rather randy juvenile at that, intent on finding its mate: one Harry James Potter.

Speak (and may the world come undone) by @shealwaysreads (26k)

The war is on in earnest, and the hunt for the Horcruxes has begun. Harry receives help from the least expected person, and must decide whether he can trust the enemy he knows best. A story of grey-tinged loyalty, the silver of trust in the darkness, the agony of courage, the unexpected richness of secrets, and the vast unknown of survival.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Bad Faith by jad (224k)

Four years after Dumbledore's death, Draco Malfoy shows up on the doorstep of number twelve, Grimmauld Place looking for Harry Potter. Torn between his own self-preservation and his family's pride, Draco finds himself alone on a battlefield and has nowhere else to turn; and Harry has to learn that sometimes you don't put up walls to keep other people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.

The Eighth Tale by lettered (12k)

Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

The Hush of War by @lol-zeitgeistic (351k)

Voldemort has made a bargain with Harry to stop killing muggles and muggle-borns (when at all possible, of course) in exchange for Harry's cooperation. While Harry thinks he's using the time to find a way to defeat the Dark Lord, he will realize that Voldemort is always one step ahead, and so long as he isn't killing anyone...what's the big deal? He has bigger things to worry about now, anyway. Includes dementors, pureblood culture, the prophecy, what exactly happened with Lily's sacrifice, magical breakthroughs, children Death Eaters, and portraits of family. Final pairing: H/D. Sequel to Black, in the Smothering Dark.

Brave Though The Stars They Make Me by @dwell-the-brave (108k)

After the events at the end of his Sixth Year, Draco Malfoy has been kept all but prisoner in his childhood home, Malfoy Manor. Alone, terrified, and desperate for some way out, he begins to have strange dreams - dreams of Harry Potter. Are they a trick of his mind? Or are they a way to change his fate, and a chance at redemption?

A Slight Inclination by @jilliancares (48k)

When Harry Potter is ten years old he accidentally winds up in Knockturn Alley, where he runs into a man named Lucius Malfoy. Harry is thus thrust into the wizarding world and makes his first ever friend, Draco Malfoy. Years later, Harry is on the hunt for horcruxes with his most trusted friends, Draco, Ron, Blaise, Hermione, and Pansy. Still, being in love with his best friend is bound to make their mission a little bit more difficult, isn't it?

Paradox series by kerfuffling (84k + 34k)

Thanks to a clever bit of magic and the help of an old acquaintance, Draco is given the chance to relive his years at Hogwarts with the knowledge of what exactly is in store for the future. However, when things tumble out of Draco's grasp, he finds himself losing his memories of the life he's already led as everything takes a startling turn away from what he'd always assumed to be his destiny. - Just because Draco's somehow gotten himself involved in Potter's suicide mission to defeat the Dark Lord doesn't mean he has to go quietly and actually act like a Gryffindor fool. And sure, he and Potter have some sort of relationship going on, but Draco's still a Slytherin, and he's going to bring his own brand of cunning to this cockamamy fool camping trip Potter's gone and got himself stuck in trying to save the world from evil lockets, gingers, and badly cooked food.

Death Comes for Us All by @lumosatnight (5k)

Burying his face in Draco’s hair, he can smell the smoke from the cigarette, can taste the ashes lingering in his mouth. Harry finds it comforting, a reminder that Draco has seen his worst and still chooses to stay.

Secrets by Vorabiza (395k)

Beginning with Draco's unexpected arrival at the Dursleys, Harry's summer after sixth year becomes filled with activity and many secrets. As his summer progresses, Harry generates several unexpected allies as he finds himself actively becoming the leader of the Light side. H/D post-HBP ~~Complete~~

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #drarry reclist #draco malfoy #drarry fic recs #my recs #fic recs #hpdm #harry potter #horcrux hunting

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jaemmphilia · 11 months

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★ 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘦: 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴 ★ || han j.s

★ summary: it's your first SKZ CODE episode with the boys as their newest member. jyp decided to add you to stray kids after he saw your audition. he felt that you were the thing that stray kids was missing, and he pushed you to debut immediately. things start out awkwardly, and you feel so left out. but as you eat fried clams with the boys,, they start to very slowly warm up to you. maybe it would have been a good idea to mention you are deathly afraid of pools and various bodies of water.

★ characters: bang chan, lee know, changbin, y/n (he/him pronouns and a masculine frame), hyunjin, han, felix, seungmin, i.n

★ warnings: based off of the most recent skz code episodes where they visit the mud flaps, it's gonna be a little awkward at first, skz ignore y/n (not on purpose, it's just a little new for them), reader is afraid of water and nearly drowns, changbin pushes reader into the water (pls don't hate me for that), he apologizes tho, han and felix being best boys, let me know if i forgot anything

★ word count: 3.8K (3,867)

★ binnie's thoughts: my ride or die gave me the genius idea to write a fic based off the most recent skz episodes, and i just had to deliver

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

You feel the need to throw up your breakfast– and you would be totally okay with it. It would give you an excuse to not show up for filming. This wasn’t really how you expected your idol life to be. You thought you would be put into a group that was on its way to debuting. Not joining a group that already debuted and is at the top of its career.

Stray Kids proved themselves that they are still as successful with eight members rather than the original nine. After the situation with Woojin, Stray Kids went off like a rocket, pushing their way up the charts and blowing the competition out of the park. You admire that about them, and you wish to be part of a successful group just like that.

It seems that you really do get what you wish for.

JYP made sure you were ready to become a member of Stray Kids. You have your own SKZOO character, a cow mixed with a koala named Mookie– and he released some photos of you from a photoshoot. You already have a set position in the group, based on your audition video. You’re the ace, the all-rounder, the one to do it all. You can’t help but feel under pressure with that title. You’re expected to sing, rap, dance, and look exceptionally stunning all at the same time, and the thought of that alone gives you the shakes.

The eight males were really confused when Chan was called into a meeting with JYP himself. They thought their precious leader was in trouble for something. The remaining seven of them paced around their dorm, some of them biting their nails as they waited for Chan to get back. Felix started to tear up thinking they were going to disband. With a little consolation from his favorite hyung, Changbin, he was able to calm down enough to stop his tears.

When Chan returned to them, his expression was unclear to them. Sometimes they can predict what’s wrong just by the way Chan’s face is twisted up, but for the first time in a while, they were stumped.

Chan sat down with his hands propped up under his chin. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips drawn in a straight line. Then he spoke up.

“JYP is adding someone to the group.”

You could hear a pin drop in the room. No one knew what to say. What could they say? Their entire world was just flipped upside down. They had spent years getting used to being a group of eight, now they have to let a complete stranger into their close-knit family?

Felix was the first to speak up, and everyone turned their attention to him. He gulped before speaking, “Do we know who it is? When are they joining?” the blonde haired male couldn’t stop the shakiness of his voice as he looked at Chan.

“Well, JYP told me that he’s been a trainee for a few years now. JYP said he doesn’t fit into any of his other groups, and he truly believes the guy fits our group the most.” Chan said with a deep sigh falling from his lips as he took a moment to let the news sink in.

“I don’t think this is a good idea. What if he turns out to be like…” A pause. “You-know-who?” Everyone could feel the air being sucked out of the room after Jeongin spoke.

It was something to consider. The entire situation with Woojin was nearly career-ending for them. The alleged actions of just one person nearly ruined everything for them.

“No. JYP wouldn’t do that to us. I won’t allow anyone to hurt us like he did. Not again.” Chan says, looking at each and every one of his brothers. They could tell he was serious, his brows were furrowed and there wasn’t a single hint of amusement on his face.

The boys all shared a group hug, and for a second, the impending anxiety of adding someone to their family was gone.

Of course, it would only last for a short time.

Which brings us to the present. You are riding in a van separate from the other members, on your way to the first filming location. You had filmed a little introduction video before you got onto the bus, and you were told it would play before the actual SKZ CODE video started. You had tried to not appear nervous, your hand gripping your jeans tightly out of the camera's view. You put on a gentle smile as you introduced yourself, hoping to make a good enough impression.

You settle down in the van, holding Mookie in your arms as you buckle in. You hope they’ll accept you, because you have worked your ass off to debut. You may not be debuting how you had hoped to, but at this point you shall settle with whatever is given to you.

You place your headphones on your head, leaning your head on the window as you play songs from the playlist you use when you sleep. You look out the window at the foggy sky and you realize the weather describes your mental state perfectly at this very moment. Dark. Quiet. Foggy and hard to see through. You sigh once again as the van starts moving. Hopefully this goes smoothly.

The Stray Kids boys are talking to each other while the cameras are off, and your name finds its way into the conversation once again. The air shifts awkwardly, the eight of them still in disbelief that a total stranger is being added to their group.

They are looking at your headshots on Hyunjin’s phone, each and every one of them are impressed by your good looks. The expression on your face is intimidating, the lights casting shadows that dance along your smooth skin. They take in every single feature–your soft freckles that litter your cheeks and forehead, the little beauty mark on the tip of your nose, and the other beauty mark on your bottom lip. They can’t deny the fact that you are really attractive, you don’t look like the typical idol.

Felix wonders if you two will bond over the fact that you both have freckles, or the fact that you’re both from different countries. Do you struggle with Korean like he does, or are you fluent like Chan? Do you have a preference for English or Korean? He wonders where you’re from, what was it like growing up for you? He feels a little bit of excitement bubbling in his chest at the idea of meeting someone who is similar to him. JYP told them a bit about you, and they were surprised to find out that you were from The United States.

“He’s really attractive, I can’t deny it,” Lee Know speaks up from his spot, and he earns a series of agreements from everyone else. “And he looks like a sweet guy, I think we’re overthinking this entire situation.”

Chan hums, his expression still unreadable. He’s still on the fence about this, and he knows that he doesn’t really have a say in the situation. He wishes he did, because he would reject you immediately. He truly believes that Stray Kids are just fine as eight, not nine. And your position is the ace? Last time he checked, Han was their ace. They don’t need another one, Han does an amazing job as the ace of Stray Kids. Chan just hopes that Stay will be accepting.

The boys arrive before you do. They excitedly make their way to the mud flaps, each of them joking around with each other as the cameras roll. They laugh as Changbin chases Hyunjin, spouting something about romance. A few of them get closer to the mud flaps, while the others stick behind, watching fondly. They hear the door of a vehicle shut and they all whip their heads to look behind them.

You start walking towards the eight males, Mookie is your clutches as you feel yourself start to sweat. You’re so nervous that you’re sweating while it’s cold outside. Your red-dyed hair is sticking up on one side–from laying your head on the van window–and your gray cardigan is slipping off your wide shoulders. You feel the cameras on you as you walk closer to your new bandmates.

Once you deem yourself close enough for them all to hear you, you bow towards them. “Hello. My name is Lim Y/N, it’s nice to properly meet you all,” you say as you try to keep your voice from sounding so shaky. Your hands are clammy and wet with sweat. “I hope we can all get along, thank you again.” You stand up straight and take in their expressions.

Chan motions for everyone to get in line to do their group introduction. They all bow to you and introduce themselves one by one. You smile softly at them despite the awkwardness that sits heavily in the air.

“So, uhm, should we go eat fried clams, now?” Changbin says, breaking the silence and awkward eye shifting. Chan agrees and they all retreat to their van, leaving you behind.

You try to not let it get to you as you walk to your van. You squeeze Mookie’s plushy body as you take a few deep breaths.

Once you all arrive at the restaurant, you sit at the table with Chan, Felix, Lee Know, and Han. You wait for them to get whatever food they want before you start grabbing some for yourself. When you take that first bite, you light up at how tasty it is.

You’re no stranger to Korean cuisine, you did end up living with your grandma from the age of fourteen to your current age of twenty-three. When you were younger, you had no knowledge of your Korean heritage. Of course you knew your father was Korean and was born in South Korea, but ultimately you knew little to nothing about what it meant to be half-Korean. So, after some long conversations with your mother and father, they convinced you to move in with your grandma in Daejoon, South Korea. You were super excited, bright-eyed and itching for a change. At first it was a little difficult to adjust. You barely knew the language– you only knew a few phrases that helped you get around, but that was it. You are grateful that you have the ability to retain information quickly, and it’s all thanks to your mother. She’s a successful professor at a high-end college where she teaches psychology in Georgia.

“Wah, I’ve never had fried clams before. At least not any like this,” You say a little quietly, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. Too bad everyone heard you.

Felix pipes up after he finishes chewing his food. “You haven’t? Did you just move to Korea or have you been here for a while?” He asks and you notice how genuine he sounds. Like he’s interested in knowing more about you. It makes your heart beat fast in a good way.

“I was born in Georgia, in the US. But I moved to Daejoon when I turned fourteen, and I’ve been here ever since.” You told him, noticing that the others were also tuning in to what you’re saying. You earn a few hums of acknowledgement as everyone continues eating.

“That’s pretty cool, looks like we have something in common.” Felix says, flashing you his sweet smile that makes you want to smile back. “You probably already know this, but I was born in another country. So was Chan hyung.”

You hum and nod as you chew your food, covering your mouth before you speak. “Yeah, I know quite a bit about you guys. You’re pretty famous all over.” You say with a soft laugh as you shake your head to move your fringe out of your eyes.

Han finds himself staring at you while you talk. He likes the way your voice sounds when you speak, you have this smooth voice that feels like the softest silk on freshly lotioned skin. To Han, you look way better in person than in the pictures. Your skin is littered in light freckles, and the beauty marks on your face are so much more noticeable. He wonders what you sound like when you speak English. Is your voice more high pitched, low pitched, or is it the same? He feels an elbow jab his side and he fights the urge to screech like a crow. Damn Chan and his super parent senses.

The nine of you all finish eating and you’re cracking up at Felix and Jeongin when they go to feed the seagulls. You take videos of Seungmin trying to fight the birds, protecting Felix and Jeongin. You also take a few pictures of yourself near the mud flaps, and Felix ends up taking a few with you. You can tell he will become close to you pretty fast.

You all arrive at the house you’ll be staying at for two days and you’re all amazed by it. You all walk around and then you discover the basement. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before– a karaoke machine, a nice pool table, and some arcade games. You watch as everyone rushes to play and sing. You don’t really see where you fit in, so you sit down and watch. You watch as they joke around and laugh. You listen to the inside jokes they have between each other. It makes your heart feel heavy knowing that you’ll possibly never be on the same level as them. They’ve been through so many ups and downs as a group, you will never understand what that’s like.

You try to distract yourself with your phone, hoping that will prevent you from spiraling and crying in front of them. That would be pretty embarrassing on your part. You would hate to seem like someone who gets upset when he isn’t included, so you feel that a distraction is the best option.

Felix is playing ping pong with Seungmin, and Seungmin notices that Felix keeps looking back at you. He’s starting to get a little annoyed that Felix isn’t paying attention to their very important game, so he huffs.

“Hyung, pay attention! I’m so close to winning!” Seungmin whines, catching Felix’s attention. Felix apologizes and their game continues. One again, Felix misses the small white ball heading towards his side of the table. Seungmin knows it’s a point for him, but Felix didn’t even try to hit it.

Seungmin lets out an annoyed groan and he looks to see where Felix is so focused on. It’s you. Seungmin takes a good look at you and he notices the look on your face. Longing.

Hyung, invite him to play with you. We can continue our game later, I wanna go check out the rooms.” Seungmin says and Felix whips his head towards him.

“Are you sure, Min? You don’t mind?” Felix asks, feeling bad for getting so distracted that he’s ruining the good time Seungmin is having.

Seungmin nods and sets his paddle down. “Yeah. Just be prepared for me to kick your ass later.” Seungmin makes sure the cameras don’t pick up his vulgar language before he walks upstairs to check out the rooms.

Felix walks over to you, narrowly dodging Lee Know’s elbow that was so close to knocking him upside his head. Lee Know tends to get a little intense when he gets in the groove.

“Hey, Y/N hyung, do you wanna play some ping pong with me? Seungmin ditched me because he was losing so badly.” Felix says with a laugh.

You look up when you hear someone talking to you in English. It honestly caught you off guard. It’s been a while since you’ve spoken English, you hope you still remember how to speak it (you’re a little dramatic, you get it from your dad–).

“You– you want me to play with you?” You try not to sound too shocked, but you deem it to be a little too late for that.

“Yeah, are you a sore loser like Seungmin, or are you a good sport when you lose?” Felix asks and you tut at him with a smirk.

“Who said I was going to lose?” You retort back with your eyebrow cocked at him. Felix just laughs at you.

“I’ll have you know I’m the best ping pong player out of all the guys.” Felix says, his hands on his hips in a victory pose.

You stand up and start walking towards the ping pong table. “We’ll see about that, now won’t we?” you respond and pick up the paddle that Seungmin was once holding. You hunker down a bit, your eyes not leaving Felix’s form for a second. Poor Mookie sits abandoned on the seat near the karaoke machine.

After everyone plays around for a bit, Seungmin comes downstairs whining about how he wants to swim. You freeze at the mentions of swimming, and your eyes shift around nervously. Everyone starts going to change, and you hesitate. Lee Know notices your hesitance, and he tilts his head at you.

“Are you not coming? We’re gonna play some pool games. It’ll be fun.” He says, and you nod before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah! I’m coming, don’t worry, hyung.” You smile at him as you follow behind him upstairs. You bite your fingernails anxiously at the idea of getting in the water. It sucks that one bad experience can completely ruin something for you.

You get changed and you meet the others outside where the pool is. You stare at the deep blue water, your heart racing. You know you shouldn’t be standing so close to the edge, you could easily slip and fall in. You don’t want to drown on camera, much less in front of your groupmates. You feel a pair of hands on your back as they shove you forward, your arms and legs flailing as you fall into the water.

The water isn’t deep, but that doesn’t matter to you. You thrash in the water, trying to get your head above the water. You panic, inhaling a large amount of water. You can’t breathe, your arms and legs are starting to hurt, and you just want out of the damn water. As you keep thrashing, you feel your body being pulled up and out of the water.

Chan heaves you into a pool chair, his hands patting your back to help you spit out the water you inhaled. You cough as water spills from your mouth. Your chest and throat burns. You can feel your entire body shaking with fear. You start wheezing as you hug your knees, wanting the ground to open up and swallow you. You feel so embarrassed, you can’t do anything but cry. You hear someone telling the staff to turn off the cameras, and you feel a warm towel being placed on your tense shoulders.

“Let me take him upstairs to get changed. I think it’s best if he doesn’t play volleyball with us.” Han says, his hand placed on your shoulder as he rubs comforting circles. Chan simply nods and tells the staff to resume filming when Han gets back from helping you get calmed down and dried off.

Felix rushes over with something in his hand. Mookie. You look up at the blonde male, thanking him with your eyes. You take Mookie from him, following Han into the house. He guides you upstairs and sits you on the bed.

“Can I look through your suitcase to get you some clean clothes?” He asks and you simply nod at him, sniffling. You watch as he opens your suitcase, rummaging through it. He pulls some clothes out and he guides you to the bathroom to change.

You get changed and you shuffle out of the bathroom, a sad pout on your face. Han can’t help but think about how adorable you look. You might be older and taller than him, but you just look so soft. He feels his heart pick up pace as he stares. He should probably get back to the others to resume filming, but his feet won’t move.

“Han, you should probably go back..” You say, your voice trailing off as you catch him staring at you. You feel shy under his gaze, no one’s ever looked at you like he’s looking at you right now. His eyes hold all emotions of attraction, the pools of deep brown staring into your own E/C eyes. You feel your ears get warm as you fight the goofy smile trying to make its way onto your face.

“Right– sorry, uh.” He stutters, his neck turning a nice shade of deep red. He shakes his head, his ashy gray hair moving with his head. “Just– just let me know if you need anything, yeah? That must’ve been scary for you.”

You nod, your voice raspy from coughing so much. “Yeah.. I don’t really like pools or large bodies of water, something happened when I was younger.” you explain softly, avoiding his concerned gaze.

“I get it. I’m not the best swimmer, so I kind of see where you’re coming from.” Han says, trying to give some comfort, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder.

You simply give him a little smile, letting him know that you appreciate his comfort. You place your hand on top of his and you get an idea.

“How about I play referee and scorekeeper for the volleyball game? I’ll keep my distance from the water and I won’t be missing out,” you offer, and Han nods with a smile.

“I think that’s a pretty smart idea, hyung,” he says, but he gives you a stern look. “Are you completely sure, though? Because you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You hum and nod at him. He nods in response and the two of you walk back to the pool.

Once you get outside, you’re being crushed by a pair of muscular arms. A string of apologies fall from Changbin’s mouth as he squeezes the life out of you. You can’t help but laugh at the shorter male.

“Hyung, I’m okay. You didn’t know that I’m afraid of water. I should apologize to you because I didn’t tell you beforehand.” You say, hoping to make the rapper feel better and less guilty.

Changbin looks up at you, pouting. He lets you go and apologizes one more time. You wave him off and you pull up a pool chair near the middle of the edge of the pool.

“Are you guys ready to play some volleyball?” You ask, earning a round of cheers from the males. You watch as they all hop into the water on their respective sides. You toss the ball into the water and whistle sharply, indicating the beginning of the game. You watch as they play, the cameras filming every second.

You had your doubts about joining this group, but you think this could work out nicely. Let’s just hope it remains that way.

#binnies req #kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #kpop x reader #male reader #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung x y/n

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wrathofrats · 2 months

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Adding onto me and @divine-misfortunes delta lore bc we had a conversation that led to this fic and the entire thing destroyed me so I hope it destroys everyone else too

To understand this fic please see this and this, this fic acts as somewhat of a third installment. I’m so proud of this one honestly I’m loving this little series

Pebble visits delta after Terzo dies, omega confronts him afterwards.

Wc: 2k

Rating: teen

Warnings for: hurt no comfort, light descriptions of bodily damage/harm, major character death, implied upcoming character death, complex morality (no one is in the wrong or right), its angst yall and its sad.

Pebble twirls the key in his hands before putting it in the lock. He debates the entire time. Argues with himself through every click of the pins if he should be visiting delta again. He does this everytime, mulls the situation over in his mind until the idea feels like it’s been pureed into mush. Ultimately as the door handle turns, pebble always decides he has to.

Terzo died a couple months ago. Murdered in cold blood while the ghouls were left to fend for themselves as the church scrambled. None of them handled it well, the worst of it leading to pebble barely leaving him room for a month, let alone to make the visit to see delta.

Part of him hopes there won’t be anything there when he opens the door. Hopes that delta succumbed and his suffering is over for his own sake. He was locked in this room ages ago after an attack. Pebble tries not to blame delta for it, his own mind and body are trying to kill him, honestly he doesn’t think he knew any better. But it was for everyone’s safety, they didn’t want to risk it happening again. The other selfish half of him hopes for the worst so he won’t have to hear delta talk about their beloved papa.

Terzo used to make the visit with pebble. Deltas blind and unwavering obedience made Terzo happy, if not feeling ever guilty about what happened to him. He partially blames himself, thought delta has always insisted he shouldn’t.

Their eyes never meet. Terzo can’t stand to see the deathly color of his irises. The visits only last a couple minutes simply to make delta happy even if they end up making the other two wildly uncomfortable. Pebble winces whenever delta asks if he’s allowed to be let out yet, if omega found a solution. He doesn’t notice both of them sharing a knowing look, a solemn expression on their faces.

The sight of delta gets worse as time passes. The color in his eyes eternally fading into a soulless black, parts of his skin unnaturally stretched to cover the bone that juts out, pebble sometimes wonders if it’s even painful to him anymore. If the quintessence that shreds his humanity affects his ability to feel it eat at him or if it’s taken even that away from him also.

“You came back” delta beams, standing from his desk to greet pebble.

A small lamp illuminates the room in a warm yellow hue. It’s the only light he’s given besides the overhead fluorescent bulb that had been wired into the ceiling. There’s no windows for natural sunlight, only bright blinding white like he’s on some kind of display, or the old lamp pebble brought him. Dust particles float through the dingy light, pebble wonders the last time anything has been properly cleaned up there.

“Yeah, sorry, been hectic around the abbey” pebble mumbles into deltas shoulder.

“I thought you had gone and forgotten about me”

It’s a dry attempt at humor but the guilt makes pebbles stomach churn. He knows he hasn’t been back in a while, weeks, a month or more at most.

Pebble doesn’t mean to be away for so long. The weight of being the only ghoul who acts like delta is even still alive is almost too heavy to bear for him sometimes. He doesn’t think he’s even heard Delta's name spoken in months. The rest of the ghouls think he’s dangerous, or too far gone that he’s not worth the time. The burden to make up that energy falls onto pebble, eating him alive.

It’s always long stretches of weeks where he can’t bear to see him, or times where he should probably just bring a pillow and blanket up there since he practically lives in the room.

Neither feel good

“I could never forget about you sea glass” pebble finally says, stepping away from the embrace.

“Sea glass?” Delta gives him a confused look that makes pebbles chest ache.

“Yeah, just a nickname, do you like it?”

He really shouldn’t have expected him to remember, the small shred of hope that delta even remembered that pebble hasn’t seen him in a while soon fizzled out at the reality that delta doesn’t remember most things anymore.

“Its nice” he smiles. “Has papa fallen ill? He hasn’t come to see me in a while”

The question is innocent but it puts daggers in pebbles chest. It makes him feel sick to his stomach. He could avoid the question entirely and hope by the time the topic is changed he will have already forgotten about the passing thought, but he knows that delta will always come back to this question, even if he can avoid it for the time being.

He never told delta what happened. It would absolutely break the last bit of him that’s still in there and he doesn’t know if he can lose what he has left of his friend.

“He did a little bit ago, maybe you just forgot again” pebble mumbles to avoid the situation entirely. It’s always the debate to tell him old stories as if they happened yesterday, and praying he loses himself enough that Terzo would never come up again. He’s honestly not sure he will even remember if he decided to tell him. Doesn’t think either of them deserve the pain to speak of it. It’s not worth it if it will only be temporary.

It’s late when he returns to the ghoul wings. He walks alone in the dark and carries his jacket despite the cold. A static numb feeling from seeing his friend still in his decaying state combated by the wind that feels like needles poking into his skin.

The common room is warm and still lit when he walks in, the smell of artificial cheese making him cringe from his stomach still not being settled.

Omega stands to steer pebble into the kitchen before he can make a beeline for his room. A look of tired worry lighting up a bit when he sees pebble walk in after the long night. It’s bitter sweet, they may not be on good terms but omega still cares about him.

Pebble doesn’t want to admit that he’s starving when omega sets the bowl of Mac and cheese in front of him. Clearly not left from the dinner he missed, no, omega made it afterwards knowing pebble would be back and the steam coming from it only makes a knot form in his throat.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” omega asks, sitting across from him.

He doesn’t know where to begin with that answer

His instinctual reaction is to get angry, shove the bowl away and spit something along the lines of “well no one else will fucking do anything for him” but the longer he sits with the bitter words they just die, too exhausted to want to fight like he usually would in this situation.

He doesn’t want to blame his mates for not putting themselves through what he does. The horrific scenario of watching your friend be ripped apart at the seams, slowly dying in front of you isn’t something he would wish on anyone. Another part of him just desperately wants someone else to care. Pebble doesn't like to think about it too much because the internal debate gnaws at his heart and makes him resent more than he wants to.

After more than a couple seconds pebble realizes he hasn’t answered omega who is staring at him concerned, and honestly he doesn’t know if he can choke out an excuse without tears.

“Pebble.. I’m worried about you”

“I don’t need to be worried about” pebble bites back, voice pitching as he wrinkles his nose in an attempt to stave off his crying.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself” omega reasons. He sounds soft, as if trying to soothe the ghoul on the brink of a breakdown in front of him. Hoping the words will bring him back down.

“What else am I supposed to do? Leave him like the rest of you?!” Pebble nearly wails.

Omega expected that kind of answer. Pebbles said it to him more times than he can count. Blaming him for leaving delta and not helping him even after he’s insisted there’s nothing he can do beyond what he has, or blaming him for not visiting even though it makes him sick. He can never come up with an excuse that sounds reasonable to his conscience, no matter how much the words carve into him.

He also blames himself, and maybe a sick part of him just wants to hear pebble berate him to quell the ache in his bones that he’s done something terribly wrong, to hear it from someone else so it’s not just an absent thought he can ignore.

Honestly maybe that’s why he stayed up. He loves pebble, would do anything for the younger ghoul but a part of him feels like he needs to care for pebble to make up for the way everyone abandoned delta. He wants to prove himself, wants the acknowledgement from the ghoul that hates him most that he’s not actually evil.

Omega tries to respond rationally, all things considered.

“He’s not well pebble, what if he did something to you?”

“After what happened he’s not the one i'm worried about omega.” Pebble grits. Fork abandoned on the table, eyes low to dissipate the tears.

Some sick selfish part of pebble latches onto the thought. He almost wishes delta would hurt him so he would have an excuse to stop seeing him without the guilt eating him alive. A motif in his brain of hoping for the worst of his friend partially to end deltas suffering, partially to end his own.

Omega thinks the same in his own awful corner of his mind. Just one incident to prove he’s not a monster and that no one goes up there for a reason. For delta to hurt pebble enough to scare him and have him running back to ask omega to heal him and admit he was wrong.

It’s mostly to help his own guilt, and he knows that.

The words feel like a sticky residue in his mouth as omega tries to conjure a response.

“I didn’t do it pebble. You know that.” He focuses his gaze down, as if even he doesn’t believe the words he’s saying. He didn’t do it, he’s right about that. But it’s hard to not convince himself there was something he could’ve done.

“You dont do a lot of things don’t you?”

“That’s not-“

“I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight omega”

Pebble rushes out of the room without another bite. The tears flow freely down his face with a choked sob while his emotions all flood out at once. Omega doesn’t get up. He sits in the dingy yellow light of the kitchen and watches the dust particles float through it. He wonders when the last time the kitchen has been properly cleaned.

#ohhhh I really hope you guys like this #I’ve been so insanely excited to post it #wrath’s ghost lore #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #delta ghoul #pebble ghoul #omega ghoul

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thedemoninme141 · 9 months

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Blade of Miquella Chapter 1: From Woe to Wonder.

My first ever Wednesday Addams X Female Reader fic! Hope you guys like it and early apologies if you don’t find it enjoyable! If you do like it, please leave a review and let me know if you'd want more!

I am Malenia Blade of Miquella,

And I've never known defeat.

Sounds of swords clashing, the sickening noise of flesh being sliced, and the crimson spray of blood splattering in all directions.

This woman, her eyes.. rotten. Her skin, a deathly pallor, appeared even whiter than the brightest sun. And cascading down her shoulders was her hair, a deep, vibrant shade of red that resembled the color of fresh blood

"I dreamt for so long. My flesh was dull gold... and my blood, rotted."

You jumped up. That same dream again. They stopped a few months ago when you trained your brain so hard to forget HER. Focus on your own happiness, focus on how much your brother loves you, how he fought his own father to keep you safe. That used to fix it... for a few times. Until Wednesday happened.

You kept your demon inside you as you lived. Focusing more on whatever happy moments you get in your life

Trying to forget the traumas

The memories of that dreadful night are fragments, mere flashes that haunt your mind. One moment, your mother's gentle voice was lulling you to sleep with a bedtime story, the next, your mother was lying lifeless in front of you, She smelled like a beautiful flower, The scarlet rot had tainted her once-vibrant skin with crimson flowers, a haunting juxtaposition of beauty and decay.

Your father came with his shotgun.

"Demon." he cursed, pointing the weapon at you, and you closed your eyes, bracing for the worst. The deafening shot echoed in your ears, mingling with the agonizing scream that followed. When you dared to open your eyes again, you were met with a chilling sight: your brother, bloodied knife in hand, defending you against your own father's aggression.

"Miquella." You heard a woman's voice inside your mind.

"John, son, she killed your mother." your father said.

"It wasn't her..." John whispered before picking you up.

Your brother had already called the police. Your father was arrested and... framed as your mother's murderer. Your brother didn't defend him, you wanted to, but he didn't let you. He had to protect you. That is also why he has to leave you...

"It's all my fault... John.. I." Your brother didn't let you finish the sentence, He hugged you.

"No. It's not your fault. I promised Mom I would take care of you, I promised her I would find whatever the solution is to your condition. Until then... Miss Weems will take care of you."

That is how he left, he had to join the army to get to the places he needed to go, for you, to find anything... anything to get you rid of this curse. He comes to visit you from time to time, he found an ancient book, that had some answers to your questions, and he also found a dress, the dress of the woman you kept seeing in your dream. Then next year, he brought her helmet "Winged helmet made of unalloyed gold.", and next her sword, which wasn't exactly a sword as it was connected with a gauntlet, the sword was however was majestic. "A handblade," he said.

As he prepared for his next journey, his words pierced your heart with a bittersweet plea. "I don't know if I would be able to return from my next journey. I will try my hardest to come back, but I need you to be ready. If any danger finds its way to you, I need you to be brave." Those words were etched into your soul, a constant reminder of the weight you carried in his absence.

Two long years passed without any contact, and the ache of missing him gnawed at your very core. The isolation only deepened, as you feared your uncontrollable powers might hurt those around you, including potential friends. Though Larissa, ever watchful, occasionally checked in on you, the fear of inadvertently causing harm kept you from truly connecting with anyone.

The weeks after your brother's departure were a haze of self-imposed seclusion. Consumed by guilt and an overwhelming sense of responsibility for his safety, you found solace only in the walls of your room. Classes became a mere means to an end, a path that led you back to the confines of your solitude.

Over the course of those two years, amidst the solitude, a glimmer of light emerged in the form of an unexpected friend, Xavier. He always found you odd, wearing a pair of gloves, never talking to anyone. Determined to draw you out from the shadows, Xavier persistently sought to impress you. Leading you to his secret art shack, You didn't want to follow him at first, but after a thousand requests and pleadings, you finally did. When you were there, you were mesmerized by the boy's creativity.

"Why did you bring me here? It's your secret place, isn't it? Why are you showing it to me?"

"Because I want you to trust me, just as you can keep a secret, so can I. You don't have to be alone, you know? I myself am very isolated too. Maybe we can be friends."

That is how the 14-year-old befriended you.

That's how the pleasant memories were created, you slowly opened up to Xavier as he promised you not to tell anyone what your powers were. That's how he ended up in your room. He was captivated by the way the armor that belonged to her looked. It was exhibited in your room elegantly in a glass box, your brother bought an armor stand and kept it neat and clean, as a peace offering to your inner demon, which seemed to keep her at bay. He read the book that your brother brought. It scared him, but not enough to push you away, instead, he felt remorse for the burdens you carried. But he knew you needed memories to focus on so that the demon inside you, would always remain inside. So even if befriending the "shy weird kid" resulted in being ridiculed by others, he is willing to do that.

So these two years weren't that bad, you really put your emotions in control, as well as your powers. You were finally free from the gloves, You were able to touch people without hurting them. The dreams weren't exactly gone, however, they were rare now. You still didn't have many friends except Xavier, Enid sometimes talked to you. But still, you were the outcast of the outcasts. Until Wednesday Addams arrived...

There were rumors about murders in the woods, possibly bear attacks... Then you overheard Wednesday recounting a chilling tale of a monstrous entity to Larissa and the sheriff after Rowan's mysterious disappearance. However, to your surprise, he returned unscathed just as Wednesday was narrating his death. A peculiar unease gnawed at your mind—did she lie? Your logical brain suggested so, but deep down, your heart already had known that there are things that don't have any explanation at all. But you chose to stay away from this, you had your own problems to worry about. Problems that are much much more destructible than a monster in the woods. You had to take care of that.

That's how Wednesday first saw you, in Larissa's office.

"I'll be keeping my eye on you. No doubt you'll find something that tickles your fancy."

"The last person who tickled me lost a finger."

She walked away just as you entered, not even giving you a single glance as if you were invisible.

But she stopped when you started talking to Weems.

"Larissa, Ms Thornil said you wanted to talk to me."

"Larissa"? You call her by her name, hmm... Since Weems isn't willing to let any information slide, perhaps you could. So she decided to listen to the conversation hiding beside the door,

"I have heard you have made quite some progress in class, your grades have increased significantly. The dark circles that used to reside under your eyes are now gone, I suppose you are getting sound sleep now?"

"Yeah, I guess. The nightmares are a rare event for me now."

"Good, so how are things with Mr Thorpe?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I noticed you spend quite a lot of time with the artist. I can't help wondering if..."

"No.. no... I mean, he's brilliant, and we are friends, I mean he is my only friend. But No."

"Forgive me. I was just being curious."

"What did you want to ask me, Larissa?"

She sighed. "Right..so.. this box arrived on my doorstep yesterday. However, it was not for me, it was for you."

"For me? Who sent it? Was it John?" you asked hoping to finally get any news on your brother.

"I don’t know. There was no name. I however had to open it... because I.."

"Larissa. It's okay. I understand; you had to be sure if it was safe for me." You've always known her. She and your brother always wanted the best for you.

She smiled.

She opened it and gave the box to you.

A broken gold needle, Snapped in half.

"I don't know what this is."

"Neither do I, but it is related to you. Do you want to keep it along with your other artefacts? Or should I keep it safe somewhere else?"

You felt this feeling that you knew from your childhood as you looked at the needle.

Fear.

"Keep it to yourself for now. I should not touch it until I actually know the use of it."

"Okay Y/N"

"So "Y/n" that's what your name is," Wednesday thinks she might have the perfect use for you in her life as she makes a brilliant plan to solve the mysteries of Nevermore. PART 2- 👉 HERE

#wednesday #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday x female reader #wednesday angst #angst #death #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams angst #wednesday addams

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iluvmatt · 1 year

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unearthly, a matt sturniolo fic. synopsis: in a small suburban area of boston, a group of teenagers—matthew sturniolo and his two triplet brothers, nick and chris, and a childhood friend of theirs, y/n—travel to an old destination named granger’s deathly hill; a place in which hadn’t been visited merely since the early 1970s. atop of the old haunted hill, the group soon realize things aren’t truly as picturesque as they imagined and conclude that they are in grave danger. as they meet people along the way, they realize that the journey home may be harder than expected. knowing that they are in a situation that could ultimately ruin their lives or end them entirely, they make up a plan to make it back home safe, or better yet, alive. amongst the chaos, while trying to save each other, matt and y/n realize that there is more to them than just friendship.

a basic overview and establishment of characters: growing up with the triplets always got you in difficult situations, let it be coming home late after playing games all night, watching horror movies until nick and chris cried, or now trailing up a haunted hill. whatever situation there was in the world, you were bound to get in it. matt was the nonchalant one, always down to do whatever the rest of the group wanted, as he just wanted to be included in a good time. matt loved being able to see you, even if it was doing the craziest things in the world. from chris knew about matt and his crush, but the rest of the group had no idea that you felt merely the same for matt, although nick seemed to have somewhat of an idea. now, as you venture to granger’s deathly hill, there is only one thing on your mind; how could you do something more extreme than any of the ghost adventures and terrifying trips to local bridges and not wonder about how you may never know when it’s the right time to tell matt that you love him? little did you know, that matt, who acted as if he wasn’t scared of a thing in the world, was thinking the same thing.

taglist: @taking-a-footnote-in-your-life, @lostwonderwall, @lomlolivia, @sturniolomads, @kylespencersvocalcords, @stxrniqlo, @sophialimass, @loonielol, @siriusfahey, @getbillzoned, @kjd55, @ceceswritings, @dancingintheedark, @yoongoboongo, reach out to be added!

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year

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No recollection

Part one of the ficlet inspired by this post, special thanks to @sasumimo for enabling me and everyone else who said they'd like to see it in fic form: @faeratil @yuzanrath @kat-anni @michininja @its-all-suibian

Part two here

Mo Xuanyu. He's Mo Xuanyu. He's the son of the defunct second lady Mo and sect leader Jin Guangshan, he's been driven out of Jinlintai and he's gone insane. He's Mo Xuanyu. Mo Xuanyu.

He's not Mo Xuanyu. He's not, he's not - but he has no idea who he is. He should know, he feels like he should know, how could he forget something so important - but he doesn't. If he hadn't found Mo Xuanyu's journal and the instructions he left behind, he wouldn't even know his own name.

His name is not Mo Xuanyu. It's Wei Wuxian. Wei Ying. He's the Yiling Patriarch - whatever that means. He's been brought into this body to enact revenge on Mo Xuanyu's abusive family - is that the kind of person he supposedly is? The kind people summon to kill for revenge?

He doesn't feel like that's true... is it? What if it is? He doesn't remember anything, maybe it is, maybe that's what he's known for, that's why he died in the first place - for killing, for being a cruel murderer.

The thought makes him sick. Is this who he is? He doesn't want to kill anyone. Even if he used to, even if that's what his reputation has been built on - he doesn't want to do that anymore. He's not an assassin, he doesn't want to do anyone's dirty work.

He knows he has no choice. He doesn't remember anything about himself, but he knows what a sacrificial array is, and what will happen to him if he doesn't fulfill the caster's wish. If he's such a bloodthirsty monster, he doesn't think it would be so bad if his soul is destroyed forever - but he still has a survival instinct, and there's something inside of him telling him he shouldn't let himself rot so soon. Maybe there is more to this story, to his story...

But he has to kill three people now. Three cuts on his arm. If he does it, he'll be free of the curse and -

And what?

It's not like he would be able to stay in Mo Xuanyu's shabby house forever, especially if word gets out he killed his own family. Even if he plead insanity, he'd still be executed.

Say that doesn't happen - he still can't just stay here - what if someone figures out he's not who he should be? Who he pretends to be?

Based off Mo Xuanyu's notes, he hasn't been too well-liked in his previous life, so if people found out he's alive again, they'd tear him to shreds.

(They're not to be blamed, really. Wouldn't he do the same? If he found out such a terrible person has returned from the dead, wouldn't he want them gone again, forever, too? What if this person killed his family, his children, his lover? Of course he would want them turned to dust... but... has he really been such a vile person?)

He's Mo Xuanyu but he's not. He has to be. He wishes he could be himself, but he doesn't know who he is. He doesn't know if who he is is even worth being.

So he settles with being Mo Xuanyu instead.

---

There are two young cultivators visiting the Mo estate. They're juniors, dressed in white, matching ribbons tied around their foreheads, elegant and beautiful.

Wei Wuxian feels what could only be described as abject terror upon the sight of them. Panic surges through him like electricity, and he wants to run back into his shack and hide there until he's positive those two are within a day's distance away.

But he's curious. He doesn't know if his curiosity is his own or Mo Xuanyu's but he's curious why he is so deathly afraid of these two children.

They're so young, they can't have been more than toddlers when he was alive - so it's not them as individuals, it couldn't possibly be. Then, it's what they represent - or maybe, rather, who.

Someone in white with a forehead ribbon must have hurt him to the extent that it carried into his subconscious even across realms. Maybe that someone killed him, or contributed to his death in some way.

Regardless, these children belong to the same clan, or at least the same sect as that person. Wei Wuxian has to be careful, that person may have told the juniors about him and though they're young, Wei Wuxian isn't sure he would be able to fight them off if they were to attack him.

He still isn't sure of what he can and cannot do. He knows he has been - is, he is - a cultivator, but he doesn't have a sword and his mind is muddled enough for him not to be able to focus on battle. Not to mention, Mo Xuanyu's golden core is weak, so even if he could conjure up something, he'd probably die trying it out.

So he sticks to spying instead.

He hears talk of a night hunt and a sharp pain stabs through his head. He can't help a pained sound, the throbbing into his skull impossibly cruel for a few long, relentless seconds - and he gives away his hiding spot behind one of the large columns in the Mo estate's guest hall.

That attracts the attention of Madam Mo, who sends him a sharp glare. "What are you doing here?! Scram!" Then she turns to the two cultivators, apologetic, sickeningly sweet. "I apologize, this nephew of mine is not right in the head and he doesn't listen unless we yell at him..."

But Wei Wuxian knows that's a bald faced lie and even if he's scared of those two young cultivators, this woman irritates him to the point that he understands Mo Xuanyu's hatred of her. She's incredibly two-faced, cozying up to those she admires like a snake while so openly mistreating - no, abusing - everybody she deems beneath her.

Wei Wuxian hates her. He reminds her of someone - he doesn't know who, and if he tries, his head begins hurting more - but he has to speak up. He'll kill her later, but she's going to get a piece of his mind before it too.

"You yell at me because you like it, not because it works!" he begins, placing his hands on his hips. "You yell at everyone, actually. Are we all insane, then? You live in a mad house?!"

Madam Mo's son all but lounges his way, a dining knife in his hand. But Wei Wuxian's body knows what to do before he does and he quickly dodges the hit, the nimble movement throwing Mo Ziyuan off balance and sending him right on his ass in the middle of the guest hall.

Wei Wuxian can't help a laugh and neither can one of the juniors in white. The other discreetly elbows him to stop.

"Madam Mo," he says, his voice calm but carrying a surprisingly firm tone to it. Wei Wuxian feels like he can almost recognize it, recognize him. "We have come here to help you with the hauntings, please resolve your disputes privately once the issue is resolved and we are gone. We are going to set up spirit attraction flags all over your estate, so please do not leave your rooms after sundown and keep all doors and windows closed."

Another sharp pain shoots through Wei Wuxian's head. Spirit attraction flags...? He knows what they are, he knows - they're like bait, they're supposed to attract resentful energy, ghosts, fierce corpses, evil. Live targets work best, they feed off yin energy... He knows the characters, he can see them form before his eyes, he knows that he - that there was a cave, darkness, he was alone, there was screaming, it kept hurting him so he drew something and threw it at them, they left him alone, it was the spirit attraction flag -

He invented it.

He faints with the realization.

---

He wakes up in a room he knows he definitely shouldn't have been in. It's ornate, beautiful, he's laid onto a soft mattress, and a calming melody fills the silence. He slowly blinks his eyes open, and sees one of the white-robed youths from before - the calmer one - play something on his guqin.

What a familiar sight... Wei Wuxian cannot help wondering why it is familiar. Isn't he afraid of these people? Why does the image of one playing the guqin feel so... warm?

He takes the time to study the youth's image a little. He doesn't seem to have realized Wei Wuxian has woken up already, so focused on his task, the precision of his fingers betraying years of practice and a dutiful, talented teacher's guidance.

Wei Wuxian still cannot shake off the feeling that he has met this young man before. His heart aches in a way that he doesn't understand, in a way that almost feels parental. It is.

But it's impossible - he doesn't think he's ever had a child, Mo Xuanyu's notes didn't mention anything of the sort. And if he ever did have a child, he doubts anyone would have let them live, with the kind of man Wei Wuxian seems to have been...

And yet... yet he feels like this is his child. This is his child that he has loved and protected from something terrible, something that killed him but saved his little one instead. He can almost conjure up an image of this little boy, can almost hear his voice call out for Xi-

"Mo-gongzi, you're awake."

Wei Wuxian shakes himself out of his stupor - and realizes that trying to remember this boy didn't hurt. It didn't hurt like the spirit attraction flag or the night hunt.

Why didn't it hurt?

"Are you feeling better?" he asks, kind and gentle and Wei Wuxian tries so hard to hide his torment, the tears that threaten to spill out.

"I am, yes, thank you... what-what's your name?"

"I am Lan Yuan, coourtesy name Sizhui."

Lan Yuan... Yuan... God, Wei Wuxian wants to remember this name so badly, wants to remember the face that it belonged to, wants to see whether he's projecting senselessly on this boy or he's actually his child - but he can't, his mind provides nothing, he feels the knowledge just below the surface of his conscious but cannot pull it out.

"Did I qi deviate?"

"That's... hard to say." Lan Sizhui says, and seems embarrassed with himself for it. "You both did and didn't. I haven't seen something like this before, your meridians were perfectly balanced but your body reacted as if you were qi deviating."

How odd... Wei Wuxian thinks to himself. Maybe it wasn't my body that became unbalanced, but my spirit.

"I played some calming melodies for you, even though you weren't technically qi deviating, and you settled."

"Settled? Didn't I... faint?"

"Oh..." Lan Sizhui looks at him, sympathetic. "You must have blacked out. You didn't faint, you began... screaming. Like you were in a lot of pain. And you kept telling us that 'the little one' had done nothing wrong and to kill you instead..."

Wei Wuxian feels his fingers grow cold, as if ice has filled his veins all of a sudden. Who is he? What has he even done? And more importantly, what have all of these people done to him?

"Are you feeling ill again, Mo-gongzi?"

He blinks himself back to reality. "No, no, I'm okay. Um, I'm sorry you had to see all that, I don't really know why it happened or what it was... but thank you for your help anyway."

He sits at the edge of the bed and puts his boots on.

"Mo-gongzi, I really don't think you should be up and about yet, you should be resting here in bed-"

Wei Wuxian smiles, a little bitterly. "Lan-gongzi, do you really think this is the kind of room the Mo family lets me live in? You saw how little they think of me. This is just for show."

He walks out before Lan Sizhui can reply and walks back to his shack.

He bursts in tears the moment he's inside - and he doesn't know why.

Does he?

---

The Mo family dies very conveniently. Mo Ziyuan's kicked it because he's an idiot, keeping a spirit attraction flag on him as if it's not a live target, whilst Madam Mo and her husband died by a fierce ghost hand attracted by the flag formation.

Wei Wuxian hasn't had to directly kill anyone, which is a blessing - because he has been unable to focus on anything ever since his qi deviation earlier today.

How did he die? Who killed him? Why? What has he done so vile as for his (possibly?) last memory to be that of begging his child be spared?

And... has he succeded? Did his child live? Is his child that young man, Lan Sizhui? If so, how? Is he his biological son? Did he adopt him? Did someone in the Lan sect take him in? Does he know who he is? Is he who Wei Wuxian thinks he is? Who does Wei Wuxian think the boy is?

The ghost hand is relentless, driven by so much resentment that Wei Wuxian feels it vibrate under his skin. Why is he so responsive to resentful energy? Why does he feel it like it's a part of him, an extra appendage?

He wants to help the children. They'll die if he doesn't, and they're so young - no matter how he was like in his first life, he's not like that now, he won't let people die needlessly if he can do anything about it.

And he knows what to do.

---

He can't do all that he knows, he'll give himself away - but the kids send a flare signal and Wei Wuxian takes it as his cue to leave. These people, the Lan sect, they've done something to him, and if these children are innocent, their seniors are not. And Wei Wuxian is not looking for a fight right now, all he wants is to leave.

He doesn't know where, but he knows it has to be away.

How does he know how to manipulate resentful energy? How is he good at it?

It doesn't corrupt him, it doesn't hurt - well, it does, but not because of the resentment. Rather, Wei Wuxian has learned, his head hurts when the memories he's trying to remember are painful. Using this kind of cultivation gives him a dull headache - so he's figured that he discovered it in less than ideal conditions. Probably as a survival tactic of some sort, or to fight something off.

Why hasn't he used the regular kind of cultivation? He knows how it works, so it can't have been incompetence or weakness. There has to have been something else.

But when he tries to think of that, of why he uses resentful energy instead of spiritual qi, his head throbs with blinding pain, and he feels himself hollow after it passes, like he should be missing something in his body.

But he isn't.

Well, at least Mo Xuanyu isn't.

---

The stone goddess is the second terrible monster of the night that Wei Wuxian encounters and he's starting to doubt that this is just a coincidence. The cultivators are struggling with it, they can't suppress it - and Wei Wuxian is once again overcome with the impulse to help, especially as he notices a golden-robed junior charging recklessly at the creature.

He has met this junior - kind of. In the forest, just now. Wei Wuxian's borrowed donkey (it's not stealing if the family he took it from sucks and is also dead... is it? No wonder people think he's a bastard) got tangled up in a spirit-trapping net. The kid came rushing in thinking he caught some prey, but was instead met with the pitiful sight of Little Apple trying to free herself, and Wei Wuxian dejectedly watching her.

"Oh, it's you." the youth says, so arrogantly that Wei Wuxian feels insulted without even a bad word having been thrown his way. "What the hell are you staring at me like this for?! Have you forgotten who I am or something?!"

Oh, yeah, Mo Xuanyu must know this little arrogant gremlin, perhaps from his time in Jinlintai. Wei Wuxian doesn't really know how to react - he knows Mo Xuanyu is supposedly off his rocker, but he's a bit too shaken to act too shameless right now.

"Can't I be here? Do you own this mountain or something?" Wei Wuxian replies, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now free my donkey, I have places to be! Not everyone has the time to lounge around setting up nets like you do!"

"Free it yourself! If you have all that audacity, you should have a sword to back it up!" The kid says, turning around with a jingle of his many accessories, and Wei Wuxian could swear he saw the boy flip him off.

"You really have no manners at all! What kind of kid did your parents raise?"

Jin Ling stills immediately, and he grips his sword so hard it shakes in his hand. "What did you just say to me?"

But Wei Wuxian doesn't hear him anymore. The world seems to have begun spinning with him, and his head hurts so much he feels like it's going to explode.

His parents... the boy's parents... they're not- they haven't... They're not... alive, they're not. because Wei Wuxian... the incident... a fist through the heart, a sword through the neck... the boy's parents...

Wei Wuxian killed his parents.

He blacks out again.

---

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts

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