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sweetsbfreex · 4 years

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lethologica

when you can’t think of the word for something...like this fic </3

Summary: Harry’s family navigating his impending fame, and the activity of reader and harry making their first belly cast

Warnings: fluff, slight angst?

Pairing: Husband, Dad!Harry x reader

“Hey! We’re back!” you yelled out, Harry following closely behind you as he shut the door, carefully slipping off your sneakers. It was pretty late at least for the two of you now. The sun was away, you and H coming back from your well deserved date night.

At the familiar sound of the slamming door came the different steps of your kids. Shuffling down the steps from your view you could see the face of your oldest ahead of the covey, bolting towards the two of you. The various sounds of ‘mom’,’mummy’, and ‘dad’ spoken out.

“You guys took forever” Sydnie; seventeen, was the first to say, exasperated as she latched onto you. But was quickly shuffled away by the twins. “Bloo” the seven year old was born a Penelope, but after watching her favorite show Winx Club when she was three. Demanded she be called after her favorite character Bloom, but couldn’t pronounce the name all the way through. If you had called her by official name she wouldn’t respond, going on about her day as if no one was there. And it had stuck since then, forever the stubborn one only to grow into a sweet, shy little girl.

And Alec, fraternal twins who had just turned seven.

“Careful babies the baby, remember” Harry lightly reminded. With that reminder he had loosened his secure hold.

“Well sorry” you teased, kissing all their forehead quickly “But we bought you guys some food too” you reported, holding up the labeled bag.

They responded with excited statements, as Sydnie took the bag from your hold, running to the kitchen with her siblings.

“My hugs!” Harry yelled out, hands cupping his mouth then putting his brawny arms out like a plane awaiting their bodies to clash into his. “ought to take away your allowance for that one” Harry teases, fingers stretching out to tickle anywhere they could.

As a result he got a lively mix of groans, laughs, and pleas.

“Joking” Harry says abruptly, kissing each of their cheeks before conducting all of you to the kitchen, assisting the twins into their own seatings at the kitchen. The light above all of you illuminating the room.

Embarrassingly enough it had been when you were pulling the plastic containers from the brown bag that you realized you were missing a kid.

“Where’s your brother?” you asked, opening Bloo’s Spaghetti and spreading it on the white plate.

“Talking to his girlfriend” Sydnie air quoted, rolling her father-like eyes.

“Why do you say it like that?” Harry asked, wonderingly his back turned, reaching for the Placemats, setting them in front of each child. Placing one in front of an empty stool for Chase.

“Daddy, he’s delusional! I’ve told him a million times. She found out his last name, connected the dots, and now she’s interested. I would know it’s happened to me hundreds of times since middle school” she said indignantly.

Finishing the last plate up, from the side of your eyes you could see and sense his deflation at the statement. Always overthinking about their last names and what it would entail as they grow up with Harry Styles as their father. His top five worry ever since the first time you were pregnant. His breaking point, however, had been when Sydnie came home, furious. From a day from school finding out that some girl in her class had tried getting closer to her with ill intentions.

He could also sense the worry that washed over you, catching your eye to let you know he was fine.

“He’s old enough to know better. He’ll be fine Syd,” you let her know, reaching your hand to fix the hoodie that overshadowed her precious face.

“I wasn’t, it sucks and he’s not taking me seriously”

“Cause you’re full of it” shifting your eyes to the doorway, the sixteen-year-old walked in towards you. His arm over your shoulders before placing a kiss to your cheek. Then making his way to his dad, who had pulled him in setting a kiss to his temple.

“You say that but just you wait!” she walked over to him quickly, flicking his the back of his head, shifting her way over to the fridge before he could retaliate. Pulling out a drink and some cups for everyone else, almost bustling into you, as you made your way to the microwave.

“Don’t wish that on your brother” Harry persisted.

“I’m not, but he better not come crying to me”

"Whatever” he paid her no mind, shifting the conversation to his parents. “How was your date?” he asked, setting himself at the island.

“‘Was fine we went to the arcade, I beat mum’s butt––”

“He’s lying, I beat him at air hockey”

“Just air hockey mum?” Bloo asked, a slight lisp from her missing front teeth. Her attention strayed away while Sydnie placed her cup in front of her, filling it with juice.

“Sadly” you mimicked a pout, Harry smiling with a smug grin.

“Then went to dinner. Guess what” he exclaimed, directing his energy towards Alec”

“Mummy looked so pretty tonight, some chum couldn’t stop eyeing her. So I had to give him a knuckle” he told the story, raising his fist and mirthfully brought it to Alec’s stomach. Eliciting giggles from his which bounced off to Bloo. The rest of you with gratified smiles at the meaningful interaction.

“Why are you such a fibber tonight” you urged Harry, smacking his shoulder.

“I’m not lying” he said, walking to you till he was hovering over your back, trying to annoy you with his insistent cheek kisses.

“Go away” you whined, faking your displeasure, shrugging your shoulders. The kids could note your slight smile except for him.

“Go away” he mocked.

“We all know you wouldn’t hurt a fly” Chase pointed out correctly. Thanking you as you set his plate of food in front of him.

Harry stood across the herd,resting back against the quartz countertop, arms crossed. Until you cuddled yourself into his side. His arm reaching down so his thumb could rub against the side of your belly. Your arms encircled around his waist, head on his chest.

“Not true” he replied.

“It’s okay, it’s why I married you” you sweetly said with a smile adoring your face. He could only look down at you with a close lipped smile reflecting yours, his dimple digging deep. Leaning down to kiss you, filling you up with his love for you.

Both of you had pulled away abruptly from the range of disgusted protests and a slam of an utensil. All except for sweet, shy Bloo. Who had watched with a smile on her face idolizing the love of her parents, swearing it was like the Disney movies. Like her favorite Princess and the Frog.

“We’re trying to eat!” Chase had said dramatically, pasta in his mouth. Sydnie covers her eyes with both hands, while Alec stuck out his tongue finger to his mouth.

“None of you would be here, if it wasn’t for this” you emphasized, your finger waving between you and H.

“No duh, you both won’t stop having children” Sydnie overstated, shuddering stagy.

It was late now, all of you stayed downstairs, more overdue than intended. The twins went down an hour early before the other two. Chase and Sydnie finished their meals for the night and instead of leaving, stayed up talking to their parents.

In your sleep shorts and a light weight tank top, your hands were in Harry’s who was massaging them softly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked feebly, peeking up at the overly focused man.

“We’ve had this conversation a handful of times, don’t see why we need to have it again” he replied, glancing at you quickly.

“I know, but it might make you feel a little better” you tried again not wanting to push him too far.

“I–It’s just” he had to stop for a minute, his throat closing up too much to even speak clearly. You propped yourself up against the headboard, your lower back aching a little bit, adjusting Harry so his red tainted face was laid on your shoulder.

You could only coo at him, kissing his forehead, while your hand ran laxly on the side of his face. Your fingers brushing against the slight scruff against his cheek. Before moving your arm so your hand could massage his scalp at the back of his neck. Letting your fingers run through his lengthy hair at the same time. Your other arm reaches over to pluck a piece of tissue from the box, wiping under his nose softly.

“Just want them to have a normal life like you and me, it isn’t fair to them that they’ve got to deal with shit like this constantly because of me”

“Baby don’t say that, regardless of it all they’d still have to go through life meeting awful people”

“It isn’t the same y/n, with people like them they know the reason is because of their stupid last name.”

“H” you start sternly, rocking the both of you slowly “Don’t say stuff like that, you think if they had to choose you wouldn’t be their dad? They cherish you so much. I know it sucks I do, but you’re an amazing dad, there’s no one better for them. They would never hold something like that against you, they love you too much to”

“You’re a brilliant mum too. I’m sorry”

“You don’t need to apologize baby” You stopped rocking the two of you slowly, smiling down at him only to see: glossy somber eyes, a subtle simper, and a hiccuping chest.

“Stomachs getting bigger” he stated, his hand rubbing against your stomach absentmindedly.

“Thank you baby, just what every girl wants to hear”

“No! Not like that beautiful. Just meant now people can see your pregnant again”

“I’m teasing H, I promise the hormones haven’t kicked in yet.”

“Finally get to sleep with ur boobs in front of me every night” He said smugly, naturally looking at you for his favourable reaction.

“You’re such a child” you return, pinching his arm lightly “You wouldn’t want to put it in the nursery?” you ask.

“Wherever you want angel”

That radiant morning led you to now, an impromptu family trip to Target, the kids getting whatever their hearts desired–– to an extent–– while you and Harry stood here astonished by the arrays of different casting kits.

You raise your conjoined hands to point your finger at a baby blue box.

“That one? Genie told me that’s the one she bought” you queried.

He inspected it, twisting the box practically reading every word, before turning to look at the ingredients.

“H you probably don’t know what half of those things are”

He shrugged his shoulder in response, looking at the box one last time. “Sure it was this one?”

“Positive”

You were both meant to go find the kids until they had bustled around the corner, Chase pushing the loaded cart while everyone walked ahead. At the view of his parents. Alec had run ahead towards the two of you a motor car in his hand.

“Mummy! Daddy! May I get this please?” he asked, raising the toy above his head.

“Can I get this too please?” Bloo asked quietly, a lego set sat up in her palms.

“You guys were meant to keep them away from the toys” Harry told the older two. Knowing this would just add to their continual influx of toys. “Yes you guys can, go ahead and put it in the cart”

Alec had done his little dance, skipping his way back to the cart while Bloo walked herself carefully. Placing her set down as low as she could without causing any noise or crushing anything else.

“You both get everything you need?” you asked, following after the twins along with Harry, placing the kit into the cart.

You looked down at everything noticing some groceries, a few skincare items, a book, something for their rooms, and other things you couldn’t find that laid underneath everything else.

“Yep, ready to leave when you are” Sydnie had responded.

“Okay let’s head out, Styles” Harry exclaimed, as low as he could, to not disrupt anyone else, Clapping his ringed hands together once.

“Dude, you’re such a dad” Chase quipped.

“Almost like I’ve been raising kids for seventeen years huh?” He jested back, eyes opening wide in faux disbelief, traveling to bother Chase some more.

Giggling at the two, you looked down when you felt a body pressing into your leg. Familiar arms around your thigh. A distraught Bloo, looking up at you, her chin resting against your thigh.

“What is it, baby?” you asked, softly, tuning out the rest of your family.

“There’s a lady over there. She keeps looking at us” she informed you, pointing her dainty finger discreetly as she could to the woman at the end of the aisle.

Being only seven the twins had a mutual understanding on why their dad had to leave at times, but that decreased once more when you had fallen pregnant again. They understood all the rules.

a) if anyone was ever following, acting suspiciously always let mum or dad know–– if dad was there, definitely dad. b) never talk back to the idiots with the bulky cameras. c) Be careful who you talk to and what you say, some people aren’t always what they may seem.

“H” you called him over.

He walked over to the two of you, eyebrows elevated in question. His hand instinctively brushing over bloo’s hair.

“Uhm maybe we should send the kids to checkout” you tilted your head backward at the not so prudent woman with the shocked face. Her phone pointing towards the two of you.

You undoubtedly saw the happiness of his face shift to one of vexation and frustration as he glanced quickly, shrewdly at the woman. He extended his hand out to rub your elbow soothingly, nodding wearily.

He turned to the kids, masking his face as best as he could. “You guys go ahead and save a spot for us, me and your mum are gonna grab one last thing”

They didn’t care much, just wanting to get home as quickly as they could, Sydnie grabbing both of the twins’ hands.

Harry had kindly walked up to the woman, a displayed smile on his face, asking her to delete whatever she had managed to collect. You watched the encounter from the side, rubbing your belly softly, filled with mild angst.

She had apologized profusely (the embarrassment seeping in her voice), the kindness in Harry letting her know it was fine as long as he could watch her delete everything.

From her camera roll, Harry could see a video still of before the kids came, when you and him were looking for a casting kit. And some other videos of the family loitering in the target section.

He bid her a tight-lipped goodbye, after he kindly asked her again, though it was starting to run low, to go to her recently deleted–– he wasn’t the most tech savvy but he also wasn’t an idiot. Once that was ultimately done, he locked your hand into his.

“Are you okay?” you asked, securing your other arm up to wind around his.

“Just tired of the bullshit...” he sighed. He was just happy that he was able to protect his family this time.

You halt him swiftly; he looks back at you in confusion, until you lug him down for as much of a hug as you could. Feeling his shoulders sag in relaxation and his arms winding around your waist.

You stood next to Harry, in front of one of the sinks, reading the instructions.

“So we start with the lubricant first, use these...” holding up a roll of the plaster tape “dip them into warm water, and just putting them on” you informed Harry of your summary.

He nodded, his lip between his fingers as his eyes roamed over the paper once again. “I’ll go get you a chair, pee before we start” He yelled over his shoulder.

He walked back in, a wooden chair between his hands. Setting it to the floor gently, smiling at you to take a seat. Walking back to the sink,resting his hip against the packet of lubricant in his hand.

You smiled back at him as you took your seat. Deeming it be fit to wear running shorts and a tank top. Harry only in a pair of his joggers. Surprisingly after four kids, this was your first time trying a belly cast and you were a bit nervous wanting it to look just as perfect as it could–– adding your husband being a precisionist into the mix there was no guessing how this would turn out.

“Take off your top” Harry said smugly, bringing the white packet to his teeth– side eying you–– while he ripped it off. Turning to start the camera propped up on the counter. You insisted this had to be recorded as a little keepsake for the two of you.

You could only roll your eyes, trying hard not to feed into his ego. But the heat rising from your neck reported him otherwise. Tucking your arms back in the arm holes and raising the shirt off your body. Your body is bare except for the shorts adorning your legs.

Ogling at you like a caveman playfully at the sight of your boobs out and about, eliciting quick giggles from you. He walked up to you clasping your face between his palms, pressing your aglow cheeks together lightly–– the white, cold packet sitting against your left cheek lightly. Giving you three earnest kisses to your lips and leaning down in front of you, giving a peck to your belly button.

He squeezed some of the lubricant onto his fingers, deciding to start under your belly. You hissed at the sudden coldness hitting your skin.

“Okay?” he asked, eyes a bit wide and mouth slightly open.

“A little cold, but you can continue” you let him know.

He got at it quickly, once he finished that area he stood up a bit getting the sides of your stomach coated. Once he had finished, you stood up looking in the mirror at the shine of your stomach.

“Now for the fun part” clapping your palms together sitting back down, wistfully watching Harry wash his hands of the substance. He got the scissors cutting the strips of various sizes. Walking to you at times to make sure it fits properly.

‘Wouldn’t it be easier if I was next to you’ you asked.

Only to be replied with ‘No reason to have you on your feet, if I can walk to you.’ He unquestionably is just a bag of sunshine and everything good in the world.

Filling the sink with warmish water and placing on gloves. Snapping it on dramatically as if he was a doctor in a drama series.

“Dork”

He walked over with the first strip in his hand, water dripping behind him as he stepped closer to you. You pulled out your phone quickly wanting to capture a cute picture of this. Right as he placed the first strip you snapped the image. The only thing being seen was your protruded belly and below, his hands placing the plaster tape to your stomach, and a small tuft of his hair from the top of the picture.

He pulled away proudly, smiling down at his work, with his hands on his hips. “Look at that, looks perfect huh?”

“You’re doing good so far H” you confirmed.

It was only fifteen minutes later, half of your stomach–– and that wasn’t saying much.

“Baby it’s fine we’ll just sand it down” you tried to convince H for the last time, but he was stubborn as ever.

His mouth open in excessive concentration, puzzled brows pulled together as he removed the plaster for the fifth time. And from your point of view, you swore, he placed it back on the exact same spot.

“Just wait” he sighed, it wasn’t where he wanted it to be.

“Harry, we’re gonna be forever” you sighed, swaying your feet softly until one of them accidentally knocked into Harry’s leg. He looked down at you, eyes telling you to quit it.

“See there, you big baby” he grumbled.

“You’ve set it back into the same spot!” you exclaimed.

“No I haven’t, you’re just impatient...sounded a little brit there” he hummed, turning his back to you as he grabbed another slip.

“Shut up!”

Then there was, naturally, the sudden interruption.

Bloo had stumbled into the bathroom, expressing out about something one of her brothers did when she stopped taking into account, trying to figure out what was wrong with her mum.

She gasped, eyes wide at the greying stuff. “What’s wrong with mummy?” she asked, looking between the two of you.

“Turning mummy into a mummy!” He screeched, holding up a plaster strip.

She brought her hands up to her mouth eyes growing only wider, her lip already starting to tremble.

“You and your stupid dad jokes” you pulled Bloo closer to you, turning her back to Harry flipping him off behind her head.

“We’re just doing a cast, don’t worry baby. Remember that episode of Jessie when Ravi got that mask stuck on Luke’s face and ripped his eyebrows off” you explained, She laughed at the connection of the episode.

“Kind of like that, but without the eyebrows and we’re just using my belly” bringing your thumb to brush her brows up and the corner of her mouth clean. God what were they doing down there.

“Ohh okay that makes more sense.” you smiled back at her.

And Harry who had a bit too much fun when it came to the upper portion of the cast. Acting like Alec does when Paw patrol was on or when Sydnie when her dad allowed her his card to shop. Finding any reason to smooth down the cast with his wet hands. Or taking his time to cover your nipple, using his thumb to level it out. A haughty expression on his face growing the higher he got from your belly button.

“You’re acting as if we don’t have sex or take showers together” you tell him, popping another goldfish into your mouth (But not the good ones, the disgusting wheat ones Harry urged you and everyone else in the house to eat instead.)

“As if you don’t act like this when I take off my shirt”

He got you there, looking up at you to see you were not going to give him the eye contact he wanted. Your lips closed tight.

He delicately planted the last strip over the top of one of your breasts.

“Wait, it doesn’t look right”

“Harry!”

“Just joking y/n, now we wait five minutes and we can pop this off, sand it, and decorate it however you want” he told you, smiling at the finished product, leaning down to kiss your forehead then your lips.

“Wanna do it like this” you twisted your phone around to show him the image on Pinterest. A light blue belly cast, but you wanted it a pretty purple color, that was held against a frame, with butterflies of surveying sizes going across/diagonally the cast.

“However you want lovie” he told you again, pulling your head to his stomach, leaning down to kiss your head. Your arms winding across his waist.

“Thank you” you hummed in satisfaction.

– – – – –

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

thank you to the anon who requested this!

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #dad! harry styles #harry styles fluff #dad harry styles x reader #husband! harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles drabble #dad!harry

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lady-salvatore · 3 years

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Champagne Problems

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Desc.: Steve proposed to you, and you said no. It takes a week for the both of you to figure out why.

Warnings: angst, mentions of mental illness, female reader, happy ending :)

Notes: AHH so this is my first Marvel fic, please let me know what y’all think. 💖

Steve stared at that glittering diamond ring between his thumb and finger, staring at it as if somehow it had malfunctioned.

Or maybe he had.

He leaned back into the seat of the very empty train, your ‘no’ echoing in his head a thousand times over. He wondered if it was him, if he’d done something wrong— if that was why you wouldn’t marry him.

He guessed there’d been signs throughout the night. You were pensive, quiet. You didn’t want to dance. You weren’t smiling.

Steve wrote it off as nerves. You must’ve known what was coming, you were just anxious was all.

He thought it would all be fixed when he got down on one knee. He saw tears glimmering in your eyes and mistook them for happiness.

He was wrong.

In the chest pocket of Steve’s jacket (a suit he’d bought just for tonight) was his wallet. Inside was a picture of you, and it felt like that picture was going to burn a hole right through his chest.

You burst through the door of your apartment, slamming it behind you and leaning against it. Tears and mascara ran down your face as you tried to breathe against the constriction on your chest.

Your roommate and best friend, Wanda, came into the room with wide eyes. “(Y/N), what-“

“I said no,” you gasped helplessly for air. “I said no. He asked me to marry him and I said no.”

Wanda’s jaw fell open and her eyes filled with pity. She came over and wrapped you in her arms. “You’re freezing! And shaking...”

You sobbed against her shoulder as she guided you to sit down on the couch. “I don’t know what he even wanted with me in the first place. I’m too far gone— broken, or something.”

“You’re not broken,” Wanda said softly, petting your head. “You’re just not ready, that’s all.”

But what if you were never ready?

Suddenly, Wanda spoke again. “Vis, could you make some tea?”

“Of course, darling,” Vision said as he floated through Wanda’s door. “Do feel better, (Y/N).”

You nodded and through him a weak smile, not trusting yourself not to break out into tears again.

Steve had tried to call Bucky on his way to his apartment. He needed to talk to someone, tell someone what had happened. But Bucky never answered, so Steve was left to deal with this alone.

He unlocked his apartment door and stumbled inside, flicking on the light.

He heard a loud chorus of “surprise!” and the sound of a champagne bottle popping open. Steve looked around to see his friends gathered around the apartment, with party decorations and food and drinks.

Steve met Bucky’s eyes, and immediately Bucky’s eyes widened. He knew what had happened. He could read Steve like a book, and somehow Steve was grateful for that now. He would never have to tell him.

Slowly, the realization dawned over the room as they stared at Steve— alone, disheveled, eyes red from crying.

Natasha held the champagne bottle awkwardly in her hand. “What... what-“

“She said no,” Steve grumbled harshly. He stumbled past his friends and toward his bedroom. “Goodnight, everyone.”

He slammed the door to his room and felt the pain wash over him again.

You lied in your bed, staring up at the ceiling as waves of memories intruded your mind.

Steve always opened doors for you. Always, without fail. I know you can open your own doors, I’m just trying to be a gentleman.

And he handed you his jacket whenever you shivered. You never even asked for it. He would just wordlessly drape it over your shoulders, even when he was cold, too. It doesn’t matter if I’m cold, I’d rather have you be warm.

The way he talked about his friends like they were family. The way his blue eyes lit up when he saw you. The way his smiles seemed to be made just for you.

You loved Steve Rogers— hopelessly, effortlessly, always— so you had to protect him.

He didn’t know he was signing his life away to the will of your baggage. You knew how heavy that burden was.

You couldn’t let him carry it.

It had been a week. Steve’s finger had lingered over your number in his phone for days, too afraid to actually dial. He turned off his phone again as Natasha carried a box of Christmas lights past him.

It didn’t seem right— decorating the tower for Christmas without you here. Hanging the lights was your job.

Tony was doing it this year. But he didn’t hum as he strung them up. He didn’t smile when the lights came on.

He just stood joylessly on the ladder as he fiddled with the strings.

Natasha sighed and patted Steve on the shoulder when she noticed him sulking. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” Bucky grumbled.

Steve looked at him quizzically. “You think?”

“Look, Cap,” Tony said from the ladder, “you can just find a new girlfriend. Easy peasy.”

“Excuse me?” Steve growled.

Tony smirked. “She was out of her mind anyway.”

“Watch your mouth, Stark,” Steve hissed as he jumped out of his chair. “(Y/N) isn’t crazy, and you don’t get to talk about her like that.”

He felt Bucky grab his shoulder. “Steve-“

“I’m fine,” he huffed, knowing he was far from fine. “(Y/N) wasn’t crazy. She was perfect. She is perfect.”

“I know,” Bucky whispered, patting him on the shoulder. But maybe you should move on.

Steve didn’t want to move on. Not ever. Not from you, and if he had to spend another seventy years fixing whatever it is that had happened between you, that’s what he’d do.

You were wrapped up in blankets on the couch, eyes red and sore from crying as you watched another sad movie.

You had barely moved in days. Losing Steve was like losing a part of yourself. No matter how good your reasons, no matter how far you distanced yourself from the pain of it all, it still hurt— always, always, always.

Steve Rogers was the best part of your life, and now he was gone. You knew that pain would never dull.

Your mind told you not to regret the decision. You were protecting him. He’d be better off without you.

But your heart was a traitor and missed Steve with every beat.

A knock sounded at the door. You got up to go get it, thinking Wanda had forgotten her key again.

Instead, you were faced with Steve, who looked just as horrible and heartbroken as you did.

His blue eyes met yours. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you responded weakly, feeling like you were about to curl up and die. “What are you-“

“What did I do?” he asked, eyes pleading. “(Y/N), I’m struggling here, because I just don’t know what I did wrong, and... just... what did I do?”

He thought it was his fault.

Your heart sank. “You didn’t do anything.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Then what happened?”

“You’re too good for me,” you whispered suddenly, tears flooding your face. “And you deserve better than me.”

“(Y/N), that’s not true-“

“It is.” You took a step away from the door, away from him. “It is. I’m messed up, Steve, and you and I both know it.”

“Don’t say that!” he said, stepping into the apartment. “If you’re not gonna marry me, that’s fine, but don’t you dare say it’s because you’re not good enough!”

“But I’m not!” you cried. “You deserve somebody better than me! You deserve somebody who won’t pull away when you want to dance! Somebody who isn’t gonna run away and leave you on that landing! Somebody who will say yes to you without hesitation, who isn’t afraid to love you! And I am not that person!”

“I don’t want that person!” he yelled back, eyes softening. “All I want is you. Isn’t that enough?”

Tears ran down your face and Steve wiped them away, pulling you into his embrace.

“Do you promise?” you whispered hoarsely through a sob. “Do you promise that I’m enough?”

“Always have been, always will be,” he whispered, smiling down at you softly. “And... if you’re not ready for marriage, we’ll wait. I’ll wait.”

You knew it then, that you wanted to marry Steve Rogers. With every fiber of your being, you loved him.

That night, you found the ring in his pocket and slipped it onto your finger. It was sized perfectly, as if it were meant to be there. You had no doubt in your mind that you and Steve were a perfect fit as well.

There would always be days when your mind got the better of you. Steve may have not been able to change that, but it was a little easier to carry the burden of your own darkness when Steve’s light was right there beside you.

Love was enough, and you had enough love for him to last forever.

#my post #marvel #mcu #captain america #marvel cinematic universe #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader

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jadelynlace · 3 years

Text

Hvitserk’s First Tattoo / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. here is the visual reference for the tattoo Hvitserk gets (image isn’t mine and all credit goes to it’s original owner). mentions of brotherly bickering, Hvitserk being scared and Ivar tattooing.

synopsis: You finally talk Hvitserk into getting some ink.

✎

“Did I miss it?” You say, nearly falling in through the main door of the shop. “I almost took the ambulance over here just because it has lights and sirens,” Hvitserk offers you an estranged look, one mixed with him being mortified and slightly impressed with your timing after the over night shift.

“I’ve never seen you this excited,” Sigurd calls from his spot, pulling a record from the shelf as he goes about lining it up, pulling the needle over so the music can fill the room.

“She doesn’t even get this excited when she sees my dick,” Ivar teases from his spot and you offer him a less than kind finger gesture.

“Can you blame me?” You remark back and Ivar only returns your original hand motion. “Did you pick yet?” You the ask as Hvitserk studies Ivar’s portfolio, as if he will be quizzed on it at the end of the session.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” He groans, another turn of the laminated pages.

“All of our best talks happen when it’s in the ambulance cabin at four in the morning,” You laugh, patting his back as you round the small counter. Ivar’s hands are quick to seat you on his lap, wrapping around you almost instantly and you both breathe in relief.

“Long night?” Ivar asks softly in your ear.

“Routine bullshit,” You grumble back, his hands tracing up your back and you could almost fall asleep in the very spot. One hand leaves your spine, reaching along the counter to grasp the tall can of his energy drink, offering it to you but you only shake your head. “That crap tastes like cough syrup,” You add as Ivar downs another gulp.

“Hurry up Hvitserk, we’re here after hours for this,” Ivar calls before he pulls the can back to his mouth.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to pop your cherry,” You say and Ivar looses some of the energy drink through a spray from his lips.

“You can get her name on your ass,” Sigurd says, walking past Hvitserk and tapping his uniform clad back.

“Why? So Ivar and I can match?” Hvitserk grumbles back and you laugh against Ivar’s chest.

“How do they know about that?” Ivar asks you quietly, through a teasing voice and you raise slightly, giggling against his mouth as your catch his lips with yours.

“Oh, for fucks sake—Hvitserk here, do that one,” Sigurd says, tapping his fingers against the page. “Paramedic Ragnarsson gets an anatomical tattoo,”

“Nice choice,” Ivar hums, standing to his full height with you latched still around him and he sets you to sit along the counter.

“Is it nap time for the baby?” Sigurd says, voice taking on a toddler’s tone as he sits back at the front desk, and at the receiving end of the pen that flies from Ivar’s grasp. Leather combat boots stalk along the dark wooden floors, pulling the design from its laminated home before Ivar sends the image through the printer in the far corner. Your eyes catch sight of his back, the muscles in his biceps, the veins on his forearms as he programs the machine to spit out the stencil. Looming your eyes up the gray fabric of the old band tee, over the locks that he’s starting to comb into a bun, and then down the dark wash jeans and over how they end in the tops of his shoes. More thoughts swirl about how you couldn’t wait to undress him when you two would go to your apartment.

As Hvitserk makes himself comfortable in the black leather chair, he rolls up the uniform sleeve, a quick unbutton and folding of the blue material, already deciding on where he deemed the appropriate placement. The curl of his sleeve stops above his elbow and you could see the faint burn mark on his wrist from when he tried to eat a marshmallow that was still on fire. You watched Ivar position himself at his station, a meticulous arrangement of his tools, setting everything in a straight line to connect. There was a squirt of the ink into the containers, a pull of gloves onto his hands, wiggling his fingers into their spots and cracking his knuckles. You bit down on your own tongue to stop that moan that tried so hard to escape. Taking the razor to shave off the blond fuzz, he gingerly laid the stencil on his brother’s inner arm, pressing it gently before pulling it back.

“Double check in the mirror that you like the placement,” Ivar says, tossing his head towards the back wall with the mirror surrounded by an intense wooded frame Floki had built. Hvitserk stands, and you see the slight tremor in his hands, never a fan of any sort of pain—intentional or not. You’ve seen this man cry at the sensation of a paper cut, and all but sob when he jerked his shin against the metal grate on the ambulance’s bumper. But, he was also the man who would tell the patients that it was going to hurt—the realignment, or when he set up the hare for an isolated femur fracture—it was going to hurt and they had his full permission to break his hand if need be. You laugh every time there’s an active labor call, and Hvitserk reassures the mother that he has two hands, and if she needs to break one to push her child out, he’s willing to suffer. It calms the hysteria, even on the worst calls you two had walked into, Hvitserk always knew how to calm any of the demons that danced in the ambulance. Ivar turns to you as Hvitserk gazes, probably far longer than other client has to date, and slides himself over to where you’re perched. There’s a removal of one glove, an index finger and thumb on your chin as he kisses you once, twice, and third time.

“I already know what I want to eat for dinner,” He whispers against your ear, just loudly enough so you’re the only one to hear his words. “But make sure you leave the polo on, baby girl,” He adds, kissing your temple and nudging the badge that’s on your chest, as a slow blush roses over your cheeks while he turns back around. “Alright brother, ready?” He calls, tapping the seat of the chair and Hvitserk takes a final look before plopping both himself down and his arm against the cushion.

“Is it going to hurt?” Hvitserk asks, trying to bite the smile he’s showing while both Ivar and Sigurd are preparing to throw whatever they can reach. “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist,” Ivar offers him another lethal glare, nearly plucking the smile from his lips as he begins to spread a thin layer of the ointment across the purple ink. There’s a buzz from the needle gun and Hvitserk whimpers not unlike a puppy. Ivar’s glove-clad fingers stretch to pull the skin taunt, taking the gun down the first line and wiping it with a paper towel.

“Still alright, sir?” You say to Hvitserk as if he’s a patient in your ambulance and you’re watching an IV start.

“Can you hold my hand?” He whines in a faked voice of concern.

“No,” You say back and there’s a snicker from Sigurd on the far side of the shop. The room dulls to only the noise of the record, the vibration of the needle and you watch Ivar so effortlessly in his element. Eyes watching, concentrating on what he’s doing yet singing lowly to the lyrics of the song that floods your ears alike. He rolls his chair slightly, maneuvering Hvitserk’s arm to his liking as he holds it down with his own. Strength unmatched because his least favorite thing is when the client fidgets, since it sends his work to become sloppy, and he’s grown accustomed to a way to hold the body part down to his liking. And that sight makes you think about him over you, body weight pressing against you like a weighted blanket, one with a smart mouth and curved lip who melts at the sheer stroke of your nails on his skin. Your thoughts rolls from the shift you worked prior, reanalyzing what you had done, gone through, pulling it to part like thread. They roll like waves but crash with thoughts of Ivar, his small comment earlier and then they shift. From work to pleasure and you’re squeezing your thighs before you realize it. Ivar’s voice comes through your ears to halt the dissection, and you move your head to see Hvitserk admiring the piece now forever on his skin and you smile back. Another layer of ointment and then it’s wrapped tightly with Ivar’s instructions to leave it on for an hour.

“See? No need to be a little baby about it,” You tease him and he laughs.

“That’s his default setting,” Sigurd’s voice calls as he stands up. “Ivar you’re closing up tonight, right?” And Ivar just nods. “I will see your smiling face tomorrow morning then,” He adds sarcastically, and with a wave and check of his pockets he’s out the shops front door.

“Wasn’t as terrible as I thought,” Hvitserk jokes. “Maybe I will get your name on my ass after all,” You offer him a faked smile and forged laugh. “I’m going to head out too, I got the over time for tomorrow,” And he’s gone with a salute through his hand and the hundred dollar bill on the desk, leaving you and Ivar alone in the shop.

“I like seeing you in here,” You say softly as you watch him clear his materials, place everything in their homes and he smiles while he works. “You’re so relaxed,”

“I can say the same thing when I see you in that ambulance, baby,” He replies as he casts a look back to you and then he’s standing, arm grabbing you to come into his side. “Now let’s get going, I’m really looking forward to my dinner…”

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enchantmentandshadows · 3 years

Text

Elriel Month | Day 31: You Are Cordially Invited

WORD COUNT: 2270

CONTENT WARNING: NONE

PLAYING ON AZRIEL’S SYMPHONIA : “I GET TO LOVE YOU” - RUELLE

PLAYING ON ELAIN’S SYMPHONIA : “STILL INTO YOU” - MEADOWLARK

NOTE: See Day 21: Dreamland if you’d like to see how Azriel saw his wedding to Elain before it happened.

Azriel pulled away, kissing her once and twice more before linking his pinky with hers. “Until the end of forever.”

Elain nodded, sealing it with another kiss. “Until the end of forever.”

“You ready for this?” Rhys asked, smiling from ear to ear as he straightened the collar of Azriel’s jacket.

“Of COURSE he’s ready, look at him! He looks like a fairytale prince!” Cass said, pinching Az’s cheek.

Azriel laughed. “Ready for the wedding? Yes, thanks to Nesta. Ready to spend the rest of my life with Elain? Absolutely.” He said his voice thick with emotion, looking down as tears filled his eyes. "Been waiting 500 years for her."

“Az…dammit…” Cassian said, wiping at his own eyes and hugging his brother, Rhysand hugging them both.

“This never has to leave this room.” Cassian said, sniffling.

Rhysand laughed. “Are you kidding? Crying wasn’t even a question, the bet was on which of us would cry first.” Rhysand said, wiping his own eyes.

Nesta straightened Elain’s sparkling veil with tears in her eyes. “You look so beautiful, El.”

“Oh Nesta, if you start, we all will.” Feyre warned, grabbing a handkerchief and handing it to her sister.

“You really do look beautiful, Elain.” Feyre agree, hugging her sister, and dabbing at her own eyes. “You’re so perfect together, perfect for one another.”

Elain hugged Feyre, beaming and holding her own tears in. “Thank you for helping me find him, for helping me find myself.” She said, taking both her sisters hands.

Nesta sniffled, pulling both of her sisters into her arms, letting her tears fall. The three sisters staying in each others arms until there was a soft knock at the door. “Is it time?” Elain asked.

“No, not yet, calm down.” Feyre laughed as she opened the door to reveal Lucien.

“I’m here to see the Bride if she has a moment.” Lucien said, looking every bit the heir of a High Lord.

Elain nodded. “Of course, come in.”

“We’ll see you again before its time.” Nesta assured Elain as she followed Feyre out.

Lucien walked in and Elain smiled up at him. Their relationship-their friendship had changed so much in such a short time. After avoiding each other for months over their own ill-fated bond, they bonded helping each other find and save the people they were truly meant to be with.

“Day suits you.” She said, smiling. Lucien nodded in appreciation.

“Thank you, Dusk suits you.” He said, adding. “It goes without saying, but, you deserve to be happy with someone of your choosing, Elain. I’m glad you found that happiness.”

“Thank you, Lucien. You deserve the same, and Vassa is very lucky to have you.” She said, not needing her Seer ability to notice how comfortable and happy Lucien and the mortal Queen were around one another.

“Thank you, Elain." He said, blushing slightly and not bothering to deny his coupling with Vassa. “Well, I’d better get to it, before Nesta comes back and drags me out of here. I didn't just come to pass on my congratulations, I came to give you something.” He said, pulling a small compass from his pocket and holding it out for her to take.

Elain felt the tears prick at her eyes almost immediately as she recognized it and took it into her shaking hand.

“Your father gave this to me when we started our journey back to Prythian, he asked me to give it to you today-on your wedding day, something old?” He added, slightly confused.

Elain smiled sadly, as she ran her thumb over the cracked glass. Today, the pain of his loss was especially strong, she'd been feeling his absence all day, had spent the last few weeks wishing that he could have met Azriel and the rest of their family. She hoped that wherever he was, that he knew that she was safe, happy and with someone who loved her. “It doesn’t work, hasn’t for ages, I tried to use it once and from then on it would only point North. Papa just kept it for good luck."

Lucien watched her. “Maybe it was never meant to work for him. Y’know you can’t get much farther North than the Night court, or the Illyrian Mountains.”

“That’s a lovely thought, Lucien.” She said softly, tears filling her eyes. “Thank you, for helping him be here in some way today.” She cried, pressing the compass to her heart as she threw her arm around him, hugging him tightly. Lucien hugged her back, not letting go until she did. Another knock at the door brought Rhysand sauntering in, shutting the door behind him.

“Making the bride cry, Luc?” he teased.

“Happy tears, only happy tears.” Elain said, dabbing her tears away. “Is it time?”

“Just about.” He nodded, clapping Lucien on the back in greeting.

“I’d better get back to Vassa.” Lucien said, hugging Elain one last time as she whispered her thanks again before he walked out and headed back to the hall.

Elain smiled up at Rhysand. “How is he?”

“Feeling like the luckiest man alive.” He said, grinning. “He’s not wrong. You’re absolutely stunning.”

Elain blushed, tears in her eyes. “Thank you, but I’m the lucky one.”

“You’re perfect for him, you know, perfect together.” he said, getting choked up.

Elain watched him, she rarely saw him this emotional and she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around him as he choked out. “Thank you for loving him, El, the way he deserves.”

“I promise to take care of him, Rhys, to love him and protect him like you have Feyre. He means everything to me.” She promised.

“I know you will, El, of that, I have no doubt. Now, if I take any longer, Az is gonna gonna come in here to get you himself, but I have one last task to complete before we go, per human tradition and Nesta’s orders. I’m told you require something old-“

Elain nodded, tapping the compass that now dangled from her bouquet.

“Something new?” He watched as she motioned to her dress. “Something borrowed?” Elain showed off the jeweled hairpins that Feyre had let her borrow, a solstice gift from Rhysand. “Something borrowed usually comes from family who are happily married, in hopes that their happiness will transfer over to the new couple.” Elain added.

“Well, I know you and Az will be every bit as happy as Feyre and I are, and that just leaves something blue.” Elain nodded and tapped the blue ribbon wrapped around her bouquet, it was the same ribbon Azriel had tied around the first bouquet of flowers he’d ever given her.

"Shall we then?” Rhysand smiled and offered his hand and she took it, laughing as he lifted his hand to twirl her before tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and giving her a nod. Elain returned it, a dazzling smile already on her face, she was ready and they both headed out.

Azriel took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he stood waiting.

“Keep breathing like that and you’ll faint before she gets out here.” Cassian teased, smiling over at him. Azriel chuckled and smiled, Cassian had never seen his brother so happy before and he wished more than anything that he and his brothers would enjoy this kind of happiness for the rest of their long, long lives.

Elain and Rhysand stood just on the other side of the closed doors, Feyre and Nesta adjusting Elain’s veil and flowers until it really was time and they both filed through the open doors as soft orchestral music filled the great hall. Cassian winked at Nesta as she made her way to stand at the opposite side of the altar.

“Our turn, El.” Rhysand said, patting her hand and waiting for her to nod before leading her down the aisle. His smile broadened as he felt Elain’s grip tighten slightly as Azriel came in to view, her smile bright enough to light up the entire room.

Elain couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, he was the most handsome male she had ever seen, a fairytale prince ready for their happily ever after.

Azriel’s breath caught and he stilled as Elain entered the hall, stunned by her ethereal beauty and grace. Rhysand walked arm in arm with her, bringing her closer to him, closer to their future together with each step, her eyes never leaving his.

In the first row of seats, his mother dabbed the tears from her eyes. Mor held back tears of her own, Emerie giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Nuala and Cerridwen held each other's hands, dabbing their tears and reveling in the union of their Spymaster and best friend. Amren watched, nodding to Azriel, her way of saying he’d done well for himself…and not to screw it up. Never before in his life had Azriel ever thought that this kind of happiness would ever be a part of his life, but here he was-again, he realized. He’d been here before, in a dream, a dream that was finally coming true. Every bad thing that had ever happened to him, every bad thing that he’d ever done, felt washed away by this newfound happiness, this blissful existence he had finally found with Elain.

Rhysand and Elain finally reached the end of the aisle, Rhys carefully lifting her veil and kissing her cheek before handing her off to Azriel and joining Cassian at his side, Feyre and Nesta at Elain’s side. The smile that Elain leveled up at Azriel was so full of love it made his heart feel as if it were bursting at the seams. It warmed his heart and made his soul sing, he lowered his head and Elain reached up to brush his tears away, her eyes glossy now too. Azriel turned, pressing a kiss to her palm before Gwyn cleared her throat and began, thrilling at the chance to officiate this unique ceremony for her mentor and her new friend.

“Honored and cherished guests, we are gathered here today on this joyous occasion to celebrate the marriage and union between Azriel and Elain Archeron. A union honoring not only the human traditions of Elain’s former mortal life, but celebrating the loving bond that the mother and cauldron have seen fit to bless them with in her new fae life.

This union is a promise, a vow to love, cherish and honor one another for the rest of their lives. It is a symbol of the love and bond that exists between them, a symbol of how far they have come and a vow to face any new challenges together as one. Now, as is tradition, the Bride and Groom will exchange vows.

Gwyn’s smile glowed as she watched, completely enthralled as Azriel turned to Elain, taking her shaking hand in his, his eyes of warm honey meeting her amber pools as he recited his vows.

“Elain, I pledge to you my everlasting devotion, loyalty and respect. I vow to honor you everyday, to protect you and cherish your dreams as if they were my own. My heart, my soul, my life, all of me is yours and has been from the moment I met you. Thank you for dreaming with me, building a future with me, for choosing me, for loving me.” Azriel’s voice was thick with emotion, Elain squeezed his hand gently, her eyes never leaving his, even as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I can’t promise that things will always be perfect but I can promise that I will always be there to face any challenge with you, be your light in any darkness, I will always come for you. I will spend eternity loving you and showing you everyday that I hold you higher than the stars. I swear to love you in this life and every lifetime hereafter.

Azriel took a shuddering breath, relief washing over him that he hadn’t stumbled over his words, his charming smile returning as he looked down at Elain as she began to recite her vows.

Elain smiled up at him, love shining in her eyes like he had never seen before as she gently took his hand in her own and recited the vows she had written for him.

“Azriel, You are the most incredible person I have ever known. I am so lucky to be standing beside you today. I vow to protect, honor, respect and cherish you forever. To be your sunshine when darkness falls, your comfort when you feel pain and the kiss that wakes you every day. I promise to grow alongside you to become the people that we’re meant to be together. Thank you for showing me what true love really is, you are the love of my life, my best friend, my everything.” Azriel reached up to gently thumb her tears away before wiping his own. “You are my dream come true, the song in my soul and my light in the darkness. You will forever have my heart, my soul and my hand. If I lived a thousand lives, I would choose you every time. I swear to love you in this life and every lifetime hereafter.

Gwyn dabbed at her eyes, sniffling as she continued. “Azriel, do you take Elain to be your wedded wife, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?”

Azriel nodded. “I do. Let this ring be a symbol of my vows to you, my best friend, my wife, of our unending love.” He slipped the ring onto Elain’s finger, a band of diamonds and sapphires, 7 sapphires to match his 7 siphons. Azriel’s heart felt whole and full as he placed a gentle kiss on her ring.

Gwyn beamed. “Elain, do you take Azriel to be your wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?”

Elain nodded, “I do. Let this ring be a symbol of my vows to you, my best friend, my husband, of our unending love.” Elain beamed as she slid the band onto Azriel’s finger, engraved with Illyrian runes for “love” and “eternity”. Elain placed her own kiss over his ring, lacing their fingers together as they turned to face Gwyn.

“May the mother and the cauldron continue to bless your bond, your love, your future and this marriage. May your bonded hearts and twin souls never be parted, and may there be no storm your love cannot weather. With all the power and authority that I possess, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Azriel, you may kiss your Bride.”

At last Azriel cradled Elain’s face in his hands and their lips met, a kiss of unyielding, undying and everlasting love, those golden threads of their bond dancing and winding around them, their souls more bound to one another than ever before. Elain’s heart soared, it was more wonderful than any wedding she could have imagined before, because she was surrounded by family and friends that she loved and she was standing beside her one true soulmate, the man she would happily spend the rest of her life with. Azriel pulled away, kissing her once and twice more before linking his pinky with hers. “Until the end of forever.”

Elain nodded, sealing it with another kiss. “Until the end of forever.”

Swirls of ink seemed curl and flourish under their wedding rings, peeking around the edges and complimenting them perfectly, symbols of their love and their promise to honor and cherish one another until the end of their days and beyond, honoring both their traditions in this unbreakable bargain and bond.

Azriel smiled and led Elain back down the aisle, picking her up and carrying her through their cheering friends and family as the music played again.

"That was lovely..." Gwyn said, watching as she dabbed the tears from her eyes. "but what happens next?" she whispered to Cassian.

Cassian smirked, offering his arm to Nesta. "Now, we revel! Drink and dance!"

"And singing? I heard there might be singing..." Gwyn said, following the pair where they would all dance, drink, sing and celebrate the happiness that they had all finally found.

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dumbdemonslayertexts · 3 years

Text

random excerpts from black girl time travel kny au

Pairing: rengoku / oc

note: lots of angst mostly. forgive me for this not being y/n format i have to work up the chops to be graceful enough to write that

tagging @dudeandduchess and @adoriable and @tengens-bunny bc they sparked the greatest muse i’ve ever had to write fictions since i was like 14 literally wtf you are my queens???!?!

even with her mind working double overtime to secure her discomfort, the serenity if the rengoku estate could not be diminished. imene tried her hardest to remember any time prior to her time shift where she saw the moon so brilliantly illuminating the earth below it. each blade of grass, every stone in the garden reflected its glow; the whole of her surroundings were accented with such a pure silvery lining, giving a beauty distinctive to the night alone. it was tranquil enough for her to eventually draw a cleansing breath through her lungs, which finally released some of the staleness of doubt and second guessing that had filled her self image lately.

“you are awake still, imene-chan?”

that voice struck her in her chest, shooting sparks of heat and flutters in her stomach. and the fact that she was hearing it meant he was home. safe. and home.

“imene,” she softly insisted, making him smile as though he were being teased.

“imene.” his voice was warmer when he said her name, she would swear to it. and it stirred in her heart almost painfully with the need to hold him forever.

“i couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged off her dilemma, far more preoccupied in the happiness of seeing him, falling into those gorgeously untamed eyes and sweet smile again… “i’m happy to see you!”

“kyojuro.”

when the depth of his rich tone interjected his name, it caught her by surprise. and, true to form, he hadn’t needed her to say a word before reading her thoughts and emotions with complete accuracy.

“wh–?”

he lessened the distance between them, tucking his chin to sustain her eye contact where she sat, “imene… would you say it for me?”

the shadow of pessimism in her brain was shouting. he was easing the lines of formality as a kindness—-it was his vibrant character and nothing more. why was she so dense as to not even understand that? why did a simple name make her world feel brighter, and have her smiling to him, lovestruck?

“kyojuro.”

he smiled. with utter bliss, he smiled at her, exhaling like she’d lifted a weight from him. “ah… i prefer that, i think… don’t you?"

just like that, the playfulness was back in his voice and eyes. though, another element felt as though it had been added unto it. one she was far too daunted to even hope to name. so she changed the subject.

"how’re you feeling..?” she asked, lifting herself to stand, “you’re not hurt anywhere, are you? did you get any sleep or did you come right–”

she’d closed the remaining space between them as she fretted over him. ginger, worrying hands grazed butterfly touches up his chest, and the moment she’d made the mistake of tenderly cupping his face, his grin vanished… along with the delusion of pleasant standing she had dared hoped for with anyone there. it took so very little, but reality struck her like frozen lead.

the subtlest way she could, imene lowered her touch away from him, even as she felt stony ice fill her stomach at his reaction. she could feel how he’d stiffened just before she took her hands away. so then, at that very second with how clear things had become, finality settled into her. still, she wished he would have just lunged his blade through her gut instead; the pain would have been so much less.

“i–” kyojuro tried his best to play off the disgust, to turn the awkwardness in any other emotional direction. the poor thing even had the courtesy to look remorseful—-very convincingly, at that. god, how noble could one man be to still be kind and gentlemanly even now, trying to play off repulsion as he so obviously was? “no, i am not injured, i am feeling well! but i wished to return home as quickly as i could once i’d fulfilled my assignment. so, yes, i made the decision to return directly. i hope you haven’t been up out of worry for me.”

he was even back to beaming a smile by then, close-eyed and cheerful. she could only give half the heart in her attempt to smile back, barely nodding to acknowledge his answer. the bolt of dejection was still scalding in her chest, trying its best to well tears into her eyes.

“what is it?”

he asked after she’d broken eye contact with him for a time. imene had needed the privacy to blink down the urge to cry.

“i’m …ready to go back to oyakata-sama’s estate. but i was kind of worried of how much trouble it would be to ask if he would take me in a second time… i didn’t know if it would be rude to him,” she tried to sound as casual as she possibly could, asking softly, like it were nothing more than a passing thought over an inevitable eventuality instead of a conscious decision of hers. but from the look on kyojuro’s face, she may as well has torn a hole through him.

“has something happened?”

he was so concerned. kyojuro sounded so hurt and concerned that the prickling of tears threatened her lashes again. even with his aversion to her, she could not stand to see someone so sweet and kind be hurt. “no…”

“please, imene, if you were upset by anything that happened while i was away–”

“i wasn’t, kyojuro,” she insisted, pleading.

“are you unhappy?” he asked. and it broke her heart to hear just how willing he was to remedy whatever issue she may have experienced just by the tone of his voice, especially after just returning from a mission, “you don’t have to hesitate to tell me if I have failed to host you well.”

“you haven’t failed anything. i’m not unhappy. but I can–” dread made the words catch in her throat, but it was too late for her to retract anything now, “feel that I’m making everyone uncomfortable."

she waited for him to say something, but the flame hashira only looked at her in pained confusion, stunned and churning his brain to unravel her meaning.

"your father does not want me in your home, kyojuro. i’m a stranger to him—-in fact, I’m pretty sure he can sense that i don’t belong here,” she explained. he was faintly shaking his head, but even with the urge to protest, kyojuro could not deny that truth. “and senjuro–”

“he adores you,” kyojuro desperately interjected. her lips parted to negate it, but he continued before she could. and suddenly, there was a visible glimmering in his sunborn eyes, “he’s told me. many times, everyday we spend together. you…” his face softened from the accosted state she’d frozen it into earlier, and he paused his hurried explanations, “ease him. from our father. even though it is nowhere in your responsibility, you comfort him.”

“him liking me is just going to strain things between the two of them even more,” she shook her head, trying physically to mash the stress out of her temples, “that can’t be worth it, i don’t know how long I’ll even be in this time!”

“you would be surprised at its worth, imene."

her conscience screamed at her to look at him, and she refused for as long as she could… just for knowing how gutting it would be to do. decency prevailed over her to finally grant him enough to at least meet his eyes, though. and the way his soul cried out to her through them left her destroyed.

"i’m so sorry to have made you uncomfortable in my home. you needn’t worry about speaking with oyakata-sama, that is my responsibility, i will take care of it.”

he was resigned and sullen. It was almost impossible to tell with how genuinely he retained a positive outlook despite anything, but imene could see the sadness shining in his fiery stare, even with how radiant his grin was. she could also note how the sure grip of his sword had lessened to self-soothing strokes with his thumb at its hilt. “In the morning, I’ll make the arrangements for you. …I hope you believe me, imene, about senjuro. It’s been some time since he’s had …a loving woman around him. he isn’t likely to remember our mother well. what you’ve given with your presence is precious to him. priceless, I would say.”

he gave her an elegiac curve of his lips, and the water blurring her sight conquered her at last, dripping tears so heavy they fell straight to the ground, without a trace left on her cheeks.

“as for our father… he has been this way for a while. it is him. or, it’s what he has become, not a result of your being here. his callousness falls onto senjuro and myself normally, but I suppose you provided a new outlet for it …” he sighed, “it doesn’t excuse my negligence, but i will speak to him, you have my word.”

when she swept her eyes free of more accumulating tears, she felt kyojuro’s palms encircling her arms. it was a touch she had been desiring from the moment these feelings for him had begun to surface, yet when she felt it, she recoiled as if she were burned.

“imene,” he begged quietly. she still tried to keep her tone even.

“but you, kyojuro.”

confusion seeped into the misery soaking his expression, and his brow curled again to search for some hidden meaning in her words. his hands were away from her, though, the instant she showed discomfort.

“you’re the most uncomfortable around me of the three of you. you’re disgusted when i come close to touching you, you can’t even stand to be near me, in the same room, you’re always double checking to see if i’m up to something down every hall and in every room, and around your brother—-i can’t stay here and make you feel like that in your own home! especially when you’re out saving people and risking your life constantly! why would you even want me here if i make you so ill at ease—why would you want to come home to that kind of feeling after all you do!”

she hated how much heat she could feel under her skin–behind her eyes, in her cheeks and nose, at her ears. even more, she hated the pinched and congested whine her emotive state rendered her voice to, like some indignant child. it was humiliating to say aloud to him—-to verbalize just how awfully her self-regard had been eaten away, and to at last face it herself. now her cheeks and chin lay adorned with sheening wet streaks. she couldn’t hide any of it any longer. stillness followed after. not a word spoken, only the amplification of her breaths rattling and struggling to calm against rengoku’s measured silence.

when she could bear to raise her head again, imene could see him in what looked to be a deep epiphany. a terrible one. like his actions had only know processed into awareness for him, and had left him reflecting in horror.

“imene.”

he lifted his eyes enough for her to come into view, and his own lashes were starry now, blacker with the moisture accumulating at their base, in spite of the soft grin he wore, “i’m afraid i have to correct you. you said i haven’t failed in caring for you well. but i have done exactly that.

"would you come and sit with me,” he propositioned when she said no more. he’d expected nothing less when she could only look away from him with clenched, leaking eyes, so clearly pained that it ripped his heart to shreds. kyojuro was patient to await her answer, and held out his arm for her when she surprisingly accepted. imene had assumed that they would both share the space on the engawa she’d taken before his return. instead, he lead them to a more secluded area of the estate’s garden, on a stone bench that provided ample view of the night time, and allowed an unstifled breeze to cool them both that she greatly appreciated.

“i must apologize.”

“you did already.”

kyojuro glanced over his shoulder, hearing her delicate assurance. it surged through him, littering his skin in goosebumps.

out of consideration of how small their shared seat would be, he had crowded himself at the corner by her side. it allowed them both room for their legs, considering how widely his sat apart, but he could admit there there was a high element of shame that made it more difficult to face her. “yes, and it is not at all adequate for how i’ve hurt you.”

every time he spoke, sounding like he cared, she could do nothing but weep more. somehow, in spite of everything, his sympathy hurt more than anything else. and made her feel horrible for not being acceptable. “you can’t help how you feel, rengoku-s–”

“kyojuro."

his eyes met hers with stone solid conviction that she couldn’t understand. for someone who disliked her so palpably, he was intent on establishing friendly casualness between them that gave her a migraine trying to comprehend. his next words went far enough to bring a knot to her brow. "you’re right, i can’t. but to have acted on those feelings so poorly is shameful."

"acted on them poorly?”

“you were manifested in oyakata-sama’s estate. a refugee he deemed to have been brought here for divine reason. he is our leader in this fight we have undertaken against evil. he is the head of our organization, to be honored and respected.”

“it seemed that way,” her faint voice commented.

“yes. for that reason, and more i can’t explain now. understand, if my master says to me that you are precious, to be cared for, i wouldn’t ever dishonor that, nor you.”

now he’d given her her own shocking epiphany. it was slow to unravel itself with how meticulously he explained, frustratingly peeling away with the more he revealed to her in this less than receptive state that her mortification left her in.

“i wished to fulfill the role of your caretaker as best as i could. but as a hashira, i am frequently called away for extensive periods,” he gradually began to turn himself round, now diagonally beside her rather than perpendicular, “you are out of my direct sight for so long that i force you to tolerate my overcompensating once i return. i want you adjusted well, to not be overwhelmed or confused, or grieved with being alone. i wished to watch over you closely in case you were to need me.”

“oh…”

“and your nearness…” he began again, “imene, you were brought here under my protection. not only for me to oversee your healing wounds, but for your safe keeping all together. you are my charge. but i took this upon myself before knowing you—-i was not prepared for you to be so gentle and loving, and to possess warmth that i have not felt in so many years. you emanate affection–your spirit could even bring out playfulness in tokito-san. and your strength is one i have only seen in one other in my life."

she wanted to cry again, now. and was well on her way, hearing this perfect man speak of her so glowingly. out of nowhere.

"your peculiar beauty was something i was prepared to disregard. i am from a family of uncommon features; i willed myself to overlook the uniqueness of your eyes as many do mine, and to not be stricken with the comeliness of your hair, or with the beauty of your delicate complexion—-one i have never seen, and that i now will never forget. i convinced myself of it only being the allure of one sent from the heavens. i was mistaken, and then overcome."

"you—-” her voice broke, weighted with the sobs fighting to bubble out of her chest, “i don’t understand…”

“you are the most beautiful woman i have ever set eyes on, imene. my dreams could not even create anyone nearly as bewitching. and i swore to ignore it, until you showed yourself equally as beautiful in your soul.”

▷▷ part 2

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny imagines #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyōjurō #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba

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bangchanshehe · 3 years

Text

The Only One pt.4

You and your life long best friend Chanyeol were like the same person. You knew everything about one another, and whatever problems you had you faced it together. But what are you supposed to do when you discover that your best friend loves you so much that only he can be important to you, and would go to great lengths to make sure that he was the only one? Yandere!AU

Chanyeol X OC

Word count: 2k

Jongin had let out a nervous laugh as he continued to get stared down by Chanyeol. But as Chan stared Jongin down you looked at his face with complete shock.

“he’s kidding” you said trying to alleviate the mood that had suddenly turned so cold

“no, I’m not” Chanyeol replied but now he was staring straight at you.

You had stared back at him with your eyebrows pursed and shock and confusion written all over your face. you had no idea where to even direct the flow of conversation from here on, but for now all you could do was drop it and move on. Matter of a fact… you should move on from this whole night.

“you know what” you started looking up to Jongin to give him an apologetic grin “I’m really sorry but I’m starting to feel really tired and I’ve got a little bit of a headache.” You didn’t wait for anyone to speak up or say anything as you began to pack up all of your things in your bag. “I think I’m gonna take off for now. see you tomorrow!” you said to Jongin

He stared up at you confused and concerned “wait!” he called out to you and you only turned your body slightly to face him “what about today’s lecture notes?” he asked

You let out a sigh before responding “I’ll get a picture of them tomorrow.”

Jongin nodded his head and gave you a small blank smile “goodnight. And feel better!”

You smiled a fake grin one more time before you walked out of the restaurant and on the path to get back to your apartment.

While you walked your mind kept replaying Chanyeol saying that he liked you. And you couldn’t help but feel a pain in your chest and a mixture of emotions all at once. Sure, there was a small part of you that was more than excited that Chanyeol had shared feelings for you that you had once had. But those feelings were buried deeply inside of you and you wanted to keep them down at bay… it was the only way that the two of you could keep things from falling apart. Or maybe he was genuinely only saying those things so that he could drive a further wedge between you and Jongin….

Jongin… why would he do this to me? You thought to yourself. He was admired all over campus and women quite literally threw themselves at him so you had no reason to believe that he could be capable of doing something like this. And if he really wanted someone he could have his pick of anyone on campus. So why would he result to using such evil and malicious tactics to take advantage of someone?

You sat down on a park bench so you could take a few breaths and calm down before you began on your talk home again. There was at least another mile in between you and the safety of your apartment, and you wished now more than ever that you had a car, or at least a bike.

What would happen to you if you had been feeling serious side affects of whatever Jongin had put in your drink? Would you end up asleep on campus somewhere? Or would someone else take advantage of you In such a vulnerable state? Just the thought of what could have happened caused shivers to run up your spine and tears to spring to your eyes.

You were reaching up to wipe the tears before they could fall from your eyes when you felt the firm grip of a hand on your shoulder. The sudden contact had caused you to quickly turn to the side and look up to see who had startled you. And you let out a half satisfied sigh when you saw the familiar face of Chanyeol looking down at you.

“are you okay?” he asked panting like he had been running for miles.

You didn’t say anything to his question but nodded your head and let it hang in exhaustion. Chanyeol had walked around the bench and sat by your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and holding you close to his side. He looked at your face and let out a deep sigh.

“no, you aren’t.” he took your hand into his and he traced small circles into your palm with his thumb “look at me”

Slowly you had turned your face towards him at his request and you could see in his eyes that he was really concerned about you. Feeling so small and disappointed you let the tears run down your face. Chanyeol eagerly wiped them away and pushed your hair out of your face.

“don’t cry…. Don’t cry.” He cooed “I’m here. I’m gonna take care of you” he said softly before he pulled your frame into his chest to give you a warm hug.

The two of you sat there for a minute while you cried and Chanyeol did his best to comfort you. You had so many emotions running rampantly through you at once and you didn’t know how to deal with them other than allow for them to flow out with your tears.

You knew that you would eventually need to deal with what all was said and done tonight, but for now the most important thing was for you to get home safely. You had taken a few deep breaths to calm down your breathing and stop your tears. And as soon as you could think calmly again you sat up and gave Chanyeol and appreciative small smile.

He in return gave you a small smile back before he stood up and held his hand out to you. You glanced at it for a moment before you took it and stood with him at his side.

“come on. Let’s get you home.” He said softly before he guided you hand in hand back to your apartment.

The entire time that the two of you walked together you held complete silence. There was no exchange of words and instead you let the subtle sound of the breeze against the trees and the crickets fill up your mind.

And as the two of you approached your apartment you halted your steps forcing Chanyeol to stop and turn to face you. You weren’t sure why, but you felt like if he were to follow you inside then things would change. for some reason it felt like allowing him to go in with you would be a confirmation of sorts, and you weren’t ready to deal with the consequences.

“what’s wrong?” Chanyeol asked you slightly concerned.

You shook your head and gave him a small polite smile “nothing, I just want to be alone right now” you said quietly

“I cant go home!” Chanyeol said in a quiet hushed tone “that guy knows where you live. What if he comes back?” he exclaimed “or what if you end up getting sick from whatever he put in your drink!”

You wanted to Immediately turn him down so you could have some alone time to think before you had to face both him and Jongin once more…. But the longer that you thought about it the more you believed that it would be safer to stay together. Especially after seeing the podcast update about a girl who’s apartment got broken into.

You looked at Chanyeol in the eyes and you could see how in distress he was. Right now it didn’t matter if Chanyeol liked you or not, he simply wanted to take care of you and make sure that you were okay. Plus, if he did he had at least respected you enough to not take advantage of you last night so there was really no reason to feel suspicious about him.

“okay” you whispered and Chanyeol responded with a smile

The two of you quietly went up stairs and the moment that you were inside of your apartment you were hyperaware of all of his moves. You watched as he made himself comfortable by getting a glass of water from the tap and then sat down in front of your tv to turn on Netflix.

You decided that you needed some time and space so you quietly took off to go to your bathroom to shower. As you stripped down and allowed yourself to soak under the hot, cascading water you thought about where things were going to go from here on.

Surely you couldn’t be friends with Jongin anymore or even act like everything was okay. Dropping the class was not an option. You were already so far into the semester and your grades were way too good to give up at this point. And your mom would kill you If you told her that you needed to drop a course. Giving up was simply not an option. Plus if you had told your mom that something like this had happened to you on campus she would have raised hell and completely removed you from this college all together.

you had let out a loud groan and ran your hands through your hair, exasperated that you had to deal with something like this, and yet so very very thankful that nothing was taken any farther.

“are you okay?!” Chanyeol asked busting through the bathroom door.

“fuck you scared me!” you yelled back

You were completely caught off guard by Chanyeol barging through the door that the sound immediately had you clutching at your chest and left your heart pounding.

“sorry.” Chanyeol said softly “are you okay though?”

“yeah” you mumbled back “I’m just thinking about things”

“okay, ill be outside”

“wait…” you called out and closed your eyes before you continued “channie….”

“yeah?” he asked

“what you said at the restaurant…. Did you mean that?” you asked him and waited what felt like lifetimes before you finally got a response back

“about me liking you?” he asked back in what could barely be heard.

You didn’t respond to him and instead waited quietly for any sort of response. And you were scared of that question itself. You were halfway scared to even hear what his answer would be. Because a part of you wanted to only remain friends so that you would always have each other forever. And the other part of you loved the idea of being able to be with Chanyeol as a real couple instead of daydreaming about it like you had for years.

“of course I like you….” He said like a groan “you are the most amazing and beautiful woman that I know. But I would never do anything to damage our friendship…which Is why I kept it a secret for so long.”

You had remained silent and you could only hear the shower as it hit the bottom of the shower floor and the pounding in your heart. You had a million questions for him and a thousand things to say, but you couldn’t find the words to speak.

“if me confessing to you is going to change things and make everything awkward then just forget that I even said anything…. Because I would rather be friends with you than not have you at all” Chanyeol said before he walked out of the bathroom.

By the time that you had finished your shower you had walked out to see that Chanyeol was lying down on your couch with a pillow and a blanket, and the lights turned off. And instead of bothering to check if he was really asleep or not you continued to bed. Hopefully tomorrow would be a better day for you and Chanyeol both. But only time could tell.

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mage-ellie · 4 years

Text

Akechi x Reader: Soulmate AU- Mirror Reflection Part 2

AN: I wasn't sure if I wanted to do a second part at first, but when I woke up today and reread my writing, I realized just how sad and angsty it was, so here's part two hfaskjfhdk. He deserves love ;; Fluff fluff fluff fluff fluffl fufflf ulfulfulfu ulffflf fulllfu flluff

Part 1: Click me!

Original post: Click me!

Prompt suggestion page: Click me!

As you entered Shujin, your egg shaped Principal came bouncing down the stairs, eyes searching the first floor for who knows what. Although, you quickly learned what he was looking for when his eyes landed on you. Without any hesitation, he trotted up to you with a bright smile on his face.

"Good morning L/N-san. As you know, the second years will be going on a field trip to a TV station today. Sadly, one of the second year homeroom teachers fell ill and won't be making it today, so we're short one chaperone. Would you perhaps be interested in attending in her place?" He asked you, not bothering to hide how desperate he was for your answer. His eyes were twitching and his smile looked visibly strained.

"Oh. Uh. Sure." You said, confused on why he asked you and not the student council president.

"Fantastic! Please, head to room 2-D where you'll meet up with Kawakami-san. Thank you." He chirped, then turned and wobbled away. You just stared at him as the information just given to you sunk into your mind. You wouldn't be complaining though. You were pretty sure that your math teacher had a pop quiz planned for today, so you were happy to skip it.

Once the bell rang you headed towards the classroom you were told to go to, and joined the second year students on their field trip.

As you walked through the halls of the TV station along with Ms. Kawakami, your stomach was doing summersaults. You couldn't figure out exactly what was making you so nervous, but something about the excited buzz in the air was making butterflies flutter in your stomach. You thought that it might just be because you forgot to eat breakfast this morning, or because you had to deal with a bunch of rambunctious teenagers.

Finally, you were able to take a seat in the audience of a popular talk show while they were on break along with some of the other Shujin students. You were situated in the second row, squished in between two girls. After the co-hosts chatted a bit, they both stood up and looked at the audience.

"Mr. Akechi's coming on!" The male host said, making your heart stop. You nearly choked on your saliva as you stared at the man who had announced that your one and only soulmate was going to be joining them. The loud screaming of his fangirls rang in your ears as he walked onto the stage and sat on the other couch. You could hear them wondering if he had a soulmate yet, and if his soulmate was someone in the audience. They weren't wrong about the second part. He did have a soulmate, and you were sitting right in front of him.

The detectives eyes swept across the audience for a moment, then went back to looking at the hosts. You weren't sure if he had seen you or not. If he had, he was doing an incredible job of hiding any emotions he was feeling.

The hosts started the show and talked with Goro about the Phantom Thieves. You weren't really paying attention, the sound of your heart beating in your ears was drowning out most of the conversations. Of course, the topic soon flipped to his soulmate, earning excited squeals from the audience.

"Please tell us Akechi-kun. Have you met your soulmate yet?" The male host asked, causing the audience to go completely silent as they waited with baited breath for his response.

"Sadly, I have not, but I'm sure she's out there somewhere." He hummed, smiling bashfully at the camera. His mildly vague answer only left you more confused about whether he had seen you or not. You wondered why he didn't explicitly say that he's already seen you in his mirror.

"Who knows!" Chirped the female host. "Perhaps she's in this audience right now." She finished, making the girls around you squeal. You had to cover your ears, fearing that your eardrums would start to bleed if you didn't.

Once the show came to an end, most of the audience stayed behind in an attempt to talk to the amazing detective. You weren't really sure what to do with yourself. On one hand, you wanted to stay and attempt to talk to him as well, but on the other, you wanted to talk to him in private.

After doing some quick thinking, you decided to head to the restrooms and try to talk to him later. He wouldn't be leaving the building immediately, right?

You wandered through the winding halls for way too long before you finally found the restrooms. This place was a maze, and you were worried that you'd be lost in it forever. When you had finished, you washed your face quickly, then left the room, only to hear a couple of voices chatting just down the hall, which made relief run through your veins. You'd be able to ask for directions.

As you came around the corner, you found a certain popular young man talking with the male co-host. His back was turned to you, keeping him from seeing you. The co-host was the first one to notice you.

"Hello there. Are you lost?" He asked you, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. Your heart was racing and it felt like your mouth had gone dry. Goro turned his head to look at who the man was talking to, only to freeze. His eyes widened and he sucked in a quick breath as shock visibly colored his face. Neither of you spoke as you gazed into each others eyes.

Finally, your mind began working again.

"Hi Goro." You said gently, giving him a soft, shaky smile. Your voice trembled and tears quickly sprung to your eyes as the realization that you actually got to meet your soulmate sunk into your mind.

The co-host seemed to be able to read the room because he chuckled quietly, then turned and walked away.

Goro didn't say anything, he just slowly approached you and held his hand out in front of him, just like you did last night. You lifted your hand and pressed it against the junior detectives.

The young mans hand shook as his mind slowly accepted the fact that you were here right now. He carefully entwined his fingers between yours before he quickly turned his head, looking around to make sure that no one saw you, then he pulled you and dragged you down the hallway. Before you could say any more, Goro had pulled you into a janitors closet and locked the door behind you, pinning you against the door between his arms.

He leaned down and rested his head against your left shoulder as he took deep, ragged breaths, like he was trying to keep himself from crying.

You reached up and placed your right hand on the back of his head, threading your fingers through his soft, fluffy hair. Goro's hands dropped to your hips, squeezing your sides with an iron grip.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you." You breathed as you nuzzled your face against his head, unable to hold back your tears any longer. With your other arm, you reached up and wrapped it around his neck as tears began sliding down your cheeks.

Goro leaned his entire weight onto you, forcing you to slide to the ground. He slipped his arms around your body and pulled you close to him, making you straddle his lap as he clung to you with a force you've never felt before.

"I have to admit..." He began, voice lower than you've ever heard it. "I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to meet you." Goro continued, somehow managing to hold you tighter. You could feel him grab handfuls of your Shujin uniform. "I'm happy to finally meet you as well, Y/N." He finished, saying your first name out loud.

Goosebumps erupted on your arms and legs as he said your name. You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped your lips as you curled your body around his, reveling in the warmth you've been dreaming of for years.

You slowly ran your left hand up and down his back, taking note of the subtle shivers that ran down his spine from your touches. Goro just buried his face in your neck and hair, silently taking in the moment.

"Goro?" You sniffled, earning a hum in response. "I love you." You told him, sliding your fingers up his neck and through his chestnut locks. The shiver that wracked his body after you said that was far more powerful than the last few.

"Really?" He asked, now trembling uncontrollably.

"Really." You said, feeling one of the detectives hands move up to in between your shoulder blades.

"I love you too." He croaked, nearly squeezing the breath from your lungs. Tears continued to flow down your cheeks as you both clung to each other like your life depended on it.

After who knows how long you've both been sitting in a closet holding each other, Goro pulled away a bit to look at you. He brought one of his hands up and gently rested it against your cheek, rubbing away the stray tear the fell down your cheek.

You pulled his hand away from your face, earning a confused look from your soulmate before he realized what you were doing. You carefully pulled his glove off his hand, then placed it back on your cheek, leaning into his soft, warm skin.

Goro's lips twitched as you locked your hand around his wrist, not letting him pull away. A breathy chuckle left his lips as you closed your eyes and nuzzled your face into his palm. His thumb gently caressed your cheek bone.

"You came to watch my interview?" He asked out of the blue, making you open your eyes a bit.

"To be completely honest, I only came because one of the homeroom teachers couldn't make it and the Shujin Principal didn't have a backup chaperone. It was a stroke of pure luck." You admitted, giving him a bashful smile. He laughed softly as he leaned in and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

"It truly was." He hummed, breath fanning across your lips. He was so close.

"Did you really not see me in the audience?" You asked him, figuring it was your turn to ask a question out of the blue. The hand that was still around your waist held you tighter.

"I saw you, but I couldn't be sure. My mind occasionally plays tricks on me, leaving me to believe that I saw you, when I really didn't." He explained, voice nothing but a whisper.

"Well, I'm here now." You told him, pressing your nose to his.

"You're really here." He murmured, tilting his head a bit, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. You held his wrist tighter as you tilted your head as well, heart pounding in your chest as you closed your eyes.

Slowly, Goro leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, pressing you harder into the door as he pushed himself into you. Your lips melded with his perfectly, just like you hoped they would. You ran your thumb against the back of his hand and grabbed a fist full of his coat as a bright warmth spread through your body. It started at your lips, then moved down your cheeks and neck, swelling for a moment in your chest before it continued its journey down your stomach and legs, then settled at your feet.

You felt lighter than air as his lips began moving against yours, as if he wasn't fully sure what to do. You had no idea what you were doing either, so your first few kisses were sloppy, obvious that you were both nervous and inexperienced. After a bit, you figured out a rhythm that worked. You both sucked on each others lips with each kiss, desperately trying to make up for lost time.

Finally, you had to pull away due to your lungs burning. You sucked in a deep breath, earning a chuckle from the detective.

"Sorry." Goro laughed as you continued to take deep breaths. You just leaned in and pressed your lips against Goro's one more time.

"I love you Goro." You responded, watching as his lips tilted upwards towards his eyes. Your heart always melted when you got to see a genuine smile from him.

"I love you too Y/N." He hummed, making you smile back at him. He pressed one final kiss to your lips before he pulled away completely and helped you stand up. "I don't know about you, but I could go for some lunch right about now." He said as he entwined his fingers with yours.

"Lunch sounds great." You giggled, squeezing his hand before you unlocked the door and walked with the detective out of the building, hand in hand, for everyone to see.

#goro akechi x reader #goro akechi x fem!reader #soulmate #soulmate au #fluff #oneshot #kissing

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just-a-poor-boy-queen · 3 years

Note

Jim was startled awake by the buzzing of the intercom and could barely keep back a yawn as he dragged himself off the sofa and sloped towards the front door, his “quick kip” having turned into an hour-long nap. He wondered who would be visiting this time of the day. Freddie was away doing a photoshoot and Khaleel was at school, so he hadn’t been expecting any visitors.

‘Who is it?’ He mumbled sleepily into the intercom.

‘It’s me.’ A familiar voice replied.

Mary had started making a habit of popping around in the afternoon, even if she knew Freddie wasn’t there. Jim would make her a cup of tea and they would sit in the kitchen or the garden, chatting for a couple of hours. It seemed to be her way of extending an olive branch, and as odd as he sometimes found her, Jim was happy enough to oblige; having Mary as a friend was preferable to the hostility that once existed between them.

But when Mary stepped through the front door, Jim immediately sensed that something was amiss. The woman looked nervous, clutching a large carrier bag in her hands as her eyes darted around the hallway with uncertainty, like she was expecting a tiger to spring out of nowhere.

‘It’s lovely to see you.’ Jim took one of her hands in his own and pressed a kiss against her cheek, which seemed to pacify her, if only slightly. ‘Is everything alright?’

Mary hesitated, before giving him a rather forced smile. ‘Yes, everything’s fine.’ She glanced around again. ‘Freddie’s not here, is he?’

‘He has a photoshoot today.’

‘Oh, yes. Of course he does.’

Jim frowned, his thumb extending to gently stroke her knuckles reassuringly. ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’

She seemed tempted to lie again but must have realised that doing so would be pointless. She sighed and gave Jim’s hand a squeeze. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’

Jim took her through to the lounge, calling for Phoebe to put the kettle on for them all. He sat on one of the sofas beside Mary, noting how she fiddled with the carrier bag before setting it at her feet. Whatever was in it seemed to be the source of her discomfort.

‘Freddie’s parents have been in contact with me.’ She finally announced, taking Jim by surprise.

‘Ah.’ The Irishman now understood why she had been so wary about Freddie being present. ‘I see.’

‘I didn’t say anything because I knew Freddie would hit the roof if he found out I’ve been speaking to them. But they were desperate for my help and I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘You could have said no.’ Jim muttered, though he immediately felt like an ass when he saw Mary cringe with guilt. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. But he’s cut them off for a reason, Mary. They almost cost us our son.’

‘I know, I know. I’m so sorry, Jim.’ Her cheeks went pink and for a moment Jim was worried she might cry. ‘What they did to you and Freddie was unforgiveable. But they really regret their actions. They just want to talk to Freddie, tell him they’re sorry, explain.’

‘I don’t want to hear their explanations and neither does Freddie.’ Jim replied firmly. ‘There’s nothing to discuss. They did what they did, and there’s nothing they can say or do to redeem themselves. I know you’re just trying to help, Mary, but they’ve hurt Freddie enough. I won’t stand by and let them do it again. You tell them that if they truly care about Freddie, they’ll stay away.’

Mary nodded sadly. ‘I had a feeling you’d say that. I can’t say I blame you. Jer and Bomi have always been good to me but sometimes I think they blame me for not keeping Freddie “in check” so to say. Honestly, at times it felt as though they expected me to wave a bloody magic wand and just stop their son from being gay.’

‘They’re products of their time.’ Replied Jim with a sigh. ‘They’re good people, but if they can’t accept Freddie for who he is, then they can’t be a part of his life. Freddie’s tired of leading a double life, having to pretend he’s something he’s not for their comfort. His illness made him realise that life is too short to live by other people’s standards. I had hoped his parents would understand that but clearly they don’t.’

Silence overcame the pair, only interrupted when Phoebe walked in with a tray of tea and biscuits. The three of them fell into pleasant conversation for the next few hours, though Jim could tell that Mary had been upset by the whole ordeal and he made a point of holding her hand to comfort her. After Phoebe cleared away the dishes and retired to the conservatory, Jim escorted Mary to the front door, his eye falling upon the plastic carrier bag that she was still clinging to like a lifeline.

‘What’s in the bag?’ He enquired, ignoring his mother’s voice at the back of his mind reprimanding him for being nosy.

With great hesitation, Mary reached into the bag and pulled out a large baby blue quilt, holding it up so Jim could see. It appeared to be hand-knitted, embroidered with floral patterns and tiny white birds. In the middle, the word BIJOU had been sewn in thick, calligraphed letters.

‘Khaleel’s blanket.’ Jim observed, feeling his heart sink to the bottom of his ribcage.

‘She wants him to have it.’ Mary said softly, her eyes slightly moist. ‘In case she never gets to see him again.’

Jim knew that he should turn it down. He wasn’t going to be manipulated into feeling sorry for his in-laws, especially after everything that had happened. But he remembered the look of excitement on Khaleel’s face whenever he came back from Dādī and Dādā’s house and gleefully updated him on the progress of his new blanket. The child would sit and watch Jer knit for hours, following every rise and dip of the needle as if he was in a trance. Even two years later, he still asked about the blanket, confused as to why Dādī hadn’t finished it yet, why they never went around to Jer and Bomi’s for tea at the weekend anymore. Denying his poor boy the last remaining tie to his beloved grandparents seemed unacceptably cruel.

‘Thank you, Mary.’ Jim took the blanket, folding it up with the greatest of care. ‘I appreciate you telling me. I wish this could have turned out differently.’

‘Me too.’ Mary replied. ‘I’m sorry, Jim. Please, tell Freddie I’m sorry too.’

Jim had just sent Khaleel up to brush his teeth when he heard keys turning in the front door and the familiar sound of his husband’s voice calling, ‘darling, I’m home!’

He sighed, pulling out the blanket from where he had hidden it in the drinks cabinet and smoothed it out on the sofa, preparing himself for the row that was inevitably coming his way.

‘You won’t believe the day I’ve had.’ Freddie drawled as he glided into the lounge. ‘Roger came in with a raging hangover, so we all had to wait until he’d drank a litre of coffee before we-’

He cut off as soon as he noticed the blanket, the smile immediately disappearing from his face. Jim expected him to start screaming and shouting right then and there but he didn’t say a word. He seemed frozen, so shocked he couldn’t utter a syllable.

When he finally did speak, his voice was low and dangerous. ‘What the hell is that doing here?’

‘Mary brought it over.’ Jim said calmly. ‘Your mother gave it to her to give to Khaleel. She wants him to have it.’

More silence. Freddie wasn’t often left speechless, but right now he seemed genuinely lost for words. Jim could only imagine what was going through his head; all the suppressed memories that were suddenly resurfacing, coiling around his brain like a venomous snake.

‘Get rid of it.’ Freddie whispered.

‘We can’t keep this from him.’ Jim replied, being mindful not to raise his voice. ‘You know how much this blanket means to Khaleel. If he ever finds out we kept it from him, he’ll never forgive us.’

‘I want it gone!’ Freddie snapped, hands balling into fists like a stubborn child. ‘Why the fuck did you accept it? Why the fuck did Mary bring it? Who the hell does she think she is?’

He abruptly turned and started marching towards the phone, grabbing the handset, and stabbing at the buttons furiously.

‘Freddie, what are you doing?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ Freddie growled, ‘I’m going to give that backstabber a piece of my mind! Hello, Piers? Put Mary on the phone. I don’t care if she’s asleep, put her on the phone right now-!’

‘Freddie!’ Jim snatched the handset and slammed it back on the receiver, startling the Persian man. ‘Don’t blame Mary for this. Your parents put her in an awkward position, and she did what she thought was right. I understand why you’re upset, and you have every right to be! But don’t take it out on her.’

Freddie scoffed. ‘Since when are you two the best of friends? She knows what my parents did to us, yet she’s willing to do their dirty work for them.’

‘She was just trying to help. She thought this might help you reconcile with them if you saw how much they care.’

‘If they really cared about me, they would have come themselves; instead, they’re using my ex-girlfriend as a fucking middleman!’

‘You know I resent them as much as you do, but we can’t go on lying to Khaleel forever. He hasn’t seen his grandparents in two years, Freddie. He’s always asking when we’re going to see Dādī and Dādā again, and I can barely look him in the eye when I use the old “they’re busy” excuse. One day, he’s going to find out what really happened, and he’ll resent us for not telling him the truth.’

‘And how the hell do you explain to a seven-year-old that his own grandparents don’t value him as much as his cousins because he’s adopted, and his parents are poofs? Please tell me Jim because I’d love to know! You don’t think I want to tell him the truth? Do you think I enjoy lying to his face whenever he asks about them? I’m so glad you have such a high opinion of me, darling!’

Freddie’s dark eyes swivelled to the blanket, sparkling with tears, and filled with hate; he suddenly grabbed it, making a beeline for the fireplace only to be intercepted by Jim.

‘Freddie, don’t.’ Jim begged, his grip firm on the blanket, though he made sure not to pull it in fear that it might tear. ‘Don’t do it. You’ll never forgive yourself.’

‘Fuck off!’ Freddie spat, tugging in an effort to get it out of Jim’s hands. ‘I don’t want any trace of those people in my house! If you truly loved me, you’d understand!’

Jim froze, his hold on the blanket loosening. Then he released it altogether.

‘Fine.’ He said coldly, in a voice that made Freddie feel like a ghost had passed through him. ‘Go ahead. Burn the damn thing. But when Khaleel asks me when his blanket is coming, I’m not going to lie to him anymore. You can explain to him that you tossed it into the fire. So, go ahead. Do it.’

Freddie stared at the flames determinedly, Jim’s words doing somersaults in his head. His fingers itched to just throw the quilt and watch it burn but picturing the look of heartbreak on Khaleel’s face deterred him from doing so.

‘Fuck.’ He hissed, tearing away from the fireplace, and fleeing the lounge.

Fucking Jim, he thought as he tore up the staircase, swearing under his breath as he made it to the landing and stormed towards the airing cupboard, fucking fucking Jim.

He threw open the cupboard door and was about to bundle the blanket behind the towels when he noticed the words that had been sewn into it.

BIJOU

Tears pooled into Freddie’s eyes. Almost instinctively, he brought the blanket close to his face and softly inhaled. It smelled of lavender and the spices Mama used for cooking. It smelled like home.

Freddie furiously wiped his eyes and shoved the blanket right into the far end of the cupboard.

Part 34 of the Jimercury kid series

Oof, you weren't lying when you said that angst was on its way for our favourite family. Firstly, Freddie's parents reaching out to Mary and trying to make her act like a pacifier, instead of say, Kash, is very plausible, especially after Kash's indirect involvement in the entire fiasco.

This is honestly such a tough decision for Freddie, and Jim too. No matter how big an olive branch his parents extend, the shadow of their actions will always loom over their relationship. I really feel for our two dads. And it's definitely not an easy thing to explain to Khaleel, either. But should they give it a shot? Or is it better to keep from their son the fact that his grandparents were the cause of his trauma?

I just love how well you're able to convey the emotions of your characters in such few words. I could not only see, but also feel their pain, and oof... hats off to you for being so evocative with your words.

I really cannot wait to see what happens next💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)

(All the parts of this series can also be found under the tag #freddie and jim and their baby on this blog)

#ask response #jim hutton #freddie mercury #anon writing #freddie and jim and their baby

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rohad93 · 4 years

Text

Moonlit Masquerade: Moonlit Forever After Finale

Luz adjusted her tie for the fourth time in as many minutes. She is so. Fucking. Nervous.

They’re due to start in a matter of ten minutes and she’d taken her place beneath the tree with Lilith, who is looking over a small paper with notes on it when she glanced up at Luz’s constant fidgeting.

“Are you alright, Luz?” she questioned her quietly.

“I don’t know... I’m just… really nervous,” she said, playing with her fingers.

“That’s understandable,” The eldest Clawthorne nodded. “It is a big change, even if you two have already been living together for three years now, but there’s no reason to be nervous, Amity would be pleased if you showed up in your pajamas,” Lilith chuckled to herself but Luz still looks like she wanted to throw up.

Lilith hummed thoughtfully, the girl needed a distraction before she blew her lunch onto the floor, and considering who she’s marrying, Lilith decides to share something with Luz that even Eda doesn’t know.

“Luz, did you know I was in love once,” she finally said and Luz whipped to look at her, eyes blown wide.

“What, you!?” She blinked and Lilith huffed a laugh under her breath, cocking a brow at her. “I mean, you’re great and all!… I just never expected that… but, oh wow… backstory; tell me!” she grinned and Lilith rolled her eyes.

“Yes, before I joined the emperor’s coven, there was a boy, but… after I was accepted, I was so consumed with guilt about what I did to Edalyn I threw everything I had into rising in the coven’s ranks so I could find her cure that I inevitably ended up letting that relationship wither on the vine and he moved onto someone else.” she frowned, eyes distant. “Just one of the many things I regret.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry, Lily.” Luz frowned.

“It was my own fault, everything that has plagued my life has been a mess of my own creation. I regret many things, but nothing will change them now, I simply must live with them.” Lilith gave a small shrug. “That’s one thing I can never make up for now.”

“Anyone I know?” she asked and then watched, fascinated as Lilith’s face flushed a little.

“Yes, actually… you’re rather familiar with this man.” she glanced away and now Luz was intrigued.

“Who?”

“Your soon to be father-in-law.”

Luz choked on her own spit at that.

“Alador Blight!?” she cried and the guests look at her curiously before going back to talking amongst themselves. Lilith is red-faced. “You used to date Alador?” Luz doesn’t know what else to say to that.

“Yes,” Lilith nodded and Luz suddenly remembered something.

“Is that who you went to the fall shower with way back when?” She knows she hit it square on the head when Lilith darkened further.

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” The older witch mumbled and Luz chuckled. She and Amity had gone to watch the fall shower again just two weeks ago and this triggered the memory.

“Wow… plot twist, I never saw that coming…”

Lilith just hummed. Luz pressed a hand to her chin, thinking.

“He really took a downgrade didn’t he…?” she asked thoughtfully, which made Lilith blink before laughing.

“I won’t speak ill of Odalia, despite my less than pleasant feelings about her, though, that has much more to do with Amity than Alador.”

“I will, she’s a bitch,” Luz scowled and Lilith snorted.

Luz suddenly has so many questions, was that why Lilith had taken Amity on as her pupil as a kid? Or was it just because Amity was powerful and had nothing to do with any previous romantic feelings for her dad?

She doesn’t have time to ask them though, it seems Lilith’s ploy to distract her worked because Willow is peeking out from behind the curtain and giving them a thumbs up. The moon is overhead now; it’s time.

“Ready?” Lilith smiled.

“No!” Luz hissed, and her palms are starting to sweat. She is so not ready by any stretch of the imagination!

A lilting piano starts to play, It’s nothing like the classic wedding march she is familiar with, but it’s pretty, though the soothing melody does absolutely nothing for her jangling nerves. She glanced at her moms in the front row behind her and Camila smiled while Eda gave her a fanged grin and a thumbs up and mouthed ‘You got this’. She wiped her sweaty hands on her pants, hopefully, that won’t stain...

She straightened and took a deep breath, ready or not, here she went.

The curtains pulled aside and Gus and Willow appeared, linked arm in arm, they smiled brightly as they made their way down the aisle, followed a few moments later by Viney and Emira, and in the back of her mind, Luz knows that it’s their wedding she’ll be attending next. Viney had already confided in her three months ago that she’d bought a ring, but she wanted to wait a little while after their wedding to propose, the last thing she wanted to do was upstage the two of them, which Luz appreciated.

She snorted, nerves abated a bit when Edric and King came walking down the aisle, King was adorable in his little blue vest.

“Are you ready?” Gus whispered in her ear as he came to stand at her side.

She made a distressed sound in the back of her throat and across from her, Willow smiled as he quickly patted her shoulder.

The music changed and the guests turned to look while Luz swallowed thickly. Then Amity appeared, arm wrapped through Alador’s.

Luz sucked in a sharp breath, stunned speechless.

She doesn’t think anyone in any realm has ever looked as beautiful as Amity does right now, and no one ever could. Her mouth is bone dry, but her mother was right, she’s not nervous anymore, her entire body is tingling as her gaze locked with Amity’s, whose smiling that little smile Luz knew so well.

Her mother was right about the dress too.

The whole situation smacked her like a raging slitherbeast and she’s trying to blink away the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. How did she get this lucky? She has no concrete answer but is happy she did all the same.

Amity doesn’t know how she keeps moving down the aisle, because once her eyes land on Luz they feel like jelly. Her brother hadn’t been kidding and she should have been more prepared, though she doesn’t think she could have ever been prepared for this.

Luz has always cut a sharp, immaculate profile when she actually gave an effort, but their’s something almost ethereal about her as she is now, the white of her suit almost glows beneath the soft light of the blue moon and the light spells that float in the air around them. Her heart is beating hard against her ribs, but it’s not nerves that make it skip a beat. It’s the staggering wave of amazement and affection she feels for Luz, who she can tell now that she’s close enough to see, is doing her damnedest to hold back her tears. She recognized that scrunched up, rapidly blinking expression anywhere. It makes her own eyes sting.

Finally, she’s standing close enough to touch and her father smiled at her as Luz held out her hand and Amity gently pulled her arm from his to slip her hand into Luz’s. Alador nodded to Luz before slipping himself into his seat in the front row across from Camila and Eda.

“Hey.” Luz’s voice is barely a whisper that only Amity can hear.

“Hey, yourself.” she smiled back, voice just as low.

They don’t even hear Lilith as she began to speak to the crowd about why they’re all here and all the ceremonial spiel that is the norm at a wedding on the Boiling Isles.

Amity’s hand is warm in hers and Luz squeezed it gently, running her thumb over her knuckles. She’s still in awe, unable to take her eyes off Amity and how beautiful she is in that dress, under the blue moon’s light

She’s absolutely bewitching and Luz would gladly live under her spell for the rest of her life.

Amity is just as spellbound as Luz, watching the pink glow that the light spells are refracting from the grom tree bounce off Luz’s dark eyes, making them look alive as a gentle breeze rustles the tree’s blush-colored leaves. The shadows cast by the lights cut sharp lines across her jaw and neck that make Amity want to reach out and run her fingertips along them.

“....and they will now speak these promises to each other,” Lilith read loudly, jerking the two of them out of their love induced haze. How long had they been zoned out, staring at each other? Judging from the subtle smirk on Lilith’s face, a while.

“Amity, you may now say your vows,” Lilith said and she nodded, letting go of Luz’s right hand and pulling a small slip of paper from her pocket taking a deep breath, she could feel everyone’s eyes on her, but the only important ones were staring straight at her, smiling, no pressure in those warm brown eyes she adored.

"I've been advised to keep this short," she smiled and she swears she hears Emira snort behind her. "So here it is. Luz, I never thought I could be as incredibly happy as I am when I’m with you, that such a thing was even possible, but here we are, and I can hardly believe it’s real sometimes. Till I met you, I was playing at being someone I didn’t even want to be but was too scared to stop and be myself, but having you at my side made me brave enough to face that fear, made it feel like I could and should be myself.” Her thumb rubbed across Luz’s knuckles and Luz squeezed back, smiling encouragingly at her. “Even now,” she whispered so only Luz could hear her, and that bright grin she adored flashed at her. “I know that who I am now is thanks to you in many ways, you always make me want to try harder, to be better. It hasn’t always been easy, life has thrown a lot at us over the years, but with you, I know that I can make it through. No matter how hard it gets, I’ll never stop trying, because I can’t think of anything that could ever be more worth the effort than being with you for the rest of my life,” she finished, slipping the paper back into her pocket and taking up Luz’s other hand again. She can hear her sister and Willow sniffling behind her, while Viney did her best to hold it in. Gus is already crying and making whimpering noises while Edric bit his lip, doing his best to keep it together. King is biting his tongue to hold back his cries.

In the front row, Camila is quietly sniffling into a tissue and Eda crosses her arms, definitely blinking her eyes against the tears trying to well up in her mismatched eyes while Alador is filled with a deep appreciation for his future daughter-in-law, even as a bitter sorrow wells up in his chest because he knows just why Amity was afraid of being herself.

Luz knows that there are tears sliding down her cheeks, but she can’t stop it. It should be illegal for Amity to look at her like that and say those things that make her face flush and feel like a hot pile of goo, even as they simultaneously cradle her heart in a blanket of warmth.

Lilith is doing about the same as the rest of the wedding party it seems, and clears her throat, pulling herself together before turning to Luz.

“Luz, you may now say your vows,” she said.

“Don’t mess this up, Kid,” Eda murmured quietly to herself and Camila can only nod in agreement. Gus and Edric hoping for the same thing, especially after Amity’s had been so perfect.

Luz squeezed both of Amity’s hands and cleared her throat, willing away the lump lodged there.

"I'll be honest with you, with everything that’s been going on, I totally, completely forgot to write my vows," she admits sheepishly, and there's a murmur from the guests, but Amity only rolled her eyes, smirking, which makes Luz relax at the response, and behind her, Viney hissed a quiet 'Ha' to Emira, but she can examine that later. "But I don't need to, I can think of reasons why I love you in my sleep." She grinned right back at Amity, whose hands squeezed hers as she smiled down at her softly and Luz’s stomach bubbled up with so much love and affection that it made her tingle all over. "I never could have imagined when I stumbled through a portal chasing an owl that stole my book that I would end up standing here, with you, but I’m beyond glad that Owlbert is a tiny trash thief, and I did.” she grinned. Eda chuckled to herself. “Amity, I've never known anyone as incredibly kind and amazing as you, and I consider myself to be the luckiest person on The Boiling Isles for getting to have met you, and now because I get to spend the rest of my life with you. Without you watching my back for the last six years I probably would have drowned or set myself on fire by now.” She admitted, and there's an agreeing chuckle from the guests and their friends standing next to them. Amity just grinned wetly and knowingly at her, there have been a few incidents over the years that even their closest friends aren't privy to, disaster averted only because Amity is always at her side.

“But I know I can always count on you to be there for me, and I promise that no matter what, I’ll always be there for you too, because there is no one, in any realm that I could ever love more than you, Amity, and I want to spend every minute from here till the end; proving it to you.” Her voice is low by the end and even if Amity hadn’t been teary before, she was now and she’s going to ruin her makeup if she can’t pull herself together! The wedding party isn’t doing much better, barely holding it together themselves. Gus is looking at them starry-eyed, lip trembling and Edric is right there with him. Willow is sniffled quietly into her flowers while Emira rapidly blinked away her tears, Viney much the same.

Eda held Camila as she wept into her shoulder, biting her lips to hold back her own flood of tears.

Alador clenched his hands into the fabric of his dress pants, jaw tight.

“The rings?” Lilith’s voice is thick, but level, with herculean effort, as she looked down at King, who is sniffling and whimpering, on the verge of sobs as he steps forward and holds up the pillow with their rings sitting on it. Luz and Amity picked up the other’s ring.

Lilith held up a glyph and a glowing blue ring appeared and they broke contact just long enough for Luz to slip Amity’s ring on her finger and for Amity to do the same before they reached through the ring and clasped hands again, fingers laced together,

“Do you, Amity Blight, swear on an eternal oath to love, protect and be ever devoted to Luz Noceda for as long as you both live?

“I swear,” Amity said, voice quivering as she squeezed Luz’s fingers laced between hers.

“Do you, Luz Noceda, swear on an eternal oath to love, protect and be ever devoted to Amity Blight for as long as you both live.

“I swear.” Luz smiled even as her eyes shined with still falling tears.

“The oath is sealed,” Their hands glowed before the ring faded away. “you may now…”

They didn’t need to wait for Lilith to tell them.

Amity flung her arms around Luz’s neck as Luz grabbed her around the waist sealing the oath with a kiss as the guests erupted into loud, raucous cheers and laughter. It’s a much longer kiss than it needs to be, but no one is going to stop them.

They finally pulled back, grinning stupidly at each other before Luz pulled back just enough to bend down and sweep an arm beneath Amity’s knees.

She squealed as Luz scooped her up into her arms and took off running down the aisle to whoops and cheers as they passed.

“Luz!” Amity laughed, clinging to her neck as she ran into the woods, both of their laughter echoing off the trees as the blue glow of the moon lit their way.

“To the party!” Eda declared with a grin over the crowd, standing and pointing in the direction of Hexside.

The wedding party cheered as they took off running after the newlyweds, followed by the guests.

The courtyard of the school was filled with tables of people walking about and chatting as the wedding party all walked toward the school to take photos.

Luz couldn’t stop grinning, nor Amity, as they stood inside, waiting for their friends to catch up after Luz had finally set her back on her feet, still clutching each other tightly, foreheads pressed together. They couldn’t wipe away their bright grins even if they wanted to.

Amity’s eyes roved over her face as she wiped at any remaining tears on Luz’s cheeks.

“Eres tan hermosa,” Amity mumbled making Luz’s face darken even as she grinned.

“I should be saying that to you!” Luz pulled back till they were linked only by their hands and openly stared at her wife in awe. “You look… I don’t know any words in any language to do you justice, mi amor.” Luz smiled, squeezing her hands.

Amity squeezed back before pulling her back in close and captured her lips in another kiss.

"Titan, I love you so much," she mumbled against her lips, a few tears had managed to slip past against her will.

"Just as much as I love you," Luz smiled at her reaching up to wipe them away before they can do much damage to Amity's makeup. Her chest feels fit to burst with the rampant affection she feels, especially as Amity leaned into the touch on her cheek

As she stared back at Luz, she's struck hard by the sudden urge to just take her by the hand and drag her away, somewhere they can just be alone, screw the after-party. Willow would kill her, not to mention the rest of their friends and both of Luz's mothers’. Her siblings and Viney would just be amused as all get out.

"Do you think people would notice if we left?" she asked anyway, looking down at her.

Luz blinked at her, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open before she couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Yes, Amity, I think it's safe to say they would definitely notice." The tone isn't even playing at scolding and Luz is smiling at her, eyes dancing with unspoken mirth and warm, overwhelming affection. That only makes the urge to take her and run that much stronger.

"We could still go…"

Luz is grinning so widely at her it almost looks like it hurts. She just cupped Amity's cheeks in her hands and pressed another long kiss to her mouth. Amity lets her eyes droop closed, and clings to Luz.

Her wife.

She hummed against Luz, threading her fingers gently through her hair. She smells wonderful, not her normal warm, woodsy smell, but some kind of perfume.

Luz finally released her but is still grinning, thumbs running gently over her cheeks.

"We can't leave, Amor," she said and Amity huffed quietly, making her chuckle. "Soon enough, it'll just be you and me," she promised, and Amity hummed in agreement, kissing her again.

"What, are you making out in here already?" Edric's laughing voice broke them out of their own world as their friends finally arrived.

“Not yet.” Luz grinned cheekily at him and Amity slapped her shoulder. Nothing was going to ruin her mood tonight, absolutely nothing!

The rest of the wedding party piled into the building along with the photographer. A tall, bug-eyed demon with long curving horns and a large camera stood in front of them.

“Say, ‘scream’!”

They crowded together and took photos. Eda, Camila, and Lilith joining them for several, including a few shots of Luz with each of her moms and both of them together, before dragging Lilith and King into the photo with her and Amity, the whole Owl House one last time. Minus Hooty, who was bitterly disappointed that he couldn’t come, but hey; house.

Luz glanced around as Amity took photos with the bridesmaids and her siblings and noticed someone missing from the photo party. She grabbed Gus and whispered in his ear. He grinned at her and nodded before quietly shooting out of the building as the photos carried on. He entered again a few minutes later with a bright grin and another witch.

“I think that’s all the photos…” Amity looked at them and let the rest of the wedding party finally move back out into the courtyard to wait for them.

“Not yet!” Luz piped up as she moved toward her, Alador, trailing behind her. “We gotta get a couple with you and your dad!” She grinned at her and Amity blinked, surprised. Alador himself didn’t look so sure but she smiled and nodded.

“Of course we do.”

Her father seemed to perk and Luz stepped out of the way to allow the older auburn-haired witch to stand at her wife’s side.

Luz cocked her head as she watched the two smile. It was the first time she’d ever seen the two together since they were teenagers when Amity still had mint green hair, now as they stood side by side, both with that shiny, red/brown, auburn hair and the same bright, golden eyes and tall stature, Luz couldn’t help but smile. It was obvious where Amity got all her genes from; thank goodness it wasn’t Odalia.

The photographer snapped a few photos before Amity turned to look at her.

“Get over here,” she called and Luz blinked, pointing to herself. “Yes, you,” Amity laughed to herself as Luz trotted over and Amity wrapped an arm around her waist and Alador laid a hand on both of their shoulders. She could feel the soft squeezing of his hand, it wasn’t threatening, or a warning, but thankful, and Luz grinned all the brighter as the photos were snapped. Alador smiled at them and moved away, walking out the doors with the photographer and leaving them alone.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you…,” Amity can’t help but mumble once they’re alone, looking at her from beneath her dark lashes.

“Probably worry a lot less.” Luz shrugged, making her chuckle.

“Maybe,” she agreed. “Things would certainly be duller though,” she smirked and Luz grinned right back. “I saw your free falling stunt today, Eda sent a video.”

“That traitor!” Luz hissed, making Amity snort. “I was completely in control, I swear!”

“Hey, hey, relax, I know. I know that you can take care of yourself,” she assured gently and Luz relaxed. “I’m still going to worry about you though, that’s my job.”

“Worrying about each other is both our jobs,” she refuted, and then they heard Gus on the mic outside.

“Ladies, gentlemen, demons, and others, thank you for coming tonight!” Cheers and applause answered him.

“Oh, that’s our cue! Are you ready, mi amor?” Luz smiled, holding out her arm, which Amity looped her own through, smiling back.

“Always.”

“Please welcome, for the first time, Mrs. and Mrs. Luz and Amity Noceda!” Gus called and they walked out of the school’s double doors to the whoops and cheers of their friends and family. They smiled and waved as they walked down the stairs to take their seats next to their friends at the head table as dinner was served.

Dinner was just as dinner at the owl house, loud, cheery, and fun. Even at the more serious tables, like where the coven heads were seated, were still far from quiet. Though there were fewer fights over, or with food then there usually was at the owl house, mostly because Camila sat between the two Clawthorne sisters at the table near theirs.

Edric was eyeing the beautiful, three-tiered cake with the smooth white icing and purple and pink accents with drool dripping down the corner of his mouth while Emira reluctantly paid a smirking Viney.

“I can’t believe you didn’t write any vows and your wife wrote a book!” Emira scowled at Luz.

“It’s been really busy! I forgot!” Luz defended, gesturing with her fork. Amity giggled and laid a hand over Luz’s on the table.

“It’s alright, Luz, I thought they were perfect.” She smiled at her and Luz grinned before her face turned thoughtful.

“Knowing you, you must have actually written a book too…,” she hummed and Amity flushed.

Willow grinned and twirled a finger and a stack of bound papers fell from the spell circle, which she handed to Luz, despite Amity’s protests.

“No, give me that!” she grabbed for it but Luz held it just beyond her reach as she flipped through it.

“Ay dios mio! You weren’t kidding… now I feel bad!” she turned, frowning, to Amity, who took the opportunity to pluck the pages from Luz’s hand.

“Don’t, I didn’t use them anyway, querida.” She spelled the pages away.

“But you spent all that time writing them…” Luz’s brows furrowed.

“It’s fine, Luz,” Amity assured her but Luz wasn’t having it.

“I’m going to write something just as good for you later,” she promised and Amity can’t help but smile at her.

“Alright.” she nodded, she knows that once luz has made up her mind it takes a miracle to change it.

When dinner is all but done Gus has taken up the mic again.

“Will the happy couple please come to the dance floor for their first dance?”

Luz perks up at that and stands, offering her hand to Amity.

“Shall we, Mrs. Noceda?” She smiled at her and Amity slipped her hand in hers.

“Please, Mrs. Noceda.” She smiled back and let Luz lead her onto the dance floor. Their friends can only roll their eyes at the two, even as they smile.

The Moon is hovering directly overhead now and everything glows with its sapphire light as they stand hand in hand in the middle of the floor. The song that begins to play is one they have danced to many times, but the first time was under very similar circumstances in Blight manor under the same blue light.

Everyone’s eyes are on them, but they only have eyes for each other, as has always been the case.

The move in slow, graceful steps. Fighting or dancing the two have always been in perfect sync and they don’t even need to think about their movements, they don’t need to speak either, they simply enjoy this quiet moment, even if they are in the spotlight.

When the lilting slow song finally ends, much too soon for either, Luz grins at her. They still have something planned that only Gus and the DJ are aware of.

“Are you ready?” Luz is vibrating with energy.

“We haven’t been practicing this for three months for me not to be ready.” Amity grinned back as Luz stepped back and pulled off her jacket, tossing it to Gus who looks much too excited. Amity spun a finger and her dress glowed as the hem shrank up to her knees, freeing her legs.

“What are they doing?” Lilith cocked her head.

“Dunno, but knowing them, it’s gonna be good, whatever it is,” Eda smirked.

Sitting in Luz’s breast pocket is a bright red flower, she pulled it out and clenched the stem between her teeth before she wrapped an arm around Amity’s waist and held one of her hands in hers, arms stretched straight out as Amity set her other on Luz’s shoulder even as she’s laughing quietly to herself at Luz.

“You’re ridiculous,” she mumbled, grinning. Luz just wagged her eyebrows in response, making Amity giggle all the harder. She’s too happy to care one bit about Luz’s added ‘personal touch’ to what they’re about to do.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on, what’s with the flower?” Emira looked at Willow who shook her head, just as confused as the rest of them.

“Amity didn’t say anything to me, looks like Gus is in on it though.”

The two are standing, pressed so closely together that no light can be seen between them.

Luz glanced at Gus and nodded. The nineteen-year-old signaled the DJ and then music again filled the night air.

The assembled witches looked around at the brand new sounds.

Camila blinked at the familiar music that is starting to grow louder and faster

“Tango?” she questioned too herself.

Then the two take off to the quick rhythm of the accordion and drums, spinning across the dance floor in sharp, controlled measure, hardly ever far from the other and taking such fast steps around the other that it’s amazing they don’t trip on each other.

Luz twirled them around, both grinning as they follow the whine of a violin across the dancefloor, the fast clicking of their shoes on the hardwood adding an extra beat to the music.

Gripping her hand, Luz flung amity away in a tight spin, making her dress billow up around her knees as their laced fingers pulled her to a stop, arms outstretched. Whistles and shouts erupted from the guests and Luz tugged her back into her arms. Their hands adjust and then Amity is the one leading them across the floor in tight spins and quicker steps.

“Wow…,” Viney mumbled as she watched the two. Especially when they flip around again and Luz takes back the lead, jerking them to a sudden stop, Amity’s knee wrapped around her hip, and Luz’s hand pressed to the small of her back, they can feel each other breathe they’re so close.

“This feels wrong to watch…” Edric covered his face with a hand but is peeking between his fingers. There is certainly a charged feeling in the air between the two as Luz spun them around, still attached at the hips.

“But they’re so good…,” Willow said in awe, hands pressed to her face.

“Holy shit…” Eda is watching the dance, slack-jawed, Lilith can only nod, eyes wide.

The song builds to a crescendo in a pounding of drums and the rapid squeal of the violin as they finally separated in another spin before Luz pulled her back in, twisting around the moment Amity is back in her arms and dropped her in a sharp dip to the songs final beats.

It’s quiet as they looked at each other, breathing heavy and smiling so hard it hurt. Luz’s smile turned to a grin and she wagged her eyebrows at her again, teeth clenched around the rose she had made a special trip to the human realm for, Amity giggled as they stood up straight and the guest all cheered and clapped at the display.

Luz pulled the flower from her mouth and they both gave dramatic bows.

Regular music starts to play again and other couples move onto the floor.

“What. Was. That?” Emira asked the moment they returned to the table.

“It’s called Tango,” Luz laughed. “It’s a type of dance from the human world, we’ve been practicing,” she said proudly.

“That was amazing, you two,” Willow praised.

“A little risque…,” Edric laughed.

“Well, it is colloquially known in the human world sometimes as ‘sex on hardwood’.” Camila and the Clawthorne sisters chose that moment to approach the head table. Amity flushed at that, Luz had not told her that, and the sheepish grin she’s wearing told her that she had absolutely known it too.

“Can see why,” Viney snorted.

“Either way, that was pretty fancy,” Eda smirked at them.

“It was remarkable,” Lilith added.

“Thank you.” Amity nods, smiling.

They let several more songs play while they rest before they decided to finally cut the cake at Edric’s pleading.

As they do, Amity suddenly remembered a conversation she had with Camila about human wedding traditions.

“Your mother told me about another human wedding tradition last week involving the cake,” she started, cake in hand, and watched Luz from the corner of her eye as she hummed happily to herself.

“Oh, yea, which one?” she turned to look at her and Amity smashed a handful of cake in her face as she did.

It’s quiet for a moment, one visible brown eye blinked at her, face smeared with cake before a grin broke out across her face, and she shoved her fist into her own cake.

“That’s how you want it, huh, mi amor?”

Amity squealed as icing is smeared across her face in return to the sound of Luz’s laughing and then she’s laughing too.

“Food fight!” Eda jumped up, plate in hand.

“Yeah!” King jumped up as well but Camila and Lilith grabbed them both.

“NO, just them!” Camila shouted.

“Well, that’s no fun,” Eda grumbled, pouting.

Amity laughed as she watched Luz’s tongue dart out of her mouth to lick the frosting off her lip.

“Tasty” she grinned.

They let the caterers pass out the cake while they go and clean their faces off inside. They’re gone a little longer than they should be and Viney and Edric take bets on if they even come back at all or are just making out

“Oh, you know what I found out tonight?” Luz asked Amity as she wiped the frosting off her face in Hexside’s bathroom.

“Hmm?” she hummed and leaned in close to the mirror and trying to save as much of her makeup as she can while wiping the cake away.

“Your dad and Lilith used to date,” she said it so casually.

‘What!?” Amity whipped to her.

“Yeah! Crazy right? Guess they were together in school but after she joined the coven she felt so guilty about mom she spent all her time looking for a cure and they drifted apart.”

Amity has no idea how to process this information. She vaguely wonders what life would have been like if Lilith had been her mother.

“You okay, amor?”

She blinks and Luz is looking at her, brows creased with worry. There will be none of that, not tonight.

“Fine, it’s just such a bizarre thought.” She shrugged.

“Right?” Luz laughed.

Something for her to think about another time.

When they come back out, icing free they finally get to eat some of the cake.

“Lilith did an awesome job on this cake,” Luz mumbled around a mouthful of it. Amity just nodded an agreement, glad that Luz had always liked thornberry desserts as much as she did. “Hopefully it’ll taste half this good next year…,” Luz hummed and Amity blinked at her.

“Next year?” she questioned and Luz nodded.

“It’s a human wedding tradition,” she explained. “You save a piece of your cake and freeze it so you can have it on your first anniversary.”

“Then we need to do it now, my brother hasn’t walked away from the cake since we cut it.” Amity rolled her eyes and pointed her fork at Edric, who had stationed himself cake side for the last fifteen minutes.

“Uhh, yeah, probably, he called dibs on leftovers yesterday, so if we wait he’s gonna cart the whole thing outta here at the end of the night,” she snorted and Amity sighed, shaking her head. Her brothers only real loves; trouble and baked goods.

“I’ll get him,” Emira said, rolling her eyes as she made a beeline for the cake and her gluttonous twin. Viney laughed at them.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that package deal?” Luz turned to the older witch who grinned at them and shrugged.

“He’s not bad.... and he’s definitely not going to be living with us…,” Viney deadpanned.

“You don’t think he’s going to end up at our house do you?” Luz looked at her and Amity stopped, fork halfway to her mouth.

“Absolutely not,” she said with finality. “I love my brother but no. He and dad will keep each other company in Blight manor.” Luz and Viney laughed at that.

“Hey, guys, it’s time for you to throw the bouquet,” Willow reminded.

“Oh, right,” Amity nodded and they stood from the table and quickly made their way to the empty dancefloor.

“Single Witches gather round!” Luz called. She and Amity grinned as a slew of their female guests tripped all over themselves as they hurried onto the dance floor. Luz caught sight of a certain witch standing in the back at the edge of the dancefloor and grinned wickedly before she leaned up to whisper in Amity’s ear. She snorted as gold eyes fell on the witch in question.

“Alright.” she nodded, still grinning.

Lilith watched the couple and their guests gather on the dancefloor, arms crossed over her chest. Perhaps it appeared as though she was being standoffish, standing alone in at the back of the festivities but if she had didn’t she and Eda would be brawling in the middle of the party, and as annoying as her sister could sometimes be, and deserving of a piece of cake to the face, she was not going to make a scene at Luz and Amity’s wedding. Camila seemed to have Edalyn in hand right now as the two sat at their table drinking hard appleblood and laughing.

She shook her head, smirking to herself at all the young women and a few men who had swarmed the floor as the two got ready to throw the bouquet.

“Good evening, Lilith.”

Lilith jerked, turning her head to find Alador Blight at her side.

“It’s been a while, Alador,” she greeted with a tilt of her head. He nodded, arms folded behind his back as his gaze turned to the couple.

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” he said, watching them. She nodded, humming an affirmative.

“I’m sure they’ll continue to be quite happy together, despite your wife’s attempts at the contrary.” She can’t help the little dig, she said that she wouldn’t speak ill of Odalia, that didn’t mean she was going to pretend to like her either, but Alador just hummed.

“Precisely why she is my ex-wife now,” he admitted, which makes Lilith look at him.

“Oh…” she’s not sure what to say to that. Alador nods as they observed the gaggle of witches gathered around the middle of the dancefloor.

“It’s just as well,” he continued unexpectedly. “I would hardly have called our marriage a happy one, even from the start.”

“I’m sorry,” is all the elder Clawthorne can think to say.

“No need, It was my own fault for choosing to turn a blind eye to her machinations from the start.” He ran a hand through his beard thoughtfully.

“You never struck me as the type ignore inconvenient truths, Alador.” she cocked a brow at him.

“I wasn’t, once. But I suppose after our… acquaintance, it was easier to ignore some… ‘inconvenient truths’ as you called them.”

Lilith stiffened at that, she never expected him to bring that up, not after over twenty-five years, nor the subtle implication about her being the cause of his relationship with Odalia.

Before she can even think of something to say in response the couple drew both of their eyes again.

“Here we go!” Luz grinned as she and Amity both held the bouquet in one hand and tossed it over their shoulders. The witches on the dance floor scrambled all over each other as it flew through the air, shooting way over their heads and across the dancefloor.

Lilith can barely raise her arms in time to catch the flowers as they fell into her hands.

She blinked down at them as the crowd whistled and clapped. Across the room, she can hear Edalyn laughing maniacally.

She looked up to find Luz and Amity grinning at her from across the room. She scowled when Luz had the audacity to wink at her.

‘Little shits’

Low chuckling at her side made her turn to Alador, who is laughing quietly.

“Well, I suppose that means you will be the one swearing an eternal oath next.” He smirked at her.

“That worked out better than I thought.” Luz laughed, watching Lilith scowl at them. Amity just shook her head and smiled exasperatedly at her wife.

A few hours later the party is winding down and they decide it’s the perfect time to make their getaway.

“Amity and I are gonna sneak out of here,” Luz told her mom’s. “Can you take Mami home later?” she turned to Eda who nodded.

“No worries, kid. I’ll make sure Cami gets home safe and sound, scouts honor.”

“Yeah… there’s no way you were ever any kind of scout,” she drawled and Amity crossed her arms, smirking.

“Do you want me to get her home or not?” Eda huffed, reaching out and ruffling her hair. Luz grumbled but let it happen. “I’ll see you two in a week.” The older women hugged them both before they pull away. “Try not to break any beds.” She smirked as the two walked away, and Luz groaned to herself. Camila just gave the witch a tired look.

They say quick goodbyes to their friends who hug them tightly and they promise to get together when they get back from their honeymoon.

Amity made a quick goodbye to her father and then they’re sneaking away from the party into the woods and Amity spelled her staff into existence and they are soon flying over the woods, the bright cobalt light from the moon lighting the way.

“Well, we’re not leaving for the coast until tomorrow morning, so now what, Mrs. Noceda?” Luz grinned as she set her chin on Amity’s shoulder.

“I could think of a few things.” Amity glanced at her over her shoulder knowingly, gold eyes glowing in the moonlight

“Well, take me home then!” Luz said and laughed as they picked up speed, wind whipping through their hair, as they flew through the moonlit night.

#Lumity #Moonlit masquerade #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Eda Clawthorne #Lilith Clawthorne #Alador Blight #Camila Noceda #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #Viney #Gus Porter #Willow park #gay #fanfic #fic #the owl house #toh #That's all she wrote folks

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thebigqueer · 4 years

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BILCO FANFIC - “The VSCO Demon”

Summary: Will is possessed with a VSCO demon that will turn him into the one and only Billiam Thabdrew Sksksolace, a VSCO girl.

Word Count: 3513

Note: This is my first writing on Tumblr so everyone sing happy birthday! also its terrible! also I GREATLY APPRECIATE FEEDBACK (but please give it to me gently cuz im a Sensitive Bitch TM) (if you even sound a little mean ill start crying)

ALSO: Credits to my online bff for Nico’s pet hyena, Bambi. (HI I LOVE YOU)

Nico knew something was wrong with Will.

He could tell that there was something always bothering him, hidden deep beneath that sunshiny facade he always seemed to use in front of other people. He was hiding something, and it seemed to be eating at him like a parasite.

Nico’s suspicions began when he first noticed Will’s slight speech slipup. Will and Kayla were discussing the new demigods that were to move in soon, and Kayla let loose the fact that she was a little iffy about one of them. Will’s eyes had widened, showing off the blue of his eyes, and he said, “Anna oop-”

He clamped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. He’d already said it. Nico didn’t know what it meant, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous. (Was it some kind of prophetic power? Did Will just spew some words from a prophecy in a totally different language? Maybe Nico would ask Rachel later.) When Nico confronted him afterwards, Will just turned his head away and said he was going to head to sleep.

It wasn’t only his foreign phrases - it was also the stuff he bought. On their dates to New York City, Will would slink him and Nico away to a store and buy something. Sometimes it would be an oversized T-shirt, other times it would be scrunchies, and one time he even bought a gigantic water bottle. (“It’s called a Hydroflask,” Will told him.)

Will was scary in those moments. His eyes would get big as he eyed all his new items, and his hands would tap furiously on the wooden counters while he waited. Nico wasn’t sure what this meant, but it seemed that Will was going through something. Something terrible.

And the moment they got back, Will would start immediately sobbing. Nico would literally have to hold him from falling face down on the ground because of how hard he would be weeping. He’d cry, “It’s not happening, it’s not happening! I can’t become VSCO!”

All Nico was able to do was watch his golden boyfriend sob in his arms, unable to help, unable to understand.

It wasn’t until a late day in November when Nico found out what his boyfriend was hiding from him. Will had been antsy all breakfast, avoiding Nico’s eyes like it was the coronavirus; Nico knew that he wasn’t the only one who noticed - Kayla and Austin had given him furtive, sympathetic glances. Nico’s heart pounded in his chest, anxiety spiking his pulse and chilling him down to the bone.

Nico couldn’t help but to wonder, Is he going to break up with me?

Safe to say, his breakfast was ruined, and he pulled just a little away from Will. He didn’t miss the awkward looks he got from Kayla and Austin, nor did he miss Will’s slight flinch at the loss of contact between the boys.

After a silent breakfast, when everyone had left to start their daily activities, Nico stood to go. If Will didn’t want to talk to him, then fine. He’d manage that.

But a warm hand clamped on his wrist, begging him to stay. Nico turned his face to Will’s, absorbing his golden features and the heavy vulnerability in those blue eyes. It hit Nico that whatever Will wanted from him, it wasn’t going to be good.

Nico sat back down carefully. Will’s pink lips were turned at the corners and, having a closer look at his face, Nico realized his eyes were puffy and red like he’d been crying.

Upon seeing his boyfriend’s expression, Nico reached out and touched Will’s tan face gingerly, brushing his own pale fingers through his golden locks. “Will,” he whispered, “what’s wrong? You’ve been so… so closed off from me. Is everything okay? And don’t lie this time, please. I’m serious.”

Will opened and closed his mouth, then unlatched his eyes from Nico’s and closed them. He took a deep, shaky breath, as if gearing up for a long and tiring mission. Nico squeezed Will’s right hand - His baby hands, Nico thought ridiculously, all small and cute - and laced them together, squeezing lightly. A “Hey, I’m here for you” squeeze.

Will turned his focus back on Nico, a small smile lacing the corners of his mouth, but not quite eradicating his internalized pain.

“Nico,” he began, “I… I have an issue.” Will’s freckled cheeks bloomed with bright red blotches and he sheepishly looked away again.

Anticipation and anxiety gripped Nico like a vice and his breath hitched. “What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to tamper down his growing unease. He didn’t want to make Will feel more nervous than he already did.

Will swallowed, as if he was trying to keep down the words from ever appearing. Nico brushed his pale thumb over Will’s, hoping it would calm him a bit. A beat passed, and Will said, “I have this… demon inside me. It’s a terrible demon. I was possessed as a kid.”

“What?” asked Nico. “A demon? What do you mean?”

Will sighed shakily, his eyes focused on the floor. “It’s called a VSCO demon.”

“Will…” Nico started, but he wasn’t sure what he would say. I’m sorry? That didn’t seem right, not at this moment. It seemed like Will wasn’t quite looking for pity. Instead, Nico opted to inquire more about this demon: “What exactly does the demon do? How much is it going to impact your life?”

“Well… actually, it’s going to impact my life a lot. Essentially, it’ sgoing to make me a VSCO girl. You know what that is, right? I explained it to you.”

Nico nodded.

Will continued. “First, it’ll start off with more subtle things, like specific hand spasms.” Will demonstrated what he meant by bringing his right hand to his face and then turning to the side, then frowned. “There’s also some expressions that I might repeat a lot. Like… ‘anna oop-’, or ‘oooh, tea, sis!’ or ‘sksksksk.’”

Nico watched Will’s expression as he said each phrase and his heart felt like it was being squished. Will looked like he was trying very hard not to let it take over him, let those stupid terms make him into a new person, but he was so exhausted. Nico touched his boyfriend’s face again. “I’m… sorry, Will. That’s terrible.”

Will nodded, but he didn’t seem to hear Nico. “When it gets worse, you’ll start noticing. I’ll be wearing oversized T-shirts, I think… scrunchies on my wrist, maybe.” He sighed again, but this time a small sob escaped from his lips too. When he looked up, Nico saw he had fresh tears glassing over his eyes. “I’m going to be carrying that stupid Hydro Flask with me forever, Nico. Forever.”

That seemed to do it. In a matter of seconds, the floodgates of Will’s emotions had opened up and he was spilling everywhere. Nico pulled him close, despite not being much of a hugger, and drew small circles on his back. He felt Will’s tears soak through his T-shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he felt so heartbroken by Will’s emotions, he wanted to start crying himself.

But he had to keep it strong, for Will. Nico bit his lip to keep himself from letting out a few tears himself.

After several moments, Will seemed to calm down enough to pull away from Nico, even though tears still ribboned down his cheeks like liquified crystals. He pulled a tissue from his sweatshirt pocket and blew his nose, honking like he was the goosiest of all geese.

“Anyway,” Will continued, sighing heavily. “I have to tell you something else.” He threw the snot-saturated tissue over his shoulder, where some poor sucker would have to pick it up themself and throw it out. Taking a deep breath (Nico swore he was just trying to steal all the oxygen out of the air now, probably trying to photosynthesize or something), Will pulled Nico’s hands to his chest. “When the demon takes over me, Nico, my alter ego will come out. I will not be able to control it. His name… is Billiam Thabdrew Sksksolace.”

Will paused dramatically, letting that name sink in.

“Oh, Will,” Nico said quietly, throwing his arms around his boyfriend. “Is there a cure to this? Can you fix it?”

Will rested his head in the space between Nico’s neck and shoulder. “No,” he answered, his voice muffled. “There isn’t. I just have to live with being a VSCO girl from now on.” Pulling away so that he was mere inches from Nico’s face, he asked: “Would you still love me, Nico? Even after I become… become Billiam?”

“Of course,” Nico exclaimed, not a moment of hesitation. “Of course! You are more than your stupid demon. You can be as much of a VSCO girl as you become, and I will always love you.”

Will’s face crumpled again and he pulled Nico tighter, so close Nico could almost swear his ribs were going to break.

“Thank you, Nico. Thank you.”

~~~

It was only a few weeks until the real changes started showing up.

When Nico went into the Apollo cabin in the mornings, sometimes he’d see Will in an oversized T-shirt, waving around a metal straw with his baby hands, exclaiming, “OOOH THAT’S TEA!” whenever one of his siblings said something, or referring to himself as Bill Sksksolace when someone called him Will.

Those spells wouldn’t last long, but it was still discerning.

As the days progressed, it got worse. The spells wouldn’t last in just the morning - they’d appear in the afternoon, in the night time, and at nine in the afternoon. Nico would walk in on a conversation Will was having with another camper, and just when things seemed like they were going smoothly, Will would mutter: “SKSKSKSKSKSKSKSKSKSKSKS.” The camper would look at Will strangely, laugh a little, then leave.

Nico would have to sit with Will and tell him that it was alright, that it’s just part of the course. He’ll be alright.

Despite the fact that things were getting worse, it didn’t bother Nico too much. He already knew it would happen sooner or later, so there was no point anticipating and being scared over it.

And yet, nothing would prepare him for the gut punch of when it really did happen.

It was a morning like any other. The sun shone above the camp in brilliant golden rays, and the wind was windy (as wind is) and just perfect for a November day. Nico was hopeful today; maybe they’d go out to New York City, like old times. Try to get Will’s mind off his doomed fate.

Nico had an inkling something was wrong the moment he knocked on the cabin door. Maybe it was the shift in the wind, maybe it was anxiety, or maybe it was the fact that he heard people shouting, “PUT THAT METAL STRAW DOWN, WILL!” that made him nervous. Nevertheless, he waited outside.

Kayla was the one to open the door. She looked exhausted, like she’d been running after someone all morning. When she realized it was Nico, her expression told Nico everything he needed to know.

Nico stepped in tentatively, nervous about what he would find.

And boy did he have every right to be nervous. Nothing could prepare him for what he was about to find.

Will had transformed. Like, completely transformed.

Gone were his golden curls. In place of them was a messy bun at the top of his head, wrapped with a purple scrunchie. If one scrunchie wasn’t enough, he had literal sleeves of them over his arms, all the way up to his elbow, of all kinds of nauseating and headache-inducing colors. On top of that, a knee-length T-shirt covered him from the shoulders to his thighs, and in his small baby hands was a Hydro Flask with a metal straw sticking out of it, which was currently sticking between his teeth.

Upon seeing Nico, his eyes widened and he offered him a bright smile. “Sksksksk!” Will exclaimed. “Oh my gods, it’s literally Nico!” He rushed towards his boyfriend with his arms wide, and just when Nico thought he was about to get a crushing bear hug, Will surprised him last minute by shoving twenty scrunchies into his hands as well as a metal straw.

Nico looked at the treasure in his hands - Where the everloving fuck did he get so many? thought Nico - then back at Will, and again back at his treasure. Tears pricked at his eyes and his chest constricted, making it harder to breathe. “Will-” he began.

Will looked genuinely confused. “Who’s Will? I’m Billiam Sksksolace. And that’s the tea here today.”

“Right. Billiam.” Even saying the new name hurt him in ways Nico didn’t even think were imaginable. He placed a hand on Will’s - No, Bill’s, Nico reminded himself - cheek, tracing his lover’s freckles. “How are you feeling?”

“Anna oop-” Billiam said. “I feel fine, sksksk. Why?” He raised his eyebrows and leaned in, tilting his head for a second. “Is there tea?”

Nico sobbed, his heart wrenching. Where was Will? “No, not at all.” He kissed Bill’s face. “Not at all.”

20 YEARS LATER…

Nico had successfully gone crazy.

He and Billiam had three kids. Each one blond. Each one young.

Each one just as VSCO as their dad.

It was an endless cycle of “SKSKSKS” and “ANNA OOP-” and they had about fifty thousand metal straws strewn around their house. Their kids didn’t even wear pants anymore, just oversized T-shirts. They didn’t even have the demon - it was a Monkey See, Monkey Do situation.

And Nico was done. He’d even developed a twitch in his eye. From the moment he got up in the morning to the moment he fell asleep at night, his mind swirled with unwanted expressions and metal straws in his eyes and Hydro Flasks on the table and oversized T-shirts strewn across the bed and he was positively done.

There was only one thing left to do.

Nico grabbed the knife from the kitchen drawer. Then he turned to the onions on the cutting board and started chopping with rage. (It was his turn to make dinner tonight, and he hated every moment of it.)

But he had something to look forward to, and he had everything ready.

Bill was home from work now, sitting in the living room and scrolling through Instagram. Nico watched him, thinking about that fatal day several years ago at Camp Half-Blood when everything had gone wrong for him.

Well, Nico would fix that today.

“Bill,” Nico called, gritting his teeth. Calling his beloved William “Bill” still stung him, despite it having been years later. “It’s time for dinner. Call the kids.”

Bill stood from the couch and fixed his messy bun, then called, “Billiam, Jr.! Litpollo! Percy, Jr.! Time for dinner! Sksksk.”

Nico made his way down the hall and opened the garage door, crying out to his pet hyena: “BAMBI! Come on, boy. Time for your yummy chinken dinner.”

Bambi growled and bounded into the building, turning towards the kids that had now come into the dining room. Bill eyed the oversized cat with scrutiny. “Bae, I think we need to tame that thing.”

Nico turned his head to look at his hyena. He shrugged. “Seems fine to me.”

“He’s gnawing on our child’s head.”

Nico eyed his kitty, who had its jaws around their child Litpollo’s head. “No he isn't,” Nico decided. “It’s just licking Litpollo's head. Litpollo just has a really tiny head.”

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but Nico clapped his hands and exclaimed: “Time for dinner!” He offered Bill a dazzling smile. “And I have a surprise for you.”

Bill’s eyes widened and a smile of his own flashed across his face. “Sksksk. I’m excited. Yass queen.”

Nico’s eye twitched. “Yes, time for dinner.”

The family of five (including Bambi the Hyena, it was six) sat at the dinner table. (Yes, Bambi sat at a dinner table. Nico considered that quite domestic of Bambi).

“Now, before we start, I have a little something for Bill.” Nico stood again and pulled out something from his pocket. Bill leaned in to look at it, and realization dawned on him. He hissed and jumped up from his chair.

“Skskskskskkssksksksk!” he exclaimed. “That’s a cross. Why do you have that?” Just being in the presence of it seemed to make him antsy.

Nico offered him a dangerous smile. “Well, you see, Billiam, I became a priest online. I have a certificate and everything.” He tilted his head innocently and, with that smile still plastered onto his face, said, “I am here to eradicate the Demon of VSCO.”

“No,” Bill said shakily, but his voice had changed. It was rougher, scratchier, a voice he wouldn’t have on any other normal day. “No, you can’t. You’ve been going behind my back this entire time? How dare you.”

“I’m here to save you, Bill. Or should I say… William.”

“NO!” Bill screeched, picking up Litpollo and shielding his face with the child. “I REFUSE! SKSKSK!”

Nico only smiled wider, his dark eyes shining with fearsome mirth. Suddenly, the lights flickered on and off and a harsh wind blew across the room. Outside, clouds started gathering like they were ready for a shitshow to happen. Nico rose from the floor, the wind carrying his weight like he was lighter than paper. He held out the cross in front of him, showing it to Bill’s VSCO demon. Bill hissed, and his eyes starting glowing bright yellow, clearly aggravated by the cross. He dropped the child, who squeaked and ran off to eat his dry chinken dinner.

Nico’s own eyes had started glowing, but his were a bright red flash like he was about to shoot lasers. “BY THE POWER VESTED IN ME,” Nico exclaimed, his voice projecting outward and all around the house, “I PRONOUNCE THEE, VSCO DEMON, GONE.”

Nico slammed the cross against Bill’s chest, making steam circle and sizzle around Bill’s chest. The blond cried out in pain, but Nico ignored him.

“BEGONE, THOT!” Nico thundered.

A big bang resonated between them, and Nico and Bill were both thrown across the room. Their children screamed, but all Nico could think about was Bill and whether or not he was back. Despite being disoriented, he sat upright and looked across the room. Billiam was thrown to the kitchen, and his messy bun had come undone. The scrunchies on his wrists were hissing and smoking, but otherwise he looked fine.

Nico stood up slowly, keeping his hand on the wall for balance. “Will?” he said quietly. It was strange using that name after so many years, but it felt good. It felt comfortable.

Bill didn’t answer. Nico’s heart started racing.

He rushed to Bill’s side, checking his pulse and touching his face, making sure was alive. When he decided that he was alright, Nico let out a breath of relief. He shook Bill gently. “Will? Will, please, wake up. Tell me you’re okay.”

For a moment, all was silent. Nico’s children had even stopped screaming, but Nico wasn’t sure where they were or what they were doing. Right now, it was only about Billiam.

Suddenly, Bill started coughing. He sat up a little straighter and coughed into his arm, and Nico patted is back in means of helping his partner. Bill stopped after a few moments, but his focus was only on the kitchen tiles.

Nico’s heart pounded in anticipation. Was Billiam gone? Was Will back? Goosebumps prickled his skin.

“Will?” Nico asked. “Are you okay?”

Bill started laughing. Nico wanted to take this as a good sign, but the laughter seemed eerie. He took Bill’s baby hand in his.

Bill turned to face him, a wide grin on his face. “YOU FOOL!” he exclaimed. “YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID?”

Nico gasped and threw himself away from Bill, shaking his head. “No,” he whispered. “No. It should have worked! I went onto Wikipedia for the instructions!”

Bill only laughed harder. “YOU DIPSHIT! YOU MULTIPLIED ME!” His eyes danced with his laughter.

“Multiplied?” Nico exclaimed. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” He frowned. “Also, no swearing in front of the kids. Watch your fucking language, asshole.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Bill exclaimed. “MY CHILDREN,” he called, turning his face away from Nico’s. “COME!”

From the dining room, the children’s small feet pitter-pattered across the floor. Rage filled Nico’s chest, and he tackled Bill to the ground. “VSCO DEMON!” he cried. “What did you do to them? If you hurt them-”

“I did no such thing,” Bill said. “I would never hurt them.”

“Then what did you do?”

In creepy unison, all his kids exclaimed: “SKSKSK! I’VE GIVEN THEM ALL A PIECE OF ME! NOW I EXIST IN ALL OF YOUR FAMILY AND LOVED ONES!”

“NOOOOO!” Nico cried. “WHY?”

“Children,” Bill said, “what do we say to Nico?”

“SAVE THE TURTLES!” And they all took off their oversized T-shirts and threw them in his face.

The end. Nico sobbed forever.

#Bilco revolution #bill solace revolution #bill solace #nico di angelo #bilco #AHHAHAHA IM LITERALLY SCREAMING

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a-fanatic-fangirl-requests · 5 years

Note

omg i love your blog sm!! i was wondering if you could write an itachi x reader angst?? like it's set during the uchiha massacre and itachi has to yk,, kill his wife aka the reader?? it literally came up to me in a dream! thank you!!

Hi. You have no idea how happy I am I got this request. I’ve been wanting to write this FOREVER. Let me tell you why. So, in one of the Naruto Storm video games, Tobi/Madara is talking to Sasuke, explaining to him about who Itachi had killed and such. Eventually, he mentions he killed his lover and I made a noise between a gasp and a scream. So...I wholeheartedly believe that Itachi having a lover is canon based on the video games and I won’t let anyone take that away from me. That was many many years ago though. But that desire to put it into words has remained and I haven’t seen anything else like this out there, so I’m glad to give it to you!Also, Itachi is aged up to be at least 18. But let’s just say 20 to be safe~ I hope you enjoy the read!

It’s Ok. (Itachi x Fem!Reader)

Warning(s): angst, death, I cried writing this so you better cry reading this

Word Count: 2,531

“Oh my.” A yawn escaped your lips for the fourth time as you made your way back to the Uchiha compound. “I’m more tired than I thought.” You muttered into your hand as a means to conceal the yawn. A small bit of cold metal touched your lips, making you pull your hand away. The silver ring on your finger brought a smile to your face. “How did I get so lucky.” It was a statement, not a question as you would never question the reason why, just glad that it was.

Itachi had sent you on a spa getaway for a few days and nature seeing. The both of you were supposed to go, but of course, the Anbu came first. You weren’t upset by it, it was something that the both of you knew would happen and what was accepted going into the marriage: the village and its safety come first.

However, that did not mean your marriage was accepted by others.

The rest of the clan found it an ill match as Itachi was the pride and joy of the Uchiha clan, while you…you were some ‘nobody’ who barely made it to Chunin rank. It would be a lie to say if it did not bother you at the beginning of the relationship.

“Shh, (F/N), don’t let it bother you.” Itachi’s deep and soothing voice hummed in your ear, curled up in his arms on the couch in your small apartment.

“How can I not?” You sniffled back, nuzzling your way even closer to him only to have his arms tighten around you even more.

A small kiss was placed at your forehead. “Because, they don’t know you. And, unfortunately, they’re telling you all you need to know about them.” Itachi sighed sadly. “I’m sorry they cannot accept the beautiful soul of the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

That had put a smile to your lips. “Really?” You whispered, looking up at him for confirmation.

He returned that smile and nodded his head. “Really.” His lips met yours, sealing that statement forever in your heart.

Itachi supported you no matter what, regardless of what anyone may say or think of him as a cold-hearted ‘weapon’. Although, the mere thought of how he was treated always made your blood boil. Truly, the Uchiha clan had told you all you needed to know about their practices without being told directly. Whenever Itachi had brought you over to his parent’s home, Fugaku would always be sure to praise his son’s accomplishments a little too hard.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? That the next great shinobi of our generation is of the Uchiha clan.” Fugaku would boast, motioning to Itachi with a drink in his hand. “A genius. A perfect weapon.” He mused to which his wife, Mikoto nodded.

“It truly is. He makes the clan proud.” She would say in agreement, never seeming to make a statement of her own.

The pair would always make you tense, your hand balling into fists. But as soon as that would happen, a larger hand would lay over your own and put you at ease. Your hand relaxed and laced together with Itachi’s, allowing you to eat your dinner in peace while he fended off the attention to him as a ‘tool to be used’ into something more mundane.

And unfortunately, another dinner was planned. This one was by his parents inviting them over, not Itachi’s own goodwill to try and have a connection.

You had just lay Sasuke down for bed on the couch, the boy having fallen asleep while you read to him, when Itachi told you his parent’s wishes. “They what? You’re kidding.” You asked in disbelief, keeping your voice quiet as you lay a blanket over Sasuke’s small form. “What do they even want to talk about?”

“Something that is none of their business.” Came the short reply.

Confused, you made your way over to where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, a cup of tea in his hands with another beside it. Itachi handed you the other brewed cup to which you gave small sip before asking, “Which is…?” You pressed, wanting him to explain a bit further.

He ran his hand through his dark hair, the hair tie not in to hold it back. “When we are going to have a child.”

You stared at him blankly for a moment before clenching your jaw. “You’re right, that is none of their business.” You rolled your (E/C) eyes and leaned on the counter next to him. “And here I thought they may be coming around to me,” lifting the cup up to your lips, you added, “guess not,” and took a long sip.

Silence filled the air for a good while, the both of you sipping on your tea with the occasional snore from Sasuke being the only other sound. “Would you like a child?” Itachi asked, his hand reaching out to grasp your left one, gently rubbing the silver band on it with his thumb.

“I,” your eyes glanced down in the near empty cup of tea, “I don’t know. I like the idea of them. But…I’m not sure I would make a good mother.” A small snort came from Itachi and you looked at him with narrowed eyes, “What?” You asked in challenge, wondering exactly what he was going to say.

Setting his own cup down, he stepped in front of you and effortlessly lifted up your (B/T) form to sit on the counter and occupied the space between your legs. “I’m surprised is all.” He hummed, a hand reaching up to gently grasp your cheek, his pale thumb stroking your cheek bone. “I’m surprised you’re doubting the skills you clearly possess.”

Now it was your turn to snort, but a smile found its way to your face regardless—like it always seemed to when you’re with him. “I’m curious. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Well,” he glanced over his shoulder before motioning with his head at it, “the way you were interacting with Sasuke would be my best example.”

“That’s different, we are just watching him for the night.”

“It’s not different.” He immediately said, his hands now finding their way to your hips. “You’ve shown incredible patience. Allowing him to show you whatever he wanted to. An interesting stick he found? You marveled at it. The fireball he was able to summon? You cheered for him like no one else had.” He praised, his forehead now leaning forward to rest against your (S/C) one. “Reading to him and doing voices with it? You are a natural.” His lips came closer to yours. “Not to mention, how you treat the blonde boy. Whenever you see him, you speak with him, give him attention. You have a kind soul.”

By now, a dark flush was beginning to spread on your face. You would never not love the compliments he gave, but it always was embracing to have him say them so openly and as a matter of fact, not opinion. “You…you would make a great father.” You whispered back, now finding your lips just a breath apart; so close, that you could practically feel him smile.

“Thank you, (F/N). That means the world.” Your lips and bodies met that night, hoping that whatever the result would be, it would be a good one.

Playing with a lock of your (H/C) hair, you had been waiting patiently for the doors to the compound to open. But…they wouldn’t budge. Frowning, you glanced around and while it was night time, it was dead silent. “That’s odd.” You muttered, noting the air smelt weird too. Itachi had not been at the home you shared that was thankfully away from the compound, his mission supposed to have been over the day prior, and figured he might be at his family’s home to pick up Sasuke early as you were going to look after him again.

Ignoring the warning in your head to not pursue it and turn around, you leapt up to balance on the top of the gate only to nearly fall back in shock.

Bodies. Bloodied, fallen, bodies littering the ground. Given your relationship with the clan as a whole, the only thing you felt was shock and worry about the two Uchiha that mattered in your life: Itachi and Sasuke.

Quickly leaping down, you ran from door to door, body to body, quickly determining that none of them were Itachi nor Sasuke. And while you should have been relieved, you just weren’t.

Rounding another corner, you stopped midstep, finding the small figure you were hoping but dreading to see. “Sasuke!” You cried out, running and sliding down next to him, quickly checking over his body and determining the blood on him was not his own. He seemed to be merely passed out. Right as you were about to pick him up and take him to the hospital when a pained voice spoke behind you.

“Why are you here, (F/N)?” The voice, while so familiar, sounded to be deeply in pain.

Laying Sasuke’s upper body back down on the ground, you slowly stood up. “I got back early. I wanted to surprise you.” You whispered back, knowing full well who eliminated the Uchiha clan. “Surprise.”

“(F/N)….”

Taking a deep breath, you turned to find your blood-splattered husband with his Sharingan activated and tears flowing from his eyes. The both of you stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. “It’s ok.” You said after a moment, your hand reaching up to brush away some of his tears, effectively spreading the blood away as well. “It’s ok.” You whispered again.

“(F/N)…I…you can’t….” His voice was cracking as his body trembled, struggling to speak.

“I know.” A few tears began to fall from your face now. You had seen too much. You knew what had to happen. Tilting your head, you placed a soft kiss against Itachi’s lips which was quickly met with desperation, a need from him to never let it stop.

One of his hands found its way to your hair and holding it tightly, the other wrapped around your waist to pull you close to him, sword falling to the ground. “Take us back to our home?” You whispered against his lips before he gave a small nod, your body getting picked up and in what seemed like an instant, you were inside your bedroom.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, he loomed over you, hands grasping the bedsheets and his head leaning on your shoulder as it seemed even more tears were falling. “(F/N)….” He said again, this time seeming to choke out your name.

A sad smile graced your features, your head turning to place a kiss against his cheek while your left hand found a kunai in the pouch on his thigh. “It’s ok.” You said again, nudging it into his hand.

Itachi pulled back to look at you, his red eyes seeming to memorize every last inch of you, so he could always remember you—his beautiful wife.

“Oh.” You said suddenly, lifting your left hand up, smiling fondly at the silver ring there. With shaking fingers, you took it off and placed it on his pinky. Once it was securely on, you smiled back up at him. “There. See? I won’t be leaving you.”

Itachi gave a small laugh, “You always find a way, don’t you.” He whispered, letting you take his hand that held the kunai to raise it to your heart.

“Yes, I do.” You smiled back, your eyes staring up at him with nothing but love and acceptance.

His hand seemed to still a little with both of your hands wrapped around his on the kunai’s handle. “I love you, (F/N).” Itachi leaned in, his lips against yours.

Closing your eyes, you whispered against him, “I love you too, Itachi.” And with one last kiss and your hands jerking towards you, your world went entirely dark. All the while the body that sobbed above you mourned what could have been.

______________________________________________________

Having died for the second time was odd. But now, Itachi could eternally rest. He was able to see Sasuke accept the truth of that fateful night, knowing full well that he may never be forgiven. Or even son, get sent to the darkest parts of the afterlife. So, it was met with some confusion that all he saw was light.

“Itachi?”

The man’s body froze. A voice he hadn’t heard in person for years, and had only replayed conversations in his mind. Turning in disbelief, his breath got caught in his throat at seeing the most wonderful sight before him. “(F/N)?” The name came out barely audible, it was not a name he had said aloud in a long time.

You smiled brightly, walking over to him while making sure to keep the small bundle to your chest. “Hello, my love. I’m glad you’re finally with us.”

Itachi had been in awe of how serene you were in the white kimono that he had nearly missed the small object in your arms, but he did not miss the ‘us’ comment. “Us?” He whispered, a sense of guilt and dread beginning to fill his heart.

“Itachi Uchiha. I know what you’re thinking, and don’t you dare. I had no idea either.” Your hand opening the bundle a bit more, an infant with black hair and large dark eyes stared up at the man. “It’s ok.” You said again, letting the man embrace the two of you.

“Do…do they have a name?” He whispered into your hair, his heart trying to accept that he had unknowingly killed his own unborn child.

You shook your head, your free hand reaching out to adjust his arms. “No, not yet.” Placing the small bundle into his arms, you smiled up at him proudly. “I wanted to wait for his father.”

“A boy.” He smiled, unable to help the tears from falling in both joy and sorrow.

Nodding, you wrapped your arm around his waist and leaned against his shoulder, looking down at the life you had created and now meeting in the afterlife. “Yes. You’ve done so much, Itachi.” You hummed, laying your hand over his. “You’ve sacrificed so much. Now…it’s time for you.” Leaning up, you placed a kiss against his lips, a feeling he had missed so much. “It’s time for us.” A small sound of happiness came up from the baby in his arms. “He agrees. Now, what should we name him?”

Looking at you, then to his son, Itachi closed his eyes. “How about…(C/N)?”

Smiling, you nodded in agreement. “(C/N) it is.”

Swallowing hard, he raised (C/N) up and gave a light kiss to the boy’s forehead which earned a happy giggle from the boy before placing one on your own. “I love you, (F/N).”

Glad that you could finally be together forever, you beamed back up at him, “I love you too, Itachi. Now, come on. We have eternity together. We’re not going anywhere.” Taking his hand, the three of you walked off into that bright void, your souls at peace.

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yejiroh · 4 years

Note

Hello! I love your Wake Up and See Me story! (not so secret slut for angst and character death) I'd like to request very angsty HCs for Obey me! charas x fem!reader who is still grieving for her family singing her mother's lullaby while spacing out somewhere public. The lullaby in question being Lullaby of Woe by Ashley Serena, The Hanging Tree from Hunger Games series or Come Little Children by Erutan. Wanna see their reactions so bad!!!

I- I really need to update that series. Thank you so much for the support of it anon!

And thank you for the request darling! I’m sorry it took so long, but the lullaby’s were beautiful! So yes, I decided to listen to them all and match them with who I think it’d get the best reaction from! I made a little scene as well before the reactions, so it may or may not be a bit of a long read.

Lullaby Reaction! Obey Me BROTHERS x Fem!MC (ANGST)

Couldn't add the Keep Reading link because Tumblr is a beeotch. Sorry not sorry to everyone because this is LONG!

***

TRIGGER WARNING: death, loss of parents, toxicity, mentions of cannibalism, more death, child abuse, traumatic stress, mentions of suicide, nightmare factors, unintentional murder, loss of siblings, and as the anon requested, A SHIT TON OF ANGST!

Side note: I really really liked Lullaby of Woe...may consider making a series based on the lyrics. Who knows?

***

This one is kind of long because I did get carried away, but I do hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

***

Lucifer, Mammon and Beezlebub: Come Little Children

As the cool Autumn breeze hit her face, MC took a sip from the hot cup between her clothed hands. Today would mark the 15th year since the orphanage- her orphanage, had burned down. All 23 children and her parents except she had burned to an ash- less than that truly. She, with her ill body and frail stature, she, with her poor value and level of importance, she, the one who had been trapped in the building longest of all.

Every time she had walked into the toy store around the corner, MC felt pulled towards the puzzle sets. Specifically, the 24 piece sets. MC was the 24th child. But she was also the first. Every day, she’d buy a set, just to lay it on their graves, sorry that she had been left behind.

“Come little children, I’ll take thee away, into a land of enchantment…oh momma, I’m so sorry I let you all down...I’m sorry I played with the fire, I’m sorry.” A tear had poured down, slid to her dry lips as she desperately held them back.

“I’m sorry momma...papa...I’m sorry I didn’t listen...I’m sorry I killed you all…”

And, as she walked away from the tombstones, a heart that was not hers broke.

{Reactions}

LUCIFER:

1.Never before had Lucifer been so...disturbed.

2.The song was stunning, and that was true….but somehow he could relate

3.He would definitely stay on the down low for a while, his pride showing when he has to come up with lies as to why he wasn’t talking to you

4.Okay, flashbacks for weeks. He was genuinely affected by the song.

5.In the end, he needs more comfort than you once he finally kicks pride out the window and sheds tears in front of you.

6.“I’m sorry, MC…”

MAMMON:

1.Okay...he wasn’t the best at spying on you-but he was worried! Your behavior was odd since last Sunday...actually, every Sunday.

2.He ran out to you, crying hard as he tackled you, saying how sorry he was for digging into your personal life.

3.The demon was holding fistfulls of little puzzle pieces, candy, and notes, claiming they were from the souls of the children, who wished you the best in life and to move on.

4.He, the avatar of greed, had done something of huge charitable value for these children as he held you close

5.Yes, he got flashbacks….but decided not to dwell on them, more so trying to comfort you.

6.“Stupid human...you can come to me always, ya know that?”

BEEZLEBUB:

1.Beezlebub doesn’t always show his feelings, sure. But he does, forever and always, come for those he cares about.

2.It’s like a magnetic pull as you cry. He’s there, wiping the large tear threatening to spill with his thumb, licking it off before wiping his hand off.

3.A kind smile with eyes pain ridden as his big hands engulf your own, for he too, had a tragic past and lost someone he considered blood.

4.“It’s okay, MC. They’re right here, and always will be. Please don’t cry.” He says as he points to your heart, right by your breast, but with no sexual intent. Only comfort.

5.“Come on, big girl, don’t cry, I’m here.” He says, holding you close and running his fingers through your hair with the gentlest of touches.

6. No one can harm you in your vulnerable state as the Avatar of Gluttony protects you.

Satan and Asmodeus: The Hanging Tree

It was in class- herbology. The lesson was on wisteria trees when MC bordly began to hum a tune.

“Are you, are you, coming to the tree? They strung up a man, they say who murdered three. Strange things did happen here no stranger would it be, if we met at midnight, in the hanging tree.”

“Miss L/n quiet down! I’m trying to teach!” The professor had called out, but MC was lost as tears began to bubble up. She continued her little song quietly as her desk mates huffed in annoyance. She’d done this every day of the week, only to end up crying. Nobody knew what was wrong with her, nor did they get a word out of her. Not until Amso took MC and Satan out for a spa treatment.

Filing her nails, Asmo blew off the dust, his brows furrowed.

“Say, MC?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is it you sing that depressing song every time someone brings up wisteria trees?”

Now Satan looked up, lifting a cucumber off his eye, his curiosity sparked. MC looked away, pulling her hand away from Asmo’s as she pulled her knees to her chest, a deep sigh escaping her lips. Asmo quickly waved his hands in front of him.

“Oh, sorry, sorry MC! I didn’t know it was a touchy subject-”

Satan interrupted. “Care to share?”

“Satan!”

“No, no, Asmo- it’s okay. It’s...it’s just not something I really talk about.” MC said, finishing off with a whisper.

The two leaned in, eyes big and expectant when MC looked to them.

“You know, my father passed away when I was really young. It was a selfish reason, really- to put it into his own words, it was, “To escape the responsibility of life.” , but that wasn’t the case.” MC raised her pant leg, revealing all the burn marks and scars covering the skin.

“It was really to escape the guilt of hurting me.”

The brothers went quiet for a moment before Satan put a hand up.

“So what does that have to do with that song you were singing?”

MC smiled bitterly. “Because he was the man in The Hanging Tree my mother always sang to me.”

“So what happened to your mother?”

“She too, joined him in death…and left me alone.”

{Reactions}

SATAN:

1.He was at a loss for words, to say the least.

2.Never, in the demon’s countless millennia had he come across such a pitiful soul

3.Taking a bite of the cucumber before tossing it aside, he took the other off, tracing his fingers across the burns that resembled his rage: Ugly, loved, and traumatizing

4.As the room was quiet, he just felt intrigued to know more, had to know more.

5.“You’re very strong, MC.”

6.The Hanging Tree did not leave his mind for quite some time as he tried to figure out the mystery MC had unknowingly left implanted in his brain.

ASMODEUS:

1.He has never ruined his makeup by crying in front of somewhere. Never ever.

2.But he sure as hell came close to it.

3.Asmo had nothing to say but grab MC’s hands and kiss them softly over and over again before continuing the manicure he had initially started.

4.A mental note to take MC’s mind off other things so as not to give her wrinkles from stress or depression.

Leviathan and Belphegor: Lullaby of Woe

She never had a peaceful night's rest. The dreams always came back to haunt her.Each night, she’d live through it, again, and again, and again. Oh, how the false man in white would come to her, a mischievous grin on his handsome face before cutting into her mind, showing her the deaths at her fault. Her mother, kind and beautiful, always coming in to protect her, reassure her that it wasn’t real, that she was seeing things.

“Momma, please! I’m scared! I don’t wanna see him again momma!” A little girl wailed, holding onto her mother’s waist, legs wrapped around in a firm hold, hands bundled in her clothes.

“My darling, please just sleep~ I’ll always be here love. Always.”

And always she was, for her remains laid in that rotting home to this day, not yet known. Still, no one would believe the late Mrs. L/n’s daughter.

MC shuffled more in her sleep before finally waking up, eyes puffy from the unconscious crying. Slowly she got up, getting ready for the school day as she washed her face, prepared, and left the room.

“Good morning.” Each of the brothers would greet her, to which she’d return a small nod. There was nothing to talk about. Not when these nightmares haunted her so.

A little girl sat by her mother’s corpse, a man beside her.

Drink, child. Feast in the blood of a sinner.

“...But….but mother wasn’t a sinner…”

“Ignorant child. You are but a bastard, for she was never married. Drink and cleanse yourself of the blood of a sinner. Repent and be saved.”

Truly, the false man in white was but a liar, wanting nothing more than a child’s innocence and fortune as he toyed with her.

Lost in her own fantasies, she began to sing, the tall Jubokko tree towering beneath her with the damned’s skulls by her feat.

“For the witcher, heartless, cold...Paid in coin of gold, He comes he’ll go leave naught behind, but heartache and woe…”

“Deep, deep woe, for the witcher, heartless, cold, Paid in coin of gold, he comes…”

MC’s voice broke into it, pathetic cracks of the voice clear but quiet as she stopped.

A small applause was heard behind her; Belphie and Levi had seen and listened patiently, attentive and concerned.

The Avatar of Sloth put his arms down, kicking a skull as he sat down.

“That was a beautiful song, MC. What has made you so upset?”

Levi too, had sat down, his eyes no longer focused on the forgotten D.D.D.

MC just smiled sheepishly, sitting down with the boys as she tucked back a loose strand away.

“It was nothing important. A story for another time.”

{Reactions}

BELPHEGOR:

1.Girl, honey, darling. You're lying. It’s okay! You can trust him!

2.If MC doesn’t end up telling him, then he can just slip into the dreams (I think?)

3.Honestly worried for you. He’s the Avatar of Sleep- he KNOWS you’ve been disturbed lately, and more so than others.

4.Can you imagine the pure look of hatred once he finds out about this man?

5.And ew, you drank your mother’s blood?

6.But that’s cannibalism, which is a major sin so…

7.I guess you really can stay with him forever!

8.Honestly, he’s like a flame; burns as long as there’s fuel, then will move on to another topic.

LEVIATHAN:

1.So yeah. He didn’t really say anything.

2.But he was listening.

3.Didn’t make an anime reference once because nothing he’s ever knew of had been that horrifying.

4. Didn’t wanna make you feel shy about it, but kind of hints about it later on.

5.No, he doesn’t care about the man, because as you sat down on the skull ridden dirt, you just seemed so...peaceful

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honey-dewey · 4 years

Text

(Hold me Closer) Tiny Dancer

Chapter 4

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 1,742

Fic Warnings: Non-sexual age regression, split perspective, classification AU, canon-typical violence

Chapter Warnings: age regression, mentions of medication, depressive thoughts, one tantrum

Taglist: None for this fic. If you want to be added, just ask, but I know this is an odd topic and therefore will not tag anyone unless they ask

Jack’s not exactly the most stable human being on the planet, but when he tests as a Caregiver, all hell breaks loose as someone who was just his work partner suddenly becomes so much more.

Multi-chapter story. Chapter 4 of ? Read Chapter 1 Here

-Mojito-

You woke up with a splitting headache. The doorbell had rung, and Whiskey, in his pyjamas, was answering the door.

“You’re up,” he noted, putting the box he’d picked up off the porch down on the kitchen counter. “Want breakfast?”

“Since when can you cook?” You grumbled, sitting up and rubbing your head. “And holy shit, what did we drink last night? I’m hungover as hell.”

“No you’re not,” Whiskey countered, handing you a plate of eggs.

You raised an eyebrow, immediately beginning to scarf down the eggs. “Are you really telling me I’m not hungover?”

“Yes I am.” Whiskey handed you half of a pill bottle cap. “That’s yours.”

Immediately, the memories of yesterday came rushing back, and you practically tossed the cap across the room. “Please tell me Ginger was able to get me more pills.”

Whiskey sighed, scooting closer to you on the couch. “Unfortunately, no. We’re roughin’ it for the next week or so ‘til she can get you a refill.”

You shook, fear turning your blood to ice in your veins. “Can I go to my room?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Even from where you were sitting, you could tell Whiskey wanted to say no. But he nodded. “Come out for lunch, okay?”

You managed a tiny nod before racing off to your room, shaking the entire time. You crawled into bed, pulling the covers over your head and whimpering. Whiskey knew. He knew. He knew.

The depressive mantra lulled you to sleep, tears wetting the pillow beneath you as you drifted out of consciousness.

-Whiskey-

Mojito wasn’t out for lunch.

Jack’s stomach turned in knots, monitoring the pot of pasta on the stove. He really was worried about Mojito. Not only as his partner in the mission, but also as his friend.

He turned, examining the Little’s items Ginger had sent over. It truly was the basics. A cute table setting, three onesies, some thick socks, two pacifiers, a bottle, some formula powder, a sippy cup, diapers and the respective cleaning products, and some toys. Jack had already cleaned everything he could, laying it all to dry as he did the breakfast dishes.

“Mojito.” He finally worked up the courage to go bother them, knocking lightly on their door. “Mojito, darlin’, it’s lunchtime.”

No response.

Jack knocked again, repeating his call for lunch. When he still received nothing, he carefully tried the doorknob.

Unlocked.

Jack pushed into the room slowly, not wanting to intrude too harshly. All he was met with was Mojito, sleepily rubbing their bleary red eyes and sitting up in bed.

“Aw,” Jack cooed softly, settling on the edge of the bed. “Did someone have a good nap?”

Mojito huffed, curling into the pillows, away from him. They eyed him warily, as if trying to gauge whether he was safe or not.

“Darlin’ it’s just me,” Jack promised. “You can trust your old friend Whiskey, can’t ya?”

Mojito huffed again. But they scooted closer, face lighting up with recognition. “Wi’key?”

“Yeah!” Jack said with a soft eagerness. “That’s me, sugar. Whiskey’ll take good care of you, don’t you worry.”

Immediately, Mojito snuggled deep into Jack’s arms, practically falling asleep again as he readjusted until he was able to pick them up.

“Alrighty kiddo,” Jack said, setting Mojito down at the kitchen table. “Who wants lunch?”

Mojito cooed, watching Jack prepare a plate of box mac and cheese. It wasn’t in any way nutritious, but it was soft enough that Mojito shouldn’t choke on any of the noodles. They simply stared when Jack put the plate down in front of them though.

“What?” Jack asked, sitting at the table with them. “Is it not what you wanted?”

Mojito simply blinked. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Jack. How old was Mojito? Could they even eat solids?

“Mojito, darlin’, how old are you?”

Jack had expected an answer of three, maybe four. That was the average for Littles. He did not expect for Mojito to hold out a wobbly one finger.

“You’re twelve months old?”

Mojito whined, holding their hands out, and Jack immediately scooped them up. A toddler was one thing. A full blown baby was a whole different ball game.

As he held Mojito, thinking wildly about what the hell he was going to do, Jack tried desperately to remember what the other Caregivers at Statesman had said about caring for their Littles. Something about instincts? That wasn’t about to work for Jack. Every single instinct he had was telling him to call Ginger and beg her to bring them home. To send a qualified Caregiver out for Mojito. To make Mojito stop crying.

Jack stopped thinking, looking down at Mojito. In his whirlwind of anxiety, he hadn’t realized that they’d started to sob.

“Oh darlin’,” Jack cooed, rocking back and forth, feeling Mojito bury their face into the crook of his neck. “Darlin’ are you hungry?”

Mojito sniffled, grabbing tightly at Jack’s sleep shirt.

“Okay.” Jack one-handedly grabbed the bottle from off the countertop in the kitchen and did his best to fill it without getting an excess of milk or formula all over the place. When he was happy with the results, Jack put the bottle in the microwave and waited, rocking Mojito slowly while he watched the green microwave numbers count down to zero.

When it finally beeped, Jack took the bottle and Mojito to the couch. Laying Mojito down so that their head was nestled against his upper arm, Jack positioned the bottle on their lips and let out a relieved sigh when they actually started to drink.

Just like that, the cabin was silent. It was a tiny bit scary how quiet the space could be when Jack and Mojito weren’t talking.

Once Mojito was finished, Jack carried them and some of the clothes Ginger had sent into Mojito’s bedroom. Laying them both on the bed, Jack stared down at the half-asleep Mojito, confused and concerned. How in the hell was he supposed to dress Mojito? He could barely dress himself most days.

He managed to separate a cute onesie that would keep Mojito warm, with long legs and mint leaves printed on the soft white cotton.

“‘Jito?” Jack held the onesie out, faltering when he saw Mojito basically asleep, their thumb in their mouth. “Oh. Okay. What do I do?”

At this point, he was thinking out loud, talking to himself as Mojito slipped deeper and deeper into sleep.

“Ginger!” Jack quickly called Ginger, transferring her to his glasses and praying she wasn’t too busy.

“Jack?” Ginger mercifully answered, her tiny image appearing in the corner of his right lens. “Did something go wrong?”

Jack winced. “I need help taking care of Mojito,” he admitted nervously. “I don’t know what I’m doing with any of it.”

Ginger sighed. “Oh you are so lucky I’m not actively working right now Daniels,” she grumbled. “Out of all the Caregivers Statesman has, I’d expect you to be the best. You were the only one with an actual kid on the way. Didn’t you take any parenting classes?”

“She died before we could do it.” Jack’s tone turned bitter, waking Mojito and making them squirm. “Sorry ‘Jito.”

Mojito chirped, causing Ginger to smile. “Jack, give them a pacifier. Their fingers are dirty and could cause an illness. Plus, it’s bad for their teeth.”

“Okay.” Jack gave Mojito a pat on the stomach, causing them to giggle. “Let me grab you something better than your fingers darlin’. Be right back.”

The reassurance was not enough to keep Mojito from crying as soon as Jack was out of their sight.

“Object permanence,” Ginger reminded him as he rushed back into Mojito’s room with a white pacifier. “Babies typically think that when something is gone, it’s gone forever.”

“Thanks for the warnin’!” Jack snapped, causing Mojito to wail harder. “Oh darlin’ it’s okay.” He sat on the bed, pulling Mojito into his lap and holding the pacifier to their lips. They latched on immediately, and Jack sighed out a thanks as he wiped away their tears with the edge of his shirt. “Ginge, what now?”

Ginger shrugged. “Have they eaten?”

“Gave them a bottle about ten minutes ago.”

Nodding, Ginger gestured to the onesie still laying on the bed. “They probably need to nap. Get them changed. And I’d use a diaper, unless you want to be cleaning the bed sheets, the clothes, and the dirty Little all at once.”

Jack paused. “Can you walk me through it?”

Ginger laughed. “Ah, the great Jack Daniels, asking me for help changing a diaper. Yeah, I got you. But you owe me double now.”

“That fine,” Jack promised. “I’ll put in a word with Champ, see if I can’t get you promoted.”

“Nah,” Ginger shook her head. “You can make it up to me by taking Galahad up on his offer to train you in England. I’ll pull some strings, make sure Mojito can go too. But that is what you owe me.”

Jack almost told her no. But he looked down at Mojito, who was sleeping peacefully in his lap, and remembered something about Kingsman having an excellent Little’s program. “Okay,” he breathed. “Let’s do this.”

Of all the times for Mojito to wake and get fussy, now was not the right time. But that’s what they did, squirming and crying as Jack stumbled his way through the diaper and the onesie. Eventually, he picked them up, poking their nose and smiling. “Well would’ya look at that ‘Jito. We did it.”

Mojito yawned, and Jack took the opportunity to give them back their pacifier. “Alrighty. Say good-bye to Ginger, It’s nap time.”

Mojito hummed, waving loosely and letting their head fall against Whiskey’s chest. Ginger hung up, allowing Jack to take his glasses and hat off. He sighed, looking down at Mojito, all snuggled up in his arms.

“Alrighty darlin’,” Jack murmured, carrying Mojito to their bed. “Nap time.”

But as soon as Jack set Mojito down, they woke, fussing and reaching out. Jack took a deep breath. Maybe he could use a nap too. Crawling into the bed, Jack let Mojito wiggle into his arms, waiting until they were asleep yet again to finally relax properly.

Jack let his head hit the headboard behind him, closing his eyes, promising himself he’d only sleep for a minute or two.

Which wasn’t the case, but neither agents seemed to mind it either way.

#kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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panda-noosh · 4 years

Text

the missing part {George Weasley x Reader}

Words: 10.5k

Summary: The trio becomes a pair.

Genre: angst

Warnings: mentions of death - grief - this is also a platonic fic so if you’re looking for some good good romance, you might not wanna waste your time with this one.

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - THIS IS A SAD ONE BOYOS

----

You receive the news shortly after everything happens.

The change to the wizarding world is a physical one. Wizards all over the globe can feel the difference, even though they weren't at the scene, even though news has yet to break of the details describing what really happened that evening in Hogwarts. People are cheering and screaming victory in the streets, because everyone just knows. Everyone is breathing normally again. Everyone is safe.

It's excitement that claws at you first and foremost, because you're stuck in that head space where nothing feels wrong. Voldemort is dead – you know it, the world knows it, everyone is okay. You celebrate with a glass of wine, too absorbed in this massive victory to think of the sacrifices that must have happened to make it happen. For tonight, all you want is a chance to bask in a freedom you have not felt nor experienced in many, many years.

But the euphoria can't last forever. One problem has been taken care of, and now there is room for more to trickle in.

You receive the letter the next day. You wake up from a wine-induced sleep to the sound of the owls beak tapping against your window; you retrieve the letter with a hopeful mind and trembling fingers, because it has been so long since you've received a letter that isn't a warning of the Ministry getting closer to your home, or a newspaper reporting news you do not want to hear, news so false and manufactured it made you start buying The Quibbler just for a real taste of what was happening in the outside world.

You open the letter at your kitchen table, and this is something you will always, always remember, a moment that will forever be locked in your brain due to the trauma – genuine trauma – it swept upon you. Over a glass of milk and a bowl of cereal, you read the words Fred is dead, scribbled in the handwriting of Molly Weasley.

You read it over and over again, just to make sure your mind is not playing tricks on you – you would be less surprised if you suddenly found out your months of isolation had made you gone insane, because it seems most impossible that Fred Weasley is no longer alive, no longer with you, no longer laughing and smiling and brightening up a room with his twin brother at his side.

Through your heartbreak, this thought leads you to the even more heartbreaking thought of the twin that is still doing all those things – George. How his world must have shifted, how he must be feeling. You remember sitting beside him back at Hogwarts, listening to him and Fred speak at the exact same time – back then it felt so weird, and you'd cringe and tell them to stop; now, however, you can barely stomach the idea of not hearing their synchronised sentences.

You write back, asking Molly if there's anything you can do, sending your condolences without making it obvious you are completely and utterly crushed. She replies shortly, saying she wants you there for the funeral, George wants you there for the funeral, Fred would want you there for the funeral.

And you don't want to go. Call it selfish,cowardly, but you don't want to. Standing beside his casket, surrounded by his family and friends, will make it real. When you're huddled in your home, away from it all, it's easy enough to pretend Fred is sat at The Burrow, celebrating the same victory as the rest of the wizarding world, the victory he played a part in.

Nonetheless, you arrive at The Burrow the very next day.

Molly opens the door before you've knocked, having clearly heard the faint pop of you Apparating in her front garden. A gnome runs right for your knees, but Molly shoves it away with her foot before dragging you into a bear-like hug; you can see she's been crying furiously, her eyes swollen, her face having aged a number of years in the space of a day. Her hug, though, is just as you've always remembered it, arms tight around your neck, body swaying slightly from side to side as she whispers unintelligible things in your ear.

She pulls away and holds you at arms length; you can't imagine what she must be seeing. That young wizard she used to babysit is gone now, replaced by someone harder, someone more refined and experienced. She's not the only one who has aged a great number of years in such a short space of time.

“How are you?” is the first thing you can manage to say.

And already the tears are flooding her eyes again, like the question has triggered some memory she cannot fight off. Her lower lip trembles, and she humours you with a small nod before she wraps her beefy arm around your shoulders and guides you into the warmth of a home that should not be able to hold so many people but does so anyway.

There they are – the Weasleys, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, all stood in the kitchen. They're chatting, but the conversation is hushed and it ends as soon as you make an appearance. Harry is the first to stand, offering you his hand for a handshake he is too young for; you roll your eyes and tug him into a hug. He grunts against you, but you don't even care – it has been two years since you laid eyes on the Boy Who Lived, and a handshake will simply not cut it.

“You made it,” Hermione says, approaching you once Harry has stumbled off. She wraps her arms gently around your waist. “How was the trip?”

“Easy enough,” you reply, lips pressed into her hair.

“Where have you been all this time?” Bill asks.

Still holding Hermione close, afraid of letting go lest she takes your composure with her, you say, “I've been hiding. Just a flat in Hogsmeade; a pure-blood owns it. He let a bunch of us Muggle-borns stay with him until it all died down.” You glance at Harry. “You feeling alright?”

He nods. “Just. . . Still tired, I guess.”

You can understand that; though you know the newspapers will never do the scene justice, you were able to gather the basic jidst of the events that took place in Hogwarts only a few days prior – the deaths, the injuries, the horrors so many young kids have seen and will now never be able to erase from their memories.

“Well,” Molly exhales shakily. “I'll get the kettle on. Y/N, you must be starving. How does a bit of stew sound?”

You nod, giving Molly a grateful smile before your mind zones back in on where you are, what you're here for. Instinctively you search the room for any sign of your best friend – the one that's left – and it's not exactly a surprise when you see he is not there. The rest of the Weasleys are – even Percy, who sits in the corner with his legs folded over one another, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup of coffee in his hands. He looks up at the feel of your eyes burning into him, surprising you by nodding towards the back door.

You raise your brows, but follow him out nonetheless. Percy and you never truly got on – he was Fred and George's bossy older brother, and that was always what you left it as. Whenever he decided to abandon the Weasley name for the sake of his precious minister, you lost what little respect you had for him.

Now, however, it's difficult to keep that attitude up; the other Weasleys all look exhausted, but Percy looks a little ill, stumbling over the final step the two of you descend. You grab his elbow before he can fall, and he shakes you off in his attempts to pretend he hadn't nearly fallen face first onto the concrete.

He turns to look at you when you're a decent enough distance from the house. “I wasn't sure if you were going to be here.”

“Of course I was going to be here,” you reply, startled by the croak in his voice, as if he hasn't spoken to anyone in weeks. “He was my best friend, Perce.”

“I know. I know he was, but – just – with everything that happened. Mum wasn't even going to send you an owl. She was just going to let you enjoy the celebrations with everyone else. It was Dad who had to step in and tell her you had a right to know.”

Your stomach flips. “Well I'm glad she told me. I'm – I'm glad I can be here.”

Percy nods, looking off into the distance. “Has anyone told you what happened?”

“No. I'm not going to make you relive it if-”

“I was there when it happened. I watched the curse hit him.” His voice breaks, and that drives it home for you; Percy Weasley, usually so composed and professional, is struggling to form a sentence right now. He can't even bring himself to look in your direction.

You step forward and touch his elbow, as if that will cure anything, take away his pain. His eyes close at the feel of your fingers.

“I'm so sorry,” you mumble.

“Yeah,” he replies shakily. “I got the bastard who did it, though.”

You force a smile. “Good.”

“And you know what the most fucked up part of it is?” He opens his eyes and looks at you. “My first thought wasn't even Oh God, my brothers dead. It was Oh God, George is going to be heartbroken.”

Your lower lip trembles before you can stop it, before his words have even properly processed; it's heartbreaking to hear something like that, a blow to the gut you were not prepared for.

Percy laughs, cold and dead. “Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” you choke out. “Yes, I can. Where is George?”

“In his room. He didn't want to see you yet.”

It doesn't even hurt your feelings. You completely understand, considering you're not entirely ready to see him just yet, either.

You glance over at the front door; everyone is beginning to gather round the kitchen table. Arthur pops his head in the window and beckons for you and Percy to hurry up; you give him a thumbs up before whirling back to Percy and grabbing his hand. He starts, eyes widening, but you hurry on before he can say anything.

“What happened to him, Perce? What happened to Fred?”

Percy pauses. “He was dead before he even hit the floor, Y/N. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

You inhale shakily; you cannot cry, not right now, not whenever dinner is being served and his family has pulled themselves together. Percy pulls you into a tight hug when he sees the struggle for peace on your face; you asked for that detail to see if it would help, to see if stripping the mystery from the equation would help you heal a bit quicker, but it doesn't. Now all you can imagine as you walk back into The Burrow, tucked under Percy's arm, is that curse blasting Fred's chest cavity apart, his forever smile fading away for good.

---

The next morning arrives, and you are still yet to see George.

Molly apologises a grand number of times for his absence, but you brush it off every single time – you understand. He's healing. He's suffering, trying to process this just as much as you are. Seeing you after so long apart will only bring back fresh memories, and you don't want to be the reason behind his breakdown.

So you keep your distance, helping Molly and Ginny with breakfast before heading out into the garden to help Ron and Charlie clean up bits of shrapnel that had been left behind from Bill and Fleur's wedding, shrapnel they weren't able to clean up with everything going on.

Charlie keeps the conversation up, forever the chatterbox. Ron humours his older brother with little bits of laughter sprinkled in here and there, but it's obvious he wants nothing more than to just sit in silence for a little while.

As the morning rolls into the afternoon and jobs become scarce, you find yourself walking around the garden on your own. Once upon a time, this used to be the playground for you, Fred and George – three best friends who had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, an entire summer on their hands. Your parents never outwardly disowned you after you received your letter to Hogwarts, but they were always weary of you afterwards, as if expecting you to snap at any given moment. Their fear gave you an excuse to spend the two months of summer holidays at the Weasley's house, where you, Fred and George would play Quidditch for hours on end, hiding from Molly when you could just tell she wanted you to do a job for her.

The memories come back to you in waves, and it hurts, but you force yourself through it, because you'd much rather remember the good times spent with Fred than sit and concentrate on the fact there will no longer be any more of those good times.

You arrive at the tiny square of grass you used to use as a make-shift Quidditch pitch; George would haul the bins over and enchant them to float high enough in the air that you could trick yourselves into believing they really were Quidditch goal posts. You would always be Seeker, because you were good at that, and Fred and George would play against each other with the Quaffle, yelling insults that had Molly emerging from the house, threateningly waving a wooden spoon in their direction. You could never hear what she was saying from so high up, but maybe that was for the best.

You place your hand on the fence, gazing out at the square, so unused and untouched. A gnome scatters across the centre of it and dives into a hole on the other side; you don't even try and grab it.

The sound of footsteps makes you freeze; after months of being in hiding, any noise you cannot immediately identify has you on edge, though this is something you're trying desperately to combat; Voldemort is dead now – he doesn't have to control your life any more.

“Mum told me you were walking about on your own, you little loner.”

George's voice is like a song. Your favourite song. A song you haven't heard in years, but one you love no less than when you heard it every single day.

You glance at him over your shoulder; he's still in his pyjamas, red hair stuck on end, lips chapped and cheeks sunken. His skin looks pale – paler than it usually does – but he's still smiling when his eyes meet yours. You know it's not real, but you appreciate his attempts nonetheless.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was just getting a bit of fresh air.”

“Nothing fresh about the air around here.”

“It's better than being inside.”

George shrugs. “I didn't get the memo.”

You hollow out your cheeks, turning back to the field. “Harry told me about your ear.”

“Oh, did he? Did he happen to find it lying about somewhere, 'cause if so, I'd love to have it back.”

“He said you lost it. It got blown off or something.”

George hums. You can see his knuckles tightening on the fence, and you silently wonder if you've perhaps said too much; maybe he doesn't want to talk about that time.

“It was Snape,” George says at last. “Knocked me out cold, so I don't remember too much. Not like I really need to – I've got all the evidence I need of it happening right here.” He turns his head, showing off the hole where his ear used to be. It looks clean, unbandaged, not very painful if his jokes and snide grin are anything to go off.

Nonetheless, your heart skips at the sight of it; yet another moment where George needed your help and you weren't there to offer it.

“Bloody hell, Georgie,” you whisper. “How many girls did you manage to bag with an injury like that?”

George scoffs. “Not many, I'm afraid. Bit of a waste, I think.”

“Definitely.”

It's quiet for a moment. The wind whistles, and the birds chirp, and there's a gnome cursing beneath the dirt, but all you can focus on is the heavy presence of George standing beside you.

Maybe it's not even George's presence you're focusing on. Maybe it's Fred's, because you know he's there. He's always there, making sure you and George don't step out of line or embarrass him, because now it's the job of his two closest confidants to carry on his legacy – Fred Weasley would want to keep an eye on that.

“How are you feeling, Georgie?” you whisper, the silence suddenly too much when you think of Fred standing within it. It would never be silent if he was really here. Never. “How are you really feeling?”

George takes a moment to answer. You glance over to see him nibbling his bottom lip, brown eyes trained on a spot in the garden where yet another gnome has just emerged and is scarping across the field to freedom. “I don't know.” He looks at you. He's taller now, so he has to look down. “What about you?”

You shrug. “I've – I've definitely been better.”

“Yeah.”

“Percy hugged me.”

“He hasn't been taking it well.”

“I can't really blame him, poor git.”

George chuckles; it's not a noise George usually makes, but you don't question it, knowing he isn't really himself right now.

“The funeral's tomorrow,” he says after yet another pause. “I don't know how any of us are going to do it with dignity.”

“Dignity isn't important at a funeral.”

“You know full well Fred would take the mick out of us all if we showed up to his funeral sobbing our eyes out.”

Your lips twitch, the first signs of a true smile you have worn in weeks. “I suppose so. But he's going to have to get over it, isn't he?”

George chuckles. “You tell him, Y/N. You tell him.”

You and George hang around the makeshift Quidditch pitch for only a few more minutes before you start back towards The Burrow; although neither of you want to acknowledge it, you have to get ready for the funeral tomorrow. Things have to be put in place for the small number of visitors who are due to arrive tomorrow morning – Fred, McGonagall, Oliver Wood, some other members of the old Quidditch team. Over the hill, you can see Molly already stressing out over everything that has to be put in place, and your heart aches for her.

“She never slows down, your Mum,” you say before you can stop yourself.

George hums, a fragile attempt at agreement. “Keeping busy helps take her mind off things, I think. It's when she stops that it all crashes down on her.”

“Will she be okay tomorrow?”

“No.”

You're glad he isn't lying. At this moment in time, you can almost pretend it was all a dream; opening the letter, reading the news, having to come to terms with it all. None of it will truly be real until you've looked down and seen Fred's body for yourself, and maybe that's why you're dreading it so much. It's not the idea of seeing him – god, what you wouldn't give to see his smiling face one last time. It's the idea of no longer having that excuse. Once you've laid eyes on his body, any denial you have of his death will just be pitied.

You and George head into the house and go your separate ways. You head into the bedroom you're sharing with Ginny and Hermione whilst George goes back to his own room; you don't think Molly bunked him up with anyone, considering the circumstances, and the thought of him sitting in Fred and George's room on his own makes your heart ache. You have half a mind to turn and go after him, but your plans are foiled when Ginny emerges from the bedroom and smiles warmly at you, despite the puffiness around her eyes.

“Hey,” you say. “You alright?”

“I was just coming to find you,” she replies. “Can we talk?”

Anxiety prickles at your skin, but you nod and follow her into the bedroom anyway. Hermione is nowhere to be seen, though her funeral clothes have already been folded and stacked upon her camp bed, along with a packet of tissues and her wand.

Ginny takes a seat on the end of her bed. You stand by the door, nervously biting your lip as you realise this is the first time you and Ginny have been alone since everything happened. You haven't had a proper chance to sit down with the youngest Weasley and ask her how she is truly feeling.

Keeping her eyes on her freckled hands, she says, “Were you talking to George?”

You tilt your head. “Y-yes. He came down to the Quidditch pitch – oh, uh – the fields, sorry, just to talk.”

Ginny sighs, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes. She's clearly exhausted, no longer even trying to hide it. You have the urge to reach out and hug her, just as you would have done when she was younger, but Ginny has been through so much in the two years since you last seen her; she might not appreciate a hug any more, so you keep your distance.

“And has he gone back to his room now?” she asks.

“I think so. I think he's getting ready for. . . you know. . . tomorrow.”

“He's not handling this well, Y/N.” She drops her hands into her lap, shaking her head grimly. “I know none of us are, but I've never seen George acting like this. The only person he's properly spoken to in three days is you.”

Your heart lurches. “He's grieving, Ginny.”

“We all are! We've all had to grieve before this, too.” She hollows out her cheeks, and it's only then do you spot the tears making their way to the surface of her eyes. “The Weasleys grieve together – that's how we've always done it. We're a family.”

Something inside of you snaps. You dart forward, sitting down beside her and tugging her into your chest. It is there, wrapped tightly in your arms, that she finally lets go, sobbing into your collarbone with a ferocity you've never seen from her – not once. Not even when she used to take a tantrum every time one of her brothers got to go to Hogwarts and she didn't, not even when her cat passed away, not even when she was possessed by Lord Voldemort himself.

She clings onto your jacket, trying to speak but being unable to do so past the sobs. You grip her tighter, stroking your hands through her red hair that hasn't been brushed in days. There are things to say, procedures to take when this kind of thing happens, but nothing you have been taught to say comes to the surface; she's heartbroken, utterly heartbroken, and you know why. Just because you're not sobbing doesn't mean you don't feel the same way.

“Make sure George is okay,” she chokes out. “Please make sure I don't lose him, too.”

You close your eyes, tears slipping from your eyes. “I will, mate. I'll – I'll try my best.”

---

Everyone is here.

You greet them all, because that's what is expected of you. They give you hugs and kisses on the cheek, because that's what is expected of them. Nobody wants to acknowledge the fact that nobody truly wants to be here; to the untrained eye, this gathering of black-clad wizards could very well be some kind of high school reunion.

But it's not.

A high school reunion would hold the air of memories, people rekindling, saying hello after a long time apart. This event holds the air of denial, sadness, saying goodbye to someone taken too soon.

All morning you are busy taking over the jobs of Mr and Mrs Weasley; both of them are too shaky to function, though Molly tries her damned hardest to get out of her chair and do something. She ends up tipping a cup of coffee over poor Harry, and so you and the Weasley kids take over. This means you have barely any time to find George.

He's not around. Ron told you he's still hiding in his room, not wanting to show his face until the very last minute.

“You should go and talk to him,” says Ron, voice wobbling with the effort to keep the tears at bay. “He won't let anyone else in. Mum's tried, Dad's tried, I've given it a go.”

You flick your wand, sending a chair across the grass where it lines up with the rest of them. “What makes you think I'll be any different?”

“He likes talking to you. He only came out of his and Fred's-” Ron's eyes slip closed. He takes a deep breath before starting again. “He only came out of his room yesterday because he heard you arrived.”

You bite your lip, flicking a glance back towards the house; his curtains are still shut. He might still be asleep and nobody would even know.

You sigh, handing Ron the stack of napkins you were given. “I'll go see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You nod and duck into the house, giving Oliver Wood a watery smile which he returns as best he can, hands trembling around a glass of pumpkin juice. You march upstairs before anyone else can see you, heading directly for the room at the end of the hallway.

The glittering sign is still nailed to the door: Fred and George's Room. KEEP OUT!

You wonder how long it will take for George to take that down – if he ever will.

You knock softly and take a step back, folding your hands in front of you. For just a second, there is no answer, not even a call of Who's there? And you force yourself to step forward and knock again, a bit harder this time, lest he didn't hear you.

Again, there is no response.

Heart hammering, you do the last thing you can think of – you tap three times, pause, and then tap again. It's the secret knock the twins used to do on your door when they wanted you to come out with them past curfew, how you would know they were up to no good.

There is a moments hesitation, and then, “Y/N?”

You press your forehead against the door, relief flooding you. “Yes. It's me. Are you okay? Can I come in?”

You pull away from the door just as it opens and George pokes his head out; his hair is still a mess, but he's wearing something other than pyjamas at least. His outfit consists of a white shirt tucked into a pair of black trousers, a black blazer hanging over one shoulder. Fred would be laughing if he could see him now.

George gives you a tiny smile before moving out the way, offering you access. You hesitate, and George notices.

“I know,” he mumbles. “You don't have to if you're not ready.”

But he's been forced to sleep in this room since everything happened. He's had to endure that pain, so you will too. You brace yourself before stepping in, trying desperately to ignore the flip of your stomach, the sudden fight or flight response that is attacking your system at the sight of it all.

The room has barely changed since the last time you stayed here nearly three summers ago. Two beds pressed against either wall, one perfectly made, the other slept in. Posters hang upon the walls of different Quidditch teams you remember they used to be mad over, and thrown in the midst of them all is a new poster you have never seen before – a poster dedicated to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

“Mum made his bed the day we got back.” George's voice is fragile. You glance at him; he's still stood by the door, hands pushed into his pockets as he watches you wade around the room. “Fred never made his bed when he woke up, so she always used to do it for him.”

You nod, remembering those summer mornings when all you could hear was Molly telling Fred off for – yet again – not making his bed.

“Old habits die hard, huh?” you reply, and George hums his agreement. “Ron sent me up here to make sure you were ready.”

George scoffs. His bed springs protest when he leaps onto his mattress. “You can go back down there and tell Ron to have a little patience. I'm fragile today.”

“You are a little late, Georgie. Worryingly late; I thought you'd gone back to sleep.”

George rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. You stand over his bed, arms folded over your chest. “I'd love to, but I'm afraid I have my brothers funeral to attend today.”

You bite your lip. “You know, George...” And this is it. The sentence has started, and George's eyes have snapped to meet your own, waiting for you to finish whatever you have to say. “We're all grieving. A lot. A whole lot. But locking yourself away like this isn't going to help anything. It's not going to make anything easier. Not for you or anybody downstairs right now.”

George stares at you, waiting for the punchline.

“I'm serious.”

He lifts his eyes back to the ceiling, wearing a frown you have not seen him wear in the many years you have known him. Your heart picks up, panic spiking at the idea of upsetting him; he's not going to listen to you, that much is clear. He hasn't listened to anybody else when being told the same thing, so why should you be any different?

“Look, okay,” you hasten to add, “we'll go down there together, alright? You and me. You don't have to do this on your own.”

“I don't want to go at all. I don't want to see him like that.”

You sit down on the corner of his bed and grab his hand, pulling it onto your knee. The tears slip from the corners of his eyes, which he squeezes closed in an instant.

��I know,” you mumble. “I don't, either. Nobody does. But once we've got this funeral out of the way, you're free to mourn however you want. It's over then; Fred will be peaceful, and we can . . . we can move on. We can try and move on. That's what he'd want us to do.”

George's shoulders jerk, a silent sob. Tears of your own flood your eyes. You grab his shoulders and pull him up, pulling him into a hug that reminds you so much of last night, the exact same scene but a different Weasley sibling. You just want to comfort them all; you want to round up each and every one of them and pull them into this embrace, let them know it will all be okay and you will not leave them to suffer on their own, not like last time. You will be there for all of them through everything if they'll let you.

George's arms wrap around your middle. He rests his head on your shoulder, stifling his sobs as best he can; he's better at it than Ginny, who all but wailed into your collarbone yesterday evening. George doesn't want to be seen like this, but it's clear he can't hold back any more.

“It's okay,” you whisper. “It'll be fine. We'll go downstairs together.”

He nods, pulling away slowly. He bites his lip, glances at your shoulder and says, “I got tears on your shirt.”

You shake your head, brushing his hair out of his face with trembling hands. “Don't worry about it. Fred would say it adds flare.”

“He would,” George chokes out. “He really would.”

And so, the two of you stand and head towards the door, hand-in-hand. George hesitates before shutting his bedroom door behind him, and you pretend not to see the way he gently runs his fingers over Fred's name engraved in the metal sign.

You walk downstairs slowly. Heads start turning when you appear in the doorway of the kitchen, George all-but cowering behind you, his hand still in your own. You run your thumb along his knuckles, giving his awaiting family members a smile despite their eyes all being trained on George.

Molly is the first one to run forward. A cry escapes her lips, and you have only seconds to jump out of the way before she barrels through the doorway and into George's arms; George grunts, stumbling before he catches his balance and hugs his mother back with just as much enthusiasm as she is showing. You slowly remove yourself from the scene, letting the rest of the Weasley family file in to mimic their mothers actions.

“So you did it,” Harry says when you find yourself standing at the back of the room with him. “You got him to come downstairs.”

“He just needed some coaxing,” you reply, wiping your eyes. “Is Fred here?”

“Kingsley's just brought his body back.” Harry nods out the window, but you don't follow his gesture because you know exactly what is going to be there; the back garden, chairs all lined up, Fred's casket set up at last. You can only imagine that is the reason the Weasley family is stood inside – they don't want to be around it any longer than they have to be.

But they cannot hold off forever. Arthur and Molly head out first, Arthur with his arm around Percy's shoulders, Molly holding Ginny's hand. Together, the Weasleys take their seats at the very front of the garden, each sobbing quietly into handkerchiefs and sleeves and partners' shoulders. You, Harry and Hermione take the seats directly behind them whilst everyone else files in behind you.

And you see him up there, eyes closed, hair styled, suit perfectly pressed. His hands have been folded on his chest, and his wand has been tucked into his fingers. Standing beside his casket is a picture of him and George – because there is not a picture in existence where the two of them are on their own, not one – and Fred is pulling a funny face whilst George looks off into the distance, oblivious to the photo being taken.

It hurts. It hurts worse than you ever imagined it would, but you can't bring yourself to cry – not whenever his body is right there in front of you. Fred used to chastise you every time he saw you cry, swat you over the shoulder, make some wise-crack comment along the lines of, “What do you have to cry about? You have me!”

You always did have him. You always will have him, as long as you keep his memory alive.

Kingsley says a few words, kind words that speak of Fred's bravery and his knowledge and how he did not die in vain. They sound so official coming from him now that he's the temporary Minister of Magic, but you know for a fact Fred would have appreciated it, scripted or not. Oliver Wood says some things, and Molly and Arthur try their hardest to get some words out about their son, but it doesn't go to plan and they end up just sitting down, passing the baton onto Percy who makes a big, emotional speech about how he and Fred didn't always get along, and how he's glad they managed to find peace with each other during those last few hours of complete turmoil within the Hogwarts castle.

George doesn't make a speech. Neither do you.

The funeral ends with the burning of the body. Kingsley waves his wand and the white curtains fall from nowhere, closing around the casket, and soon, the only thing you can see is the smoke billowing from the top of them. The air suddenly erupts with the smell of black current – one of Fred's favourite scents – and people are standing, giving each other hugs, crying.

You and George stay seated, him directly in front of you. You don't tap his shoulder, don't move, don't say anything at all – you just watch his shoulders rise and fall as he tries desperately to keep his breathing slow and steady. He's staring at his brothers casket like he can't quite believe it's there, and you don't blame him, because you're feeling the same way.

How can a ten minute ceremony be enough to celebrate the life of someone like Fred Weasley? How can a few words passed between people who knew him be enough to remember the wonders he discovered, the joy and laughter he brought upon so, so many lives? It doesn't seem possible. It's ludicrous, completely unfair, and suddenly the sadness you have felt since hearing the news is morphing into anger, and you have the urge to just scream, to just let your lungs rip in half with the fury that rushes through you at a million miles per hour.

But in real life, you're rooted to your seat, fingers curling against the back of George's chair, staring at the smoke rising high, high, higher into the air, disappearing amongst the clouds – Fred's final resting place.

George stands up.

It's so abrupt. It takes you a second to even comprehend what he is doing as his chair tips back against your knees, only failing to fall due to you still being seated behind it. Your head snaps up, mouth opening to call him back, but you don't get a chance to say anything before Angelina Johnson is grabbing you and pulling you to your feet, into an embrace you were not prepared for in the slightest.

“Oh, Y/N, I knew you'd be here! I knew you'd make it! Fred would have been so happy to see you and George back together again!” You laugh awkwardly, watching George march up to The Burrow over her shoulder.

----

George doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the day.

The guests Disapparate, giving the Weasleys some much needed time and space after the exhausting day they have just performed. You, Harry and Hermione head up to bed for the same reason, crowding in Harry and Ron's room for a few hours before you and Hermione excuse yourselves for the night.

Hermione is asleep in minutes, and you can't really blame her. Not only has that girl gone to hell and back these past few days, she's also had to deal with the additional baggage of death. She has fought absolute monsters, seen things no person of her age should ever see, had to think quicker than anyone just to stay alive – and now that it's over, she's been given the additional task of mourning people she loves.

You, however, struggle to close your eyes without the thoughts flooding your mind, making you restless. You keep remembering his body, the tip of his nose peaking out from the casket, the smoke that billowed, the smell of black current that was surely conjured to hide the smell of Fred's burning flesh; god, you want to throw up. You feel ill, and angry, and you want to punch something so, so desperately.

Back in your school days, George taught you how to use Quidditch as a way to get your anger out; he and Fred had been the best Beaters the Gryffindor had ever seen, and they claim it was solely because they got themselves riled up before a game. They would make themselves so angry that the idea of volleying a heavy ball at someone was all that could calm them down again.

That's what you need right now; a good game of Quidditch, a Bludger to just annihilate someone. But you have none of that; all you have right now is your pillow, which you shove your fist into multiple times over now with no results. Your stomach still feels tight, and tears are still threatening to reach the surface, and you're beginning to lose hope that you'll ever feel calm and collected ever again.

The clock has struck four am when you finally give up trying to sleep. You slip your feet into a pair of carpet slippers – courtesy of Hermione – and head downstairs, pulling a dressing gown on as you do so. The kitchen is barren, the sun just starting to peak over the green hills surrounding the cosy cottage. From the window you can see a garden gnome furiously kick a wicket chair before howling in pain and bouncing back into the floor to go and huff on its own.

You head outside. The fresh air feels nice on your skin – cold, but it's enough to bring you back to reality a little bit. You walk across the garden, and before you know why, you're sitting down in the very same chair you sat in whilst watching people talk about your dead best friend, like you want to relive that moment all over again.

But this time you're on your own. It's just you and the chairs, and the odd garden gnome that sprints across the grass, sees you and then sprints in the other direction. You fold your legs over one another, stare at the space Fred's casket once stood, and then you start speaking.

“Miss you, buddy.” It starts as a whisper, hoarse and fragile. “Thank you, for everything. Fighting for the sake of the world – you're braver than me. I couldn't have done it. I was – I was hiding away in my flat, pretending nothing was happening, convincing myself you two weren't stupid enough to get yourself into any danger.” You close your eyes, tilting your head back, talking directly to him now. “Nothing feels right any more, Fred. The world isn't meant to be without a Fred Weasley. George isn't meant to be without a Fred Weasley. God, I'm not meant to be without a Fred Weasley.”

The tears start trickling, running quickly down your cheeks and disappearing within the corners of your mouth.

“I'll make sure he's okay, Freddie,” you whisper. “George, I mean. We'll keep each other sane, I promise. You can watch over us and – and make sure w-we keep each other in ch-check. I won't let him out of my sight ever again.”

“Y/N?”

Your head snaps up, eyes opening. Standing in the pink light of the slowly rising sun is George Weasley, wand in hand, still dressed in the very same clothes he was wearing earlier. His tie has been pulled loose from its knot and is now cascading messily down his middle, a few of his buttons undone, his hair back to being a disgruntled mess.

You stand up. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“You sound like Filch.” He tilts his head to the side, just enough to let you see the bags under his eyes. “What are you doing?”

You awkwardly kick at the ground. “Nothing.”

“Mhm.” George walks over, examining each of the chairs as he does so. “You were talking to him, weren't you?”

You don't reply; he knows. You don't feel a need to confirm it for him, not when he probably heard every single thing you said.

“I can't do it,” he continues. “It feels weird not having him say the exact same thing as me. My voice isn't meant to be on its own.”

“Yeah,” you croak out. “I noticed that, too.”

“I'll get past it,” he mumbles. “I just. . . I just wanted everyone to leave today, you know? I didn't want all these people in my house, staring at my brothers dead body, crying over him like that. This was supposed to be a family event.”

A tinge of guilt stamps an imprint into your heart. “Right. Should Harry, Hermione and I have left?”

George purses his lips. “You guys are family – it's everyone else I was a bit iffy with.”

And maybe it's the anger from earlier that boils over now. Maybe it's the reminder that George left – halfway through his brothers funeral, he got up and left his family, his grieving family, to deal with everything. You know he's upset, heartbroken, downright traumatised, but so is everyone else. Nobody is taking this lightly. Nobody was here today just for the sake of it.

You curl your hands into fists. “George, you're being really selfish right now.”

His head snaps up. “What?”

“How can you sit there and say you wish those people who came today had just stayed home? Do you think they wanted to be in this situation any more than you did? God, You-Know-Who was killed a few days ago – people want to be out celebrating their freedom, not going to the funeral of one of their friends. None of this is easy on anyone, so it's really bloody ungrateful of you to say they should have just stayed home, because I'm almost positive that's what most of them wanted to be doing in the first place!”

George's eyes cloud over. “Fred wouldn't have wanted the Ministry taking over his funeral.”

“Kingsley knew Fred just as well as I did!”

“No he didn't! You and Fred were best friends – Kingsley was part of the Order. That's how he knew Fred – through business! That isn't a bloody friendship!”

“So, what? Kingsley should have just moved on, walked away whenever he looked down and saw Fred's body that day in the castle, huh? Because god forbid somebody grieve if they don't know someone for more than seven years!”

George throws his hands in the air, face beaming red. “You're putting words in my mouth now, you are. You know that's not what I meant-”

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should learn how to word things better, because at the minute you're sounding like an absolute arse!”

George opens his mouth to respond, but you're crying. You're crying, and you can't stop it, and you don't want him to see you like this. You dart off before he can get the words out, cracking your shoulder against his before picking up your pace to a run, darting back towards the house. Behind you, George calls your name, but you don't listen. You shove past Charlie, who stands in the kitchen door with a mug of coffee, and head directly to your room, not wanting to talk to anyone.

---

Charlie comes to visit you a few hours later.

It's eight o'clock now; Hermione has risen, said good morning and headed off to help Mrs Weasley make breakfast. You stayed huddled under the covers, using the excuse of exhaustion as a way to get her to leave without worrying too much; as soon as she was gone, you had pulled yourself from your bed and headed to the window, where you have been for a while now, dreading the moment you will have to go downstairs and face George again.

Charlie knocks softly on your door before letting himself in. He's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants this morning along with an oversized jacket. His skin has been paler since he came home from Romania, since his little brother died, since it felt as if his world was falling apart. This morning, he looks a bit better, as if the relief of having finally set Fred free was a weight from his shoulders.

“Morning,” he says. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. You?”

He closes the door and walks to your side, placing his head against the wall as he, too, takes to gazing out the window. “I'm good. Better than I was yesterday. Worse than I'll probably be tomorrow.”

“What a Charlie way to answer that question.”

He smiles before nudging your arm. “You gonna talk to me about what happened this morning?”

You purse your lips and look away. Charlie gazes at you, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you don't really know what he wants to hear – that you're sorry? That you were tired and heartbroken and it just kind of happened all at once, a jumbled mess you couldn't quite keep track of?

That's not what it was at all. It was the truth spilling from your lips, though you will admit you now wish you could have executed it with a little bit more sympathy. George, the man who has been your best friend for so many years, didn't deserve that kind of treatment – not after everything. Not when there's still so much more to come.

Charlie sighs, folding his muscled arms across his chest. “You know George loves you, right?”

“And I love him.”

Charlie pauses, contemplative. “I just – I don't know what you two were arguing about, but I think it would be a real shame for George to lose two loved ones, which is what is going to happen if you don't talk to each other. Do you want to cut ties with him?”

Your head snaps up. “No! No, of course not. Look, Charlie, the argument wasn't even that serious. We just-”

“If it wasn't that serious, then why did George punch a whole in the dry wall when I tried to ask him what happened?”

You pause, mouth running dry. Charlie raises a brow, leaning against the wall. Your voice is quiet when you say, “He did what?”

“He punched a hole in the wall. Tried to punch me, too.” He sighs. “Obviously, a scrawny little git like him compared to me didn't get very far, but it was the intent that shocked me; George hasn't got a violent bone in his body. Not a properly violent one, anyway – a few dangerous pranks here and there, but he would never want to genuinely fight someone. I think this whole thing is getting to him – and bad. The only time he's been calm is when you've been in his bloody eyeline.”

“He tried punching you?”

Charlie waves a dismissive hand. “That isn't the part of that speech I wanted you to pick up on.”

You close your eyes, pressing your head against the window. “I lost my temper, started an argument with him for no reason. I should have realised he's not in the right head space – he isn't talking right, Charlie. He isn't himself.”

“Well, no, I wouldn't say he is.” Charlie leans forward. “But right now, the only person getting through to him is you. How I see it, you're the only person who's going to drag him through this before he hurts himself or somebody else.”

“That's a lot of pressure, Charlie.”

“Has it been difficult talking to him since you got here?”

“No.”

“Then you're fine. Just keep doing what you're doing.” Charlie stands up straight, brushing his hands down his jacket as he does so. “Mum said breakfast is gonna be ready in a few minutes if you're feeling hungry. If not, don't tell her that or she'll be up here in two seconds flat with the thermometer out; she did it to Ron a few days ago, gave him a right telling off when it turned out he just wanted to stay in bed for a bit longer.”

You nod, giving him a warm, grateful smile as he walks out of the room.

You give his words thorough thought; though your brain is no less exhausted, and your heart no less broken, you can see where you went wrong now better than you would have been able to at four this morning; Charlie has helped you realise that perhaps everyone needs to be a bit patient with each other right now, needs to learn how to put themselves in other people's shoes.

You get changed and head downstairs. Sure enough, breakfast is already being served, and everyone besides George is already sitting round the table. You take a seat next to Hermione and tuck in, trying to regain some energy sapped due to your lack of sleep.

Once breakfast is finished, you head straight to George's room. Charlie gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up when he turns away from the washing up basin and sees you heading upstairs; you give him a smile, though a nervous one.

You have to do this now. You have to talk to him, tell him you're sorry, explain yourself a bit better than you did earlier, and if you don't do it now, you're going to back out and you won't ever do it. And so, you reach his door and do the secret knock that granted you access yesterday, and you wait.

There's a shuffling on the other side, followed shortly by George's soft voice calling, “What?”

“Hey, mate. Can I come in and talk to you for a minute?” You wince at how formal you sound – this is George you're speaking to, your best mate, the person you've grown up with. “Please?”

“You're just gonna tell me off again, aren't you?”

“No, George, don't be daft. Open the bloody door, or-”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” The door opens, revealing the exhausted looking George. He isn't smiling, but instead keeps his eyes narrowed when he looks at you. “Do you wanna come in, too?”

“Yes.”

“You don't ask for much, do you?” He rolls his eyes and steps out of the way, granting you access to the room that still sends eerie chills racing along your arms, because Fred is no longer occupying it, too.

You push these thoughts from your brain and enter, immediately spinning around with your arms folded. “Our argument was stupid.”

George falters, one hand still secure round the doorknob. “Come again?”

“Everything I said to you was stupid, and said in a fit of blind rage. I didn't mean it. Not really.”

“Right...”

“So, yeah.” You nod, glance around the room once before saying, “That's all I wanted to say.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes. I'll see you at lunch if you fancy coming down for a bit of food. If not, I'll – uh – see you when I-” You try to step around him, but he's quicker, blocking the door. You bite your lip. “George-”

“Nothing you said earlier was wrong, you know.”

You lift your eyes, and the tension in the room suddenly becomes a physical thing. He's staring down at you, that exhausted look in his eyes that he's worn for weeks pushed to the forefront. His lips are still chapped, and his knuckles are white around the handle of the door. You want to push his hair out of his face, but you're scared he'll push you away or cringe from your touch if you even try.

“I was being a selfish little git when I walked off, and I should have been – should have been thankful to have so many people come out to send Fred off. He would have liked that, I think, having a crowd around him.”

You laugh softly. “He always did enjoy the attention; you both did.”

“Oi.” He nudges your shoulder. “You were part of our group, you know. You liked the attention just as much as we did.”

And he isn't wrong. So many pranks, so many years of getting into trouble, so many years filled with laughter. When it felt like the world was falling apart, when your parents stopped talking to you, stopped asking you to come home for Christmas, stopped sending you owls – it was Fred and George who reminded you that you didn't need anyone. You were perfect on your own.

“I agree that our argument was stupid,” he says softly. “But you were right.”

“I shouldn't have made you feel bad-”

“You could never make me feel bad. Not with a voice like that.”

You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder. He laughs, stumbling back into the door. You realise with a jolt that this is the first time you've heard him laugh since you arrived at The Burrow, and it seems as if George is realising this too. His smile fades uncertainly, as if he's not allowed to let himself laugh, not allowed to let himself smile when Fred isn't around to join in.

You tilt your head to the side. “Well that's a step in the right direction.”

He closes his eyes. “I haven't had the chance to tell you how happy I am that you're here.”

“Of course I'm here. I would never miss-”

“No, I know.” He opens his eyes and shrugs. “I'm glad you're here to – like – mourn Fred and all that, but I'm glad you're here for me. Most people would have given up on me by now. Nobody would have bothered putting me in my place.”

You shudder, can hardly help it when you're hearing him speak like this; it's so weird, so not what you're used to, but it hits a nerve nonetheless. You have the sudden urge to throw your arms around him, to pull him in for a hug that means more than just It's going to be okay.

“I'm a complete state when you are here, but I wouldn't even function if you weren't,” he continues, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Everyone's told you that already, though, haven't they?”

You bite your lip to suppress the giggle. “I've heard I've been a good helping hand.”

George rolls his eyes. “Don't let it go to your head. No one likes an arrogant bastard.”

Your grin breaks to the surface before you can stop it. It feels weird upon your face after spending so long believing you would never smile again, and yet with George stood in front of you, it couldn't make more sense. You're brought back to your Hogwarts days, when this very smile would never leave your face, was a permanent fixture to your expression. And it doesn't feel like you're back there – it will never feel like that again, not with Fred missing – but it's a start. It's the first step back into the normal world.

Looking up at George's smile now makes you feel like you're walking back into it, slowly, with George by your side.

----

“So what's the point of all this then?” you ask, struggling to fight your way through the crowd of screaming school kids.

George moves with such grace, not even pausing when a group of kids nearly bowl him over in their struggle to reach the Pigmy Puff pens on the other side of the shop. He's grinning from ear to ear as he walks, his fancy, dragon skin blazer billowing out around him.

“This, my dear Y/N, is what Fred and I have built from the ground up – and we're about to take it to the next level.”

You raise a brow at his back. “Oh?”

“Oh, indeed!” He hurries up a flight of winding stairs and stops at the top. He spins and smiles at you, pulling a sheet of paper from his blazer pocket with that dramatic flair you love so much. “Have a read of this and tell me how proud you are of me, right now. Quickly!”

You roll your eyes, snatching the parchment and unrolling it. At the very top are the words Dear Mr and Mr Weasley, followed by the announcement that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will be opening a shop in multiple areas around England and Northern Ireland.

Your eyes widen, snapping back up to George who is staring at you fixedly, waiting for your reaction. You don't even have words. All you can do is stare at him, jaw open, hands beginning to tremble.

George glances at your shaking hands and laughs, rushing down the steps towards you. He snatches the parchment back and bundles you in his arms, laughing brightly into your hair.

“Don't show too much excitement, Y/N, we're in public!”

“George Weasley, you brilliant old git!” You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your head in his chest, and together, the two of you laugh – you just laugh, unable to fully process that this tiny little business Fred and George have always dreamed about will finally be taking off, dotting itself around the globe for wizards everywhere to enjoy.

You pull away from the celebration and yank the parchment back, giving it yet another read. “Mr and Mr Weasley – you and Fred?”

“Of course,” George confirms. “I sent the request letter in using both of our names – it didn't feel right just signing it with my name and my name only. Fred would kill me if I did that.”

“Aye, it's better not to take the risk. I'm still convinced he's punishing me for ordering that BBQ base pizza the other night.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

You reread the contract over and over again, grin getting wider every single time. It gets to the point where George groans and has to pry it from your hands, getting tired of watching you read the same sentence over and over again.

You look at him and shake your head. “It's so cool that I'm able to say my best friend is a businessman. A real life businessman.”

George cocks a brow. “You're gonna use me to make yourself look good, are you?”

“You still owe me for that time I got you out of detention with Umbridge – it's the least you can do.”

George laughs, bundling you in his arms again. “Just remember to mention Fred when you're giving us the good reviews – he'd appreciate it.”

And you know, somewhere out there, Fred is nodding, saying, “You've done a brilliant job, Georgie.”

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