#i have caught the most pleasant buzz and every song that comes on is like this eerie brilliance

[starlightiing]

i have consumed too much of the wine

[samspenandsword]

Kinktober 2022/23 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: Kinktober Day 11 — Erotic Photos with Tup Pairing: Tup/Reader; fem!reader with no specifics to her appearance other than a clothing mention. Rating: Explicit, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets BEGONE!) Warnings: Explicit sexual content, smut; masturbation, mentions of sex, mentions of oral sex, dirty talk, sexting, erotic photos, dom/sub undertones if you squint, implied loss of virginity, language. Word Count: 4.4k (don’t look at me)

Sam's Pen and Sword Kinktober 2023 Taglist Form

So I’m not normally a Tup girl but @theroguesully​ sent in this request and it fucking grabbed me by the throat lol I hope you enjoy!

The beating of the bass and the fluctuating colors of the club lights made you feel alive. Like the bass was thrumming in your veins, rather than through the speakers. Like the colors were emanating from you rather than from the club lights. Paired with the alcohol pleasantly buzzing through your system, you felt positively spectacular.

But it was the fact that you were out with friends that really brought the night together. You could go to any old club any time you wanted. But the giddiness in you was multiplied by the fact that you were surrounded by your best friends.

And a whole club of attractive people.

The club 79's on Coruscant hadn't exactly been open long. In fact, it had first opened and established itself as a clone bar, but word had quickly spread that the club had everything from live music and dancing to sports and every drink from pissy ale to fruity cocktails to top-shelf Corellian whiskey.

You loved 79's, it having quickly become a favorite of yours. The atmosphere of the place was so unlike any other you'd been to. It wasn't a place to come if you were exclusively looking to hook up, though that certainly happened. It wasn't a place where you went to get shit-faced and forget your sorrows, though that happened too. And nor was it a place you went to throw money at dancers or gambling tables. This place had it all, though what most people were looking for when they came to 79's was fun. Everyone from the clones fresh off deployment to the clones about to go back out, to the civilians who mingled in between them all, everyone was having fun. And it was the atmosphere of genuine smiles, laughter, alcohol, and music that made this place like no other.

Currently, you were weaving your way through the throngs of dancing people, it being your turn to go buy a round. Your friends shouted their orders at you, as if you didn't already know them by heart, and one whistled at your ass as you sashayed towards the bar. You tossed a wink and a rude finger his way, making him toss his head back with laughter.

You grinned and shook your head. You loved your friends.

You waited your turn as the two bartenders scuttled back and forth, obviously harried and busy as people swarmed up to them to order. The bar was practically standing-room-only tonight, but you didn't mind. When one of the bartenders, a pretty Twi'lek with lilac skin, finally turned to you, you recited the order — an Alderaanian red, two meiloorun punches, a Tatooine sunrise, a spotchka on the rocks, and a simple rum and cola for yourself — telling them to take their time. No rush. You knew all too well the stress of a service industry job.

You lightly bopped your head along with the music, the song vaguely familiar and pleasant in the way all pop songs were. Unknowingly, you'd begun to smile, simply vibing and enjoying the atmosphere of the night.

But a clone caught your eye. Well, more like you realized he'd been staring at you.

He was attractive in the way all clones were, but something about him was inherently cute. He had long hair, something you'd not really seen on a clone before. It was swept back into a bun, a few errant curls escaping and framing his face in a way that looked so good in the club lights. He had a small tattoo of a teardrop under his right eye.

He blushed when he realized he'd been caught staring.

You smiled. How cute!

"Take a picture, sweetie," you said, right as the bartender sat a tray down in front of you, bearing your drinks. You passed them a handful of credits and a hefty tip. "It'll last longer."

With a wink, and a widening smile at the way the clone blushed even harder, you slipped back into the dancing masses, swinging your hips to the beat of the music.

"Took you long enough!"

"Eat bantha fodder," you said, no real heat in your words. The tray was quickly passed to a serving droid as everyone took their drinks. You all raised them in the air, toasting to your night out and continuing to dance and drink the night away.

About an hour later, you still felt quite comfortably buzzed, the crowd having only gotten thicker as the night stretched on. Your group had split off for a bit, Takai somewhere off to the side with a trio of men dancing around them, Jane and Bera off to the fresher, Victor over by the sports screens, cheering along with a small crowd watching pod racing, and Matt likely at the bar. Deciding to find Matt, and that you needed another drink, you weaved your way towards the bar again.

Finding Matt wasn't exactly hard. A handsome and magnetic personality, he was currently standing at the bar, right beside a kitted clone with a small tattoo of the number 5 on his temple. And the near-matching, flirty grins on their faces made you smile to yourself, deciding instead to leave Matt be.

But Matt spotted you, waving you over with a bright grin.

"Fives, meet the ultimate pain in my ass."

"He's just mad his ass will never be as gorgeous as mine," you said, laughing.

Fives, the clone, and obviously an ARC trooper judging by the amount of armor he was wearing, chuckled, sending you a charming smile.

"Nive to meet you —" You gave him your name. "You're one of Matt's friends, right?"

"Yep!"

"Where are the others?" Matt wondered.

"Take a guess where Takai is."

"Dancing."

"And Victor."

"Pod racing."

"Bang on. Jane and Bera went to the fresher."

Matt sighed and shook his head, adopting the visage of a wizened sage disappointed with his pupils, of whom he expected better. "They broke the seal."

You laughed. "Had to happen at some point."

"But so soon?"

You laughed again. "Not everyone has a bladder the size of Coruscant, Matt."

If Fives was freaked out by the casual way you and Matt spoke about such a strange topic with each other, he made no indication of it. In fact, he laughed along with the both of you.

"Breaking the seal," Fives said. "Never heard that before, I like it."

"We've been calling it that since school," you said, grinning. "Maker, there'd be nights we drank so much that after we broke the seal, we'd have to get up four or five times in the night just to go to the fresher."

"Remember the night Victor thought he could hold it?" Matt said, with a big crocodile grin.

You laughed loud enough to draw eyes. Fives, observing your mirth, said, "I take it that didn't end well?"

"Nope," you and Matt said together.

"I remember one time when — oh, Tup! Hey, Tup!" Fives suddenly caught sight of one of his brothers, waving him over enthusiastically.

Fives introduced you both to Tup, and you smirked at the way Fives nearly purred Matt's name. "And this is Tup, my brother and best friend."

You looked at the clone. Well, whaddya know...

"Hi, sweetie," you said, "fancy meeting you here."

He blushed, but flashed a smile.

"You two know each other?" Fives asked, still smiling, but looking a little confused behind it.

"Nah," you said. "Not officially. I just have way too much fun teasing people."

"Oh, Maker," Matt moaned. "Tup, whatever she said, don't take it seriously."

"And why not? I was, in fact, 100% serious." You leaned back against the bar, tossing a coy look towards the younger clone. You hadn't been serious at the time of course, but there was something about this cute trooper.

You wouldn't say no if he seriously wanted to take a picture.

"Tup, seriously, man, ignore her."

You pouted over at Matt, and he stuck his tongue out at you.

"It's okay," Tup said, speaking for the first time. "I liked it."

You'd heard that same voice many times, but there was a unique inflection to each clone's tone, or timbre. There was a breathiness, almost, to Tup's voice, not quite the gravelly, booming tones of some of his brothers.

It was certainly very different from Fives' voice, which Matt would say dripped with sex appeal, but you would say flashed with trouble.

Matt would say that it's the same thing, of course.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Tup asked, eyes fixed on you.

You were pleasantly surprised, but smiled instantly. "Of course, Tup. Thank you."

Matt's jaw had dropped beside you. "Did I go for the wrong brother?"

Fives smirked. "If you wanted a drink, all you had to do was ask."

"I shouldn't have had to," Matt sniffed, though his lip twitched into a smirk of his own.

"Well then, how can I make it up to you?"

Matt's fingers lightly trailed along Fives' wrist. "I have a few ideas."

You turned to Tup and mimed gagging. He snorted.

Only a couple seconds later, the bartender dropped your drinks off, and you were further surprised that Tup had ordered another rum and cola for you — how he had guessed that was your drink in the mix of drinks he'd seen you with earlier, you couldn't fathom, but Tup saw the surprise in your expression and smirked just the tiniest bit, raising his beer to his lips.

You took a sip of your drink, good mood raising even more. There was more to this cute clone than you'd thought.

"So what brings you and your friends here tonight?" Fives asked you and Matt.

"What else?" Matt grinned.

"A good time," you finished.

Fives flashed a salacious grin. "What kind of good time?"

You both laughed. "The kind with good friends, good music, and booze."

"That's not just a good time," Fives said, smiling more warmly now. "That's the best time."

You smiled too. "True that."

"And are you having a good time?" Tup asked. You looked over, thankful that the music was loud enough to where he likely couldn't hear the way your breath hitched at the way his eyes were locked on you.

"The best time," you said. And you dared to touch his hand, just barely skimming your fingers over the fabric of his glove.

The apples of his cheeks grew rosy.

The night drew on, the four of you laughing and chatting at the bar. Victor barged over at one point, just long enough to grab a round of beers and spotchka before heading back to the sports screens. Takai swept over for another drink as well, a trio of men flitting around them. They winked at you and muttered not to wait up for them. You winked in return. Jane and Bera emerged from the dance floor at one point, introducing themselves to Fives and Tup. But as soon as Jane's new drink was set down on the bar, her face fell.

"I have to hit the fresher again."

"You broke the seal," Matt trilled, haughtily.

"Fuck you and your enormous bladder."

"How have either of you not caved yet?" Bera said, eyeing both you and Matt like you were gross but mildly fascinating lab organisms.

You hated to admit it but, "I'm actually reaching my limit."

Matt glared at you, offended and disappointed. "You dumb bitch, you're dead to me."

"Love you too." You blew him a kiss.

"I'll come with you," Fives said. "I know my limits, too."

Matt adopted the most pathetic, dejected look you'd ever seen. "I definitely went for the wrong brother."

Fives smirked. "We'll see."

You snorted before smiling over at Tup. "Watch my drink, sweetie?"

On the way to the freshers, you leaned over to Fives, muttering low, "Matt enjoys a good manhandling, by the way."

Fives quirked a brow, lips turning up into a panty-dropping, boner-inducing smirk. "Good to know." His smirk shifted into something more of a smile. "Tup likes when people mess with his hair, but beyond that I'm not sure what he likes. Not sure he does either."

You smiled. "Guess it's up to me to help him find out."

"Go easy on him now," Fives laughed. "When he came back to the table earlier his face was nearly purple. What did you say to him?"

You laughed, simply winking in response.

As the night stretched into the early hours of the morning, you found yourself back on the dance floor, the feel of the bass in your chest not nearly as intoxicating as the feel of Tup, dancing just in front of you.

You had come back from the fresher with Jane, Bera, and Gives, finding Tup still at the bar chatting with Matt and another clone, this one bearing a Republic cog tattoo around his head. Tup's hand was curled protectively around your drink. Your heart warmed.

"We're back," you announced. Matt sniffed, but Tup smiled over at you, cheeks looking rosy again. Whether from the empty glass in front of him or the sight of you, you weren't sure though.

You liked to think it was you.

The clone with the Republic cog tattoo turned. He smirked. "Hey, I'm Jesse. And you are?"

You smirked back. "About to go dancing." You tossed back what was left of your drink and looked at Tup. "Care to join?"

Tup shot the tiniest, sly smile his brother's way before looking back at you. "Absolutely."

You held out your hand, and he took it. Your heart skipped. When had he taken off his gloves?

Didn't matter. You loved it.

As the two of you disappeared onto the floor, you could swear you heard a "Go, Tup," from behind you.

The both of you danced, you without reservation, and Tup more shyly. Awkwardly. He looked like he wasn't quite sure what to do at first, but the more you encouraged him, the more he got into it. He still moved a little awkwardly, but it was endearing.

The two of you slowly merged, coming closer and closer, until you realized suddenly that your chest was pressed against his, hands splayed over his shoulders and neck. Tup's eyes were wide, his hands hovering above your waist, unsure if he should touch you or not.

You smiled. He was just so cute.

"Is this okay, Tup?" you asked, sliding your hands back, ready to pull away if he said so. The last thing you wanted was to make this sweet clone uncomfortable.

But Tup's hands went to your hips, touching lightly, just enough to stop your retreat, then gripping more firmly, reeling you back in. "Yes."

You smiled, settling yourself back against his chest, but still wanted to reassure him. "It's okay if you're not comfortable with this, Tup."

"I'm not," he said quickly. "I mean, I am comfortable. It's just..." You couldn't tell if he blushed or not in the dim dance floor lighting, but the way his eyes softened and shoulders hunched a little told you he had. "I'm new at this. Sorry."

Don't apologize," you said instantly. Your hand slid up his neck slightly, just enough for your fingertips to brush into his hair. He shivered lightly. "Everyone's new at this at some point. There's nothing wrong with that. But I think you're cute, Tup, and I would like to have fun with you. Whatever you want that to mean."

Tup continued to look at you, expression a little unsure, but not uncomfortable. "And if that means I want to take a picture?"

Your eyes widened, a little surprised by the bold statement. But pleasantly so. Tup read your expression wrong, nearly backpedaling, but you fully slid your fingers into his hair, drawing your other hand down his chest in a caress. He shivered and leaned into the touch.

"If that's what you want, sweetie. All you have to do is ask."

And you kissed him.

* * *

Tup removed his bucket with a sigh. His entire kit needed a good scrubbing after that grueling campaign. He and the 501st had been back out for two months now, most of that having been spent on this latest campaign. But the battle was now won, and General Kenobi's 212th had swooped in to help the 501st fully secure the area. And now, with the victory won, the 501st found themselves able to relax. Sit back, get their minor wounds checked. Clean their armor. Touch up their hairstyles. And when General Skywalker announced that they were being given another liberty due to the hard work they'd put in on this last campaign, the entire legion burst into excited activity.

The journey back to Coruscant wasn't what Tup would call short, but he was excited to get back nonetheless. Back to you.

He'd have never predicted that you'd come into his life. Not in a thousand years. But eight months ago, when you'd winked and flirted with him at 79's, he found he could no longer picture his life without you. The two of you weren't what he'd call "official," not in a traditional capacity at least, but you were exclusive. You'd been so patient with him that first night, helping him learn what he liked and didn't like, his preferences and desires. He'd been fumbling, awkward, unsure, but you hadn't made him feel insecure in the slightest, instead smiling endearingly at him and encouraging him to voice his wants, no judgment, and always assuring him that if it was too much and he wanted to stop, that all he had to do was say so.

He never did. He never wanted to stop.

He hadn't actually taken a photo of you that night, though. Instead, he'd simply basked in the feeling of his cock surrounded by your fluttering, silken heat, and the feel of your hips against his, and your hands in his loose, errant curls.

Over time, Tup had grown into the dynamics and relationship. Grown into his wants and desires. Become more confident. More sure. More demanding in some aspects. He knew you loved it, especially when he leaned you back on your couch without ceremony or announcement, dragged whatever panties you were wearing down your legs, and feasted, guiding your hands into his hair.

He loved when you tugged on his hair.

Tup absently ran a hand over it. He didn't keep it in a knot anymore, instead having learned to braid it back in the way you'd taught him.

"I can't imagine that bun is terrible comfortable under your bucket," you'd said, running a comb through the curls after a steamy shower that had had you on your knees and his thighs shaking. "Why don't you braid it?"

You'd been right, of course, it was more comfortable under his bucket. But it was also a gentle reminder of you, each time he weaved the strands back. And he loved being reminded of you.

"Hey, Tup!"

It was Fives. The ARC came jogging down the hall towards the barracks, catching up with him. "Ready for liberty?"

"Ready to get out of this suit first," Tup said. His undersuit was disgusting and he was ready for a shower.

"Oh, yeah, same. But you know what I mean." Fives waggled his brows in the way only he could. "Ready to go see your lady friend?"

Tup laughed, but didn't answer beyond that. Fives watched the smile on his brother's face.

"You're happy, aren't you?"

Tup smiled. "Yes."

Fives smiled too. "Good."

"Don't act like you're not the same," Tup said, smirking suddenly. "I've seen the messages you send Matt, they make my eyeballs bleed."

Fives shrugged, entirely unapologetic. "Teach you to mind your own business."

"As if you've ever minded yours a day in your life."

Fives grinned.

The two split off, Fives heading for the bridge to hand in his report, and Tup went off towards the barracks and sonics. They were empty save for him, most everyone at the mess or medbay or the bridge handing in reports. Shucking his armor and piling it neatly at the foot of his bunk to scrub later, Tup tore off the top of his undersuit, leaving him in just his leggings. Tup gently unwove his hair, sighing as it came undone from the braid it'd been stuck in for three days. He definitely needed to use the sonic.

His pad pinged.

Tup glanced at it, wondering if it was a reminder from Appo or Rex of the due dates for reports (so like his homework back on Kamino), or Fives sending some meme from the holonet to the group chat, but Tup lit up when he saw your icon.

Picking up the pad, Tup clicked on the message, smiling. And promptly froze.

Missing you x

That was the message, a message that Tup barely read in favor of staring at the accompanying photo.

He wished he could say he looked at your face first, but instead his gaze was captivated by the expanse of your thigh, cushioned by the familiar sheets and blankets on your bed, leading straight up to the tantalizing curve of your ass and dip of your core, both just barely covered by a silken, slink of a shirt in a perfect 501st blue.

The buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing a trail of skin along your stomach, up past your navel, to the valley of your breasts, the barest hint of cleavage peeking past the hem. One collar was held in your hand, those hands of yours that drove him wild, and the other collar dipped off your shoulder, baring it in a stupidly seductive way. The length of your neck drew up, bare and devoid of the little dark marks Tup discovered he loved seeing on your skin, and only then did his gaze fall on your face.

He groaned softly, seeing the lusty gleam in your hooded gaze, the barest upturn of your lips in a tempting little smirk that begged to be kissed, the ever-so-slight tilt of your head, as if you could see him through the photo, and were inviting him to bed.

Tup's cock was already half hard, the things you did to him.

Another message pinged.

Hope you're safe x

For all the innocence of the message, there was nothing innocent about the photo. This time, you faced the camera more fully, allowing the slip of a shirt to fall more open, baring more of your breasts to him, but still not fully. Your hand had fallen from the collar to rest on your thigh, and Tup could practically feel its softness under his own fingers. And just at the apex of your thighs, Tup saw your other hand disappear past the folds of blue fabric.

He groaned again, his own hand flying to palm his hardening cock.

Maybe I'll cook up your favorite when you get back? x

A third picture followed. You had allowed the shirt to fall fully off your shoulders, its length resting down your arms, and fully baring your chest to him in a way that made Tup groan again and press harder down on his cock. You reclined yourself back against the plushness of your pillows, hand spreading your glistening pussy lips wide open for the camera.

Tup couldn't take his eyes off the way you bit your lip and the way your eyes gleamed with arousal. Clutching the pad hard, Tup used his free hand to shove his leggings down just far enough to release himself, and took his throbbing cock in hand just in time for the next message.

Or maybe we could go to 79's? Get all our friends together for a night out? Maybe get Jesse and Takai to stop dancing around each other? x

Your eyes were closed in pleasure, mouth open just the slightest bit as your talented fingers dipped into your pussy. Tup could see the way your walls stretched around them, and could practically feel the warmth and wetness of you around his own fingers, which worked steadily up and down his cock. Pausing to spit in his hand, then resuming, Tup found himself wishing it was his hand cupping your breast and in your pussy, and your hand on his length.

And don't worry, I'll do your laundry x

Your hand pinched at your pert, swollen little nipple as the other worked inside you. Your legs were now splayed open, giving Tup a perfect view of everything you had, and the way your arousal was clearly dripping onto the sheets beneath you. Tup began to pump faster.

The photos kept coming — you, massaging your tits and pinching your nipples with shining fingers. You, three fingers working deep inside your pussy and massaging in a way that made it clear how much you were enjoying yourself. You, your fingers in your mouth, tasting your own sweet, heady nectar. Tup brought his thumb up to his tip, catching the beading precum to smear it along his literally throbbing cock, imagining the taste of you on his tongue.

More photos came in, each of them accompanied by some innocent, innocuous, casual message. All the way until you had your head thrown back in ecstasy, your thighs clenching in a way Tup recognized, and he knew you were cumming.

The sight of it made him burst, his hand pumping furiously until he exploded all over his fingers and stomach and thighs.

It took several minutes for Tup to come down and catch his breath. Good thing these leggings already needed to be washed. Because they were now thoroughly soiled.

And he was still rock hard. He always was when he thought of you, minx.

One last message pinged.

Hurry home, sweetie x

You smiled at him through fluttering lashes, sated and entirely too proud of yourself.

Tup was so going to get you back repay you for this. And he'd love every second of it.

* * *

You found yourself refolding the blanket on your couch from where you'd been tucked beneath it earlier, reading, when your pad dinged. Your smile was a little mischievous as you opened the message.

Miss you too x

The photo of Tup's hard, thick length in his hand was glorious, made only better by the sight of his seed smeared on his fingers, stomach, and legging-covered thighs. You grinned, bright and happy. You couldn't wait for Tup to get home.

Taglist: @twistedstitcher27 @rexxdjarin @frietiemeloen @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @jedimastersovi @hnnybee @sleepingsun501 @virginoliveoil @rosmariner @sunshinesdaydream @adikas-world @theroguesully @dangerousstrawberrypie @kraytclaw @lindsaygallof @misogirl828 @thefact0rygirl @mxkyrie @rain-on-kamino @coffeyorky

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[astrolo-t]

Morning Sun Pt. 4

Pairing: Ellie x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k~

Warnings: MDNI pls, Cursing, Alcohol, LOTS of Angst, Ellie running at literally any sign of conflict or messy feelings.

A/N: Enjoy :)

AUTUMN

It’s when summer’s warmth gives way to autumn’s subtle chill, Ellie begins to realize she has a Problem. She didn’t come to this conclusion right away, no. That would’ve been all too easy, and Ellie has never known anything to actually be simple. No, instead, she convinced herself that as your friend, it was only natural that she knew you as well as she did. It was natural that she knew what made you so happy you’d smile ear to ear, and what pissed you off to the point where even she was afraid. (She’d also never admit that sometimes she loved to see the way your face would contort in annoyance, usually when she’d say something utterly stupid.)

But what was not natural, was the dozens of sketches she’d done of you with various expressions. The way she shivered when you tucked a strand of her behind her ear, or the way she’d begun to anticipate what you needed before you’d even voice it. There was nothing natural about the way she wanted you near her and felt beside herself when you weren’t. Which is why she was currently checking every nook and cranny looking for you. She learned your usual haunts a long time ago and right now you weren't frequenting any of them. You weren’t down by the shallow lake, or tending to the small garden on the side of the house. Then as she rounds the property to head inside through the back door,  Ellie notices two cellar doors that seem like they’d never been there before, wide open.  She climbs down into the mysterious cellar, and finally, she finds you down there bent over a large crate, your feet nearly leaving the ground in your search for whatever it was you were looking for. She definitely doesn't notice how the jeans shorts you're wearing hug you in all the right ways or how the dimples in your back move as you stretch to reach deeper into the crate. 

Ellie has never prayed but she is saying a small prayer for her sanity when you snatch at what you’d been looking for exclaiming, “Aha! Got it!” and turn around with the most wicked grin Ellie has ever seen on your face. Shaking the bottle of brown liquid in her direction you sing-song, “Let's play a game.”

.

.

.

.

You take Ellie to sit in front of the fireplace, a gentle fire going. Not that you’d need it because according to your very brilliant theory, the liquor would warm you both right up.

“Ok, so! The game is this. We’ll take turns saying assumptions we’ve made about the other person and if it's true we drink. Simple?” Ellie raises an eyebrow, honestly a bit unnerved by how excited you are, before pulling the cork from the glass bottle. As she pours you both a glass in the space between you she smiles, “I hope you can handle your liquor.”

“And I hope you can handle yours.” You quip, bringing the glass up to smell the liquid inside.

The two of you go back and forth for a bit and you have to hand it to her. Ellie is super observant - so it shouldn’t have surprised you that she guesses things about you that you’d never even thought of yourself. And she laughs. Yea, Ellie actually laughs a lot during your silly game. Fully and deeply,  she laughs, smiling so big and it's the first time you’d seen her so….open. You think she’s beautiful like this, and of course you’d always known that but you can’t help but notice it again in that moment. Joy fueled by a pleasant buzz just so happened to look really good on her. And maybe it's the warmth of the alcohol but you swear her green eyes were made topaz by the flames flickering in the fireplace.

“I think you….find me attractive.”

Shit

You briefly wondered if you’d voiced your thoughts up until then aloud. Regardless, you keep any sign of being caught from appearing in your expression. Instead, you scrunch your face up, feigning disinterest as you take a small sip, “I dunno, I mean…you're alright I guess?”

Ellie’s eyes widen as she scoffs, and incredulously fires back, “Just alright?”

Your lips form a fake pout, “Aww I’m sorry. Did that hurt your feelings?”

She flips you off and you laugh, “Just alright…ok.” She says, nodding slowly and swirling her cup around, “I guess that's why you're always staring at my hands when I do literally anything.”

You inhale too quickly mid laughter, and literally choke at the accusation. Ok, so sue you. Even despite the injury, the woman had nice fucking hands.

Ellie laughs as you suffer through the burn that can only come with embarrassment combined with choking on an alcoholic beverage.

“You,” You start once you somewhat recover, “are an absolute fucking menace.”

Ellie grins sheepishly and nods, knocking back the rest of her drink before she leans in a bit her voice lowering in your ear, “Yea and unfortunately for you, you’re into that.” 

Your eyes widen and you lean back to look her in the eyes before also bringing your glass to your lips polishing off the rest of the amber liquid, never leaving her gaze. Your tongue swipes over your bottom lip after you finish and the muscle immediately catches Ellie’s eye. It takes nearly all of her patience not to follow the trail it leaves with her own mouth. Instead, her hand finds purchase on your knee, caressing the bare skin there. A ripple travels up your spine at her touch and as your eyes travel downwards to her full mouth, you think about how easy all this could be. All you had to do was lean in, and that’d be it. You already knew just how she’d taste. Just like the whiskey on both your lips. 

You gently place your hand over hers where it was now gripping your thigh, and it’s as though your touch breaks the whiskey-induced spell cast over the two of you. Realization suddenly flies across her face and before you know it she’s snatched her hand away. “I think that’s enough for tonight.” Ellie mumbles. She hastily stands to her feet, and surprisingly doesn't wobble. A perfect picture of sobriety, Ellie disappears into her room for the night, leaving you there with two empty glasses and an unsettled heart.

It was harmless flirting, is what Ellie told herself as she leaned against the closed door.

It didn’t have to mean anything.

Unless of course, you both wanted it to. 

Did you want it to?

Ellie quickly shook that thought from her head and despite the alcohol induced haze, she still has trouble getting any sleep that night.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Rain Check

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2860

Warnings: Lots of sexual tension and pining and ~heated glances~ or whatever but no actual sexy times. Author plays fast and loose with the canonical details of Spencer’s teaching sabbatical, as well as the logistics of grad school. There’s a teacher-student thing going on, but no weird age gap or whatever. Excessive objectification of Spencer’s hands, because really, what else do you expect from me? 

A/N: For the “mutual pining” square on my @cmbingo​ card! 

You trail off. Spencer’s staring like he’s waiting for you to say something else, even though you’ve been rambling for a while now. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 

“For what?” 

“You probably didn’t need to know all of that.”

He blinks, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. 

Something about him makes you want to open up; it’s been almost an hour of nonstop conversation, and you haven’t told him what you’re studying or even where you’re studying, but you feel like you’ve known him for years. You’ve talked about your favorite books and assorted high school traumas. He keeps insisting he’s not good at small talk anyway. 

“I really like listening to you talk,” he says, soft and sweet. “I just… I like watching you talk, too. I noticed your eyelashes and — and I got distracted.” 

Your cheeks feel hot, suddenly. You know the feeling. 

“Oh,” you manage.

There’s something about his hands; they’re just very fucking distracting, and every time he tucks his hair behind his ears, you lose your train of thought. It doesn’t help that he keeps absently-mindedly twirling a pen as he talks, long dexterous fingers moving with precise little movements, and — yeah. Distracting is putting it mildly. There’s this constant low flicker of want in your gut. 

“It’s been a long time since I enjoyed myself this much in a bar,” he admits, with a self-conscious little half-smile. 

“Me too.” 

Probably helps you’re not actually inside the bar. You’re tucked in the corner of the deck, leaning on the railing, and even though it’s crowded, you’ve barely noticed your surroundings. Every time you look at him, the rest of the world feels distant, like one of those perfect movie moments where the crowd parts and the hero and heroine walk toward each other in slow motion, meeting in a spotlight as everything else fades away. 

It’s just… those moments don’t happen, not in real life and certainly not to you. It’s never as simple as that: see — want — have. 

You can’t help but hope that this time might be different. 

Spencer’s smiling, and the way he looks at you with those big soft eyes makes you feel like you’re standing in a spotlight. It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. It’s just unusual, this jittery, excited, not-exactly-stage-fright thing happening in your chest. 

You have to remind yourself to breathe. 

The pause stretches a bit too long, and in an effort to fill the silence you blurt out, “What are you thinking about?” 

He hesitates, and his tongue slides along his lower lip, drawing your attention to his plush pink mouth as he says, “I was thinking—”

“Spence! There you are!” someone says loudly, and you’d be embarrassed by the way you jump, startled, if Spencer didn’t do the exact same thing. 

“Hey. Emily. Um… what’s up?” His voice cracks. He looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar; it’s flattering and oddly endearing. 

“We have a case.” The woman seems to be holding back a smile as she glances apologetically at you. “Meet you up front.” 

Spencer is visibly disappointed as he turns back to you. He gives you a helpless sort of shrug, and for a second, neither of you say anything. 

Your throat feels tight as your eyes lock on Spencer’s parted lips again. It’s been such a long time since you felt this drawn to a person; his closeness feels hypnotic. 

“I’d like to see you again,” he says shyly. “I — can you—” 

“Phone number?” you supply. His hands flutter and his eyebrows rise, like he forgot, for a second, that cell phones exist. Then he pats his pockets, pulls his out, and passes it to you. Once your number is saved, you give it back with a small smile. 

“I’ll probably be out of town for a few days, and then — maybe next weekend,” he says. 

“I’d really like that,” you admit, trying to make yourself take a step back. “This was — yeah. I’m glad I met you.” 

“Spencer!” someone says, from the door, and he waves them off without turning to look. 

“Earlier, when you asked—” He pauses, frowning, shifting his weight like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I was thinking about how much I’d like to kiss you.” 

His voice is soft and husky, and it cracks on the last word like maybe his throat is tight too. You feel hot all over. 

You never even shook hands; there’s been no physical contact whatsoever between the two of you, and now your head is spinning with the urge to reach out, to touch, to get closer... but it feels like you missed your opportunity for that — it doesn’t feel right, not when you know it’d be over much too quickly. You can tell Spencer feels it too. 

Once two magnets snap together, it’s a lot harder to separate them. 

“Rain check on that,” you say breathlessly, and he nods, raising one hand in an awkward wave as he steps back. 

-

This is Spencer, by the way. I’m really glad I met you.

The text comes in just an hour or so later, when you’re sitting in the cab on your way home, and you smile so wide it feels like your cheeks might split with it. 

-

The giddiness lasts until Tuesday morning, when you walk into the first session of your six-week-intensive graduate seminar and see Spencer at the white board, writing down page numbers for your reading assignment. 

Your eyes lock, and there’s another of those moments where you can’t see anything other than him. It’s not so pleasant this time, though. 

Spencer drops his pen, and you promptly forget how to walk, stumbling and spilling coffee down your front. You curse so loudly that the rest of the class turns to stare at you. 

To add insult to injury, the only open seat is directly across from Spencer’s. 

Fantastic. 

You spend the next hour and a half trying very hard to avoid eye contact, and for the most part, you’re successful. He doesn’t seem to want to look at you either. 

You do sneak one glance, though, and he’s just as pretty in the harsh fluorescent light of the classroom as he was in the golden glow of the bar lights. It seems really fucking unfair. 

If it were any other class, you would consider dropping it, but you were lucky to get a spot; this is big for your resume. It’s a special, one-time-only class, and your advisor had described the guest professor as “a genius, and one of the leading names in his field.” 

...fuck. 

Spencer dismisses the class. You start packing hurriedly, convinced he’s going to ask you to stay back, but you get out the door without incident. You’re already halfway down the hall when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. 

Can we talk? 

It’d be so easy to lie, say you have somewhere to be, put the rejection off for another day, but instead you take a deep breath and turn around. 

Spencer is sitting right where he was, except now he’s cross-legged in the chair, twirling a pen and frowning at it like it contains the mysteries of the entire universe. He gives you a twitchy attempt at a smile, eyes wide with worry. 

You move closer, sitting down next to him, trying to ignore those fucking fingers as he plays with the pen. This would be a whole lot easier if he would stop doing that, because it’s just like the bar — the same hot, fluttering sensation low in your belly, no matter how much you try to ignore it now. 

“I thought you worked for the FBI,” you mumble and he lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sigh. 

“I do,” he says ruefully. “I just — also teach, sometimes?” 

“Yeah. I got that.” 

His tongue does that slow swipe across his lower lip. You bite your own lip, trying not to stare, and Spencer drops the pen with a clatter. 

“Sorry,” he says, shoving both hands through his hair. “I’m so sorry if I — if this is — is this going to make you uncomfortable?” 

You frown, looking at him blankly for a second, because that was so not the reaction you expected. “Uncomfortable?” 

“Knowing that I — that I’m attracted to you? I’m aware of the power imbalance inherent in the situation and I promise I would never—” 

“Present tense?” you blurt out, and Spencer stops, blinking at you. 

“Well… yes. I thought that was obvious. I meant it, you know; I don’t just meet people like that,” he says, agitated. “It’s usually difficult for me to talk to strangers, and you’re — you’re just — yes. I’m attracted to you.” 

“I figured you would think I was immature, and — I mean, it’s such a fucking cliche,” you laugh, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. “I usually try to avoid modeling my life on Van Halen songs.” He gives you a blank look and you add hastily, “Never mind. Point is, a student with a crush, throwing themselves at a professor? Seems like a recipe for embarrassment.” 

“Oh,” he says, as a smile spreads across his face. “So… maybe after the class is over, we could—” 

“Yeah?”  

Spencer is blushing. Jesus pogo-jumping Christ, you want to kiss him. 

“It’s just six weeks. We’ll keep it strictly professional — appropriate — for six weeks.” The words are quiet, all husky and promising, and you can’t tell whether it’s intentional or not, but something about that tone sounds very fucking inappropriate. “And then… we’ll take that rain check.” 

You nod and clear your throat. “You’re on.” 

SIx weeks, two classes a week, ninety minutes per class. Easy enough. 

-

It’s not easy. Not in the fucking slightest. 

Part of you wishes he could be a bad teacher, or something. If he was boring — if he had an obnoxious laugh — something. Instead, every goddamn minute spent in his classroom seems like another reason to fall for this guy. 

And yeah, sure, he’s pretty. You catch yourself staring, sometimes: his long lashes, the hint of gold in his eyes, the sharp angles of his jawline, the messy hair… and you’re not the only one. It seems like the entire class is crushing on him by the end of the second meeting, boys and girls alike, and maybe you would make fun of the Indiana Jones-style lash-fluttering that’s aimed his way if you weren’t guilty of doing the same thing yourself. 

Once word gets around that there’s a cute new professor in the criminology department, rumors start to fly left and right. You’ve heard other students talking about him, speculating about the apparently “way more badass than you’d think” Doctor Reid. You hear stories about how he got shot once — was kidnapped and tortured — overdosed on heroin — saved a train full of people by talking down a lunatic with a gun — hooked up with a movie star — went to jail for murder — you name it, every story more far-fetched than the last. 

Well, he did mention getting shot one time, but you’re pretty sure the rest are too absurd to be true. 

Either way, it’s not the looks or the legends that have you hopelessly head-over-heels. 

It’s the way he lights up when he gets started on a subject that interests him. It’s the joy in his expression when a student asks a good question, or when they draw the right conclusion; his smile is bright and brilliant every time. 

The first time one of those smiles is aimed in your direction, along with a half-shouted, “Correct!” and an excited wave of his pen, you’re just about blinded. It quickly becomes one of the driving goals of your day-to-day life: make Spencer smile. 

He’s beautiful, in those moments when he’s grinning and enthusiastic, but the quiet moments are even worse. 

Sometimes he stares as you work your way through a train of thought, eyes glinting as he fixes them on you with a breathtaking intensity and this fierce pride. Sometimes, his voice is firm and sharp, and sometimes when he says things like, “Yes, exactly like that,” it sounds so much dirtier than it should. 

Sometimes — sometimes — once or twice or a dozen times — you fantasize about that voice. You’re only human. 

You never realized there was such a thing as a “praise kink,” but… yeah. That about sums it up. 

At first you worry that he’ll lose interest: that you’ll say something stupid or he’ll find someone else, because in your experience with men, they don’t wait around for six hours, let alone six weeks, once they’ve realized they can’t immediately have what they want. Instead, it only gets worse as the weeks pass. 

It’s nothing obvious, nothing that could be labeled as inappropriate — you still haven’t touched Spencer, not so much as an accidental brush of his hand against yours when he passes back a graded essay. It’s just that his gaze lingers, whenever he looks in your direction, just a moment longer than it would on anyone else. Every time your eyes meet, you have a hard time remembering that the rest of the world exists. It might as well just be the two of you. There’s this heat between you, this crackling electricity, like touching a live wire every single time, like you can’t pull yourself away to break the current. 

It’s the longest six weeks of your life. 

-

“That’s our time,” Spencer says, glancing at his watch. “I’ll get your essays marked and returned to you before break, and on Sunday evening, I’ll submit your final grades, at which point—” His eyes flick to you, and you bite your lip. “— my responsibilities as your professor are complete. It’s been a pleasure.” 

-

“Hi,” Spencer says, without preamble, when you pick up the phone on Saturday evening. “This is — um. This is Spencer?” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning so hard you can barely say, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Right. Um… where are you?”

“Just dropped off a few library books.” 

“I got grades done a little early,” he says hesitantly. “Do you want to… meet me at my office, maybe? We could go out for dinner?” 

You’ve never been there before, but you know where it is. Open office hours with Spencer always seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, because your self-control only goes so far.

“Sounds good,” you say, voice strained, heart racing. “Be there soon.” 

You walk fast. 

The building is mostly deserted, at this hour, and as you walk quickly down the hall, the catch and release of breath in your lungs seems too loud for your quiet surroundings. 

You might be panicking a little bit. There’s still a part of you that’s just waiting for him to change his mind, to realize how dorky and awkward you are, to find someone more polished or accomplished or… something — fuck, this seems to good to be true. 

Spencer has one of the old, cramped temporary offices used by visiting professors, and even though he’s only been here for a month and a half, he’s amassed quite a collection of books in the small space. When you step through the open door, he’s got his sleeves rolled up as he places a couple books gently in a box. He runs his hands through his hair with a sigh, making it even more hopelessly touseled. 

“Hey,” you say, and he turns around, wide-eyed and nervous for a moment before a smile — one of the brilliant too-bright ones you’ve become so fond of — transforms his face. 

“Hi! Um, I’ll come back tomorrow to finish cleaning, I was just — we could go out, I don’t have to — dinner? Are you hungry?” He picks up a pen from the cluttered desk, twirling it like he just really needs something to do with his hands; he seems just as anxious as you feel. It’s comforting, for some reason. At least you’re both awkward dorks. 

“Not hungry,” you say shyly. You close the door, slow and deliberate. 

Spencer’s eyes widen and then go dark, all heavy-lidded and heated. 

He drops the pen, closes the distance between you in two long strides, and cups your face in his hands before kissing you, deep and urgent, dizzyingly perfect. It’s desperate, after all this time, all that pent-up longing and suppressed electricity surging through you all at once, making you gasp at the sharp incredible sting of his teeth nipping your lower lip. 

It’s one hundred percent worth the wait. 

You’re both breathless when he breaks the kiss, but you sway closer anyway, trying to follow his mouth, and blink like you’re coming out of a trance. His lips are red and swollen. 

“Rain check on dinner?” he asks. His voice is suggestive and smoky — there’s nothing appropriate about it. 

When you nod, he just reaches behind you and locks the door. 

.

.

Smutty bit is now here!

.

More CM fic here! 

[rikalovesrice]

Brother

A ficlet inspired by this thread on Twitter, some “Douxie During Trollhunters” stuff I was working on a while back, and my love for Douxie and Jim being best bros UwU

@aaronwaltke and @biancasiercke if you guys ever wanna give this a read (Absolutely zero pressure! Just sharing💙)

Also a big thank you to my good friend @nikibogwater for proofreading for me! ^_^

Please enjoy!

~ ~ ~

Douxie still remembered the day a seven-year-old Jim Lake Jr. came through the door to Benoit’s, tugging his mom in after him by her hand. His big toothy smile when he exclaimed that it was his mom’s birthday and that he was paying for all of it, even the drinks.

“Are you now?” Douxie asked, handing the pair of them menus. They’d chosen a two-top right next to the windows, the backdrop of Arcadia under a soft orange sunset in full view. 

“I helped mom clean,” Jim said. “Like a lot. So I have lots of money.” He crossed his arms, throwing his mom, Barbara Lake, a cheeky grin. His black hair was on the long side and messy, sticking up and flopping in various places including over one of his eyes, though it did virtually nothing to hide his pride and excitement.

“Can you believe he wanted to spend his whole allowance on me?” Barbara said.

“Uh yeah! You’re the best mom ever!” Jim leaned towards Douxie, feigning a whisper. “She’s the best mom ever.”

Douxie chuckled. “I’m sure. And it looks like she’s got a great son to match.” Jim beamed, though a hint of shyness bloomed on his face.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Barbara asked.

“Oh, quite alright. You can call me Douxie. I’ll be your server tonight.”

“Well thank you, Douxie.”

“Mom, can I get a milkshake?”

“Why are you asking me, little man? You’re the one paying.”

“Oh yeah.”

One shared entree of well done steak, a milkshake, and two free slices of cake (accompanied by Douxie’s acoustic guitar and a birthday song) later, Jim caught Douxie by the hem of his jacket after he’d set their receipt down. 

“Wait, Mister Douxie I uh…” Jim dug deep into his pockets, rummaging with a look of determination.

Douxie smiled, kneeling down beside him. “What is it, little man?”

“Um, wait, wait I need to...Oh!” Jim smiled big as he pulled a single coin out of his pocket. He held it straight out to Douxie, his eyes seeming to sparkle. “This is for you! Mom said that you should always tip people.”

Jim placed the coin in the center of Douxie’s palm. It was a nickel, a small bit of rust darkening ol’ Tommy’s profile. Douxie glanced over at Barbara, who was gazing at her son with an expression nothing short of pure endearment, glowing with pride. Douxie closed his fingers over the nickel and held it to his chest.

“A fine tip, indeed,” he said with a soft smile. “Thank you very much, Jim.”

Jim beamed. Then he was springing out of his chair, giggling as he gave Douxie a hug. How long had it been since he’d been smothered by someone who wasn’t Archie? Maybe long enough, because Douxie’s brain stopped working at the gesture, as did his arms. It registered more with every second that passed, the feeling of Jim’s small arms wrapped around him and his head on Douxie’s shoulder. Even without seeing his face, Douxie somehow knew Jim was smiling into his jacket. Something welled up in his heart, warm and touched. Douxie hugged Jim back, one hand on his back and the other gently holding his head.

“You’re awesome Mister Douxie!” Jim said as he pulled back, his hands still on Douxie’s shoulders. “Mom was really happy.”

“Hey now, I’m not the one who bought her dinner tonight.” Douxie ruffled Jim’s hair.

“Alright, Jim, Mister Douxie has to go back to work,” Barbara said softly. Jim’s expression fell and he began to wring his hands.

“No worries.” Douxie gave Jim’s shoulder a squeeze, tilting his head to look Jim in the eyes. “Chin up, buddy.  Next time you come in, I’ll still be here.”

Jim beamed. “Cool!”

“Go on, then.”

Jim hopped to his mother’s side, taking her hand. When he was distracted by one of Douxie’s co-workers wrestling with a malfunctioning blender, Barbara reached into her purse and pulled out a bill. She slipped it into Douxie’s hand, silently mouthing a thank you. Then the pair were off, stepping back out onto the streets of Arcadia under a pleasant evening. 

Douxie unrolled the bill.

Twenty dollars.

His eyes shot to the window in disbelief, catching Jim giving him one last wave goodbye. A deep breath turned into soft chuckling. Douxie waved back.

See you, little buddy.

~ ~ ~

The morning Archie reported Kanjigar’s death, they’d booked it to the canal. The last thing they wanted was for the Amulet of Daylight to wind up in the museum or in some kid’s backpack. Douxie would pick it up and then head right back to Arcane Books. So a brisk ten minute walk later, they were peering down the deep slope of the canal and spotted what must have been the remains of the Trollhunter. A heap of broken stone, just out of reach of the shadow of the bridge. Douxie closed his eyes, taking a moment to honor the fallen Protector of Trolls and Man. Wondering if, somehow, Merlin was doing the same.

“Alright Arch, let’s go — “ Before they could take another step, what looked like a boy on a bicycle suddenly launched over the other side of the canal, suspended in the air before diving back down and landing on his wheels. The boy skid to a halt and turned to holler behind him, up from where he’d come.

“Jim?” Douxie whispered, recognizing that head of black hair and those skinny legs. “A bit late for school, isn’t he?” Then Douxie felt a pinch of panic seize him. He prayed the kid would stay away from that odd pile of rocks.

“Come on Tobes!” Jim hollered.

And not a second later…

James...Lake.

A deep, echoing voice rumbled out into the atmosphere, buzzing in Douxie’s ears. Shock and disbelief struck Douxie like a manticore’s tail. He and Archie shared a look. The panic spiked.

Douxie watched, his heart beginning to pound harder and harder, as Jim faced the stone rubble, slowly removing his helmet. Another familiar face, Toby Domzalski, came struggling down the canal, falling onto his face as Jim passed under the bridge and approached what was left of Kanjigar.

“Do you think he heard the voice?” Archie said.

“No...It can’t be…He’s not…” It couldn’t be. Jim wasn’t a troll. Jim wasn’t a troll. And yet —

James Lake.

The voice rang out again. Jim yelled and fell backwards in surprise. 

“That pile of rocks knows my name!” Jim exclaimed, scrambling closer on his hands and knees. Douxie stared, mind still suspended in shock but gut starting to sink with dread as Jim dug around the rubble, eventually unearthing the Amulet of Daylight, its distinct soft blue glow ever hard to miss. 

Everything in Douxie wanted him to somehow swipe it from Jim’s hands. 

Because not him. 

Not Jim.

But Douxie also knew better. 

“What should we do, Douxie?” Archie asked. They ducked behind a tree when Toby started shouting for someone to reveal themselves. Made sense he would think it was a trick. Only magical beings or the chosen could hear the Amulet.

Only magical beings.... Or so Douxie had thought. Jim slipping the Amulet into his bag was a nail in the coffin.

“Well...we can’t take it now,” he said, eyes still trained on the boys. “The Amulet... seems to have made its choice….”

In the distance, the school bell of Arcadia Oaks rang out. Jim and Toby hurried back to their bikes, quickly mounting and taking off. When they were long gone, Douxie stepped out from behind the tree without a word, sliding down the canal and standing over the pile of stones. He stared off in the direction the boys had left, his mind reeling like nothing else, trying to comprehend what he’d seen and what it meant. 

Why it had to be Jim.

Archie joined him, climbing up on and inspecting the rubble.

“I know...the Amulet doesn’t make mistakes,” Douxie said quietly. “But...a human Trollhunter? And he’s only a child…” His voice quivered, pangs of worry and dread striking his heart.

“It’s...certainly a first,” Archie said, leaning a paw on Douxie’s leg. “I’m not sure what to make of this myself.” There was a long beat of silence before Archie spoke again. “What do you want to do, Douxie?”

What could they do? Was there anything to be done now? That and there wasn’t anyone he could discuss this with, at least who would know more.

If only you were here, Master… Douxie thought, one hand balling into a fist. He stewed in his thoughts for a moment longer before scooping Archie up onto his shoulders and heading back up the slopes of the canal.

“Douxie?” Archie said.

“We’ll keep doing what we’ve always done,” Douxie said. “Watch...and protect.” He didn’t have any answers. But it was done. The new Trollhunter had been chosen. 

Something stirred in Douxie’s chest, growing stronger as he remembered the smiling face of a seven-year-old boy who’d tipped him a nickel. Stronger still because Douxie knew. He knew what it was like to be so young and have so much, far too much, thrust upon him. Having his hand and the growth of his strength forced. The secrets that had to be kept, even from the ones he loved most, for their own safety. Pain he hadn’t known was coming. 

The loss. 

The loneliness.

The weight of the world.

When Douxie retired to his cot that night, he approached the small shine of silver on his nightstand. No, he didn’t have a clue what any of this meant. But what Douxie did know was that he’d be Jim’s greatest ally.  

He picked up the nickel and held it tight, a promise burning deep within him.

I’ll protect you.

~ ~ ~

Author’s Notes :

So I imagine that Jim and his mother ended up not frequenting the diner as much since Barbara was always so swamped and Jim was learning how to cook more at home. So Jim eventually just forgot about his first meeting with Douxie. But Douxie of course still continued to look out for him as best as he could. And I believe this is why Douxie saw Jim as family, even though he seemed to have only known him for a short time. In reality, though, Douxie always loved the kid💙

God bless and thank you all so much for reading!💙

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 3

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of NSFW content, suggestive NSFW content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @carewyncromwell @night-rhea

Chapter 3: Dirty Little Secret

I’ll keep you my dirty little secret

Don’t tell anyone or you’ll be just another regret

Hope that you can keep it

My dirty little secret

~ The All-American Rejects - Dirty Little Secret ~

All three girls watched as Orion left the private area of the nightclub, two of them looking confused, one of them trying her hardest not to laugh.

“What’s got into him all of a sudden?” Merula asked, looking baffled.

“Seems like Jameson’s show rattled the poor guy alright,” Skye cackled.

Lizzie joined into her laughter. “As if. I don’t think anything could shake him, let alone me.”

She hid her smirk by taking a sip of her cocktail.

The next fifteen minutes felt like an eternity to Lizzie. She passed the time by listening to Skye and Merula’s chit chat, sipping her drink and nodding from time to time. She had to fight the urge to bounce her foot in impatience and not glance at her watch repeatedly. Not quite succeeding, Lizzie caught herself tapping her finger against her glass to the beat of the music; she willed herself to stop.

When she had finally finished her drink, she rose from her seat, stretched her already aching back and smiled at her remaining two friends.

“I’m afraid Orion had a point earlier, I always forget how exhausting playing a full show is,” she yawned and reached for her bag. “I’ll get a cab back home to get some sleep in.”

“Alright, let us just finish our drinks and we’re ready to go,” Skye said immediately, but Lizzie could tell she wanted to stay for a little longer; she always did.

“No, it’s alright, go and have some fun. Once we’re out of London there won’t be much time for that anymore.”

Skye scowled at her. “You sure? Not that keen on you going back all by yourself.”

Merula rolled her eyes. “Just let her go, if she wants to. If she gets kidnapped, no one can chew their captor’s ear off with that awful cheeriness like her. We’ll have her back in no time.”

Usually she would have shot back at Merula but right now Lizzie was glad she was playing into her hands. She was buzzing to get out of the nightclub, so when Skye tried to speak up again, she just shook her head.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll text you once I’m back, alright?”

Without giving Skye another chance to reply, she smiled at both of them, turned around and walked towards the exit.

The cool air of the summer night felt wonderful compared to the stuffiness of the packed nightclub as Lizzie stepped outside. She buried her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket and bowed her head as she passed the group of photographers always present in front of high profile establishments like this.

It was her luck that they cared more for soap stars and minor starlets stumbling home on the arm of a football player than one relatively sober person leaving all on her own. It was only a few clicks and flashes she had to make her way through before the mob had already focused on the next familiar face emerging from the doors behind her. She just hoped she had waited long enough for no one to make the connection.

Checking the message on her phone telling her where to go, she quickly walked a few steps away from the crowd until she reached the entrance to a small side street. Turning her head, Lizzie made sure no one was watching her before she stepped into the darkness of the alley. Anyone still in possession of half of their senses would have told her to stick to the main street, but Lizzie knew where she was going.

A smile stole onto her face as she walked towards the figure stepping out of the shadows.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Ignoring his question, Lizzie sped up her steps until she had reached Orion, grabbing him by his jacket and pulling him towards her. Her lips crashed onto his and his arms immediately went around her as he kissed her with the same desperate hunger she was feeling herself.

She buried her hands in his dark hair and sighed against his mouth as she felt his hands wandering over the curve of her waistline before his fingers hooked through the loops of her jeans.

“So fierce tonight,” she chuckled as they broke apart for a moment. Both of them were breathing heavily, Orion’s skin feeling hot to her touch. There was a fire burning inside his eyes that made her shudder.

“You did keep me waiting,” he murmured into her ear. His breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of her neck was giving her goosebumps all over and he knew that full well.

“I couldn’t really down my drink in one go and run after you, could I? Your fault you left so early.”

She would have loved to go straight after him but that would have been way too suspicious; their little affair - if one could even call it that - was a secret both of them very much intended to keep from the others.

“After that show you’ve given? What did you expect?”

She had to laugh at his words, her eyes twinkling with promise as they found his. Her finger traced the line of his jaw, the stubble of his beard biting into her fingertip.

“I knew you’d love it.”

She rose onto her tiptoes to reach his ear as she whispered, “Want me to remind you what else my tongue can do?”

“I don’t think I’m the only one eager for that.”

Despite herself, Lizzie’s breath hitched and she bit her bottom lip as she felt Orion’s hands travel downwards from her waist. He stopped over the back pockets of her trousers, squeezing her bum as he captured her lips in another searing kiss.

Her head spun for a moment, dizzy from exhaustion, alcohol and Orion’s touch. She had to will herself to break away from him again, this time taking a step back out of his reach.

“Come on then,” she purred, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she looked him up and down, “What are you waiting for?”

But Orion knew how to play her game as well. Mirroring her grin, he simply walked past her in the direction of the main street, not sparing so much as another look. He passed so closely that he was almost brushing against her; the electricity between them was palpable and Lizzie felt her mouth go dry as she watched him from behind.

Orion waited a moment before motioning for her to follow him when he was sure no one would pay any attention to them.

While they were waiting for their cab, not being able to touch Orion when all she wanted was to feel his lips on her skin almost killed Lizzie; judging from his tensed shoulders and nervous fingers drumming against his leg during their ride home, that feeling was mutual.

It was no use, though; as long as they were in public, there was nothing they could do. Making out in the alley with a bunch of reporters around the corner had already been a hell of a risk.

The drive to Orion’s place in Nottinghill felt like an eternity; by the time they had finally reached his flat, Lizzie’s skin was positively tingling. Not being quick enough for her taste, she plucked the key from his hand and unlocked the door herself before stepping into the dark hallway first.

She turned around in the doorframe, shooting him a cocky smile over her shoulder.

“Are you coming? I think I promised you a show.”

***

The pale sunlight of the early morning seeped into the room from the skylight above Orion’s bed. Falling onto Lizzie’s face, it made her stir in her sleep, slowly waking her up from her dream. She tried holding on to it for a moment longer, but it drifted out of her grasp as her body was waking up until it was completely out of reach.

Sighing wistfully, Lizzie turned around and propped herself up onto her elbows. Her lips curved into a smile as her eyes fell onto Orion, who was still sleeping next to her. He was lying on his stomach with his face buried in the fluffy white pillows, his breath deep and even.

Now, in the light of the new day, Lizzie could see the bright red scratches running over his shoulder blades. She blushed a little; maybe she had gone a little overboard in the heat of the moment.

The sight of Orion’s maltreated back made the memories of last night return to her. The thought of his rough fingertips exploring every inch of her body, the sweet bite of his unshaved cheek against the inside of her thighs sent a pleasant shiver down her spine even now. The way she had relished the feeling of his skin against hers as he had coaxed wave after wave of pleasure from her body made her realise how starved she had been for his touch.

It almost surprised Lizzie how quickly sleeping with Orion had become her favourite way of winding down after a show. The sex was fantastic and the fact that no one knew what they were doing was only adding to the excitement. They were aware that it was one of the band’s most important rules they were breaking time and time again: No meddling with the other members. According to Ethan, getting involved with each other could cause nothing but trouble.

However, Lizzie was enjoying their time together way too much to just give up on it like that; free from any form of commitment, it was a bonus to their friendship neither of them wanted to miss. She could definitely confirm that Orion’s fingers weren’t only nimble when it came to playing the guitar.

Without really thinking about it, Lizzie reached out towards him. Her fingers were tracing the lines of the tattoo covering the whole of his back, from the now slightly scratched eagle wings spanning from shoulder to shoulder, down to the woven circle of the dreamcatcher the eagle was carrying in its claws. Her fingers tiptoed lightly over the pattern, joining up the beads worked into the web. Orion had told her that each of them represented a memory dear to him; she noticed he had some new ones added since the last time she had seen it.

Some of the inked feathers flowing down from the circle past beneath the eagle’s tail were new to her as well. Her fingers were wandering over them, dancing across his lower back.

Completely consumed by what she was doing, Lizzie hadn’t noticed Orion waking up. She jumped as he spoke to her, her eyes flying towards his face.

“What are you doing?”

Orion’s head was turned towards her, his eyes still closed, but a cheeky smile was playing around his lips.

Lizzie was spared an answer when he opened his eyes to look at her. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

Realising how his words must have sounded, his smile turned softer as he closed his eyes again. “Don’t stop though.”

Setting her hand onto his back again, Lizzie let her fingers wander up his spine. She lightly tapped them to a rhythm only she could hear and noticed the tiny shiver running through him when she brushed them downwards again, her fingernails grazing his skin ever so gently.

“You never stay the whole night when we’re touring,” Orion murmured sleepily.

Lizzie hummed in response, not taking her eyes off the beautiful picture painted on his skin.

“I missed this,” she murmured under her breath, more to herself than to him.

“I missed you.”

Caught by surprise at his words, her movements stopped abruptly. Orion’s eyes were soft as he watched her, taking in his shirt hanging loose on her body. Her open hair was still a tangled mess from last night

“Why would you say that?” Lizzie laughed, trying to mask her being caught unaware with a poke to his ribcage.

Orion laughed along and evaded her by rolling onto his side. He quickly caught her wrist and held it away from him. A grin formed on his face as he shrugged.

“Because it’s true; nothing relaxes me more than you do.”

Lizzie snorted. “Is that so?”

With a laugh, he let go of her hand and let himself fall back into the pillows. “Do I look not relaxed to you?”

“If anything, you look overly smug to me,” Lizzie shot back.

She grabbed her pillow and hit him with it before quickly jumping off the bed to get out of his reach. She searched her jacket that was among the pile of clothes littering the floor for her phone and a hair tie, all the while feeling Orion’s eyes on her.

When Lizzie had found what she had been looking for, she tied her unbrushed hair back and straightened up again. Unlocking her phone, she quickly scrolled through her messages.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Orion getting up as well, stretching his back.

“Come to think of it, I might have overestimated how balanced my body is this morning,” Lizzie heard him complain, “my muscles hurt like hell.”

She didn’t even bother looking up from her phone. “Tell me about it.”

Orion finally caught her attention when he stepped closely behind her. “I could do something about that, you know.”

Lizzie had to stifle a sigh when he gently began rubbing the tension from her shoulders, knowing exactly where her tight spots were; he had developed a knack for this she had come to appreciate.

Enjoying his touch for a moment longer, Lizzie pulled herself together and shook his hands off. She turned around, holding her phone up for him to see.

“Forget it, I have a breakfast date.”

“With Charlie, I presume?”

“Charlie is busy interviewing that new pyro guy.”

Orion tilted his head. “Who else then? Someone I need to be jealous of?”

Lizzie chuckled at the notion. “Only if you consider Skye as competition. But we both know you’re not the jealous type,” she shrugged. “And why would you be, anyway?”

She started gathering her strewn about things. “In any case, I need to get ready. I could really use a hot shower.”

Looking down at herself, still dressed in Orion’s shirt, she plucked at the collar and chuckled. “You’ll get this back another time.”

She turned to leave but didn’t make it far. Orion’s arms closed around her from behind, his lips nuzzling against the exposed skin of her neck. “Your wish and mine don’t necessarily rule each other out.”

Goosebumps were spreading all over her skin at his touch but she pulled herself together and broke free of his embrace.

“Tempting, but no. I can’t really show up at Skye’s place wearing last night’s outfit or, even better, your shirt.”

Her smile turned into a smirk as she looked him up and down, taking in his bronzed skin, lean but still muscular build and tousled black hair, regretting her decision already. “I might take you up on that massage later, though.”

She tried to leave a second time before she could change her mind, but Orion caught her wrist, pulling her back towards him.

“Do I get a kiss?”

Lizzie was already smiling; she had anticipated the question. He always asked it before she left, and her answer was the same every time. “You already got much more than that.”

She took a step back towards him, rose to her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Maybe next time.”

Orion laughed as he finally let her go. “I’ll get my kiss one day.”

Lizzie dipped her head back as she laughed and turned towards the door. “We’ll see about that.”

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Randvi x female reader 💋

• Second part of a (not-so-short-anymore) emotional fic.

a sapphire for your heart, part II.

Ravensthorpe buzzed with life as villagers begun to emerge from their cozy little homes. The sound of children echoed in the small meadow and it made you smile; sweet youthful laughter, sing-song games and playful teasing. You stopped to gaze at the three little rascals chasing one another around a large sage tree. The image made your chest feel warm as you reminisced about your own childhood. And with those pleasant thoughts in mind, the memory of the weeping woman faded whilst you made your way to Reda’s tent.

“Hello!”

He greeted you with a small wave, beckoning you over. You stood in front of him with the bag of opals in your hand.

“Would this be enough to cover my stay?”

With a smile, you dangled the little pouch in front of him. Eagerly, Reda pushed himself into a sitting position, cross-legged and hunched over the bag filled with jewels. The precious gems shimmered beautifully in the sunlight, like a dragonfly's translucent wings. He was deeply satisfied as he fastened the mouth of the pouch and hid it safely among his belongings.

“More than enough.”

He reassured.

“Now, I have this map for you.”

And he produced an old, rolled-up papyrus, offering it to you. It was awfully smudged and the writing was faded, the landscape and roads badly drawn in thick coal lines, yet you could still make out certain regions, borders, and key points. You took your time to study the important document before your gaze found Reda’s again. He briefly explained the hierarchy in this growing village, mentioning the jarl's name, Sigurd, and his right hand drengr, Eivor. Both of them were currently absent and have been for quite some time. However, there was a woman you could rely on for further information regarding the map. Randvi.

Following Reda’s instructions, you found yourself at the large front gate of that immense longhouse. The carvings in the threshold were mesmerizing to look at; symmetrical patterns sculpted so precisely in painted wood. Dragons stood proudly above the tall door, and flickering lamps hung from their open mouths. There was a soft crackling sound within – a fire burning slowly in the middle of that large space. It felt homely, albeit it was rather dark inside, and so you hesitantly paced about the creaking floor. Your gaze wandered from every dark crevice to every colorful pillar holding that magnificent roof up.

The sound of chatter from outside abruptly ripped your hazy focus and you remembered why you were there to begin with. Information.

You inhaled deeply as you glanced around for the map chamber. It was right across that long hall which separated tables full of food and drinks. There seemed to be no one in the longhouse at this hour, and yet you did hear soft footfalls somewhere behind the wooden walls. It oddly felt as if you were trespassing, even though you had Reda’s written invitation attached to your belt.

“Good morning?...”

You called. A woman emerged from a chamber adjacent to the map room, and when your eyes met, you were completely gobsmacked – it was her. She seemed equally surprised to see you, as if you’ve met somewhere before. Up close, you noticed her impressive height and strong shapes, and with that stern, impenetrable look in her azure eyes, you almost felt intimidated.

“Ah-… I am here on behalf of Red-"

“Yes, I know how you are. Sapphire, is it?”

The sound of her voice was like a deep river murmur, and yet soft, melodic, so gently pulling at your heart strings. You nodded slowly at her question, and she beckoned you to come by the large table in the middle of the room, where a map was laid out and pinned by various figurines. It was a spectacular display of the area, with clear marks of little villages, forts and caves. You couldn’t wait to redraw your own map, and yet you found yourself secretly gazing at the powerful woman just across from you.

She was beautiful. Radiating such authority, calm and collected; was she truly the one you’ve heard weeping that morning by the river stream? Looking at her now, it was hard to picture such a stern figure being overwhelmed by emotion.

“Tell me what you need help with.”

Her voice gently pulled you from your thoughts, and in a few moments you had the old map stretched next to the larger one. She glanced at the faded, yellow paper, and then at you. You raised your brows as her dazzling eyes peered into your own.

“Primarily, I need to know which areas are safe for travels.”

A smile small tugged the corner of her lips; you couldn’t tell whether it was amusement or bitterness, but you found it impossible to break free from her steady gaze as she leaned over the table with a sigh.

“No area is truly safe, however… I will highlight the most important borders you should consider before crossing.”

“Good. Thank-you!”

You were relieved to find how honest she was, and soon, the sound of her tranquil voice dissolved that cold, hostile aura she seemed to have about her at first glance. She was particularly charming as she worked – focused, thorough and quick. The design on her clothing was breathtaking in itself, so easily luring you in, closer; you were curious what fabric it was and whose hands were so skilled to sew such intricate patterns. But you kept very still, respectful of her personal space as she kindly aided you with your map. When she was done, she stood up straight, nearly towering over you. The way you looked at her must’ve caught her off guard, for she raised a fine brow as she handed you the new document.

“Is there anything else that you need?”

She asked, harmlessly inquisitive.

“Oh! Not at all!” You laughed softly. ”I was only wondering about your brooch. I’ve never seen one like that before.”

Your curiosity seemed to have stirred something within her; something you definitely did not expect. She smiled as she gently touched the aforementioned item, her gaze longing all of a sudden.

“This?... It was my mother’s.”

“And the beads attached to it…”

You begun as you slowly rounded the table to her side. The closer you approached her, the more evident her imposing height became – a Norse goddess incarnate, enthralling and mighty. You swore you caught a drop of tenderness in the way she gazed at her mother’s brooch.

“…what are they?”

Caught off guard, Randvi met your prying gaze, wondering.

“Emerald, of course.” She answered.

Indeed the precious gems shimmered beneath the faded light seeping through the ceiling above. As she turned to face you, the rich green hues seemed almost tangible, deep and smooth like vivid clover leaves. Your attention lingered on her beads, as if you were reading through each ray of sun the stone reflected. Then, you sought Randvi’s gaze again as you smiled.

“It’s Chrysoprase.”

You concluded. She seemed half-amused as she coiled her beads between her war-hardened fingers. Never looking away from the gems, she asked.

“How do you know?”

“Emerald reflects light differently, like a mirror. This one seems to glow.”

Oddly, your input seemed to stir a hidden curiosity within her; perhaps it was because you openly showed interest in something so dear to her, or perhaps because she was secretly fascinated by gemstones. However, when she gazed at you, with her beads still tangled in her fingers, you felt as if she had questions.

Her stoic demeanor melted briefly, leaving room for genuine interest in your knowledge – her gaze was intense, easily pinning you to that heavy map table. A shiver rushed through your core as her mouth opened to speak, but before words were uttered, a much louder and desperate voice called from the other end of the hall. An old woman expressed her disappointment in a foreign tongue, which you immediately recognized as Norwegian. And as Randvi made her way to tend to her responsibilities, you gathered your map and tiptoed out of the longhouse.

-         To be continued…

*part III.

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 43

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter

"You know what? This could actually be worse." 

Loki tore one eye open, just to check if your surroundings had changed during the short nap he’d taken against the wall. 

The cold, humid cell deep under the palace was still bare and just as uninviting as before. The roughly carved stone reminded Loki of the insides of a beast's belly, the edges rounded, the corridors meandering, and that unnerving smell of dampness and mold hanging thick in the air. The only evidence of the dungeons ever being touched by civilized hands were the metal bars set deep in the stone, quite solidly locking you in.

"Are you sure?" Loki asked. "We are being tried for murder, and not even ones we actually committed." 

"That part sucks, I’ll concede, but I mean - at least they don't know about Peter. I don't see him in any of these cells." 

That was some small relief. Loki stroked your head, currently laid in his lap. He closed his eyes again. There was no rush. 

It was difficult to judge the passage of time under the mountain of stone overhead and with no light from the outside. The only sources of it were the strange colonies of small mushrooms, glowing softly in the otherwise complete darkness. Their hats were no larger than the nail of a thumb, and swayed slowly, as if struggling against phantom winds. 

The air felt stale in your lungs - to the point where you wondered if the only way to feel a whisper of a breeze again required consuming the luminescent mushrooms if only to catch the barest hint of the breeze that perpetually swayed them side to side.  

"Are those toxic?" 

"I have no idea." 

"Haven't you read about the dungeons?" 

"I've never even heard a whisper of them, but to be honest, I never prepared my studies of the Edge with imprisonment in mind." 

"You should've known better." 

"My bad." 

You tapped your foot against the stone, hoping to relieve at least some of the energy buzzing in your veins. The sounds were quickly swallowed by the foggish air, enclosing you once again in the unnerving silence. 

No more than a few hours could've passed since you were thrown in there to wait for the trial. You had no idea how much longer it'd take, but if they thought you'd peacefully rot down there for however long they wished, the lords would be in for a surprise. 

"Loki, can I cut the bars now?" 

Loki sighed. It was the third time you’d asked. "No." 

"But I'll just make a tiny little chip to see if the sword would even work on them." 

"We literally have nowhere to run to. I have no way of getting us off the Edge, and Heimdall is unlikely to work against his orders again for us."

That posed a problem. 

"But I want out."

"You just don't want to pee in the bucket."

"Of course I don't, I still have some basic human decency. Have you even looked at that thing? I wish I could throw it out of our cell… I have no idea why you're laughing, but I'm warning you - if my bladder decides it's had enough, I'm out."

"Don't worry, it won't be long now."

Crossing your arms, you hid your hands from the cold. Your patience was wearing thin, but Loki's calm was a reassuring presence behind your back.

"You've been on trial before?"

"Yes."

"What happens now?"

Loki didn't dwell on the memories that resurfaced in his mind. His last trial had taken place on Asgard, under a vastly different regime. The mark of the traitor had been plastered to his back before he even set foot before his king - and father.

There would be none of that in this trial, for better or worse - Loki hadn't yet decided. 

"They'll soon take us before whoever is to make the verdict. The delay is likely caused by the powers weighing in the palace. The High Prince has every right to rule over us, but the Queen won't allow herself to be pushed away, even now."

"I don't think she'll even notice us."

"If there's any conscience left in her from the old days, she will."

That caught your attention. It sounded like a story, and even poor, short stories were better than the miserable wait in the tiny, damp cell with only the mushrooms and a reeking bucket to keep you company. 

"I told you that I've been to the Edge before, with my court on official visits. I was never allowed to dwell around this place as freely as I'd wish for, but even I had met the Queen. It was long ago, for beings like us are not confined to the mortal passage of time. She was fading already back then, but her descent had only just begun and the power within her was still thrumming deep, making her grip on the court and its people like iron. There were whispers that with the almost depthless power like hers, her fading would take millenia, and assure the Edge's prosperity throughout that time. The sacrifice she must make would never be forgotten." Loki swallowed. He still remembered the cold, icy touch of her magic. "She's likely clinging to every shred of it."

"She seems like a ghost." You shivered, remembering the brief meeting with what was left of her.

"I wouldn't put it above her to make her final stand a moment to spit Asgard in the face before she completely fades. I'm a prince, after all, even if Asgard cut ties with me. The wars ravaged this land, and the memories are still fresh in some minds."

"Will they sentence us to die?" 

"Most likely. The Rifts will surely enjoy drinking our essence." 

The images that flashed before your eyes were far from enjoyable. 

"So, we stick to our usual plan?" you asked after a moment of silence. Even silence felt sticky in that place. 

"I don't recall ever having one?" 

"What about being assholes to everyone long enough for some lucky turn of events to save our asses - in our current case, Peter finding the murderer?" 

"I love that plan." 

The plan was not loved by even one other person, but that was no surprise. Those who had to deal with you once the time had finally come to put you in shackles and drag you out of the cell, were far from happy when a series of unfortunate events halted their preparations. 

And those were truly unfortunate, one had to admit. Who would've thought that the shackles on Loki's hands never seemed to fit? They constantly slipped off, much to his own surprise. But Loki was a forgiving god, so he braced through it all with a calm smile and patience of a saint. It only faltered when another set of cuffs was  placed over his wrists, weaved from thick, silvery material that seemed to block the source of the struggle, and his magic with it. It was not unlike the bracelet his memory was still adamant to forget, that had complicated his life in the past. 

But as saddening as that was, your problems were on a completely different level. It was not everyday that one's legs completely refused to work, no matter how much you willed them to. 

A tragedy, that's what it was. 

A nuisance, that's what one of the guards said before hauling you over his shoulder. 

You wished you could wipe Loki's smirk off his smug face, as he walked behind you. 

"I didn't have time to think of anything better," you hissed through clenched teeth. 

"Silence!" the order came sharp and loud in the echoing confines of the narrow staircase. 

The guards were careful handling you. Their swords were at the ready and you had little doubt they'd be used if necessary. Loki shook his head slightly. You had to wait for a better chance. 

The enormous hall you'd been taken to had to lay in the heart of the palace. Rows of galleries overlooked the vast space, separated by thin, winding columns covered in ivy, orange, and red leaves tightly woven. Behind them loomed the river, its wild current sending a cold breeze through the hall. The water murmured a song of endless wrath as it hit the rocks and the shore, ferocious in trying to free itself from its course. 

It was the only alive thing in the hall, you quickly noticed as the guard plopped you onto the ground with no ceremony. He stalked back, joining the other guards, their armor unblemished, and swords pointed at you. In front of you, standing on the raised dais at the head of the hall, awaited the Prince and the fading Queen, just as Loki predicted. Pooled around them were the other residents of the palace you could see for the first time. They stood tall and proud in their ashen regalia and shimmering jewelry. Horns bode the air, sharp as knives. Clawed hands clenched, as if imagining the way your necks would feel underneath them. The enemies' necks. 

A miracle occurred when your legs suddenly worked again. You moved a little closer to Loki, looking around. But the walls were far and carefully guarded. The only way out was the river, into its thrashing current that dug its way through the mountain and the palace, unstoppable in its rage. 

A shadow of the same rage crossed the eyes of the Prince as he beheld you, seeing precisely what all the unexplained events led him to believe. It was a wonder why he bothered with a trial at all. You were sure the river would welcome two more corpses, just as the Rifts would claim your lives. 

You couldn't wait for the part where you could at least say you had nothing to do with any murders. There was little you could do to prove it, but it still felt like the only highlight worth waiting for. 

Loki understood your concern well. There was absolutely nothing pleasant about murder accusations, true or not.

"How low Asgard has fallen," the High Prince finally broke the silence. 

"You have no idea," Loki admitted. "But still not low enough to have anything to do with what we're being accused of right now. We spent the day out in the woods, learning about the Rifts and looking for more clues." 

Half-truths were an interesting sort of truth. While they maintained some of their original meaning, part of them always had to be diluted enough to fit into what others wanted to hear. Despite the hurtful claims against him, Loki loved the truth. Truth was his favorite thing more often than not - so much, in fact, that he often preferred to keep a part of it for himself. 

"Have you found any?" The question was polite, but there was no interest in the Prince's voice. 

That was a slippery ground, especially since all your potential suspects had gathered in that very hall. 

Your eyes met with the female guard you recognized. It was the scarred warrior following the Queen. Her short hair stood like a porcupine's spikes, covering part of the thick, winding scar. The woman had a nasty smile on her disfigured face. 

Her place was by the Queen's side, her hand on her sword. She looked ready to strike on the Queen's slightest indication - it was lucky then, that the Queen herself appeared as disinterested in her surroundings as always. The pale gown she wore reminded you of old, crumpling papyrus, withered as if held too close to the flame. She stood too far for it to be possible, but you could've sworn the smell of burnt-out candles drifted to you. 

Loki wore an easy, pleasant smile - a mask befitting this place. "We managed to secure an object that'll lead us straight to the culprit of the unsuccessful attack in the gardens a few days ago. Much remains to be explained, but I'm sure that'll be a great place to start." 

"You stand before me, accused of murdering the wild dwellers of the Edge, and yet you speak as if you still have time." The Prince shook his head. 

Looking at his horns, you couldn't get the image of them cutting through your head. The Prince was the first of your suspects. If he wanted you dead, why weren't you already? 

"We cannot even be certain that you didn’t stage that attack," the Prince mused. "Where do you have this object you speak of?" 

Loki swallowed. "It is currently tracking the source of the spells," he said carefully. 

Time was indeed running out, and it gnawed at your bones. There was only so much you could do to delay the inevitable. 

Your hands shook, but you put them together. You wouldn't show any of those deadly silent, uninterested lords how hard it was to remain still. How hard it was to breathe. 

A splash of color, so unlike anything in the pale, withering hall caught your eye. Making sure not to move your head much, you cast a careful, quick gaze upwards, toward the empty galleries overhead. A youthful face peeked from one of the balconies. Peter. 

Loki's words drifted away from you as you focused on the boy, showing you the stone he still held, the mission you entrusted him with. And you frowned as he pointed toward the dais, to the two figures standing there. 

The true murderer was there. It had to be one of them.

The Queen remained poised still as a statue while the Prince derided Loki's words. Which one was it? 

Peter kept showing you the horns with one of his hands, which could've helped you more in a situation where you didn't stand among lords, jewels shining on all of their many horns, sharp and dull, long and short, but all deadly. 

"Where is it then?" the Prince lost his patience at last, the steel toning in his voice. "How can you prove anything of what you claim?" 

"It is the stone of Atica," Loki finally said. "I borrowed a part of the spider that attacked us and let the stone find the spellcaster behind it." 

Faint whispers erupted among the lords. The Queen's gown rustled like dried leaves, but she remained silent. But there was fury in the Prince's eyes as he shouted "Then where is the stone? How much longer will you make a fool of me?" 

"It is here," you said, your voice clear and ringing in the hall as you stepped forward. 

Never had you felt so small and irrelevant as in the moment when all the attention focused on you. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of color, moving from the gallery onto the high ceiling above you, cautious and slow as to not alarm anyone. You took another step, hoping everyone would monitor your movement instead, so close to the dais now that you could count the silver fairies and animals sculpted onto its side in lifelike detail. 

So close that the hatred emitting off Faroq, captain of the guard, was close to burning your skin. You had no doubt that if you took one step closer to the Prince, the needle-like sword hanging by his hip would pierce your heart. 

"We only hope that you and your people alike will accept the truth," you said and held your hand to the side. 

As a stone dropped right into it, a murmur ran through the crowd again. It began glowing, dragging all eyes to it - no one dared look away as you raised it to show everyone the culprit. 

But it did not glow toward the Prince, who you stood no more than a few feet away from you. 

The stone of Atica held a steady glow toward the left, to the Queen and her guards. 

The female guard took a step closer, the expression wild on her scarred face, and for a moment you thought she might spill the Queen's blood. 

But you watched the wrong person. 

The Queen, merely a decorative part of the palace grounds through all the time you spent there, finally raised her face, her only horn pointing toward the far ceiling. 

To Peter, who had gestured with only one hand. Who tried to make you understand. 

"Long may I live," the Queen said, her voice ashen and steady. 

The power she unleashed was far from faded - that was the single thought you managed to scramble as it hit you hard, sending your body flying like a mere insect. 

[yehet-about-it]

I Like Me Better | 15 - You of All People

~ A Wayv Social Media AU Series ~

< Prev || Series Masterlist || Next >

Synopsis: You’ve just moved into a new apartment with your best friend Yangyang, but you’re immediately faced with a problem: your incredibly noisy upstairs neighbour Xiao Dejun, or to friends, Xiaojun. You spend the first few weeks of your acquaintance hating his guts, but after a sincere apology and a fascinating revelation about his passions and motivations you slowly begin to see past his cold exterior to discover the real him. What will happen as you get closer to this troubled boy and how will those closest to you react?

Pairing: Reader x Xiao Jun

Genre: Angst

Themes and Warnings: Explicit language, mild violence and references to drinking/alcohol. Deals with themes of toxic masculinity, insecurity, and jealousy…

Word Count: 3.5k (good lord this took forever to write, and please excuse the dialogue, arguments/fights are not my forte...)

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Your evening started like any other night out with the boys; a drink or two at yours with Yangyang and Sicheng, then on to meet Renjun and whoever else (this time Yeonjun and his girlfriend Yeri), before heading to the bar. The first half of your evening was rather pleasant, spent sipping cocktails with your friends in a cosy booth Renjun had managed to book, with the odd dance here or there. It wasn’t until you and Renjun were dancing wildly on the dancefloor having consumed just enough alcohol not to care what people thought, that you saw a familiar face looking at you from across the room by the bar.

You smiled back at Lucas as he gave you a cheeky smirk, seemingly having noticed you had caught him watching. You held eachother’s gaze for a moment before you shyly looked away and back at Renjun, heat rising in your cheeks that definitely wasn’t due to the alcohol. You hadn’t really spoken to Lucas that much, maybe the odd conversation about your day, or work, but mostly if you did talk to him it was about Xiaojun. You weren’t sure you liked Lucas in the romantic sense, and you didn’t really have enough interaction with him to go on, but being who and what he was, just having his attention was enough to make you blush, or any girl for that matter. You were sure he’d probably be getting a lot of attention tonight. Looking back up as you danced to see if he was still watching, you saw he wasn’t and instead was leaning back on the bar, talking to someone sat on the barstool next to him. Scanning the rest of the area around him you realized he was with Ten, and you could only assume that the figure on the stool facing away from you was Xiaojun. Your gaze lingered a little too long, as Xiaojun soon turned around, his eyes seemingly searching the sea of people crowding the dancefloor before landing on you. Startled, you immediately averted your eyes, hoping he hadn’t caught you watching, and decided to move your focus back to Renjun.

Your eyes lit up as ‘Rain On Me’ started playing through the club’s speakers and you grinned at Renjun, starting to mouth the lyrics at eachother. Not a moment later though, your phone buzzed in your hand, not having put it away from taking pictures with Renjun earlier. Checking who it was, you rolled your eyes when you saw a text from Yangyang, stating what you already knew. You quickly replied, and seeing Kun reply immediately after you replied again to keep him happy and slid your phone back into your bag, rejoining Renjun in hyping to Lady Gaga.

It seemed you couldn’t catch a break though, as not long after, you felt a hand on your shoulder taking you out of the moment. You frowned, ready to give whichever pompous fuckboy was trying to get your attention a piece of your mind, but when you turned, you were met by a broad chest belonging to none other than Lucas Wong, who stood towering above you. “Funny seeing you here,” Lucas said leaning down towards your ear so as to be heard over the pounding music. You giggled at him as he rose back up, giving you his ever so charming signature smirk. It was then that you noticed Xiaojun emerge next to him, looking at you a little apprehensively and mururing a ‘hey’ that way barely audible above the noise. Smiling pleasantly you greeted the two young men. “Well hi guys, this is a nice surprise!” You said. “It sure is,” Lucas grinned as Xiaojun nodded at you. “You guys come here much?” you said, mentally facepalming as the words left your mouth. You were plenty tipsy and anything could have fallen from your lips, yet out of all the things you could have said, you went with the most awkward cliched chat up line possible. “I don’t. Not really my scene.” Said Xiaojun, his soft, low voice just about cutting through the noise of the club. It figured. Although your dark and brooding neighbour was clearly a fan of Ariana Grande and Bruno Mars, he certainly didn’t seem the type to enjoy clubbing, let alone dancing. Perhaps a quieter bar, with a couple of pool tables, dim neon lights, and guys stood around in worn down leather jackets would be more to his liking. It was nonetheless intriguing seeing him out of his comfort zone in a place like this, surrounded by people like Lucas, whose outgoing and flirtatious personality was in total contrast to his. “Yeah I’ve only been here a few times, though maybe we’ll have to come more often now we know you come here” Lucas added, giving you a devilish wink. You swooned a little at the action but out of the corner of your eye you swore you could see Xiaojun rolling his eyes.

Suddenly, you were jerked back to reality as you felt an arm wrap around your shoulder, and you realised you’d been so distracted by Lucas’s flirtatious gestures that you’d totally forgotten about Renjun. “Hey y/n who are your friends?!” Renjun yelled drunkenly through over the music. “Oh right. Guys this is my friend Renjun. He’s a dancer too! Renjun, this is my neighbour Xiaojun and his friend Lucas,” you said, waving your hands towards the two of them. “Ahh the elusive neighbour and his hot friend I’ve heard so much about,” Renjun slurred, beaming at everyone before taking Xiaojun’s hand to shake, then Lucas’s. Your eyes widened in disbelief at Renjun’s choice of words, and he let out a pained grunt as you subtly elbowed him in the stomach. The little shit.

Xiaojun had his usual stoic expression as he said hi to Renjun, but Lucas smirked as he held out his hand to shake. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Likewise. Wow. You really are tall,” Renjun blurted, eliciting a deep chuckle from Lucas. You were going to kill that kid. “Too tall for his own good. Only thing it’s good for is spotting people through crowds like this and getting things out of cupboards,” Xiaojun commented with a hint of disdain. Clearly he was used to people commenting on his friends’ height. You snickered at his comment nonetheless. He was after all, unneccessarily tall. “Oh I can think of plenty of other things its good for,” Renjun joked. You raised your eyebrow. That boy had definitely had enough alcohol for the night.

“So you guys wanna dance?” you asked in an attempt to move on from the topic of Lucas’s appearance and what his height might be useful for. The two boys nodded and for the next 15 minutes or so you danced and sang together blissfully, Renjun and Lucas making jokes every now and then like the clowns they are. You were too in the moment to notice, but a small smile tugged on Xiaojun’s lips as he watched you dancing with wild abandon, admiring your serenity and the care free look you had as you moved your body in perfect rhythm. As a dancer, you were in your element and Xiaojun couldn’t look away. Obviously your club moves were much simpler than your usual dance routines but no matter the amount of alcohol you’d consumed, your body flowed to the music as naturally as a fish swims. Before he knew what he was doing, Xiaojun was moving closer to you as though being drawn by a magnet. As the song ended and faded into the next you looked up at him, now right next to you and gave him a grin as your hips started swaying to the next song. “I can tell you’re a dancer.” Xiaojun leaned in to speak, and a heat rose to your cheeks. You knew you could dance but you hadn’t realised you’d been putting on that much of a show. “Oh uh, really? Thanks,” you awkwardly stuttered. “Maybe I could see you dance sometime? I mean, not in the club,”Xiaojun said. You flushed. He wanted to see you dance? Was is you or was he flirting? “Um, well maybe... I suppose you could come to one of our open rehearsals?” You replied coyly. “Sounds good. And I mean, you have seen me sing, so it’s only fair,” Xiaojun teased. “I guess that’s true”.

For the next few minutes you continued dancing and chatting with the boys before you felt a body pressing lightly against yours from behind. It dawned on you that it was in fact Xiaojun, and you looked round to see if he had been pushed into you making space for someone passing through perhaps, but despite the throngs of people in the club, you saw no evidence of that. Meaning he was doing it on purpose. Was he really coming on to you right now? Flirting was one thing, but dancing with you like that in such close quarters was a little intimate for your liking. You had realised by now that you were definitely attracted to Xiaojun in some sense, but you still hardly knew the boy and grinding on him in the club defintely didn’t seem like the best step in the progression of your relationship. Sure, you’d spoken to him a few times since you went to see him at the café, mainly in the hall on your way back from walking Bella, and he was and a lot nicer than you had anticipated, but you couldn’t say you were too comfortable with where he seemed to be taking this. Not wishing to make things awkward, you politely shifted away from him, moving closer to Renjun instead, and as you did so, you caught Lucas raising an eyebrow at you.

Eventually, your group dispersed and you and Renjun went back to find the others. When you told them you’d ran into Lucas and Xiaojun, Yangyang and Winwin naturally teased you about it, tellng you you couldn’t have both of them, and Yangyang being Yangyang refused to drop the subject matter. He was your best friend, so you could forgive him, since you knew he meant no harm, but after a while his incessant nattering about it teed you off so you excused yourself and went to use the restroom.

On your way back from the restroom you came across Lucas, by the looks of it on his way to the bar and he stopped with a grin when he saw you. “Y/n. Crazy seeing you again,” he joked. You laughed breazily at his terrible attempt at humour. “Hi Lucas.”Lucas paused, as though thinking for a moment. “Can I get you a drink?” he said, nodding towards the bar. With the amount of alcohol currently in your system, you didn’t even need to think. A drink with Lucas? Yes please. So, you went to the bar with Lucas, who ordered soju for the both of you, before raising his drink for a toast. “Geonbae!”

For a while, you spent the time chatting and laughing with Lucas as you downed your soju, not noticing a certain someone glaring at you from across the room, but soon, Renjun, having been wandering about the club in his cheerful tipsy manner, saying hello to random people all over the place, joined the two of you at the bar. Lucas and Renjun seemed to get along pretty well as they had done while you were dancing, making corny jokes at eachother back and forth, but eventually, Lucas said something that flustered you somewhat. “So, I’m the hot friend huh?” Lucas said, eyeing you mischievously and nodding to Renjun who had originally let slip that you had referred to him as hot. Of course he would bring that up, how could he not? “Um, well-“ you fumbled with your speech. You were well and truly tipsy by now but apparently still not drunk enough to talk to your attractive acquaintance without tripping over your words. “Heh, don’t worry. I get that a lot,” he said. “Although, the girls aren’t always as cute as you.” You blushed and giggled at Lucas, totally unaware of the intoxicated man slowly and resentfully making his way towards the three of you. “Oh, uh, thank you,” you giggled. “OMG you have to go home with this guy,” Renjun ‘whispered’ in your ear. That earned him yet another discreet elbow to the chest. “What?! You’re totally flirting!” He protested, as Lucas took a swig of his drink, thankfully paying no mind to Renjun’s comments.

“Oh, hi Xaojun,” you said, as you finally became aware of the boy approaching you. “What are you doing?” Xiaojun said, disregarding you, and glaring at Lucas. “Okay then…” you muttered under your breath. The least he could do was say hi back. “Oh I was just saying how beautiful y/n is,” Lucas said, smirking back at his shorter friend. “Oh yeah? Well maybe you should back off a bit. That’s a little forward don’t you think?” You sighed. What was up with him? You raised your eyebrow as you witnessed your neighbour needlessly defend you from Lucas’s flirtations. He was speaking with conviction, but there was certainly a slight lilt in his voice, indicating he had drunk more than his fair share of poison tonight. “I’m just saying it like it is,” Lucas said shrugging. “Just because you’re too scared to say something doesn’t mean we all are.” “Oh get over yourself Lucas,” Xiaojun snapped. Renjun turned to you, giving you a look that clearly red ‘well this is awkward’. “Just because you’re a model it doesn’t mean you can just hit on any girl you like. Especially not my neighbour.”

Your hands balled into fists as you glowered at Xiaojun. You were tired of his frosty attitude. “Uh, well ‘your neighbour’ has a name and and I think she will decide who can hit on her or not thank you very much,” you huffed defiantly at Xiaojun, drawing his attention away from Lucas to yourself. “Now will you calm down? I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night.” “Yeah dude, you’re kinda ruining the mood.” Renjun chipped in, probably not the best idea, because as soon as he spoke, Xiaojun’s glare was fixed on him. “Oh yeah? Well fine. I’ll go. I know where I’m not wanted, and that’s clearly nowhere you are” he said turning to you, before stepping back to leave. “Xiaojun wait! We didn’t mean-“ Xiaojun swiveled back and cut you off before you could finish. “Oh come on, I know you hate me y/n. Go on, admit it,” he spat. “You think you’re so much better than me with your perfect job and your little sugar daddy to do everything for you. What do you think he’d say if he saw you dancing like that with this jumped up little shit.” He looked at Renjun in contempt and your jaw almost hit the floor. In 21 years you’d never been spoken to like that. Except by maybe that Stacey girl you’d had a feud with in middle school when sh accused you of ‘stealing’ her ‘boyfriend’, but that was beside the point. Not only was Xiaojun ruining your evening by pointlessly dragging Lucas for his flirting, but now he was insulting your best friends? This was very much NOT okay.

“EXCUSE ME?” You yelled, your eyes burning with fury. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about Renjun like that! And Xiaojun, you’ve been nothing but rude to me since I moved in! Why do you think I don’t like you?! Not because I think I’m better than you but because you’re just an asshole!” His dark eyes were fixed on you as you yelled back at him and you could smell the whisky on his breath as he stared down at you, but out of the corner of your eye, you were vaguely aware of the third friend sidling through people towards you, seemingly yelling at people ‘damage control coming through! Damage control coming through!’ “Huh is that right? You think I’m an asshole? Well you know what I think? I-“ Before Xiaojun could continue his shoulder was pulled back by a stern looking Ten. “What the fuck are you doing Xiaojun? You’re drunk, now leave y/n alone.” You looked up at Ten in relief. You didn’t really know the guy but he seemed to have a calming aura about him and you were just glad that someone was here to help you diffuse the situation. Anything that Lucas or Renjun had to say would only add fuel to the fire. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do Ten, I’m not your kid,” Xiaojun snarled as Ten gripped him b the shoulder. “Yeah but from the looks of it you’re ruining y/n’s evening and I think we should get you some water before you ruin everyone else’s too.” “Yeah come on buddy, just go with Ten and calm down,” Lucas added, patting Xiaojun on the back. “Oh so you three can get back to ogling eachother? Why don’t you just get it over with already and make out on the bar?”

Xiaojun was clearly slipping into a drunken haze now, his words getting angrier and even more slurred. “Jesus will you just let it go-“ Lucas rolled his eyes as he spoke but was cut off as Xiaojun’s fist collided with his jaw. Your eyes widened in panic as you realised where this was going. “Fucking hell!” Renjun exclaimed, watching as Lucas held his jaw as he stumbled back against the bar. Xiaojun may be significantly smaller than Lucas, but he could certainly pack a punch. “Hey fuck you man, I was just trying to-“ Xiaojun landed another punch as Ten struggled to hold him back.

You watched, horrified as Xiaojun struggled against the two boys, not knowing what to do. If you called the staff over you knew everyone would get thrown out and that would be the end of your night, but if you did nothing someone was sure to get hurt. You looked around to see if any passersby might help the situation but they all seemed disinterested. Panicking, you took your phone out and texted the group chat, hoping that Winwin or Yangyang might see it and come to the rescue. Not that they were particularly helpful in these situations, but the more the merrier.

As the two boys managed to get Xiaojun somewhat under control – either that or he was getting tired – he started to still, Ten holding him in place. You stepped closer, hoping that you could talk to him and ease his mind, tell him it was okay, but as he shook himself free, having given up on fighting Lucas, his elbow collided with your neck, sending you reeling back into Renjun. As everyone turned to you with wide eyes, checking to see if you were okay, a bouncer appeared behind Ten having seen the commotion. “Guys I’m gonna need you to leave. You’ve caused enough trouble for one night.” The bouncer said, looking at the 3 taller boys. The boys slowly nodded, mumblung ‘okays’ before the bouncer nodded towards you. “You alright?” You noded with a small smile, not wanting to make any more of a commotion. At this point you just wanted to leave and get some ice for your throbbing throat. “Okay you can stay,” the bouncer said, pointing at you and Renjun. “You three with me”.

You watched, dumbfounded as the boys gathered themselves. Xiaojun looked forlorn and you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Sure he was acting like a total asshole, but in truth he was drunk, and he didn’t seem at all the same person you’d talked and laughed with under the one-person umbrella on your way home from the café a week prior. “I- I’m sorry y/n” Xiaojun gulped, before he was dragged away by a furious looking Ten, followed closely by Lucas and the bouncer. “Are you okay?” Renjun asked worriedly as he gently gripped your hand and a tear slid down your cheek. “Yeah. I’m okay. Let’s just get some ice for my neck and get out of here…”

When you got home, you promptly kicked off your sandals and went to the living room, flopping down into the lap of your giant teddy bear that was sat in the corner taking up far too much space. Yangyang and Sicheng followed not far behind, and being the mischievous boys they were they piled on top of you in a big hug, knocking half the air out of you, but at this point you were too fed up to care. “Why do guys suck?” You whined. "Hey we don't suck!" Winwin exclaimed, his voice a little muffled from where his face was squished agains the arm of Mr. Gom. "Sure," You replied sarcasticly, earning a little nudge before you all burst out in a fit of giggles, squeezing eachother tighter in the hug. You sighed cheerfully, feeling a little better after your trainwreck of a night. You certainly weren't letting them sleep like this, but for now you snuggled in your friends' warmth, enjoying their embrace and allowing it to sooth you before you faced the harsh reality of tomorrow.

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[sunshineandcybertronians]

Heart Attack - Knock Out x reader

Word count: 3,670 Warnings: None A/N: This was one of the first TFP fanfics I wrote. I finished it in June 2019. Hope you enjoy! Song: Heart Attack by Demi Lovato 

You hummed a song on the couch while watching the older two teenagers play a video game. Not truly paying attention with a big grin and a far off look in your eyes, daydreaming. about your secret friend. Knockout. You met him through your association with the Autobots. He decided to capture you, not too long after you were introduced to them, a few months after the other three kids were. Before the Autobots rescued you, you talked with Knockout. It was enjoyable and you both like to conversing. Thus, you been secretly scheduling time to get together. You loved being with him and talking to him.

Currently, your mind was sitting on a mental picture of him his finish shiny and a beautiful shade of red. His face snow white and handsome. Your imagination switch to him in his flawless alt mode rolling down the road against the sunset. Sighing, your imagination supplied the sensation of sitting in him at that high speed. Your heart began throbbing with a strange feeling. Realizing what you were thinking, you shook your head. No, you couldn't think that. You were just friends with him, that's all.

You were drawn back into the real world by Miko's victory celebration.

"Yes, I won!" Miko jumped up at her car knocking Jack's off the road.

Jack groaned before reminding Miko, "Okay, it's Raf's turn now."

"Right. Here," she handed him the controller.

"Miko, you've made the controller all sweaty," Raf complained, holding it by only his fingertips.

"Sorry," she replied in her cheerful way. "Not my fault my hands decided to do that while I was crushing Jack." She mimicked holding a controller and mashing buttons with one foot up on the cushion.

"How long has it been since you guys cleaned those off?" You asked, suddenly curious and slightly disgusted since you never recalled them doing that.

"Um, we're supposed to clean them?" Miko asked, sitting down and putting a finger on her jaw as if she was thinking.

"I... don't think we ever have," Jack slowly admitted as the realization came over him.

"Then I'll go get some wet wipes from the storage room. I'll be right back." You got up, began to clop down the hard stairs, and entered the Cybertronian sized corridor. "I'll come with," Miko called out while hopping up and running down the stairs with no regard for her own safety.

"Carefully!" Ratchet immediately snapped when he glanced her way.

"Sorry," you apologized for her, sinking into your shoulders.

Miko caught up with you and you both began running done the hall. You wouldn't normally have run, but you unintentionally mimicked your energetic friend, as well as doing so to simply keep up with her. Being in the corridor without someone usually made you feel uneasy, as if you felt that you didn't belong there due to your small size. Miko being beside you helped ease your insecurity.

She kept talking about some random things, like how she defeated Jack, that they need a new video game, and the monster truck rally she and Bulk went to. Most of the time you just nodded while she did the talking. You accidentally tuned out about half of it. Once you reached the storage area, you grabbed the box of wet wipes, cradled it in your arms, and began pacing back.

"So, do you like anyone?" Miko asked you out of nowhere, leaning forward while looking to you expectantly.

"What?" Your pupils became large and you almost froze from surprise.

"Do you have a crush on anyone?" she jumped out in front of you and walked backwards. "You've been acting more happy and daydreamy recently."

"I don't think 'daydreamy' is a word," you avoided the question.

"But who is it?"

"No one!"

She fell into step aside you again, pretending to examine her nails with a smug smile. "It's Knockout isn't it?"

That time you actually stopped in your tracks for a split second. "What?!" you said a lot louder than you meant to.

"Yeah! I saw the way you looked at him the other day when we had a run-in with the 'Cons. You were totally goo-goo eyed. If it were an anime your eyes would have had tons of sparkle and you would have been drooling."

"Quiet," you almost whispered.

"You were! Do you like him?" Miko was the most persistent girl you've ever known.

"No," you firmly answered louder than you meant to. You managed to stop yourself from shouting that you didn't know, feeling frustrated. "Look, I can't like him, he's a Decepticon. I barely know him. So stop asking," your voice had an unintentional edge. Miko even looked shocked and slightly scared for a millisecond.

In reality you didn't care that he was a Decepticon, you just didn't want to have to deal with a crush. They could be so annoying. Plus, it would be hard to do that considering you were on opposite sides, the Autobots might object, and he may not like you back. That last one could ruin your friendship which you valued so much.

"Okay," Miko shrugged and focused on the open room you were approaching. Although you could tell she wasn't convinced, even more so with her sudden calm and cool attitude. She was actually pretty good at acting when she wanted to, provided she's not lying, to the point only someone who truly knew her would be able to see through it.

"Here, think fast," you tossed the box to her as you ran into the wide area with most of the Autobots' presence.

Her pace quicken like yours and she rushed up the stairs. Your course, however, was aimed at the yellow Autobot scout. You slowed and stopped in front of him.

"Hey, Bee!" you called to him, "Can I get a ride back home? I think there's a report I left at home, so I'll just finish it there." With Miko being onto your secret- you mean, her thinking you liked Knockout, you had to get out of there as fast as you could before she told everyone her suspicion. Primus knows she can't keep a secret. You did NOT want to be around if she did so.

Bumblebee beeped in agreement and transformed into a yellow Urbana 500. The passenger door popped opened and you climbed inside.

"Thanks, Bee," you said as he clicked the seatbelt over you.

He buzzed, probably saying, "No problem," and drove through the tunnel and out into the Nevada desert. It was a quiet ride back, the light brown terrain blurred past you. You began thinking about Knockout again. They hadn't figured out that you were friends yet, in fact, all Miko suspected was that you liked him. This meant you were in the clear for now. Although if Miko told everyone, it would not only be embarrassing, they might keep a closer eye on you which would prevent you from being around Knockout.

Deciding you should tell him, you pulled your phone out and your fingers began flying across the digital keyboard.

Me: Wanna go for a drive? I'll be back home in a little bit, but don't go just yet. And be careful, the yellow Urbana's dropping me off.

You tapped send and leaned back in the seat. Normally you wouldn't have referred to Bumblebee like that, but it would make it easier for Knockout to know who you were talking about. Plus, it sounded like something Knockout would say and every now and then you found you were picking up his talking habits.

A buzzing against your skin made you look back at your phone and see the reply.

Knockout: Sure. I'll stick around, unseen, until you give the thumbs up.

You wanted to comment that it was almost impossible for him to be 'unseen' with his shiny, red paintjob and his gorgeous alt mode, but you knew what he meant. Blood rushed to your cheeks and you felt warm when you realized you just mentally called him gorgeous.

"Buzzz, chirp chirp, buzz?" Bee seemed to ask a question and pull you out of your thoughts.

"Huh." Being back in reality you suddenly realized you were only two or three minutes away from home.

Bumblebee repeated himself, but you still had no idea what he was trying to say. "I'm... sorry. I don't understand you."

The seatbelt moved on its own like it was alive. The part that was previously on your shoulder tapped your cheek, then stayed on your shoulder again like it never moved.

"Oh," you let out when you realized what he was asking. "It's just warm today, so that's why my face is turning red," you lied, although it was a warm day and you were grateful he cared enough to ask.

Before you could say thank you, the AC became cooler and the cool air felt pleasant on your skin.

"Thanks, Bee," you smiled.

He beeped another, "No problem," or "You're welcome." You didn't really need a translator to know that.

In no time, you were in front of your house. You waved and gave another thanks before running inside. Once inside, you secretly watched from the window and waited until Bumblebee was gone.

Pulling out your phone again, you typed:

Me: He's gone now. Just left.

You considered painting your nails red while waiting, to look better for him, but would it dry in time? Before you could decide, fifteen seconds after you clicked send, Knockout pulled up and you rushed as fast to him as you could, almost forgetting to close the door on your way out. The door opening, you promptly got in. It closed behind you and he began to drive.

"That was fast. You didn't even give me time to brush out my hair or anything," you joked while reaching for the seatbelt out of habit, but it automatically went over you and snapped into place.

"You still look just fine," he replied somewhat slowly in his suave voice.

"Thanks," you smiled and forced yourself to stop thinking about it before you could begin blushing.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he noticed you were slightly less happy than usual. You had been friends and spent enough time with each other that he could read you fairly well.

"Miko might be onto me."

"She's the girl that's Bulkhead's pet, right?"

"Partner, or charge, whatever you want to call it," you corrected. "But yes."

"She knows about us," there was a slight growl in his words. You could just be kidding yourself, but it might have been fear, in an angry way. Like he was scared of the possibility. "About us being friends and meeting each other, I mean," the red interior lights flashed as he spoke.

"Well not exactly, she..." you paused, looking for the right way to word it. You didn't want to tell him that Miko thought you had a crush on him, because you didn't, you mentally added. "She noticed how I... seemed happy when I saw you the other day. She may guess that I've been meeting up with you, or someone else will if she tells them."

"Would she tell them?"

"Oh yeah. That girl can't keep a secret. Except for the fact that cybertronians exist, maybe she's just bad at keeping secrets from her friends. Anyway," you regained your posture and decided to get back on topic, "even if they don't figure it out, they might think that I'll approach you and get captured or... join the Decepticons," you waved your arms out, careful not to hit Knockout, as you exaggerated. "The point is they can worry and keep a closer optic on me which would restrict me from seeing you." You leaned back with your arms crossed, staring down. "I could always text or call you. But I have no idea how long the house arrest would last. Plus they may wonder who I'm texting so much and see, and I would miss riding with you and seeing you in person."

Knockout stayed quiet as he processed it, wondering what he should say or how he should respond to all of that information. The only sound was the hum of his engine giving the necessary energy to glide across the concrete in the open desert while you waited for a reply.

"Hmm. Wouldn't want that to happen. If the 'Bots learn, Megatron might too. That would be painful. But the chances of him figuring out are slim, so I'd be more worried about you right now." He thought about it. "Maybe if that happens you could run away with me," he suggested.

You laughed, "As tempting as that is, I can't do that. That would be a little irresponsible and only make it worse. If they worry about me being captured or defecting, running away wouldn't ease them, it would make them more desperate. And they're my friends too. But thanks for the offer," you added.

"What should we do then?"

"I think we should just roll with the punches and hope for the best. There's no guarantee they'll find out. Although, we should be more careful." It scared you to think that you could lose Knockout, however you had to hope for the best. That was all you could do, so you hoped you wouldn't be prevented from being with him. The thought of being torn apart from him made your heart ach- you mean, it would be sad. No, you gave your head a small shake. You didn't love him, you convinced yourself.

"If you say so," he sounded a little unsure himself.

"Knockout!" a deep, scary voice burst through the speakers making you jump.

"Yes, Megatron," Knockout tried to mask the fear in his response, not wanting to be caught slacking off with a human.

"Knockout, where are you?" he demanded.

You froze and unintentionally held your breath. You didn't know if the Decepticon leader would hear you if you said anything, but you didn't want to find out.

"I was... just scouting for energon deposits."

"Well you're in luck," Megatron became strangely calm with a bite, like he was attempting to suppress his anger. "Because we have detected an energy signature near your location. Scout out the area and report your findings, IMMEDIATELY!"

"Y-yes, my liege." He turned off the comm. "Sorry, (Y/n), I have to go check it out," he said quietly, as if he was afraid the comm was still on.

You nodded. "It's alright. I understand."

None of you had to mention it to know that you were both terrified that Megatron would find out about your secret, despite only speaking through the comm channel. Your heart was still racing. By the way the engine rattled slightly, while driving off the road to scout the requested site, you could tell he was still shaken up.

Knockout stopped by a rock wall and opened the door for you to get out.

"It would probably be safer if you stayed here and wait for me. No telling if the site is going to be unstable or if Lord Megatron has already sent other Decepticons," he mentioned.

"Right," you hopped out, "I'll wait here." You watched him drive away, turning right and behind the orange-ish brown rock formation you were standing by.

Sighing, you wondered what you should do while waiting. Your feet kicked up some rocks and dirt out of boredom. Your mind wandered and you began to think about Knockout, then Miko's earlier claim. A warm feeling fluttered in your chest. You immediately forced yourself to stop thinking about it to remove the feeling and decided to distract yourself by putting in ear buds and listening to songs on your phone.

Several songs played that you danced or bobbed your head to. Then a song, that sounded strangely similar to your situation, began playing.

Puttin’ my defences up 'Cause I don’t wanna fall in love

Upon hearing that you knew it was "Heart attack" by Demi Levado.

If I ever did that, I think I’d have a heart attack

Never put my love out on the line

You nodded, since you knew that you wanted to never to risk your heart getting broken or putting yourself in a bad situation when it came to love... want being keyword. You can want one thing, but another thing can happen.

Never said yes to the right guy Never had trouble getting what I want But when it comes to you, I’m never good enough

A laugh escaped your mouth, recollecting that you often never felt good enough for Knockout. He was gorgeous, how could you ever compete or be good enough for his standards? This time you forgot to notice you called him gorgeous and argue with yourself that you didn't think that as your thoughts moved on with the song.

When I don’t care, I can play 'em like a Ken doll Won’t wash my hair, then make 'em bounce like a basketball

But you make me wanna act like a girl Paint my nails and wear high heels, yes you Make me so nervous, that I just can’t hold your hand

A hum vibrated in your throat as you began humming the song at the pre chorus. You remembered when you considered painting your nails for Knockout.

You make me glow, But I cover up, won’t let it show, So I’m puttin’ my defenses up 'Cause I don’t wanna fall in love If I ever did that, I think I’d have a heart attack I think I’d have a heart attack I think I’d have a heart attack

Your heart seemed to have taken note of what feeling it produced when you usually thought about Knockout and replay it while listening to the song. This time you didn't fight it and let the nice feeling flood through you.

Never break a sweat for the other guys When you come around, I get paralyzed And every time I try to be myself It comes out wrong like a cry for help

You were so into the song and relating to it so much that at the last line that you began singing along while dancing more vigorously, knowing that no one would see.

It’s just not fair Pain’s more trouble than love is worth I gasp for air It feels so good, but you know it hurts

But you make me wanna act like a girl Paint my nails and wear perfume, for you, Make me so nervous, that I just can’t hold your hand

You make me glow, But I cover up, won’t let it show, So I’m puttin’ my defenses up 'Cause I don’t wanna fall in love If I ever did that, I think I’d have a heart attack I think I’d have a heart attack I think I’d have a heart attack

You recalled how you'd be so much more happier being with and thinking about Knockout, but you'd never let it show because you didn't want anyone else to figure out. Thinking about it now, you didn't want yourself to figure out. You thought that if you kept denying it, then you wouldn't fall for him.

Dummy, you heard a part of your brain or heart say, how could you not fall for him?

The feelings got lost in my lungs They’re burning, I’d rather be numb

It felt really weird suddenly admitting you liked him, that it had become too powerful to deny, like the song was giving it energy. The emotion overpowered you in a way you almost felt weak, yet it somehow had a pleasant sensation.

And there’s no one else to blame

Sighing, the song reminded you that there was no one else you could blame for making you feel like this except for yourself. You let this happen and decided to meet him all the time.

So scared I take off and I run I’m flying too close to the sun And I burst into flames

You make me glow, But I cover up, won’t let it show, So I’m puttin’ my defenses up 'Cause I don’t wanna fall in love If I ever did that, I think I’d have a heart attack I think I’d have a heart attack (heart attack) I think I’d have a heart attack

A spin was the next move you decided to perform. While doing so, you spotted an all too familiar red mech leaning against the rock and white face smirking. This startled you so much that you lost balance and fell down on your bottom, facing Knockout.

Oh I think I’d have a heart attack

Your cheeks heated up, feeling embarrassed that he heard you singing and what you were just thinking about. His arms were crossed, causing the sun to reflect off of his doors, and an optic ridge was raised that didn't help your blush.

I think I’d have a heart attack

You stopped the song as it ended and pulled out the ear buds. "I... didn't hear you. How... much did you hear?" you tentatively asked while getting up.

"Oh, just the beginning of, what I assumed is, the second chorus up until now." He stood up straight and walked closer to you.

You stood still and wondered what he was going to do. An awkward smile played on your mouth while you pretended everything was normal. Although you moved your legs closer together and held your arm, giving you the appearance of being someone shy.

"So, do you have a heart attack?" he asked.

Your heart started beating so fast you thought it would burst out of your chest and your brain stopped functioning. "Umm... Uh, ummm."

Your flustered reaction seemed to please him. He tenderly placed a digit over your mouth to stop you from talking. He leaned down so you were eye to optic. A smile graced his faceplate while you stared into his deep optics.

"I have a spark attack too."

[harringtonstudios]

knowing it’s selfish.

plot: you’re a first-time actor and you’ve caught the butterflies for your co-star. 

A/N: this is kinda long oops! let me know what you think ;)

It’s been a long two weeks. After months of recording audition tapes and walking into chemistry readings, you had finally booked your first role. It had been an extremely lucky process and you had secured a contract for a high-budget Netflix movie. Once the scripts had been sent out, you had gotten a chance to meet the rest of the cast in a table reading. That had been an incredible day, especially getting to interact with Sandra Bullock, a staple in your childhood movies. You’d vibed well with all of the other cast members, and when filming started earlier this week, it’d been easy to slip into those friendships again.

Flying into California early in the morning was stressful enough without having to rush to the executive studios in order to pick up alterations they had made for a shorter script. After the bustle of traffic, even at five in the morning, and making sure all of your baggage was set in the hotel room Netflix had graciously provided you for the next two weeks, you had gone out to explore the area, unable to sleep. After a walk around the uneventful block, you had run into one of your co-stars near the front entrance. Colson Baker stood there, wearing a white tank and gray sweatpants, smoking what looked like a joint. He shot you a smile and you waved as you decided to take another shot around the block, suddenly nervous. 

This wasn’t a new feeling. The first time you had met Colson, he had been standing in the corner of the room, sipping on an iced coffee. He’d immediately caught your eye in his black turtleneck, earring dangling as he looked around the room, taller than anyone else here. You’d braced yourself, took a quick deep breath and then walked over. It took less than a minute for you two to start laughing and soon you were so immersed in the conversation that it took a pat on your shoulder to come back to the slight buzz of the room. The pat had been from Danielle who quietly whispered that the executives were calling the meeting to order. Embarrassed, you had sat down where your name was written and smiled as Colson came to sit right next to you. After running through the entire script, realizing you and him were going to play some weird fucked up type of lovers, you had thanked the Hollywood gods for their amazing casting choices. Everyone left pretty quick, so you’d just given him a high five and then walked out of the room, cursing yourself silently for not getting his number.

The second time you’d seen him was on your Instagram timeline. He’d been tagged in a picture with one of your distant industry friends and you had dived into a black hole of “Machine Gun Kelly.” Scrolling through his pictures, listening to the songs he’d put out, watching music videos, it had been a lot. The little butterfly in your chest had started to grow larger wings and you immensely regretted researching him and finding out all these little things that had you smiling at your phone screen while wrapped in a burrito blanket.

Steadying your heartbeat you turned the corner back to the front of the hotel only to catch him pacing, holding his phone up to his ear. You walked into the lobby past him, towards the elevator, glad he was too busy to talk to you. As you stepped in, you heard someone shout and you held the door open as Colson came running into view.

“Hey Y/N! How have you been,” he asked grinning. 

“I’m good Colson. Just flew in this morning, how are you doing,” you replied.

“Bored. I’ve been here for a couple days and there’s nothing to do around here,” he said, gesturing to the lobby. The elevator door started beeping and you awkwardly stepped out back into the empty area as he retracted his hand from the door. 

“You wanna grab breakfast?” you asked, heart jumping up a little. 

“Yeah dude! That’d be awesome,” and the tone in his voice lit you up.

Breakfast had been fun, both you and Colson bouncing your energies off of each other. After a successful morning, you had swapped numbers and decided to ride to set together each day, with you driving cause apparently he’d gotten his license taken away. Most nights you would both come back and end up exploring the area, going to expensive bars and dance clubs. On set, you two would always end up getting involved in some shenanigans, trying to have as much fun as you possibly could on a movie. There was never a dull night and quickly the two weeks disappeared.

-

It was the last night for a majority of the cast and even though the main characters still had a few weeks left, they decided to throw a party for everyone leaving. You felt extremely blessed to be involved in this project and even more blessed when Sandra Bullock handed you a beautiful journal winking as you opened it to a note. write down a couple of thousand thoughts you have every day. see where it takes you. You laughed as you hugged her and then felt someone hug you from behind.

 “Three’s a crowd Baker,” Sandra barked out as she walked away and you snorted before turning around to properly hug him. 

“What are you doing tonight?” he whispered into your ear and you shivered automatically before stepping back and shaking your head. 

“Nothing, sleeping probably, why?” 

“No reason, just stay up yeah?” he smirked and then walked across the room to talk to the other cast members. You rolled your eyes and turned towards the room, taking in the sight of an amazing cast you were experiencing for the last time.

-

Driving back to the hotel room alone sucked. It wasn’t a long drive, but the quietness of it all was eerie. Even with music playing, you felt slightly unsettled as you drove down the suburbs, darkened roads, with an empty passenger seat. Colson had disappeared before you left and then had sent you a four second voice message telling you to go back without him. You had been a little disheartened, especially after his questioning earlier, but you had brushed it off and started the rental car. 

Changing out of the nice dress you’d worn to the wrap party, you threw on your comfortable oversized t-shirt. You had already packed earlier and seeing as though nobody was around, you turned on some music and closed the lights, turning on just a single lamp. Dancing around the room to somebody else had never felt this good and you got lost in the beats when you suddenly heard loud knocking on the door. 

Reaching for the handle you pulled it open to reveal Colson standing there in the sweatpants you’d seen him wearing the first day holding up a bottle of Jameson. “Partying without me?”

You threw him a look and then moved aside to let him in, he put the bottle down and looked over at you. Huffing you strode over and screwed the bottle open before taking a sip straight. There was a beat of silence and you stood there with the bottle before he grabbed it from you. 

“That’s how we’re doing it?” and you nodded as you closed your eyes, feeling the beat stronger as liquor burned down your throat. 

-

Half a bottle of Jameson later, you were feeling yourself. Colson had sat right on the desk, legs dangling off and you were dancing around to the songs he put on. Occasionally, you would get him up and he’d join you, but you could tell he liked sitting there watching better, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t crave the feeling of his eyes on you. It took the beat of two more songs and then he came up right behind you, hands slowly resting on your hips. 

He leaned down and whispered, “You okay with this?” and you smiled before whispering back, “Yeah.” Girls Need Love played in the background and you rolled your hips with the music, swaying with him. You could feel the rhythm in your bones and you turned around, staring into his eyes as you moved in tune. Looking up at him, you scrunched your face together and he broke into a laugh ruining the sensual tension gathering. “Oops,” you muttered before breaking apart from him. 

“Come back, I wanted to do something,” he murmured and you felt your cheeks warm up as you faced him again. His hands came back to settle on your hips and you felt the heat of them seep into your skin. He leaned down and the next thing you knew, you were kissing Colson Baker, eyes closed as he pulled you closer to him. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he grabbed the back of your naked thighs pulling you up, walking towards the desk. Breaking apart, he put you down and you quickly said, “I think you have too many clothes on.” He pulled off his shirt, exposing his tattoos in the dim light of the lamp. 

You reached for him again, bringing his lips back to yours, wrapping your legs around his waist. Arching into him, he ran his palms up your back as your kiss deepened. Suddenly, the music cut off as your phone started ringing. Ignoring it, you kept Colson near you, continuing the kiss. A second later, his phone buzzed in his pants and you sighed as you reached over to see who was calling you this late at night. 

You quickly grabbed and picked up the call as you realized it was the assistant director. Colson was on the phone when you looked over at him, mumbling his words and you tuned him out as you tried to have a pleasant, coherent conversation, while your head spun slowly.

“Yeah, okay. No problem. Have a great night. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you said before ending the call, slumping over on the bed. You felt the bed dip, Colson falling next to you and you stared at the ceiling trying to recall the conversation you just had. 

“Guess we have an entire week left to make out,” he whispered and you wacked him in the arm before laughing. An extended week, a newfound relationship, and some Jameson, you’d never felt this lucky before. 

[reddeadbread]

Fortunate Ones

Javier x Reader

Part 3

Part 1  Part 2  

Summary/notes: Now in the heartlands, the camp celebrates and you convince Javier to be your partner in crime.

this while fic is fluff and maybe angst but never NSFW, another long chapter this time.

Word count: 1963

Moving off the mountain was a great relief for everyone but for you it mostly just filled you with uncertainty. You had been visibly anxious the entire journey down, fidgeting and lost in your thoughts when people spoke to you. Miss Grimshaw had all but given up on nagging you to work faster with how distant you were, even her incessant badgering couldn’t reach you. Hosea, being as good-natured as he was, had picked up on it quickly. He finally caught you alone when everyone had finished unpacking at a charming new campsite named horseshoe overlook, not that anyone had all that much to unpack. Whatever had happened to them at Blackwater seemed to be dire enough for them to flee without many of their belongings. It was a warm evening and it felt good to finally be able to sit outside without risking hypothermia.

“Are you alright miss?” he had kind eyes that matched his kind nature, he was a good man even if he was a huckster too, you knew well enough that it was possible to be both.

“I’m alright. Just…worried. I don’t know where I’ll go next.” You smiled weakly but it was clear you were still uneasy. There had been enough uncertainty for you already and you had finally found a place where you felt at home, you just weren’t sure how long you could push your luck.

Javier stood smoking nearby and his ears pricked when he heard your conversation, doing his best to be subtle in his eavesdropping. He wanted you to stay, of course, but he didn’t want to admit to listening in so he stayed silent. The others were sure to think it hilarious that he cared one way or the other if they picked up on it.

“you know you can stay here. They’re an odd bunch but they’re good people.” Hosea said this as if it was an obvious option. He wouldn’t force anything, he just tended to get a feeling for people, and he had a good feeling about you. You’d fit in here. Javier certainly agreed with that.

“Really?” you paused, you hadn’t planned to join a gang of outlaws but a lot of things had happened that you that you had never planned, meeting these people was the most fortunate thing in a series of unsavoury events so it made sense to stay. These people could become home for you. “I’d like that Mr. Matthews,” you smiled, a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders but now you were more determined than ever to prove yourself to be useful.

“Javier! What about a song?” Uncle called out from the fire, it made you notice that he was standing nearby, still under the guise of smoking although there was little to nothing left of his cigarette. He called back to Uncle, heading to pick up his guitar as if he hadn’t just been silently celebrating your decision to stay.

You had seen a guitar when unpacking the wagon but you didn’t know who it belonged to, Javier really only seemed to pleasantly surprise you every day you spoke to him and this was another nice surprise. “You play? I didn’t know,” you found a place alongside many of the others who were keen to hear. The fire was crackling away quietly, and you immediately stretched out your hands to feel it’s warmth.

“Of course he plays, come on Javier. We’re celebrating our new camp aint we?” Uncle was an obnoxiously loud man but you liked him all the same, he was never disagreeable from what you’d seen and although it may in part be because of the copious amounts of alcohol he consumed, he was a cheerful man even in the cold of the mountains. He also was kind enough to pick up on Javier’s liking of you and clumsily try to help him impress you, assuming he was being helpful when really, he was only embarrassing Javier with his flattery. Luckily for the old man, Javier only looked slightly impatient with him before he began to play softly.

Now, you were expecting some simple campfire songs, more loud than in tune and more to do with a group of slightly drunken people being given an excuse to be even louder than usual rather than evoking any emotion. This was not what you heard. When Javier began to sing your heart skipped a beat, that warm voice like honey was even more soothing when he sang. Every word was in Spanish and you didn’t even know what the song was about, but you didn’t need to. You were completely captivated by him. He finally got his wish in making you flustered when he made eye contact with you and you felt the fluttering of a thousand butterflies wings in your stomach as a blush rose to your cheeks. Silly, really but it seemed impossible not to react when he looked at you that way.

When the song finished you were in stunned silence for a moment, he played beautifully. “You could have told me you had musical talent you know, Javier.” You finally managed to speak, a little embarrassed by how utterly spellbound you had been. He had definitely been trying to show off a little even if he would deny it if anybody asked. Your cheeks were flushed but fortunately the fire light hid that at least to some degree.

“I know what song we need to hear next!” Karen blurted out drunkenly, bursting into song. Poor Karen, she drank far too much even on nights when you weren’t celebrating. At least the others began singing along with her so attention was drawn away from your nervous laughter and stammered words of praise.

Everyone was excitable this evening and that made camp complete chaos and it warmed your heart to see everyone so happy. Something you could especially enjoy was seeing Javier drinking along with the others. He was always so focused, sometimes even moody when he got too cold, and it was nice to see him loosen up.

When the night had drawn on and many had already collapsed on their bedrolls or wherever they’d been sat drinking, you sat beside him and he poured you a drink, spilling a little onto the table.

“ah, a gentleman.” You teased, taking the drink and downing it in one swift motion, the whiskey burnt your throat but the buzz it gave was pleasant enough to keep drinking.

“Of course Chiquita! I’m always a gentleman.” You liked him drunk already. He laughed and smiled a lot more and that was bound to bring you joy. Not everyone was so harmless after drinking so much and it was always nice to see someone who was this way rather than being an angry resentful mess. They say drunk words are sober thoughts after all so maybe this should show the measure of a man. He poured you another drink. “So, you’re staying with us?” his speech was just a little slurred and his accent thicker than usual, but you found that charming too.

You smiled, wondering if he’d even remember many details of this conversation. “What makes you think that? Were you eavesdropping or what?” you raised an eyebrow and he immediately realised he’d been found out.

“Eavesdropping? No, you have it all wrong Princesa.” He laughed it off surprisingly well, sinking another deep sip of his drink. He was such a good liar that if he hadn’t already outed himself you would have believed him.

“right right, A gentleman wouldn’t eavesdrop.” You secretly enjoyed these pet names he gave you but you weren’t so drunk or so foolish as to think it meant anything. You were new here, a little flirting was inevitable, especially when you teased him the way you did. You considered him a friend, perhaps a friend you had a little crush on but a friend nonetheless. “you’re happy I’m staying?” you were a little more serious when you asked him this.

“I’m happy you’re staying.” Javier wasn’t exactly known for being gentle but you saw a good heart in him and when he said this it was genuine. You teased him, yes, and sometimes he flirted with you but you were grateful to have a good man you could trust and he was glad to have someone already so kind to him. He wasn’t certain he was the man you seemed to think he was, but he wanted to look after you and now you were staying you were part of the family. No one could hurt you again.

“good. So you’ll let me help you. I’m not going to sit in camp sewing. I want to go out there.” Now was the perfect time to make him agree to such a thing. You couldn’t go alone just yet, you needed a little practice first and you didn’t know who else you could approach to be your partner in crime. He had been drinking quite a bit more than you and you were sure this could work in your favour.

Javier blinked at you, a little surprised that you would ask something like that, for a moment at least. “you know how to shoot Chiquita?” you had been tenacious even when cornered in a cabin deep in the mountains with nothing but a hunting knife. He shouldn’t be surprised that you wanted to be of more help than peeling vegetables and washing clothes.

“a little, I was alone before the O’Driscolls found me and I survived just fine. So? Come on Javier, you know I’m picking you because you’re my favourite.” Maybe the small amount of liquid courage you’d drank was helping too, making you able to disguise truths as just more playful banter.

“How can I say no? alright, alright, If Dutch says yes.” Of course he’d never do anything unless Dutch allowed it but you had been expecting that. “so, are you going to kiss me again to say thank you?” he was joking of course, although he had enjoyed the affection more than he’d like to admit, the whiskey was making that spill out into his flirtations.

You laughed at him “you ever going to let that go?” He’d made fun of you over this more than enough already, he took great joy in bringing it up with you. You could easily make fun of him for the way he’d smiled when you had kissed him but you decided not to, he could continue to believe you hadn’t noticed this slip in his usual strong and mysterious front, a gift from you to him. “anyway, what am I thanking you for? I’ll look after you out there, I promise.”

He laughed, leaning into you, close enough for you to smell the whiskey on him. Close enough to count every eyelash and examine every scar on his face. You had been close enough with him before now to know that he usually carried a scent of cologne and cigarettes, a scent which had become oddly comforting to you. His deep brown eyes gazed into you as your shared laughter petered off. For a moment he thought of kissing you but that would be unwise. Getting involved with people you’re stuck living with was always ill-advised, look at what happened to Abigail and John, always fighting. Even drunk he was sure that would be a poor choice and he liked you too much for that. “I’ve drunk enough for tonight. I’ll take you out tomorrow, Princesa.” He chuckled as he placed a hand at your cheek before standing to leave, the bottle with the remaining whiskey in it abandoned on the table. You waited until he was out of sight before you rested a hand where he had touched you, unashamedly beaming and shaking your head at your own foolishness.

[lovemademoisellebelle]

Uh oh... did we do that?

Pairing: Draco x y/n

Warnings: underage drinking, mild swearing

A/N: been reading and writing fan fiction for years but I've never uploaded any of my own work, so please be nice! any feedback is highly appreciated. P.S. this sounded and looked a lot better in my head 

inspired by Emma Watson dancing in The Bling Ring, endless amounts of videos on DracoTok and the vibes that 212 by Azealia Banks gives me

Slytherin common room party – think low-key green lighting, firewhiskey, Draco in an all-black suit that kinda thing 

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

In the hundreds of years since Hogwarts’s conception, not once have the Slytherin house hosted an ‘all houses invited’ party. Sure, they were invited (and rarely came) to the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor parties, but they never thought to return the favour. That is until Pansy’s raging crush on a Ravenclaw boy in the year above prompted her to throw an all-inclusive rager, much to the dismay of her Slytherin classmates.  

Naturally, this caused some concern from the other houses, as the new spread around the Great Hall the morning of the so-called ‘unmissable’ event. There was a palpable buzz of deliberation from the separate tables, with the clearly same queries on everyone’s minds.

“I don’t know Ron – I mean, these are the Slytherin’s we’re talking about,” Hermione cast a furtive glance to the sea of emerald robes on the far side of the hall, much to Ron’s dismay.

“Oh come on ‘Mione, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Oh I don’t know, how about humiliation from Malfoy’s smug face when we realise it’s a prank, or maybe a fight where irreversible hexes are thrown around?” Harry quipped, clearly sharing Hermione’s caution.

Ron and y/n shared a knowing look, both being the more carefree members of the group.

“Here’s an idea,” y/n explained rationally, “how about we just show up anyway – fashionably late, of course – and if the whole thing turns out to be some big joke, we can host our own impromptu party in the common room? That way it won’t be a complete waste of time… or alcohol.”

It was Harry and Hermione’s turn to share a look, knowing no matter how hard they tried they were inevitably going to give in eventually.

“Fine,” Hermione grumbled, “but if it all turns pear shaped, I’m sending you both to the hospital wing with a nasty bat bogey hex.

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

The much-awaited night had finally rolled around, and y/n felt that nervous but excited anticipation that she often felt before occasions such as tonight’s. All day the latest gossip of the party could be heard between the older Hogwarts’s students. At one point, Madame Pince had to usher around 20 students out of the library for whispering ‘too loudly’ about the event. Multiple classmates had come up to y/n throughout the day, all asking the same question: ‘Are you thinking of going tonight?’ As usual with Hogwarts, news never failed to travel fast.

“Are you sure this looks ok?” Hermione twisted her hips side to side in the dorm’s full-length mirror, trying to discern if the length of her skirt showed to much leg or not.

“’Mione, are you kidding? You look incredible, seriously. Ron’s gonna flip when he sees you, won’t be able to take his eyes off your a-” y/n’s sentence was cut short by a well-timed pillow being tossed at her head by Hermione, who had started to form a pink blush across her cheeks.

With both of them re-checking your outfits and makeup in the mirror, y/n and Hermione did a quick, pre-party shot for luck and headed down to the common room to meet the boys.

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

By the time they had arrived at the Slytherin common room, the party was already in full swing; couples were spotted around the corridor outside, claiming to ‘need some air’ whilst making out against the stone walls, and the pungent smell of firewhiskey with a slight cut of something sweeter (butterbeer?) hit them like a brick wall as the group entered. The room was encased in dark green lighting, highlighted by the murky lake shimmering some light into the otherwise darkened room.

It seemed as if almost every student – 5th year and above – were present, either seen dancing and grinding on the makeshift dancefloor at the back, loitering around the drinks table in search of another drink or, if you were Pansy Parkinson, sat on one of the plush sofas on the lap of a Ravenclaw boy, who looked equal parts satisfised and confused about his current situation.

Either way most people were already fucked, or at least on their way.

“What were you saying earlier about a prank Hermione?” Ron smirked smugly, as he grabbed her hand and pushed his way over to the drinks table with a blushing Hermione trailing after.

Y/n couldn’t help but think, maybe tonight will be fun after all.

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

An hour later, and y/n could definitely feel the numb tingling of the firewhiskey spread throughout her body, offering a pleasant release from the previous week’s stress. Though not yet brave enough to venture onto the dancefloor, she swayed her hips lightly to the music as she chatted happily with Luna in the corner – apparently the Ministry were behind the recent surge of wrackspurts in the air, using them to control our minds.

“Well well, if it isn’t Weaslebee and Scar-head polluting my common room,” a little ways across the room however, Ron and Harry were having less of a pleasant time.

Turning around to see the towering, slender figure of Draco Malfoy with his signature smugness, flanked by his usual cronies Crabbe and Goyle. Stood tall in his black turtleneck and blazer combo, with his platinum hair perfectly styled (of course), Draco was unsurprisingly catching the attention of most of the girls (and a fair amount of guys) in the room. Wherever he moved, eager eyes tended to follow, with the hope of him glancing their way. Harry and Ron, however, were unfazed.

“Malfoy,” Harry briefly and glumly acknowledged Draco with the turn of his head, before turning back to people watch.

“You know, I’ve always heard that Gryffindor parties are supposed to be some of the best,” Draco taunted, “but I have to say your lot seem pretty boring to me. I mean, I thought you were supposed to be the ‘fun ones’”. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind him, always quick to boost his ego.

“This is nothing,” Ron countered, the alcohol only intensifying his competitive nature, “you should see the way y/n and Hermione get when that bloody muggle song of theirs plays – they go mad.”

“Yeah right,” the blonde scoffed, “they’re both too stuck up to ever actually have fun.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll prove it to you!”

“C’mon Ron, let’s just leave it-”

“No Harry, there’s no way I’m losing this argument. Oi Lee,” Ron hollered to Lee Jordan, the trusted DJ at every Hogwarts party, “put on that song – you know – that one muggle song… can’t remember the bloody name now,” Ron started to trail off.

Luckily, Lee was able to decipher Ron’s drunk slurs, “You got it Ron.”

As soon as the first few beats thumped out of the speakers, y/n let out a squeal of joy. Searching for Hermione, they caught eyes from across the room and both knew what they had to do; meet on the dancefloor between them and let loose. Both being muggle born, the two girls shared a love of muggle music that their magical born friends didn’t. It bonded them when they first became friends and now had influenced even those who weren’t muggle born to enjoy it too.

As the beat dropped, the girls started to dance. Bopping their heads from side to side, they swung their hips in time with the music. With her back to Hermione’s chest, y/n let her head roll back onto her friends’ shoulder as they drunkenly laughed for no apparent reason. Y/n’s black mini dress had begun to ride up her thighs slightly, meanwhile her hips continued to roll and grind suggestively – neither girls remotely aware of anyone around them, nor the shock of particularly their Slytherin classmates, who weren’t used to seeing this side of them.

Especially not Draco Malfoy, his jaw slack as his eyes were entranced in the girl’s direction.

“Uh oh,” Harry teased, “looks like Malfoy’s got his eyes on your girlfriend.”

“Um Harry,” Ron stared at Draco’s face in disbelief, with a slight hint of amusement, “it’s not ‘Mione he’s looking at.”

Unaware of the intense gaze from her long-time enemy Draco Malfoy, y/n continued to dance seductively.

Draco’s initial expression of shock had now turned into his signature grin, his icy blue-grey eyes trailing over y/n’s curves. His eyes expressed admiration (something rare for someone who usually showed distain for almost everything) and apparent attraction for the girl. His head filled with lewd thoughts as he yearned to know more about her – until now he thought he’d had her sussed, but now he started to question his good-girl perception of her. His hand rubbing at his jaw slightly, completely entranced by every swing of her hips.

“Godric, he’s looking at her as if he’s in love with her,” Harry uttered, entirely bewildered by the look on Malfoy’s face – it was a look of attraction and almost tenderness that was starting to scare him.

Ron brought a hand up to his forehead, “Uh oh… did we do that?”

hey, if you managed to get all the way to the end, thank u sm!! any feedback is appreciated. I have an idea for part 2 if anyone wants that :) 

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (XXIII)

Chapter 23: Irises For Congratulations

 Here we go with a new chapter!!! I'm back from my event, and will come back to regularly updating this story again!

I hope you like this chapter, it's very cute. VERY VERY CUTE!! Be careful, as you read it, you might be smiling too much because of it!

Word Count: 2578

"Is that the last chocolate chip cookie?"

"It is."

"Are you gonna eat it?"

"You are stress-eating again."

"It's a chocolate chip cookie. It's chocolate, Harry. I don't need stress to eat the last of these."

He chuckled and ended you the last biscuit.

"Thank you," you chimed with a little happy wiggle that made his entire soul and heart and body melt with tenderness.

All air left his lungs and he found it unbearably difficult to inhale again. It took him several seconds to calm down again.

"I'm sure everything is going to be fine."

"You don't know that," you replied with your mouth full of food, waving your finger to strengthen your argument. "I could lose the deal on the shop if my bank doesn't accept the loan. And are you a banker? No."

"My dad is in finance…"

"Is your dad in charge of loans? I don't think so."

"Y/N, please, I am begging you, relax."

You sat cross-legged on the floor, dressed in your most comfortable pyjamas. Harry was wrapped in his purple bathrobe you loved stealing from him as often as you could, a little frown creasing his forehead.

He was so focused on this game of scrabble he fought against you… he did hope to win for once, after all.

"What if they say no?" you asked, and your voice was too fragile this time, Harry looked up from across the board game.

He reached out to imprison your hand in a tender, reassuring hold.

"They're going to say yes," he stated with an unbreakable confidence. "And if they don't, then you'll find something else. It's your dream, you're gonna make it. Maybe it'll take a little longer in the worst-case scenario, but you'll make it."

"Do you really think so?" you asked in a shy voice.

"You are the most deserving and hard-working person I know. You're going to make your dream come true."

"I mean… you did make yours come true, so… I guess I can too…"

"Of course you can. And don't forget that I still lost X-factor..."

"Twice, technically."

"Yep, I'm a loser. And yet…!" he gestured towards himself and put on a ridiculously exaggerated toothy grin. "I fooled everyone!"

You let out a laugh, finally feeling your shoulders relax a little. All your tension had not left yet, but you were one step closer to being your normal self again.

"More seriously though. Y/N, you are going to get your own flower shop. I know you will. The decision is out of your hands now. I know that it's nerve-wrecking, but there is nothing you can do about it anymore. All you can do is wait and see."

You nodded, knowing he was right. It didn't mean that your anxious mind stopped worrying, but the more rational part of your brain did accept the truth for what it was.

"There is something I can do though," you replied, giving his hand a playful squeeze. "I can kick your arse at scrabble again."

He narrowed his eyes, pulling the hood of his bathrobe up.

"This is war, Y/N."

"Well, a slow one then, cause you've been looking for a word for ten minutes!"

"I'm thinking!" he faked outrage. "Besides, we're also talking, and that's distracting."

He was also very distracted by the mere fact that you were there, close to him, in your adorable pyjamas, and the thought of kissing you was stronger by the minute. But he didn't feel the need to mention that part.

Outside, it was raining hard in L.A, thunderous clouds pouring their heavy shadows on the busy city, making it look like it was night. The sound of heavy droplets falling against the windowpane was the only sound echoing through the house. Harry was thinking about how he could place the word he had found on the board when your phone buzzed, distracting him again. You checked who was sending you a text, and he didn't need to ask who it was. The small smile that formed on your face as you read the name spoke volumes.

His heart tightened when he wished he was the one who made you smile with a simple text.

"How is Gareth?" Harry asked, his tone one of innocent conversation, but his fist clenching without him noticing.

"He's okay. He was asking about the loan. Also... uhm... he's been looking for a place for the two of us."

Harry froze, his breathing caught in his throat, and even his heart felt like it had stopped beating.

You... were going to live together?

"Oh... congratulations."

"We haven't found a place yet."

"Still... good news!" he lied.

You wanted to move in with Gareth... you would be living with him...

Harry tried to focus but it was an information hard to process. He reckoned that his mind was blocking all the meanings it involved, actually. He reckoned it was for the better too, especially for as long as you were sitting across from him.

"Yes! And Gareth is gonna look for a place while I take care of the shop, it'll save me time."

"Hmm…"

"I'm really happy you two get along!" you grinned, looking up to meet Harry's gaze again. "It's important to me that you can be friendly to each other."

Harry faked a smile to hide the lie he was about to utter.

He had always been so honest with you, and yet these days he felt like he spent his time lying. No malicious lies at all. And he hated himself every time he had to bend the truth to fit what he should say instead of uttering the words he meant. But how could he tell you the truth?

He couldn't tell you that the sight of Gareth touching you even in the most innocent manner made him sick. That he had nightmares about the two of you in bed together. That he couldn't think, nor sleep, nor function at all every time he thought of the two of you kissing. That he was so jealous he could barely breathe sometimes. That it was so painful to see you happy with someone else he reckoned getting his heart physically ripped off his chest would be more pleasant.

And now you were about to live with him... you would share a bed with him every night...

He pushed the thought away, it was too unbearable a thought for him right now.

But that was the thing: you seemed happy with him. You seemed to genuinely care about the guy, and no matter how much Harry hated the idea of him being with you, he couldn't deny that he seemed to have earnest intentions towards you. He seemed to really care about you, and no matter how Harry wished it wasn't the case, when Gareth told you he loved you, he meant the words just as much as Harry would have if he had the chance to speak them.

So what could he do? He was your best friend, and you had never let him think that you could be anything else, and now you were with another man who treated you right and made you happy. It would be so unfair if Harry spoke his mind.

So, once again, he lied. Or, as he liked to think, he 'bent the truth a little'.

"Yeah, I like him. He's a nice guy."

It wasn't a full-on lie. Harry couldn't deny that Gareth was a nice guy. He just happened to also hate that particular nice guy.

"I mean… it's so important to me," you repeated, giving him a shy smile. "I couldn't be with someone you didn't get along with."

"Really?" Harry asked back, genuinely surprised.

You replied as if your answer was the most obvious truth in the world.

"Of course. You're my best friend. You're the most important person in my life. I couldn't be with someone you hated."

He frowned slightly, studying your reaction with great care.

"So… if I told you that I didn't like Gareth, you would leave him?"

You shrugged.

"I would ask for a good reason, but… at the end of the day, you know me better than anyone. And I trust your judgement when it comes to people. So if you don't like someone, then I guess, yeah… I would. Or I would at least consider it. If you had a good enough reason, then I would listen to you, and call it a day. Besides, I wouldn't choose a guy I've known for a few months over my best friend, who has been with me for years! I'm too loyal for that. But you like him, so all is fine!"

Harry remained silent, intensely staring at you, as if he could pierce to your soul with a simple gaze.

Because he wanted to tell the whole truth all of a sudden. Tell you that he hated the guy. That he wasn't good for you. That you deserved better. That you could have so much better. That he was boring and you needed a guy who made you laugh with every word. That you were way too kind for him. That you should be with…

… with who? With Harry? Harry who was never around? Who would spend months thousands of miles away? If Harry didn't consider himself as an evil person, he knew he had room for improvement still. You had made him see that. You made him see it every day. He wanted to be funnier for the sole purpose of putting a smile on your lips and hearing your laugh more often. He wanted to be kinder because you were so generous yourself, and he was terrified at the idea of hurting you in any way. He wanted to make great songs because he wanted you to like them, because he longed to hear your voice sing the words he had written to the tunes he had invented. He wanted to be selfless because he wanted to give his entire being to you…

He wanted to be better because he wanted to be someone who would deserve you. Which meant that he knew that he didn't deserve you for now. And as he thought more about it, he reckoned he probably never would. He was already outrageously lucky to be your best friend.

And if he hated Gareth, it was because of his own bloody feelings, and had nothing to do with your boyfriend himself. How selfish it would be for him to tell you the truth then. Make you break your own heart because he wanted you? He valued your happiness way more than his own, had for what felt like forever. And he reckoned that if he acted like this, it would be the final proof that he didn't deserve to be with someone as wonderful as you at all.

So, he didn't say any of these words. Instead, he faked to be focusing on the game again, and nodded.

"Yeah, all is fine. I will cut off his balls if he hurts you in any way though."

You laughed, shaking your head, not recognizing how serious Harry was.

"I wouldn't expect anything less coming from you and your overprotective nature," you joked.

"Overprotective? Me?"

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"You are! You are overprotective. Clingy too. Jealous. But it's okay, I'm used to it."

"There's nothing wrong in me being worried about you. As you just said, we're best friends!"

"Forget I said that! And please, for the love of God, PUT A GODDAMN WORD ON THE BOARD!"

"You're the one distracting me!" he argued.

You laughed at his argument, and his laughter soon joined you, a perfect harmony echoing through his spacious home, as if the two sounds were meant to be heard in unison.

Your phone buzzed again, this time for an incoming call, and your heart jumped in your chest as you recognized the name of your banker. You shot a panicked look at Harry, but he gave you an enthusiastic thumb-up and you gathered yourself to answer the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Ms. Y/L/N?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Mr. Lopez here. I'm calling you concerning your loan for your flower shop."

"Yes, did you have an answer?"

Harry studied your features, but couldn't really read anything across your face, your expression was too neutral.

"Okay, thank you so much. On Monday, noted. Thank you so much again for calling, goodbye."

You hung up, and Harry waited for you to put your phone down.

"So? What did he say?" he asked excitedly.

"So…"

"So?! Stop torturing me!"

But when you looked up at him, you were grinning.

"I got my loan!"

"YES!!" Harry threw his hands to the air, cheering, before you both reached over the board to hug. "I told you!"

"Yes! I got it! I need to go back on Monday to sign a few papers, but… I did it, Harry! I'm going to open my own shop! I did it!"

"You did it! You did it! It's gonna be amazing! Hang on!"

He pulled away, jumping to his feet and disappearing to the kitchen, while you dried your eyes. You were so happy.

At last, you had a chance to make your dream come true. And you were sharing this moment with the person who was the most important to you. It was all perfect.

Harry came back a minute later with a bottle of champagne, two glasses and a box wrapped in blue paper.

"I had prepared everything, obviously. I told you I knew you would get it!"

"What's that?" you asked, nodding to the box, while Harry was putting down the bottle and the glasses.

"It's for you. Open it while I pour us some well-deserved champagne."

"For me?"

"Yeah. For your shop."

"Harry, you didn't have to."

"No, but I wanted to be the first one to give you something for your shop. Come on, open it."

The cork left the bottle with a loud 'pock' while you tore the wrapping paper apart and opened the box.

Inside was an elegant slate upon which the words Sunflowers and Peonies were painted in your favourite colour.

"You can put it on the counter, just the way you wanted," he explained, pouring some champagne in the two glasses. 'What do you think?"

"You remembered the name of the shop…"

"Of course, I did! Do you like it?"

You tried to be discreet as you brushed your tears away. You reckoned that you had never felt quite so happy and loved in your entire life.

And maybe you should have thought that the moment wasn't perfect, because Gareth wasn't here. But the truth was, you didn't even think of him. You didn't miss him at all, not now. Now, you were with Harry, and he was making it all absolutely perfect.

"Thank you so much. I love it."

"Good! Now, cheers! To Sunflowers and Peonies!"

"To Sunflowers and Peonies", you accepted the toast, and drank some champagne with him.

You cleared your throat, trying to stop any tear from falling, and decided that changing the subject was the best option.

"It's still your turn to play."

Harry finally did put a word on the board and wrote down the count of his points. It took you less than a couple of minutes to add a seven-letter word.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Y/N! Can't you let me win, for once?!"

****************************

Tag list :  @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky@snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity@i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony@madamrogers @cronias13 @stylesfics-xx @mellamolayla @mariaenchanted

[cake-in-a-tin]

Secret Santa

This is my secret santa post for @siriuslyjames, i havent interacted with you loads but you seem lovely. have an amazing christmas if you celebrate it, and if you dont i hope you’re having a wonderful holiday :)

Lily Evans and James Potter lay side by side in the flower filled meadow behind the former’s house, underneath an ancient oak tree. It was a tradition of theirs - every year on the 31st of August they would lie together, heads buried among the flowers and grass, staring up at the oranges and pinks of the clouds in the setting sunlight. Lily couldn't believe this would be their last year at Hogwarts, and tried desperately to ignore the nagging impulse to turn and look at James instead of the clouds. 

***

So much had changed since their first meeting, which she still remembered vividly; as if it had happened yesterday. She had sat among the flowers, underneath the old oak in the middle of the field, her back against the mossy, rough trunk, desperately trying to stay in the shade, and holding a small daisy bud in her hand. It was the beginning of the summer holidays, she had endless days of nothing stretched out before her. Focusing as hard as possible on the small bud in her hand, she squinted her eyes in the way she had taught herself, and slowly but surely the small flower bloomed before her very eyes. She loved this adrenaline rush of sensing every small rustle of the leaves from the tree above, feeling the life of the daisy in her hand, and the grasses and other flowers around her. Shutting her eyes, she leaned back against the tree, breathing deeply, and gradually fell into a light sleep, when suddenly from nowhere she heard someone say, “Hello there!” 

Lily had blinked her eyes open, startled, and looked around to see who it was. Surely not Petunia, or one of her annoying little friends. He was sitting a little way away, straight in front of her. She was mightily confused, why hadn’t she heard him approach? She hadn’t been that deeply asleep. She was brought back to the present by the odd boy saying, “I’m James. James Potter. What’s your name?” She coughed slightly, still in a state of bewilderment, and said abruptly,

“Lily Evans.”

“Well, it’s good to meet you Lily. I just moved in around here, that’s why you haven't seen me before. I was exploring and I saw you sitting there. I saw what you did with that flower. I can do stuff like that as well you know. It's so cool! My dad taught me and so did my mum. Which one of your parents taught you then?” Lily sat in silence, feeling stupid that she had nothing to say. She was surprised that someone could have all of those thoughts and say so much in such a short period of time. 

“Neither of them taught me. I can just do it, my mind just knows.”

“...Huh.” It seemed that the boy, James, was speechless for the first time since she had met him. She took this opportunity to look at him, for the first time. He was quite tall, and she reckoned he was around her age. His hair was a dark brown, and very messy, as though on his “exploration” he had been dragged through at least two hedges backwards. She considered whether she could ask him if that was the case, but decided against it. He had gold rimmed round glasses that were slightly squinted on his face, and his hazel eyes had a mischievous glint to them.

“Wait- so are your parents muggles?” Lily was taken aback - was this strange boy now insulting her parents, after interrupting her one peaceful moment? 

“I’m sorry?”

“Uh, non-magical people.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” James’ eyes were wide.

“You don’t know about anything? Oh gosh, okay so… People like you and me, who can make stuff like that happen, like what you did with the daisy, they’re witches and wizards, magical people. People who can't, they’re muggles. The witches and wizards have a whole hidden world, and they’re all around the muggles, but they don't see anything.” Lily was in shock - who was this boy?

“Why are you telling me this? I don’t believe you. Why should I believe you?” She narrowed her eyes at him, skeptically.

“You’re telling me you’ve never seen something that your family didn’t or made something happen that is not explainable?” Lily thought back to when she’d seen a shop with bottles of weird substances and frogs in bowls, and cages of owls, but when she had pointed it out to Petunia and her parents they had simply looked at her in confusion, and brushed her off. Or the time she had jumped off the swing in her back garden and stayed in the air a little longer than what someone might consider “normal”.

“Well, maybe. But that doesn’t mean it's magic… Does it?” shaking her head in disbelief, Lily leaned her head against the tree trying to process the information, and contemplated James. She wasn’t quite sure whether to trust him or not. He seemed relatively pleasant, in a way she couldn't quite explain. His presence made her want to smile, and she was hooked on his words. But- that was just because he was saying such outrageous things wasn't it?

The two sat talking in that meadow until the crickets were buzzing around them and the light was almost gone. A small figure at the edge of Lily’s vision got steadily larger and larger until her sister was directly in front of her. “Lily! Mummy says you should have been home an hour ago!” Petunia was using the sing-song voice that she knew Lily couldn’t stand.

“I know Tuni, but i was just talking to- “ Lily looked beside her to where James had been sitting just seconds before, and he was gone. “Nevermind.”

She hauled herself up, her legs stiff from sitting in the same position for too long. She peered around, in the fading light, and saw a figure disappearing under a hedge at the edge of the meadow. So he had been dragged through a hedge backwards. Smiling, and shaking her head she followed Petunia back to her house, where she apologised to her parents about seven times before they let her go to her room to sleep. As she lay in the dark she contemplated all the day’s events. Was what James had been saying true? Was she really a witch? She didn’t know, but half of her hoped it was true, because the world the odd boy who came from nowhere was describing seemed incredible and free, and she so desperately wanted to explore it with him.

***

Over the next month, everyday Lily would go to the meadow and wait under the tree, and every day James would crawl under his hedge and run over to her, waving his arms like a madman. She would tease him, and they’d laugh, then spend the day talking, James telling Lily more about the curious new wizarding world, or Lily regaling him with tales of muggle behaviour or exploring the woodland, or racing to open the flower buds (Lily was better at this than James) and climb trees (James was better at this than Lily). They seemed to get along amazingly, and soon James was a better friend to Lily than anyone she’d ever known. When they had both gotten their letters from Hogwarts their families went to Diagon Alley together, and James dragged Lily in and out of all the shops, showing her the newest broomstick, and the best sweets to buy. 

On the 31st of August they had lain in the meadow, and Lily had voiced her fear, the one she had been mulling over in her mind for the past couple of weeks. “James?”

“Mm?” 

“What if nobody at Hogwarts likes me?” James propped himself up on one elbow and turned to look at her, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, I don't have magical parents, so i don't know about all the things that everyone else does. What if they think I’m not good enough, and I have no friends?” James shook his head.

“That stuff doesn’t matter. You’ve already seen you’re better than me at most of it, and everyone is starting from scratch.” He looked more serious for a second. “Even if it did matter, I’d still be your friend, so you needn’t worry.” “You promise you won't forget me?” James sat up and held up his hand.

“I swear on my life I won’t forget you Lily Evans.” She giggled and sat up as well holding her hand high.

“And I won't forget you James Potter.” He flopped back onto the ground.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about being lonely then - we have each other, always.” Lily smiled, and closed her eyes, the cool end of summer breeze ticking her face and the sound of the grass blowing soothed her ears.

***

Over the next years Lily and James kept their promise. Every other evening they would sit together in the common room or the library, talking, doing homework, just enjoying one another’s company. And every August on the 31st both of them would lie in the same meadow where they met, sometimes in silence watching the sunset, or talking quietly about the year to come.  And, along with becoming very close friends, Lily sometimes suspected it could be something more. At the end of fifth year their teasing and joking had really hit a peak, and along with it came the joke”” flirting. Well, it had been joking at first. Then Lily started to realise that she might like James as more than a friend. 

She had tried to suppress those feelings as much as she possibly could, but it was difficult when she saw him every single day, joking and laughing with his perfect smile, and dimples (why the dimples?), and his hair that he was so obsessed with. Whenever she was around him she always made fun of him and his hair, joking that she’d charm it off when he was sleeping, but really? She couldn’t have done that if she’d tried. 

Sometimes, however, she got the feeling that James liked her back. Just little things, that were probably just best friend things (at this point she didn’t know the difference), like carrying her books, and waiting for her after lessons, but she had once or twice caught him looking at her with an expression that she couldn’t quite place. Whenever that had happened he’d pulled a goofy face and brushed it off with a joke, though, so she never had a chance to see more clearly.

***

Like just now, she could feel him staring at her, in that way, even with her eyes closed. They had spent so much time together that Lily often thought that they could manage perfectly fine even if they were silenced for the rest of time. She knew what all his little facial expressions and hand gestures meant, which was how she could so easily tell what he was trying to tell Sirius across the classroom (it was usually about a prank, but she generally ignored it).

The sun had almost set, and the crickets were humming contentedly. Suddenly James broke the comfortable silence they had been in for about twenty minutes.

“Hey, Lils?”

“Mm?” It felt weirdly familiar to their first time lying in this same spot, her confiding her fears in James.

“Do you think there really is gonna be a war?”

 Of course, the topic that was on everyone’s mind at the moment. The silent thoughts and whispered conversations she heard her friend’s parents talking about when she was staying with them. 

“I think that Minnie and Dumbledore think there will be.”

“Yes, I know that much. But do you?” James was looking at her like nothing but her opinion would matter on the topic. She sighed.

“As much as I’d love to keep denying it, the Death Eaters and You Know Who are only getting stronger. It’s inevitable at this point I reckon.” She sat up and looked at him, chin in her hand. “I’m scared though.” He also sat up, mirroring her position, and smiled sadly.

“We all are Lils.” She shook her head.

“I’m a muggle-born. They target people like me, and you know it James. You heard Severus, didn’t you, I’m a ‘filthy mudblood’.” James had a pained expression, as Lily blinked furiously to try and rid the stupid tears from her eyes. She felt his hand on her free one and met his eyes, surprised.

“Don’t, please,” he looked sincere, and she could see her reflection and his eyes, wide and clear, in his glasses. “You’re way more than that. Snape’s a prick - don’t believe a word he says.” He squeezed her hand, keeping it firmly in his.

“I know he is, but I’m sure everyone’s thinking it.” She looked down, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m sure you don't want to hear all this.” “Shut up, Evans. Of course I wanna hear it. And you really think that I’d agree with Snivellus Snape on anything?” He looked genuinely hurt for a couple of seconds. She shook her head, fighting a smile and tears at the same time. “You know what I think of you?” She shrugged.

“You're the most amazing person I know. Genuinely.” He held her gaze, “ And i know some pretty incredible people. But you’re the best by far. I think I’d know after being around you constantly for seven years. 

You’re the smartest in the year, all the teachers love you, plus, you’re a fucking badass (like damn i did not realise you could throw such a good punch). You’re so kind and thoughtful and on top of that you’re freaking gorgeous. Poor Bellatrix and all her cronies are jealous, Lils, leave some good qualities for the rest of us.” James looked a little embarrassed at his outburst but he wasn’t making a joke out of it, which meant he was sincere. He looked into her eyes, and his hazel ones were shining, as though he was fighting off tears as well. On top of all that he still had her hand held tightly in his.

Lily blushed at the intensity of his stare, but didn’t pull her hand away. She realised she should probably have said something by now, so in absence of anything else she blurted out, “You think I’m gorgeous?” (Why had she said that? Such an idiot, shit.)

“Uh, well…” James was a little red, and ran his fingers through his hair, a sign of nervousness, Lily knew. “I mean, have you seen yourself?” She caught his eye, and smiled. 

“You’re not too bad either.”

“Oh, shut up.” James rolled his eyes.

“What?” 

“You can't joke about it anymore, okay - I… I forbid it.” He stuck his tongue out at her, in the way he had always done.

“Who says I’m joking?” James’s expression changed in an instant.

“You are, though, aren't you?”

She felt her cheeks redden. “Maybe, maybe not.” He frowned and raised a finger, mimicking Professor McGonagall in an almost scarily accurate way for someone who looked so little like her.

“Miss Evans, I demand you tell me whether you are madly in love with me or not.” She grinned, and lay back down on the grass, subtly pulling her hand away from his and wiping it on her jeans. Why was she nervous? It was just James - they did this all the time. Was she going to tell him the truth? Before she would have just brushed it off, and laughed that of course not, she’d rather marry a troll, but there was something about the moment that told her she should do otherwise.

“What if I am?” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were wide, he looked rather taken aback by that statement. She smiled, sheepishly, barely able to meet his eyes all of a sudden. Why on earth was she saying all this? James was probably just messing around with her.

“Well, what if I am?” he sat back and raised himself up on an elbow to peer at her with the same mischievous glint in his eye. 

“I guess we wont know,” she mused, grinning at him, and shuffling closer, so their sides were touching.

“I guess not.” Lily stared up at the almost completely dark sky, the first star just becoming visible. She felt James take her hand, and she intertwined her fingers with his. 

Her life was full of uncertainties, but there was one thing she did know, and that was that she would stay true to her promise, the one she had made seven years ago. Lily Evans would never forget James Potter, or leave his side until the day she died.

[19mrs-barnes17]

Wedding Guest

Summary: Bonus Theme Day - Wedding Date

Part: 1/1

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Warnings: little steam

Word count: 1,683

A/N: A bonus fic for theme weekend! Enjoy!

~

You had developed a habit of always checking the plus one box, just in case. Life had been a swarm of weddings as of late and you were feeling left behind. Usually you would bring some friend who was free, but this time you knew you couldn’t. This was a family filled wedding which meant that if you didn’t bring an actual date you’d be interrogated all night. And you’d rather be asked pleasant questions about a fake relationship than be scolded for wasting a chair and being alone. So, there you stood before your best friend, your eyes begging her to accept the invitation.

“What’s in it for me?” Strands of her fiery red bob were slipping from the scrunchie, her brow arched. 

“Free food and an open bar?” 

“Boy you really do know how to treat a girl. I’ll do it.” You nearly tackled her with a hug, her arms wrapping around you as you thanked her profusely. “Yeah, yeah. But you have to wear the dress if I do.”

“That old thing?” She leaned against the door frame, smirking. “Yeah, ok. Then I get to pick your dress.”

“I’m glad we could come to this arrangement. Come on in, sweetheart.” Shaking your head at her laughter you follow her to her closet and get to work.

In the passing weeks you and Nat forged a solid story, planned for any questions that might arise, and booked your flight. The plane ride was fairly standard, the two of you watching movies off your laptop. Soon enough it became time to introduce her to a family member, and of course it had to be the most guilt tripping one of them all. Your niece. She had run up to you in the airport and wrapped her arms around your legs. 

“Aunt Y/N! Is that your girlfriend?” She peeked around you at Natasha with curious little eyes, smiling when Nat squatted down and waved. 

“Hi there. My name’s Natasha but you, you can call me Nat.” Her gentle smile seemed to coax Lyla in, her small frame emerging from behind your legs. 

“I’m Lyla. I’m 6 and a half.” Your attention was torn from the adorable scene to the group approaching you. 

“Isaac!” In mere seconds you practically tackled your big brother to the ground, his wife laughing as you pulled her in. “Marie you look better. Healing okay?”

“The surgery went well and the doc says I’m recovering quickly. Enough that I might dance at least once tomorrow night.” Her daughter came running back, latching onto her leg like a leach. “You actually brought a girlfriend home?”

“I know, we’re gonna be swarmed.” Nat caught up, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended toward your family.

“You must be Isaac and Marie, right?” She turned to you feigning the guess, a soft smile dancing on her lips. “I did my best to learn names beforehand.”

“You found yourself a clever one, eh sis?” Isaac smiles shaking Nat’s hand, his eyes still cautious. Marie linked arms with Nat and led her toward the car, Nat glancing over her shoulder at you with a sweet smile. “Finally bringing someone home, she must be important.”

“She’s been my best friend for years, I trust her. And I trust that meeting you whackos won’t deter her.” Isaac smiled before tossing you over his shoulder, your screams turning into giggles. 

“You still walk too slow.” 

“We passed the entry exam. Get ready for the next level.” She shook her head at you and mumbled something along the lines of ‘I used to be a spy you know’. “I come from a family of therapists and professors. They eat bullshit for breakfast.” 

Nat sat in the middle seat of the back of the van, her fingers intertwined with yours as the hour long drive began. The ride consisted of sing-a-longs, in which only your niece participated. If you didn’t know the words to every song in Cinderella, you did now. The parking lot of the hotel was packed, you recognized 70 percent of the cars from family and friends. Nat carried both your bags and rejected all offers of assistance.

“She’s pretty independent.” Marie shook her head, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

“You should have seen her when I moved in. Helped me carry every box and sent the boys to pick up lunch. You should have seen their faces.” You laugh as your thoughts go back to the day you moved into the avengers facility. She had given the guys one look and they went scurrying out the door.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Y/N. She seems to suit your temperament very well.” Perhaps she did, but that was what had made the two of you such instant friends.

Every waking moment around your family with Nat felt suffocating, they all seemed so proud of your choice. Apart from your Aunt Dinah that is, she was a little stuck in the wrong part of history and never approved of your life choices. She was quite vocal about it and Natasha was not very happy to find this out. In fact, she seemed to up the fake romantic touches whenever your aunt was near. While it made you smile to see her so furious, it also meant a lot more touching than you had planned on. Skin to skin contact with Nat had you questioning your relationship and on a few occasions forgetting it was fake. You thought you could be stronger than all those fake couples in the movies, however, it turned out you were just as susceptible. 

The day of your younger brother’s wedding had arrived and you could not be more grateful that this charade was coming to a close. Pretending to be in love with someone really does a number on your emotions. Hours spent readying the room and double-checking that everyone was being prepped, everything was underway. Tonight you would dance with Nat a few times before saying goodnight and heading back to the hotel. Easy peasy. 

Oh, sweet jesus. Not easy peasy. In no way would her being close to you in that dress be easy peasy. You felt rather compelled to jump her right then and there, which was rather problematic. Even worse your sister-in-law saw the look you had on your face when Nat rounded the corner, it was definitely lustful. You couldn’t hide it.

“Someone’s getting lucky tonight.” Marie smirked as she nudged your arm, eyes twinkling mischievously. “You both look fantastic.” 

“Marie!” You whispered, shooting her a warning look before turning back to face Natasha. “Wow, I told you that was the dress.”

“Then was it your intention to make all the men in the room drool? If so, you’ve done splendid.” One of your cousins was staring at her with a look that you wanted to smack from his face. She moved closer, whispering so only you would hear. “If not, I can only assume it was because you wanted to see me in this dress.”

She wasn’t wrong, you had always wondered about the black gown hanging in her closet. All that she had ever said was that it was for specific missions. By this point you were beginning to gather what sort of missions she utilized its stun capability for, and you were flush in the face. My god, you had done this to yourself.

“Why choose this dress for me? And why it was your stipulation?” Nat smirked and gestured that her lips were sealed, linking her arm with yours before leading you into the elevator. 

Eyes followed the pair of you everywhere, the entire event someone was gawking at her or staring incredulously at you. The entire thing made you squirm in your skin, far too much attention was being placed on the two of you. However you took this opportunity to become even more physical, partially to send the onlookers’ gazes elsewhere and partly because you needed to know whether her flirtation was real or had limits. Your hand rested on her exposed mid-thigh, her hand soon covering it and moving it upward. Either this woman was the queen of acting or she wasn’t having to. Dancing was even more intimate, no matter the speed of the song she was close to you. Her hands roaming and eyes flirting. This was send your gay heart into a panic, you had absolutely no idea what to do with this kind of attention. 

“I need to ask you something and I need an honest answer.” Nat’s hands rested on your lower back and yours at the nape of her neck. Her eyes met yours and with a nod of her head her attention was yours. “Is this even fake anymore?”

“I was wondering when you’d finally ask.” She smirked, something hidden behind her eyes. “I’m not sure it ever was. Maybe when we arrived, but not for long.” 

“So you felt the same? This whole time?” She nodded, arching a brow at you. “When did you?” It was a vague question, but she knew the answer you were seeking. 

“New Years.” The drunk kiss, well half drunk apparently. Only you were tipsy, Nat barely buzzed when you pulled her in for the midnight kiss. It had been passed off as nothing, but it seems both of you knew it was so much more. “Care for a redo?”

“What?” 

“Kiss me while everyone is watching.” Your eyes glanced from hers to her lips, heart racing in your chest as you pulled her into a kiss. Deeper and deeper you fell into the kiss, soon breaking to move it elsewhere as the song ended. A round of goodnights and you were on your way back to the hotel, in the elevator, and behind a closed door. Nat had pushed it shut with her back and you were quick to pounce, tongue sliding in. Your body was coursing with adrenaline as things began escalating and your mind slowly turning to putty. “Seems Marie was right after all”

~

Tags: @qtmeryr​ @broken-hearted-barnes​ @asphalt-cocktail​ @gstran18​ @cantnkrusshedevil​