#it's like i fell asleep reading providence or something and it's real life now

[demontonic]

Ethan Landry - Perverted 2

I know it took me forever to finish this but its finally here! Read part 1 if have you havent already! This is it though i dont think ill be making a part three but heres my masterlist if you want more from me

word count: 3990

tw: blood, fighting, knife play, alcohol, dacryphilia, ethan is plowing through you idk what else to say

A month, one whole month and you had yet to tell anyone of what you saw. It was nearing halloween, more people started buying ghostface costumes unbeknownst- or rather in their own ignorance- the victims of woodsboro were amongst them. The uprising of the ghoulish mask had the group on edge, that being the original five as the others didn’t even flinch at the sight. Ethan had been getting closer and closer to you, going so far as sneaking into your room while you were awake, asleep, studying, showering. In a way you were flattered, amused by his boyish antics but there were times you had realizations that he was- no is a killer. At first the noise of your window sliding open followed by footsteps had you reaching for your knife, or any object you could defend yourself with. Now when you hear it, sometimes you don’t even acknowledge him until he speaks, questioning your behavior, lack of honesty, or even your mood.

At some point you convinced yourself he was trying to collect more information on you. Typically you could gather a lot from social media, or just being friends but you had avoided him so much, now was his time to get to know you. He told himself every time you crossed his mind it was purely for the end goal, but he knew you were twisted. He could tell by the way you never told anyone, or how you would react to him creeping through your window. There were times where he would leave, and wait on the fire escape until you fell asleep to go back in and just lay next to you, imagining a domestic life where he didn’t have a bloodlust. A life where he didn’t meet you the way he did, a sweet fairytale story to tell your future kids. He’d make sure he was a better father, never picking favorites and raising them right. You being his stay at home wife, going out everyday to provide for his family that he would love. Coming home at night and sleeping next to this beautiful being that he felt so normal around, but he would always have to leave and dream of waking up next to you.

Today was no different, you’d wake up, go to your classes, have lunch with the group, and then go home- or so you thought. Today had been slightly different, the entire university buzzing with comments about a halloween party. Like normal you had assumed you were going to stay home as you did for most parties and events. In your Literature course Ethan had decided to sit next to you, whispering a little too close to your ear about the party. He wanted you to go with him, and the group of course but he talked about you dressing as a princess as he would be a makeshift knight. Your face burned at the suggestion of corresponding outfits but you declined saying you most likely wouldn’t show. You noticed the immediate change in his demeanor, something that you had seen multiple times. He could be sweet, quiet, soft, well spoken, or he could be harsh, sharp tongued, quick witted, and stern. It was a real Jekyll and Hyde situation, at first it was frightening but now it was just a matter of knowing how to combat his remarks.

“You will look best in a burgundy dress, the color against your skin will be absolutely stunning” his breath fanned against your ear, voice dropping to the one you assumed he used when he made the calls. Ethan’s voice was as strong as the gaze he held, you felt it linger as the warmth of his body left yours. It almost made you shiver, almost refusing to meet his dark eyes knowing you’d be met with the void that accompanied this version of him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” you dropped your pen on the dark wooden desk before averting your eyes to his. First they held that dark void that came with the demeanor, but a few seconds after they went back to warm doe eyes you had first become infatuated with. The ones that stared at you from the floor of your room when you were half asleep finishing schoolwork. A sigh left his chest, almost unnoticeable if you hadn’t known his body language inside and out.

“It’s rude not to… please come to the party tonight it’s gonna be fun,” a crooked smile found its way onto his lips, his teeth peeking out slightly. You looked back towards the professor trying to fill the blanks from where you had stopped taking notes. “I’ll think about it Ethan, I wouldn’t even be able to get a dress such short notice- I don’t even like frat parties to begin with-“

“Stop whining and try to have fun, I don’t like crowds but it’s gonna be a one time thing,” he assured you as he stared at your hand scribble on the paper. Ethan always found himself tuning out to the sound of your pen writing on paper, the smell of your perfume, shampoo, chapstick. He even became accustomed to the tinge of weed under the coconut and vanilla body spray you favored, it was your scent, every product you used. The candles you lit, the oils you put in your diffuser, even your favorite drinks like vanilla frappuccino with coconut milk, or coconut water, vanilla milkshakes- he almost had a whole journal just for you.

“I said I’ll think abou-“

“Please”

Pleading? Asking? Begging? No, it was a demand disguised as a question to make it seem like you had a choice. Did you? Of course, you were a grown woman who could make her own decisions. No matter how he looked at you with those pretty brown eyes you stood your ground.

“I will think about it”. Alarms buzzed around the room signaling the end of this afternoon class, luckily it was your last class today. You quickly shoved your materials into your bag before weaving through the crowd of students, surely losing Ethan in the process. He was a stubborn little shit sometimes as you’ve come to notice, it made you feel special. With others he was a pushover, too scared to say no and always just doing what he was told. With you he felt comfortable voicing his opinions, speaking his mind, you were far past him whispering empty threats into your ear late at night. Now you talked about what he would be doing if he wasn’t doing the whole ghostface shitshow, if he hadn’t followed the ways of his father whom he’d yet to reveal. Some nights he asked about you, your childhood, aspirations, fantasies and then sometimes you would try to talk him out of following through. He’d always laugh and tease you about trying to be his savior, and falling in love with him but maybe it was he who’d fallen for you. Through the fog and the rain, you’d sparked a lantern within him, if he’d follow was still a decision he’d yet to make.

Arriving at your shared apartment the girls sat in the kitchen talking about the party. Sam had been long gone as she went to work, Quinn helped Tara figure out the pirate-esque outfit she was to wear. It was odd however, the redhead pulled a tight lipped smile with a slight tilt of the head before Tara fully turned to you. The smaller girl ran to capture your abdomen in a hug and then jumped in front of you excitedly.

“You didn’t tell us you and Ethan had gotten somewhere!” She practically vibrated in place, waiting for you to spill some details with eager eyes. Quinn had sat down, watching the exchange with her head resting in the palm of her hand.

“That dork actually had the balls to ask for some help,” she said in a gruff voice, you assumed she was tired from her classes although it felt entirely wrong. Jealousy couldn’t be it. She had plenty of guys basically at their knees for a chance with her. “Help? With what exactly I don’t under-“

“The par- Oh my gosh! Did he not ask you yet? Were we supposed to wait?”

“He asked me to the party Tara don’t worry, I just said I’d think about it- BESIDES I don’t have anything close to what he wants me to wear… Where are you going?” You placed a hand on your hip, eyes following the small brunette as she pulled a bag up from the couch.

“Oh no”

“Oh yes”

“No”

“Ohhh yes!”

It was 6pm, time had blurred together as Tara was busying herself with getting you ready. You both decided it would be the easier route to straighten your hair, and to go with a simple eyeliner and mascara than a full caked face. On the daily you made the effort to apply mascara and eyeliner but Tara suggested a pop of color to which you reluctantly agreed. You knew once you got there you’d be splurging in the variety of alcohol they undoubtedly had so opted for a matte red lipstick. Within that time you had discovered Ethan had been in cahoots with Tara and Quinn for the past two weeks in order to have your ‘costume’ ready. The whole thing made you feel wrong, like you were being pampered for him, after all this was his money you were wearing. A part of you however felt like a high school girl getting ready for her first date, maybe over time you had grown a deeper passion for him. You spent more time together than you had even stopped to realize before. Besides that you hadn’t minded him sneaking into your room almost every night like some forbidden love. It was forbidden in all reality, it was wrong, sick, insane, but the sweet boy had weaseled his way into your heart. So as you sat here sitting in front of your mirror, spraying some perfume and patting down your hair, a smile made its way onto your face.

You held open the door for Tara, Quinn opting to stay home with her latest catch, you two started walking to the frat house. The cool air against your body helped as your heart was beating so fast you thought you’d pass out. All dolled up for a man that was burdened with sins you didn’t even remember at this point because all you could think about was not making a fool of yourself. Walking into the party was a hard task, you were already irritated from the pushing and shoving you made a beeline for the hard liquor. Tara had gone for something lighter and assured you it was okay to split up since Mindy and Anika would be with her. Chad had texted you once Tara told him you had made it, so after you had a cup of malibu with a drop of pineapple juice you started to make your way to the boys. By the time you got there half your cup was empty, in all honesty without it you’d be a shaking mess. Chad had grabbed you before you could confront the bitch you had jabbed her heel onto your foot. He always knew you were hotheaded, never scared to scrap with a random chick for fucking with you so he had to be your voice of reason.

“You just got here, try not to get kicked out so soon,” he joked as he walked you over to the doorway they’d stationed at. “Besides, lover boy has been waiting so patiently for you,” he whispered in your ear, playing it off like he was looking behind you. Ethan stood there in his nerdy cardboard costume, a bucket shaped ‘helmet’ on his head paired with a crooked smile. His eyes however held something mischievous, you hadn’t noticed until Ethan put a hand firmly on your waist that Chad left you two alone.

“I was starting to worry that you stood me up, especially after I bought this for you. I hope you can forgive me for taking things into my own hands, I wanted to spend at least one normal night with you.” Ethan spoke next to your ear over the loud music, it was almost too intimidating for you. One hand was on your waist, and the other loosely holding your wrist like he was scared you’d leave him. You laughed nervously before downing what was left in your cup, setting it down on the nearest table.

“It would’ve been rude to reject your gifts, besides it wouldn’t hurt to go out every now and then.” You placed your hands on his forearms, trying to hold your composure as everything felt so overwhelming. His eyes were sharp, like he was trying to read your expressions as if they were hard to decipher. Both of you were still in each other's presence like you were basking in the meld of your auras. For a moment it felt comforting like there would be no consequences and maybe it was the full cup of alcohol or the scenery but you want nothing more than to feel his plump lips against your skin. It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for a red headed bitch completely inserting herself into your short conversation.

“Oh my god Ethan Landry with the basket case, what a match made in hell. Two losers made for each other, how disgusting!” Audrey, you knew her name purely because she had been a lowlife that thought too highly of herself. She had tried to get Ethan to be her lap dog in a few classes, always batting her eyes trying to get him to do her essays. He never went for it, he wasn’t some stupid jerk off dying to hump her leg like most of the male population on campus. You had been itching to ring her by that orange hair of hers, especially now.

“Oh get over yourself, you’re just a ran through whore clinging to whoever you think you can push around. Honestly it’s a bit sad how all you have now is some fake tits your daddy bought and loose pussy.” To say you shocked yourself would be an overstatement, but you didn’t expect all of it to come out so easily. Hell even Ethan looked at you as you practically ended her college reputation. The surrounding people catching on slightly to the tension turned the music down so they could tune in.

“I think you’re just mad because you’re a sad pothead with no future.”

“I think you’re just mad because you couldn’t get Ethan to do your work because the fumes from your hair dye killed your brain cells.”

“I’m a natural redhead!”

“Okay fire crotch watch how you talk to me before I check your attitude.”

“You won’t do shit you suicidal bi-“

The whole room gasped, the air felt too hot for you, you almost didn’t feel the impact on your knuckles. Ethan tried to hold onto you but you tore away from his grasp too quickly and before he knew it you had punched Audrey. For a moment you thought you drew blood, but you quickly realized it was the fake blood from her half assed vampire costume. She tried to get back at you but she tripped over her hooker heels and practically fell onto you. Of course you shoved her back onto the floor, everyone laughed at her pathetic attempt at a comeback.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, you should take a nap baby.” You laughed as you watched her slowly rise from the wood flooring. Tears streamed down her face as her head hung down, too embarrassed to face the crowd.

“You’ll pay for this you bitch.”

“Oh boo, you whore!” She walked out of the room, the music quickly returning to its eardrum shattering volume. Ethan was leaning against the door frame by the time you made your way back to him. He had his bottom lip in between his teeth as he watched you walk back, his hands quickly resting on your hips.

“I’m not saying you didn’t scare me a little but… that was kinda hot.” Thank the higher beings for the colorful lights, your face was so red from both the heat and Ethan. Your chest swelled with pride as the serial killer applauded you for taking a swing at that stuck up bitch.

“Someone had to do it eventually, so will you come downstairs with me for a drink?” You pulled on his ‘chest plate’ as he nodded, following closely behind you. After a few shots and strong drinks Ethan had convinced you it was time to leave before you ‘got into any more trouble’. You weren’t hammered but not sober either, so of course he walked you to your apartment.

“How fun I get to walk through your front door this time,” alluding to all the times he’d climb through your window.

“No one ever said you couldn’t, I think the girls would’ve actually gotten a kick out of it.” You smiled as you walked through the door, already going towards your room. However before you opened it you realized Ethan had stopped following you. Instead he leaned onto the wall before your door, looking at you expectantly.

“Don’t act shy now Eth, you’ve been here how many times?”

“I told you I wanted one normal night.”

“Well if you ask me I think I preferred you just coming in through my window, no invitation required.” Again, his demeanor changed as his tall frame straightened and walked towards you. A small tilt of his head and then suddenly he was kissing you, it was rough, demanding, dominant. One of his arms wrapped around your waist before he reached behind you and opened your door. You stumbled back as he slammed it shut, locking it too before resuming the sloppy kiss. He walked you backwards towards your bed, lifting you easily by the hips and tossing you down softly. The diadem on your head was pulled off and placed on your side table, his helmet had been long gone, laying somewhere on your floor. He quickly pulled his chest piece off and threw it somewhere, shocking you in the process as his abs peeked from under the long sleeved shirt he wore under it.

“So you like the psycho killer version of me better than an econ geek?” His question sounded breathless, both of your faces flushed as he knelt between your legs. You dress barely stopping at your upper thighs, his hair messy and tangled from your hands.

“If I say yes, are you going to kill me mister ghostface?” You asked just as breathless as he was, a smirk plastered on your lips as you watched his expression mirror yours. You almost miss it, his god-like features distracting you as he pulls out a knife, pressing the tip to your throat.

“Of course not baby, I’d never hurt you, I’m just trying to figure out what you’re into.”

“Well this is kinda doing it for me if that helps.” He smiled before trailing the blade all the way down between your thighs, severing the straps of your panties. He didn’t pull the fabric off, not yet anyways, instead pulled his shirt off before leaving dark hickeys all over your neck and collar bones. Your fingers tangled in the mess of curls as he made his way across your exposed skin. Quiet sighs leave your chest as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to your body. His hips began to grind against you, the rough feel of his jeans caused you to shiver under his herculean body.

You don’t know how much time had passed, but the rest of your clothing had been tossed to the floor. Ethan's face was settled between your thighs as you neared your third orgasm. He was fucking you with his tongue as his thumb stayed on your clit, harshly overstimulating you. Your thighs couldn’t even squeeze around his head at this point, they rested on his strong shoulders, shaking and trembling. Tears were welling up in your eyes as your back arched off the bed again, crying out his name as you came on his face. He sat up, crawling closer to you as you trembled underneath him. All he did was smile softly, his canines poking against his lower lip. Your eyeliner had run down your cheeks, your hair tangled and frizzy.

“You look so pretty crying, shaking, and begging. I should’ve been fucking you like this every night for the past month.” As he spoke he traced your face lightly with the tip of his knife, his cock slick with precum as he rubbed it against your clit. Your legs shook with every move he made, you were far beyond overstimulated; this was insanity. You weren’t even sure if you were forming proper words as he began to slide his thick cock into your sensitive cunt. Your nails scratched at his v-line, no doubt drawing blood from his pale skin as he bottomed out. He hissed as he quickly drug his blade across the top of one of your hands. It was a small thin slice barely even bleeding, you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t watched him do it. Anyone would’ve pulled their hand away but it just made you dig your nails deep into his hips. He tossed the knife onto the floor and grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them against your chest as he began to rock slowly in and out of you. Your head dropped back on your pillow as your mouth opened in a silent whine. His lips held a smirk as his pace sped up, head dipping down to your neck as quiet whimpers left his throat. You started crying as you felt another orgasm building from his rough pace, you bit down on his shoulder since your dry throat could barely let your moans out. He groaned at your action and seemingly went faster, you pleaded against his hot skin but he only kept on. Once his hands left your wrists to hold your thighs apart, your nails clawed down his back. The moans coming from him sounded so heavenly, almost pathetic despite him having full control.

He pulled back from you, fully sitting up but his brutal rhythm was unforgiving. He held your hips off the bed as he plowed into your throbbing cunt. Finally a stutter in his pace as he neared his orgasm. He groaned, his head falling back as his thrusts became sporadic causing your body to move upwards on the bed. Your hands braced against the wall as he lost himself in the build of his climax. You cried out into the dim room, your pussy clenching around him as you came. He fucked you until you were squirming under him again, he pulled out and came onto your stomach moaning your name lowly. Ethan stilled for a moment, until finally his hands dropped your thighs and he laid next to you. He pulled your leg onto his waist, pulling you against him as you both tried to catch your breath. Your hand rested on his waist and your head on his chest, it was finally calm again.

The next morning when both of you woke up, you walked into the living room to find the entire group. When they noticed you two together it was like they snapped out of a daze. They joked about how it took way too long for either of you to make the first move. It didn’t take long however for the dread to settle back in as the news reporter spoke of two college students being murdered last night.

@hana-1235

@i-do-be-vibinn

@meh-karma

@cumbermovels

@acornacreacure

@c0untryclub

[dystopianhellscape]

Let Me In, Pt 2.

(Stranger Things x Reader)

The edit was quick so please forgive any spelling errors or grammar mistakes. I'm in the process of moving so I figured I would post this now. It's quite a bit longer than the last few but I'm trying to build relationships between characters. It's also kind of cute and fluffy but I thought it would be a good one to end on until I can get the next part posted. Enjoy! Feedback is welcome.

Warnings ⚠️: swearing, touching, inappropriate gestures, tobacco use, flirting...just some real fluff with Steve Harrington.

Reading Time: ~15 mins.

-‐-------------------------------‐-----------------------------------

The screen lit up the room as it showed a panicked Nancy Thompson thrashing around on a hospital bed in the middle of a sleep study. Her mother ran in to her rescue, waking her up. You watched as she began running her fingers through the brand new slice of silver hair placed conveniently along the side of Nancy's head, confused and worried. It almost made you laugh as the scene played out on the TV until you wondered how terrified she would have to be in real life for her hair to change color like that on it's own. This was a movie, of course. You knew how your recent nightmares made you feel but your hair remained the same shade it's always been. You weren't sure if it was even physically possible to be so traumatized that your hair color could damn near erase itself but you realized that if fear was able to alter your appearance the way it had so far, then you couldn't rule it out.

'Poor Nancy.' You empathized with her, feeling as though you shared similar burdens. No. You didn't want to think about that right now. Squinting ever so slightly, you forced your mind to wander away from that topic, a new thought popping into it's place. 'Nancy. Wait...isn't that Wheeler's first name? Shit...'

You mentally slapped your palm to your forehead at the realization, feeling like a failure as a friend. You tried to sneak a peek at Steve out of the corner of your eye, your way of checking in without revealing what you had just discovered. Even though it was something you should have already known with as much as you had heard about her. Guilt tugged at your chest. Steve and Robin had provided you comfort almost every time you've ever needed it. Whether you asked or not. You hoped if it came down to it, you could finally return the favor. But his face gave nothing away.

You heard Nancy's name called out again a few lines later and your eyes flicked back to Steve to watch for a reaction. His face stayed stoic but as you glanced down at his hand placed over the bicep closest to you, you noticed his grip tighten until his knuckles turned white. Your heart ached a little for him.

As you leaned into him to speak, attempting to serve as a distraction, the two of you looked down almost perfectly in sync with one another as you felt the blanket slide across your legs. Both pairs of eyes followed the blanket being pulled in Robin's direction and you realized at the same time that she had fallen asleep. Turning her back toward you with eyes glued shut, she yanked the blanket over her shoulder and tucked her hands up under her cheek like a makeshift pillow. She then unconsciously allowed herself to get comfortable, sinking down into the arm rest. A few more seconds passed and she let out a soft snore.

You turned to Steve and his eyes were already meeting yours. You were sure that you were both thinking the same thing. Robin always fell asleep in the middle of movie nights, sometimes toward the end of the first movie, other times toward the middle of the second. It was rare she ever made it longer than that. You decided to take advantage of this moment, desperately needing a smoke break.

With slow, steady movements, you grabbed the sliver of blanket still covering half of your lap and tucked it closer to Robin. After staring at her a while longer to make sure you didn't wake her, you turned back to Steve when she didn't move a muscle. Not even risking a whisper, you mouthed the words "smoke break" and brought two fingers to your lips before pulling them away, pretending to exhale. You were hoping if Steve couldn't tell what you were trying to say, he would at least put two and two together from the gesture that accompanied it. He wrinkled his nose in response and you snorted quietly, knowing then that he understood. Placing your palms together, you held your hands up as if in prayer, shooting him a pout. He mouthed back 'NOT FAIR' as a smirk appeared on his face. The pout always worked.

He pretended to think on it for a moment before letting out a barely audible sigh and nodding, giving in to your silent pleading. You answered with the slowest fist pump he'd ever seen, celebrating your small and kind of pointless victory. In response, Steve rubbed his face, trying to stifle the laugh that wanted to make itself known. Once he managed to wrestle it back, he placed a finger to his lips, reminding you to be as quiet as possible and eventually lifted himself off the couch with ease. You nodded back at him in understanding as he reached for your shoes under the table and handed them to you. Chancing a final glance back at Robin, you leaned down slowly to slip your shoes on. Once you had confirmed she had passed out, you pushed yourself up to a gradual stand the way he had a few moments ago and gave yourself an imaginary pat on the back for actually pulling it off.

Almost as if to prove otherwise, Robin stirred and your eyes darted back in her direction. You didn't have to look back at Steve to know he was holding his breath too and the pair of you stayed frozen in place until she had relaxed back into her previous position. The sound of a gentle snore filled the room, somehow loud enough to be heard over the shrieks coming from the TV. You could feel an uncontrollable urge to burst into laughter.

Noticing your extremely obvious attempt to choke down your giggle, Steve quickly yet gently placed his hand over your mouth, pulling you backwards into the kitchen before you could explode into a fit of laughter. You failed to keep a couple of loose giggles from spilling out. Thankfully, they were muffled and could hardly be heard over the noises continuing to sound off from the living room. Steve shushed you and you could feel the sudden warmth from his breath on your cheek as he leaned in close to your ear. "You're gonna wake her up!"

Without removing his hand from your mouth, he scooped your bag up off the counter with ease and continued to guide you through the house, swiftly but delicately, minding his steps. He led you out the back door. As he dragged you outside, he shut the door behind you and beamed at the fact that you both made it out successfully and without injury.

'All that sneaking into Wheeler's bedroom must have paid off, I guess!' You knew better than to state this out loud for him to hear but you couldn't deny that you were a little impressed. He finally let go of your mouth and you could smell his cologne clinging to your uniform. You only caught the scent because the wind picked up as it had been doing all night but it made it noticeable from that point on. It was a pleasant one. A comfortable one.

A broken laugh pushed it's way out as you gasped for air dramatically, still working to keep your voice at a reasonable level. Steve flashed his usual award-winning smile at you with his eyebrows raised. His hands found their way to his hips as he lectured, a playful, half-whispered yell. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME, Y/L/N? YOU ALMOST WOKE THE BEAST! That's the quietest she's been all day! What were you thinking?!"

Your giggle lingered as you pulled the pack out of your bag and grabbed out a cigarette and the lighter. Steve wrinkled his nose again at the sight of it as you placed it between your fingers and trapped it in your lips to light up.

"I'M SORRY! I couldn't help it!" Your words came out in a mumble but your tone matched his. He watched your lips as you inhaled and his eyes flicked up to meet yours once again. Even in the dark, you could notice his ears growing red. The flush started creeping toward his cheeks and you wondered if he noticed it too or if it was just the result of the cold. "She does need the sleep though."

He nodded in agreement as you turned your head slightly away from him and exhaled. He added to your statement, "Yeah, I don't think she's been getting much lately either."

'Either? ' You weren't sure if he was referring to himself or trying to let you know that he noticed you were lacking sleep too. Trying to change the subject with subtlety, you held the cigarette out to him, offering it up just to be polite. You already knew his answer though. He held a palm up and shook his head. "Ugh. No. Thanks anyway." You laughed as you shrugged off his distaste and brought it back to your mouth to take another puff. He let out a harsh sigh.

"I know it's not my place to tell you what to do but..." He shook his head again, almost as disapproving as the last and continued, "....as a friend....you know. Someone that's concerned about your health and safety? You really should look into quitting." Your gaze was fixed on the smoke you just exhaled, watching it curl up as it hung in the air before quickly disappearing.

"I appreciate your concern, Harrington. As always." Your face softened as you realized his words were genuine and not just some sad attempt to flirt like it may have been back when he was more commonly referred to as King Steve. He was a completely different person back then. You snapped yourself out of old memories before the silence could become too awkward and finished your thought. "Really. I do. But I'm just not ready to quit yet." You could tell it wasn't the answer he was looking for but he nodded, respecting your decision and backing down from his argument.

Taking in another drag, you looked up at the sky. Pitch black. 'Thank god.' Your mouth all of a sudden felt dry and the corners of your lips twitched into a frown, berating yourself over your poor choice of the word 'god'. It resounded in your mind just as it had in your horrific episode earlier. 'God? Your 'God' is not here.'

Trying to distract yourself from the invading thought, you shook it off and forced yourself to inspect the sky further, noticing only a few stars sprinkled throughout the darkness. Your shoulders dropped and you let a breath out through your nose, hoping your limbs would stay numb to the cold. The smoke you inhaled came out with it.

Steve continued to watch you carefully without saying a word as you admired the sky and he admired you. The way your hair blew lightly with the breeze, your chill-kissed cheeks a stunning shade of pink and those eyes...even though they seemed heavy due to lack of sleep with the dark circles surrounding them as proof, they were still beautiful to him. Before he could get completely lost in you, he noticed as a subtle change in your expression broke through. He had always been kind of jealous of (and sometimes irritated by) your ability to keep your face from giving away everything you were feeling. But not in that moment. In that moment, you looked vulnerable...almost frightened. His instinct to comfort you was stronger than ever and he tossed the idea around in his head. But almost as quickly as it appeared, the distressed look left your face along with the sigh and the smoke you had let escape your lungs just now. He noticed your body relax after and internally thanked himself over and over again for not making the situation awkward by attempting to comfort you like he wanted to. When you finally broke the silence, he let out a sigh of his own. A sound of relief that went unnoticed by you.

"Horrible movie choices, by the way. I can't believe you let Robin pick!" He couldn't help but laugh at your snarky comment and threw his hands up in defense. "Hey, I had to! I told you earlier, those were the stakes of the bet and I lost." He paused as you shot him a sideways look. Curiosity, this time. And it was only obvious because you wanted it to be. He swayed nervously before adding another statement to avoid an interrogation. "I may be a sore loser, but I know when to admit defeat..." No, he didn't. "....for the most part." He corrected himself and followed it up with a smile as he ran his hand through his perfect hair to help soften the humility. It didn't work. "You're right though. Horrible movie choices."

Steve thought he managed to escape an explanation but you crushed that hope after inhaling another puff. "So what were the terms of the bet?" His mouth fell open slightly and his eyes searched every square inch of the back yard for an answer. Any answer that sounded better than the ACTUAL answer.

"Steve?" It was the way you said his name that ripped him from his thoughts. The tone was mostly curious, like before. But he detected a hint of nervousness, as if you might suspect it would be something you wouldn't want to hear. He realized he was silent for too long by now to play it off as something that didn't actually matter. Right as he mustered up the courage to say anything at all, you raised your palm up to him weakly and laughed it off. "Alright, alright. You don't have to tell me."

Taking in the last of the cigarette, your eyes wandered to a spot across the yard that opened up into a wooded area. The woods usually didn't bother you much during the day but at night, especially tonight, it seemed much more ominous. Plucking up a little bit of courage yourself, you headed in that direction, hoping that the way you were trudging over would be enough to intimidate whatever....or whoever could possibly be lurking in the shadows. You knew it was unlikely anyone would be out there but you kept your walk confident for good measure. Confusion flooded Steve's face and he called after you, forgetting all about trying to keep his voice down. "HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

He couldn't wait long enough for you to answer. His feet carried him forward to follow behind you before he could stop himself. Hearing his hurried steps a few feet behind you, you turned your head and called back to him over your shoulder, not breaking stride. "Relax, Harrington. I'm just trying to be a polite house guest and dispose of my cigarette butt somewhere other than your backyard."

At this, he slowed down but continued to follow you until you reached the edge of the perfectly manicured lawn. You bent down to make sure the cigarette was completely out, snubbing the end in the damp grass before taking it between your thumb and middle finger and flicking it into the woods. You hadn't noticed it so much before but it was quiet out there. Almost too quiet. It was deafening. You turned back to Steve, desperate to hear anything at all to rid yourself of the shiver that ran down your spine. It wasn't from the cold this time.

You nearly bumped into him a second time as he stood directly in front of you now, looking down at you with gentle eyes. He didn't know you knew but every now and again, you'd catch him doing this - trying to study your expressions in an attempt to piece together how you were feeling or what you were thinking. You also noticed he'd get flustered if he couldn't figure it out. The corners of your mouth turned up slightly and you raised a brow with a challenge.

"You know.....I COULD just ask Robin." His eyes got wider and he crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head a little quicker than he probably intended. "Robin? Wh-what do you mean ask Robin? Ask Robin what?" You let your head fall to the side and let out a soft chuckle. If it wasn't clear before, it was clear now. Steve was nervous. Poking your index finger into his chest lightly, you took a step toward him without breaking eye contact. "You know EXACTLY what I'm talking about."

You noticed he swallowed hard and took a step back as you took your step closer. But his eyes never left yours. You let your finger drop from his chest and it looked as though he frowned a little. 'Maybe I should stop messing with him...did I hurt his feelings somehow?' You ran through the last few minutes of conversation in your head but couldn't pin point what may have caused a sudden change in his behavior. The playful look on your face turned into a suspicious one.

"Harrington, I'm talking about the bet.....what did you think I was talking about?" Your brows furrowed without you even realizing. His eyes fell to his feet and his hands returned to his hips as he shifted his weight. One foot to the other. Trying to lighten the mood, you brought the back of your hand up to his forehead as if checking for a fever. "Are you sure you're ok?"

Before your hand could make contact with his forehead, he grabbed it and pulled it away from his face, bringing it casually back down to your side. But he didn't let go of it. The confusion spread across your features now and you realized something really was wrong. You stayed quiet to give him the opportunity to speak and when he finally did, his gaze stayed fixed on his feet.

"It's about the bet." His words were short. He lifted his head to look across the yard and ran his free hand over his face in an anxious manner. It bothered you that just a second ago, he had no problem making eye contact with you but now he was doing everything he could to avoid it. Your voice came out a little more hushed than you intended, but it had a bite to it now. "What about it, Steve?" He rolled his head back and blew out a heavy breath before finally bringing his eyes back down to look at you again.

"During the last shift I worked with Robin, we were discussing my uh....my love life...." You smirked and narrowed your eyes. Why was he so nervous about that? You guys always discussed his love life at work. Still unsure of why this was so hard for him to tell you, you stayed silent and nodded at him reassuringly to keep going. He nodded back and gulped before opening his mouth again to speak.

"Long story short, Buckley tried to say I get too flustered when I talk to women now and I argued that wasn't the case...." He bit his bottom lip and pulled his hand through his hair again, realizing that even in this very moment, he was proving Robin right. He groaned internally at the thought of having to admit it later, already irritated over it. The irritation showed as his empty hand flew up before slapping back down to his thigh.

"Well. She basically told me to show up or shut up and bet that I wouldn't ask you out on a date. In her words," Both of his hands came up this time, abandoning yours at your side and he wiggled two fingers from each to signify air quotations, "it 'should be easier with her since you guys are already good friends.'" He dropped them to cross his arms up in defense as he continued. "She said she thought it might be harder to ask a stranger since I've been striking out left and right at Scoops."

You whispered with a breathy laugh and crossed your arms, unintentionally mirroring him. "Classic Robin." It turned into a giggle as you and Steve shared a knowing look. With a sudden realization, the confusion reappeared on your face and you pointed a finger at him again.

"Wait. You DID score a date though! Tomorrow night, right? I picked up your closing shift so you could go out with....." you winced as you struggled to remember the right name. It spilled from your lips slowly so he could correct you at any point if you got it wrong. "Mmmmiiiiinnndy?" He confirmed by saying her name at the same time you did, but his version was shorter and more precise. "Mindy, yeah. I uh....I made her up."

You slowly moved your hand up to your mouth to hide another giggle, your eyes wider now. "You made her up?! Why?!" The amusement in your voice was becoming harder to hide. He rubbed the back of his neck and the blush that covered his ears and cheeks earlier found it's place again, more intense this time.

"You know how Robin is! Relentless. I knew if I didn't make the attempt to follow through in some way, I'd never hear the end of it. So I told her I actually already had a date scheduled with 'Mindy'. That way, I wouldn't have to ask you out and she wouldn't bother me about it anymore." You lowered your gaze and nodded as he shared his explanation.

"But if Robin knows about your 'date' with 'Mindy', why did you lose the bet?" He shrugged as he cracked a small smile. "Because Robin specified it had to be you." His eyes roamed your face again, trying desperately to read your thoughts but failing. He added to his last statement in a hurry as a last ditch effort to save face.

"I tried to argue my point that a date is a date but...well...." his laugh sounded forced but you did him a hidden favor and laughed with him, agreeing. "It's Robin. No, I totally get it."

You let the news process for a moment in silence before you reached out and gently punched his arm. "You DID mention you knew when to take a loss. So tell me, Harrington. Was it worth it?" Your eyebrows shot up and you flashed him a lopsided grin to match the teasing tone in your voice. He stuck out his thumb and gestured back toward the house. "With THOSE movie picks? No, absolutely not. Not at all."

His anxiety melted away as you laughed again at his sarcasm and he stepped a little closer to you, feeling brave. You let out a soft gasp at the sudden closeness but Steve was too preoccupied with making sure his next words came out as perfect as he could manage to notice. "Look...I just want to say...."

'Do it, Harrington. Do it now. You might not get another chance like this...' The bravery was short-lived but his eyes stayed locked on yours. "...I just want to say that -"

His voice was cut off by another in the distance. A loud one, proceeded by the sound of a door slamming shut. Steve flinched without turning to look and you glanced over his shoulder at it's source.

"I CANT BELIEVE YOU GUYS LEFT ME IN THERE BY MYSELF! HELLO?! HAVE YOU NOT SEEN NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET? OR ANY OTHER HORROR MOVIE FOR THAT MATTER? I KNOW YOU HAVE BECAUSE WE WATCH THEM TOGETHER! YOU KNOW...TOGETHER...AS IN ALL OF US IN THE SAME ROOM...."

You both laughed and shook your heads as Robin continued to scream at you from across the yard. You couldn't see her too well from this far away, but her eyes still held evidence of a heavy sleep and she had the blanket wrapped around her like a cloak, shielding her from the cold you had all but forgotten was there until now.

"ARE YOU GUYS EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!"

With this, Steve turned himself slightly to yell back. "KEEP IT DOWN, BUCKLEY, I HAVE NEIGHBORS!" Robin forced a hand through the blanket and threw up her middle finger in response before stomping back in the house. As the door slammed shut again and the coast seemed to be clear, he turned back to you and pointed toward the spot Robin had just disappeared from. "Why is she like this?"

The smile stayed planted on your face. "I don't know....but I guess that's our cue to get back inside." You pulled at his sleeve as a non-verbal gesture to follow you and you both started your walk back to the house. As you reached the door you placed your hand on the knob and turned back to Steve before opening it. Curiosity struck again.

"I'm sorry....you just wanted to sayyyyyy...." you dragged the last word out as if waiting for him to finish the sentence Robin had interrupted moments before. "...you know....before Robin so rudely interrupted..."

Steve's eyebrows flew up in surprise at the question before settling on an answer. Not THE answer. But an answer. He could feel his face warm up this time and tried to cut it off by making his response quick. "Oh, uh, I just wanted to say you don't have to work my shift tomorrow night. You know. Since Mindy won't be making it." You both chuckled.

"You mean since Mindy doesn't exist. I'll remember this, Harrington." You ruffled his hair lightly with your free hand. "Also, dont worry about it. I can still cover. I need the money anyway so just keep the night off." Before he could protest, you twisted the knob and pushed the door open. You braced yourself for the mouthful of silly insults and questions Robin was about to bombard you both with, as if she was actually angry. And just as you suspected, you couldn't even get through the door before she grabbed your arm and yanked you back to the couch, pulling you down next to her as she started in with the interrogation.

Steve stepped in right behind you, watching as Robin hauled you off to the living room. Making sure he was truly alone for the moment, he let out a dejected sigh and closed the door behind him. He stayed planted in front of the door and monitored your conversation from afar. Robin waved her arms wildly at you in mock annoyance. He could barely make out what was being said, finding himself just out of earshot, but he had a few ideas.

In his opinion, you seemed to be handling Robin's interrogation gracefully. That was until Robin's eyes finally landed on him and she jabbed a finger in his direction. "AND YOU! I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU TOO!" He snickered and shoved his hands in his pockets, sauntering over to join the two of you on the couch to accept his verbal punishment. There was never a dull moment, which could get overwhelming at times. But he knew he wouldn't trade these moments for anything. He couldn't help the smile spreading over his face as he attempted to comfort himself. 'Maybe next time, Harrington.'

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

[mikeo56]

Just for clarity and lack of confusion, let me explain to you Kristen, where it is I stand. I am six years older than your father and a about year older than his sister. I am first born. You and I never met, not where you could remember. There are things I know about Jack and Betty that your father and aunt don't. When I say that your grandfather is a baby raper there is no room for debate. It's not up for discussion. You weren't there.

You really seem to be incredibly gullible and willing to eat shit to make others happy. You know nothing about me. Hopefully, by the time you finish reading this you will. When I say that your mother had sex with your Grandfather, I mean exactly what I say. She wanted to have sex with me, I fell asleep. At another time I saw her in an embrace with your grandfather that was way outside of appropriate. Maybe that's all they did. Who knows? I bet someone does. That stuff is difficult to keep secret.

Now recently, I have been involved with some low life garbage on Ruthann Court that you made acquaintance with; low life garbage that threatened and harassed Linda and myself not as a response to anything I did but as service for a criminal property management company that wanted Linda and I to move out. I had blogged and got letters posted in the newspaper about the property management's criminal and negligent behavior, and that of Lee County Code Enforcement, Lee County Sheriff's Department and Lee County Building Department. This list is long. Florida is very corrupt. I made some enemies. Your low life friends climbed on board to assist them by creating an environment at my and Linda's home of threats, harassment and loitering behind our home. Your lowlife friends are not so much the shit, they’re just the stink off the shit. They are a distraction from the real criminals. Not that they aren't criminals, they are but chiefly they provide cover for the instigators, the leaders.

Linda's health began failing over the last five years. My ability to take care of her was limited as I worked full time and she needed more than I could provide. I knew she was declining and no one would or could help. We could have used some help. We really could have. And you were as far as you could be from helping. You went out of your way to hurt us at our greatest time of need. You climbed on board with the rest of the lowlifes and hurt us when we were most vulnerable and now Linda is gone.

I truly mean it when I say you don't owe me, but if you have the time and you feel like it, I would appreciate it if you would put a gun in your mouth and make a mess. When you get to hell, look up your favorite pedophile and give him a message for me. Tell your grandfather that I said that I hope he likes the pineapples.

You’re actually good for something, imagine that.

[stablersolivia]

Some EO Ramblings

I've been in a fandom funk for the last several months.

It really shouldn't be that way but it has been that way for me. I mean, we have EO. It seems to be on its way to canon when it never seemed possible in all the years I've been in the SVU/EO fandom (dating back to the ancient times of 2011 el oh el.) The fandom is alive and well, probably the most active since 2011, and Chris and Mariska are so good to us fans. I feel like I should send a special virtual hug to them for all they have done and given us when they don't have to. There's also been an influx of fanfiction, video edits, tweets, gif sets, etc and a myriad of other things that have kept up our spirits in between seasons and hiatuses.

However, I still, personally, feel in a funk. Not sure why. I haven't been able to read fanfiction in ages. At least not any long fics. I've been in a bit of a battle with t*mblr because they deleted eofanfiction which I created back in 2016 to place all the seemingly lost classic svufanfiction.com fics. It had been an archive haven for 5 years. Then poof, not anymore.

I've also felt a bit displaced on twitter since starting my new account. I'd been on my old one since 2012, and just wanted a fresh start. But, all my old tweets and memories are gone and nothing to show for all the years I've spent keeping my own memory of EO alive all these years.

I've not felt like creating much. I've dabbled in fan-fiction, video editing, and most often, graphics. I've a BA in graphic design, guess you can say it's my passion, *wink wink*. But it seems nothing inspires me anymore. I feel like my mind is saying, "well it's happening now, no need to do any of that," which makes no sense. There are dozens upon dozens of people writing, editing, etc. because it's all happening and it should be celebrated after all the years we suffered abuse from anti EO'ers, haha.

But, I've just lost my own inspiration. While I have completely stopped video editing (I absolutely have no patience) and reading fic, I have tried to keep myself writing, hoping that it gets me in the mood to read again. In a way, it almost feels like I don't know these characters on screen right now like I used to. So, in order to read or write them, I need to figure it out for myself. There are so many interpretations, variations, of these two characters right now, that finding something that feels right for them in your own mind is important yet a bit of a struggle.

I used to spend hours, days, weeks, months reading fanfics. I used to read them in between studying for tests in college not so long ago, I used to binge read one after the other and didn't worry about storylines blending.

EO potentially happening is freaking me the fuck out creatively! In all those years of writing, editing, graphic-ing, tweeting, tumbling, there was a bit of longing in hoping they would finally come into fruition. It was a collective fan effort manifesting what we all agreed as a once in a lifetime pairing finally getting together on screen. (I mean we all saw that OC promo for next week, they want us dead, dead. I can't stop watching it).

So, if anybody else feels this way, or understands what I'm saying in any way, I'm glad there's someone else. However menial, it's a good funk to be in but also a bit intriguing, confusing, exciting and all around terrifying.

For anyone else who doesn't, I'm sorry for this long rambling post, I'm just in my feels.

EO could be endgame by the end of Season 23/OC 2... or pretty damn close.

What happens after that - after all of our dreams come true after 22 years?

[ineffably-human]

So I was reading thoughts on The Curse in this post and I needed to word-vomit again, because The Curse isn't my Nandermo moment. But it is my Guillermo moment, and I know I've said some things about this before but just - the choice he's given in this episode wrecks me, the way The Wellness Center wrecks some people. Just kills me dead.

Guillermo at age 19 was this shy weird nerd with a macabre streak, never many friends, never belonged anywhere - and suddenly he had a chance to be the cool, powerful creature of his fantasies. It must have felt like he was chosen, like he received the hero's call to enter this amazing secret world.

But now he's pushing 30 and he's still waiting, and the people he's waiting for can be cruel. He's more of an outsider than ever, and any normal person would leave but he's not normal and the impossible is dangling right in front of him, it's so close he can hold its hand in the morning.

And then he finds out he's the freaking Chosen One, meant to destroy everything he loves and is disappointed by. The hero's call is using his hands to kill and sending assassins to his door, he can't get rid of it, it won't let him sleep. He's alone and bone-tired and none of them see what he's fighting off, none of them even think he's capable of it.

Then at a club of shy weird nerds, like a thousand shy weird nerds he's helped kill over the years, there's a ready-made life waiting for him. A different story, a different path, handed to him on a plate. People who have the resources and the passion and all he has to do is provide the skill. They like him, they already think he's cool and powerful. They'd probably forgive him, or at least they'd never have to know the truth; he could have real friends. He literally sees it as the universe throwing him in the direction of his destiny. 'This is who you are, this is what you're meant to do.'

And he says no.

And the universe goes 'aren't you just a little tempted? Maybe you should infiltrate them, just a little?' And then shoves him into a trial by fire, and says 'you either let these humans be food, it'd probably be easier for you, or you go and kill.' So Guillermo goes, because he hasn't lost his heart, his heart's what got him into this life in the first place. And he kills, and he metaphorically flips off every vampire who ever treated him like dirt as he backflips out the window. And he's good at it. And part of it probably feels good.

But he still says no.

Then he goes home, where no one cares that he's been out except for Nandor, and Nandor's a rude little asshole to him again. Because he felt vulnerable and that's how he reacts to being vulnerable. But then he truly opens up, for once. 'I know we're safe, because we defeated the curse, but I still feel afraid.' (No you didn't, Guillermo probably thinks, the curse is on me, it's here in the room with you.) 'I'm afraid of vampire killers. And I'd feel better if you stayed until I fell asleep.' The littlest sign of appreciation, of a thing Guillermo can do for someone who has dangled power in front of him for years, even though he has the power now to hurt him, or force his hand.

But he won't do that. Guillermo says no to destiny and yes to Nandor. He won't leave his side. Later to get closer to his goal, or to protect him, but not to betray him.

Because he cares more than he wants to hurt or bully. And he loves vampires - and Nandor - more than he hates what he's been denied. And having power and skill feels good - but whether he's made to be something, or do something, it's never going to be what he wants.

So the universe says 'okay, what if your destiny is the path to your dream?' and Guillermo decides he can work with that.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (8/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.4k words

Your parents’ house was exactly how you remembered it, but again, it had been only two months since you last saw it. Contrary to your usual life, a lot has changed in two months. You aren't working in a cubicle anymore, you're not going on random blind dates that your sister and mother plot for you. What you are doing is bartending in a town far away from your family. You're fake dating your boss who happens to be the most dangerous person in the town, at least that's what you've heard of the rumors, but so far, James has been nothing but non-threatening to you. Yes, he was mean in the beginning, but a lot has changed since then. 

And now sitting in front of your parents with James beside you, eating lunch; you recall Barry's diner and you miss the food there. It's funny because you always thought that this was your home, your family and everything associated with them should make you feel at peace, but you were feeling everything but that. You were restless and anxious, and you wanted to go to that cozy dinner with James where Sally would tell you anecdotes about her life. You wanted to sit with James and watch him debunk the myths about his career that you believed were true your whole life. Turns out, he doesn't cut off people’s dick for disrespecting him. Who would have thought? And you decided that maybe you should stop reading those stupid mafia stories.

James sensed your discomfort, you don't know how he does that, but he always knows when something is bothering you. He brought his chair closer to you in hopes of providing you some relief. And it did, his presence made you feel at ease and you weren't sure how you felt about it. You knew you were dependent on him for comfort since the incident at his club, but being with him didn't make you feel caged.

You always thought that a relationship would make you feel stuck. That's why you never engaged in one, but with James, it felt liberating. Maybe because this wasn't real and the moment this turns real, it'll be a shithole. At least that's what you told yourself. 

“So, what do you do, James?” your father asked, and you nearly choked on your food. James's hand involuntarily reached towards your back, his thumb running soothing circles while his palms patted gently. 

“I own a club and a few other buildings in town,” your faux boyfriend answered, and you were thankful he didn't get into his other business. You wanted to ask about all the rumors in town and why people are so scared of him and why does everyone in the club carries a gun, but you were scared to ask. You feared that you wouldn't like the answers. Honestly, that's false, you weren't scared of the answers, you were scared that what if he closes himself again the moment you step into uncharted territory. And you really liked this fun, caring, swiftie James.

Everybody was sitting silently at the table which was unusual because usually family dinners were the place where everyone pointed out your faults. Carol kept glancing at your parents every few seconds and vice versa. Your brother-in-law, Nick, was focused on the food and their kids were taking a nap.

 You were going to thank your stars for this peaceful lunch when your sister broke off the silence. “So, how did you two meet?”

Every head on the table turned towards you expectantly, waiting for you to explain how you met James. What were you supposed to say? That you met when you interviewed for your current job and he clearly rejected you? 

Before the panic could make its way to the surface, James' palm landed on yours softly, grounding you. Your sister's eyes fell to your hands on the table and she scoffed.

 “We're glad you're happy, but at least don't forget basic table etiquette,” She commented. How could you forget the ‘no hands on the table while eating’ rule? Just when you were about to remove your hand from the table, James held your hand and placed it on his lap, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“Auntie Y/N!” A shriek made you turn behind, and you saw your nephew and niece running towards you with the biggest grin on their faces. Both the kids jumped in your embrace without a care of their surroundings and you stifled a laugh.

Bucky didn't like kids, hated them, to be honest. In his defense, what's there to like, they're always whining and crying, but seeing you attempting to straddle two 5-year-olds on your lap while their mother complained might change his opinions on the subject. 

You didn't like kids either, except your nephew and niece. They were perfect in your eyes, but maybe you were a bit partial because you sort of shared genes with them. You were so focused on the stories Alec and Izzy were telling you that you didn't notice the eyes that were fixed on you. James looked at you with not only adoration, but also devotion. He knew if he kept looking at you like that, he'd be deep in shit, but it was too late now. 

After dinner, you made your way to the bedroom, only to realize that there was one bed. Fuck. You really should have thought this through. 

Before the embarrassment could seep in, James started collecting a blanket and some pillows. “I'll take the floor,” He said. 

You frowned. “No, James. You've already done so much for me. Take the bed, please.”

James pretended not to hear you and started preparing his bed on the floor. 

“Seriously?” You queried, slightly huffing at his childish behavior. “You're gonna pretend you didn't hear me. How old are you, five?”

Without saying a word, James started humming a tune and situated himself on the makeshift bed on the floor and closed his eyes. 

You stomped your foot furiously, yeah, maybe you were a little childish too. Without muttering another word, you made your way towards the bed and tucked yourself in a comfortable position. 

“You were saying something?” James asked, his voice laced with tease, and you huffed at his tomfoolery. 

“Yeah, just how immature you are.”

“Sorry, I didn't hear that. What was that?” you couldn't see him, but you knew he was doing some theatrical actions by putting his hands on his ears for better listening or furrowing his eyes in feigned confusion. “That I'm so smart? Oh, why, thank you. You're not so bad yourself.”

“That's real mature, James,” you murmured, clearly not enjoying his antics.

A comfortable silence fell in the room. The only thing that could be heard was your breathing and the air conditioner that always sucked in your childhood room but your parents never thought it was a primary concern. Oh, yeah, also, you were staying in your teenage room with your boss. You tried telling your parents that you could get a hotel, but they insisted so now James could see one direction posters on the wall right in front of him.

You would have assumed that he fell asleep if he hadn't broken the silence. “I know it's not my business and you don't have to answer if you don't want to,” he paused, wondering whether he is crossing a line by asking you this. “But why do you let them treat you like that?”

You coughed in surprise, you clearly did not expect him to ask this. You thought maybe he was going to ask you who is your favorite one direction member. Anything really, expect this. “Wow, you do not beat around the bush.”

You could hear him shuffling and once he settled you were sure he was facing you. Well, the bed actually. You did the same, turning towards him. You couldn't see him, but it still felt so intimate.

 “I'm honest with people I trust,” he informed and you smiled, thinking about the time when he told you he did not trust you or your intentions.

“What do I get in return?” you teased, although you would have told him without getting anything in return.

“What do you want?”

You debated for a minute whether you should go forward and just ask him so you did. “What do you do?”

You didn't expect him to actually answer. You knew that your relationship (whatever that was) with James had increased from where it was a few months ago. You deeply cared for each other and had mutual trust in the other. But you still didn't know about the actual work he did. Your realtor told you that he was a criminal, a mobster to be exact, and had sketchy connections with the mafia but you didn't know the exact nature of his work. 

He signed heavily and you were ready to drop the subject, scared that it would only push him away again and you couldn't lose whatever you had this early. 

“We provide weapons to the government at a cheaper price, eliminate problems or shootouts that the government is too scared to take the blame for,” he said, voice unwavering but you could sense the tension. Bucky thought that telling you about his work would make you fear him, and he didn't want to risk losing the progress he made with you, but he also knew that if he wanted you in his life in any form then he has to be honest with you. “We don't do the kind of stuff you're thinking of, it's mostly assisting the government to do stuff where they don't want to get their hands dirty.”

“Why?”

“How would you feel if the leaders of your country were involved in shady business?” It was a rhetorical answer, of course, you would feel unsafe, but your sleep-dazed brain was about to muster up an answer but he quickly spoke. “So if it backfires then they don't lose their men and women and can blame it on us, the criminals.”

“So that's why you weren't scared if I went to the cops? Because you kinda work for them?” you asked. His reaction made a lot of sense now, but some part of your brain hoped that he did that for you. That he would defy the police for you. 

“Off charts yeah,” he answered, “Although that has nothing to do with why I wanted you to go to the cops. I wanted you to because what Rumlow did was unacceptable and he should pay for his actions.”

“Wow,” you didn't know what to say. Anything further could push him back to the 'I don't trust you' James and you couldn't risk that. 

Bucky didn't want to elaborate further, “Your turn.”

“Sir, you just set yourself up for the biggest disappointment,” you joked, already imagining his reaction and smiling to yourself. 

“I let them treat me like this because they are my family,” you replied honestly. “I don't have anyone else but them.”

Bucky knew all about the issues that come with family, but he didn't think you'd be the victim of it. Bucky realized that in his head, he had conjured up a version of you that was perfect, so if he were to know you better, it would decrease his crush on you, right? 

Wrong. The more Bucky got to know you, the more he realized you weren't some angel and were just a vulnerable human like everyone, and the more he wanted you, all of you.

“Where does Rumlow come in this?” you questioned.

“His work is dirty like drugs, sex trafficking so he doesn't work well with government or any sort of authority,” he explained, “He's one of the problems they wanna eliminate but can't because he's too powerful. He works with Hydra.”

“Wasn't Hydra a myth?” you queried. You have heard stories about Hydra too, how Bucky was their rival. You assumed it was about territory or money. You know, like in the movies.

“Nah, doll, it's real. He's part of that organization and that makes him shielded from us and literally everyone.” 

“So you're technically not… you know, killing people for fun like the mafia and all? You're like undercover agents,” you concluded and he shook his head, chuckling at the disappointment in your voice.

In your defense, you expected him to be the movie-type mafia boss who kills people for raising their voice but again, this is not a movie. 

“If it makes you feel better, we smuggle weapons for the government. We're still criminals and dangerous,” he articulated, his tone laced with amusement at your reaction.

 “No offense, but that's a horrible career. Is that what you wanted to do growing up?” you asked, yawning, your eyelids becoming heavy from the exhaustion.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “Not everyone gets a choice, doll. My dad was murdered when I was a kid and I was shoved into the business to protect my family.”

 “Where are they? Your family, I mean,” you inquired, hoping you weren't overstepping.

“Ma basically hates me and my sister maintains her distance, but it's for her own safety.”

You didn't ask about them further, realizing his family was a touchy subject for him. You could relate to that. “What do you want to do?”

Out of all your questions and weird assumptions, this took James by surprise. No one asked him what he wanted to do. Hell, he didn't even ask him that, and now someone finally asked him, he didn't know what to answer. You understood his silence, you always understood everything James felt even without it being voiced. He generally hated when people predicted him, he prided himself on being unpredictable but not with you. James wanted nothing more than to just be Bucky with you.

“Don’t worry, you'll figure something out,” you mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.

James turned towards the opposite side. “Sleep well, doll.” he murmured, his breath growing even, matching yours.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998​ @marvel-3407​

[mitsukui]

birthday suit | g.w.

Pairing: George Weasley x female reader.

Summary: your boyfriend, George Weasley, could never allow you to sleep without a birthday celebration ━ this is the third and final part of my ‘Good Girl’ series, so make sure you read ‘Good Girl’ (pt.1) and ‘Make It Cream’ (pt.2) as well!

Word Count: 4,2k.

Warnings: smut! Mentions of food, daddy kink, dirty talk, cum play, spit play, overstimulation, praise kink, lingerie kink (is that a thing?), use of toys, gagging, choking, finger sucking, pictures being taken with total consent.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: this was so highly requested! I hope I can make justice to your requests and desires, my loves. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention!  ♡

Masterlist!

The clock struck midnight, and his thin and pinkish lips curled up in a devious smirk. He was well aware of your dislike towards celebrating your birthday, but you had been acting like such a good girl that he just had to give you something to celebrate the special day.

Truth being told, he was deeply and eternally thankful for your existence and for your presence in his life. You had changed so many aspects of his old self, taught him so many new things, and provided him so many novel feelings and experiences. You were the love of his life, and nothing would be able to ever change that.

However, he had also discovered an unexplored side of him with your help: George Weasley was an utterly kinky man. And there was nothing that he fancied more than seeing you squirming under his touch, moaning his name, and covered in his cum.

So your birthday gift had to be obviously related to that.

Ever since the wondrous night when you dominated him in the middle of your kitchen, he had been holding himself back and gathering all of his desire for you. You still had shared intimate moments, but none of them had been as intense as the very first time you called him ‘daddy’. And you missed those moments.

You missed being dominated by him, you missed the feeling of his hands hitting your skin repeatedly, you missed hearing his degrading words, you missed the air being cut from your lungs because he was choking you.

Thanks Merlin things were about to change.

Focused on a few things related to work, you had your eyebrows furrowed and teeth pressed down onto your lower lip. Every now and then, you mumbled some words to yourself, and George adored how you did this whenever you were concentrated.

The way you were completely clueless about his plans was simply adorable to him.

“Princess?” His words came out through a soft and moderately low voice, but it was enough to end your trance and make you look at him.

When your eyes met his figure, you noticed he was holding two things: a small white box, and a black shopping bag. As a result, you sighed and gave him a disapproving look. The quill you were holding was put to rest on your desk and you ran a hand through your hair.

“How many times have we talked about this, George? You know I’d rather see it as a normal day, than as my birthday.”

The tall man continued taking small steps as you sustained your visible frustration towards him. Despite your sudden bad mood, his smirk never faltered.

“I know, I know. But I saw these bad boys and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

You crossed your arms against your chest, the urge of punching him right in his handsome face burning inside you. With one of your eyebrows raised, you nodded shortly, signaling him to continue speaking.

“Don’t think of these as birthday gifts. Think they’re just gifts, because you’ve been a good girl for me.”

Unlike his smirk, you faltered. You blinked repeatedly and your arms fell to the sides of your body. Damn, you missed hearing those kinds of words. And he clearly noticed it, because he stepped even closer to you.

“You’ve been a good girl for me, haven’t you?” His dark eyes glistened with a deep, deep hunger, something which you had almost forgotten all about. It was so easy for him to read you. He knew exactly what those slightly parted lips and discontinuous breath meant. “Such a good girl for daddy.”

And then, just like that, you were wrapped around his finger. However, it was not time for you to have your entertainment yet. Both of you still needed to wait some more, and he was willing to make you suffer a bit.

“Let’s see what daddy’s got you, hmm?”

He carefully positioned the white box in your own hands, gesturing for you to open it and, when you did, a chuckle slipped out of your lips effortlessly.

Inside of that first box, there was a small square of strawberry cake, splattered with condensed milk and tiny raspberries. The sight was mouthwatering, though he gave you no time to think much about it.

Two of his slender fingers ran over the creamy liquid, capturing some of it. In a quick movement, he shoved his fingers into your mouth, which caused your tongue to automatically swirl around them. A growl got caught in his throat, the feeling of that type of intimacy being missed erupting in his chest.

There was enjoyment in that act for you too, your long lost submissiveness returning to you bit to bit. Your eyelashes fluttered until you closed your eyes, and you opened your mouth a bit wider, allowing his fingers to go in deeper.

He showed no mercy upon you, quickly gaining a fast pace shoving his fingers in and out your mouth. Occasional gags echoed in the silent room and saliva was already dripping down your chin. Funnily enough, the condensed milk still danced around your tongue and his fingers.

“Don’t swallow it.”

He was quick to order you and even quicker to kneel down in front of you. Confusion played with your senses for a bit while the liquid remained still inside your mouth. “Spit it in my mouth.”

A series of tingles played with your core and it was almost as if you had mistaken his words for something else. However, he stuck his tongue out and stared intensely at you, his gaze never wandering to somewhere else.

So you obeyed. You placed both of your hands on the sides of his face, leaned down just a bit, and brought him closer to you. He held on your thighs as the liquid was transferred into his mouth, his nails being pressed against the soft skin.

Once George had all the liquid inside his mouth, he swallowed it and released the pressure he had created on your thighs with his hands. He stood up, towering over you and whispering how much of a whore you are. His thumb ran across your parted lips while you resisted the urge to ask him if he could fuck your mouth relentlessly.

“Now, princess, there’s one more for you to open. We can eat your cake later, alright?” He handed you the black bag this time and, already feeling eager enough, you opened it in a heartbeat.

Inside of the bag, there was a lingerie set. The upper piece was covered in a light pink shade, and the top cups were adorned with a transparent fabric with red hearts on it. There was a pink see-through thong there as well, to complete the set. However, those were not the only things in there.

Resting insignificantly on the corner of the bag, your eyes captured the sight of something yet unknown. Your fingers grazed the surface of the object until you finally got a hold of it and were able to identify what it was: a vibrator.

You looked up at him for answers, and that same smirk was back on. You hated him for it, for how good he looked at that moment, and for how wet you already were.

“You’ve found my favorite part of it all, darling. This little guy”, George took the vibrator from your hands, and fiddled with it. His hand looked so big compared to it that it was hypnotizing. “is gonna be inside you for the entire day tomorrow. Do you understand it?”

His voice assumed that old dominant tone and you almost collapsed right in front of him, begging to be fucked. You nodded along his words. “This little part is gonna be brushing against your clit, vibrating from time to time.” His index finger ran over the toy slowly, accentuating all of its features. “And this one is gonna be inside of you, shoved up real deep in your cunt.”

Although you had not even reached your orgasm yet, you swore you were seeing stars. You could feel your panties covered in a sticky mess due to the wetness he had caused with so little.

“But let’s not get excited now, shall we? There’s a long night of sleep ahead of us. Go to bed now, I’ll be right there with you.”

Dizziness clouded your mind and you could only obey George, your pleasure reaching a point that was so high that you even forgot what you were doing before any of that started.

You fell asleep together that night, and you slept like a baby. In the next morning, he woke you up with a tenderness which was soon destroyed by his fingers playing with your clit, stretching your pussy lips and shoving the vibrator inside you, exactly like he had promised last night.

And exactly like he had told you to, you stayed with it throughout the day.

He told you he had put a spell on it that allowed him to control it even when you were distant from each other. With a simple flick of his wand, he would be able to make it vibrate or make it stop. If he whispered a few words, the vibrator could even thrust in and out of you. Was not magic amazing?!

In a nutshell, he was able to torture you whenever and however he wanted. And that’s what he did.

He started out slowly, gently almost. The very first vibrations came in the morning, when you had just started working. It was like a ticklish touch, giving you a fluttering pleasure. You gasped once you felt it, shocked by how suddenly it had reached you. However, he only allowed you to feel that for brief moments, teasing you recklessly in random moments during the day.

When the evening at last arrived and it was the end of your shift, you were nothing but a terrible shaking and furtively moaning mess. Warmness controlled your cheeks, your legs trembled and you could not wait to be touched after so many vibrations and thrusts.

But the real torture met you when you apparated back to the apartment you shared with George.

He was waiting for you, sat on the leather couch in the living room. His Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes’ uniform hugged every inch of his muscular body ravishingly, but what really got you was the way he stood up as soon as he laid eyes on you.

It only took him a second to notice your submissive and ready-to-be-pleased-and-please condition, and another mere second to crash his lips against yours. He kissed you with a hunger you thought he would never feel again for you, hands showing no hesitation to explore your body, and squeeze any parts he was crazy about.

As he kissed you, you felt the same vibrations from earlier but, this time, you were free to moan. So you did. You opened your mouth while he kissed you and moaned loudly, instantly begging him to fuck you through whispers mixed with whimpers.

George led you to your shared bedroom and, when he pushed you down onto the bed, he chuckled and ran his hand over his jawline, the bulge on his pants starting to bother him.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did to me the last time. I’m going to fucking destroy you tonight, birthday girl.”

That was enough to make you moan and spread your legs for him. In the blink of an eye, he undressed you, leaving only the lingerie he had gotten you on.

His dark eyes studied your body and, amongst so many lustful feelings, a pang of love exploded in his chest. You were so beautiful, and he was so honored to openly see how much you loved and trusted him. And, at that moment, the certainty that you were the only one for him burned fiercely inside him.

Still with your legs spread open for him and few clothing on, you ran your fingers over your clothed intimacy, the vibrator now feeling a bit like a bother, once you would rather have his cock filling you up.

As soon as he was close enough to you on the bed, his fingers removed your panties and he was blinded by the way your juices from the entire day were displayed on the fabric.

“Just look at this…” He shot you a disapproving looking, however, on the inside, he was far beyond turned on. “I bet you came so many times, didn’t you, princess?”

You nodded at his words, lips pressed together. You could feel he was about to degrade you, which made an enormous fire appear on your loins. His words, however, turned out to be the entire opposite of what you were expecting.

“What a good girl you’ve been for daddy. I see you’ve kept my little gift on the entire day, right?”

Instead of answering him, you chose to take your legs up to your chest this time, all of you being exposed for his eyes to feast on. You used all of your strength and attempted to push out the toy, but it was useless; it only moved a few inches.

“So pretty, baby girl. I bet you feel really sensitive right now, yeah? Even a bit swollen, perhaps.” George palmed his erection, precum leaking from the tip and creating a small spot on his underwear. “And I bet you taste really good.”

With this final sentence, he brought your panties up to his lips and gave it a long and slow lick. The scene unraveling in front of your eyes caused your wall to clench around the vibrator.

While he licked your juices off your panties and looked at you the entire time, needy moans were the only sounds coming out of your lips. You had never imagined he would do something like that. Although it was something extraordinarily new for you, you still enjoyed it somehow, and made sure your brain was recording every piece of it. It would come in handy whenever you two were apart.

“So, so sweet, princess. That’s my good girl.” He leaned down and pecked your lips quickly, soon loosening his tie. “How about we take this off now?”

He ran his fingers over the toy, putting some extra pressure on the part that was close to your clit. In slow and teasing movements, he pulled the vibrator out of you, a string of your own juices still making a connection between you.

The action forced you to buckle your hips up, desperation and lust being the only things rushing through your veins then. You were indeed sensitive, just like he had predicted, but you still wanted to feel his lips, fingers and cock playing with you.

“Can you, please, fuck me, daddy? I’ve been waiting all day long…”

Your voice broke his trance in a billion of pieces, and the way he looked at you was slightly dangerous. You loved his eyes whenever he looked at you like that. And he loved looking at you like that, because it meant he was about to fuck your brains out.

Without any words, he used one of his hands to pull your chin down and open your lips, and the other to shove your recently licked panties into your mouth.

“You’re gonna be real good for daddy now, alright, princess?” The same hand he had used to make you gag on your own underwear was now pressing the sides of your neck and cutting all the existing air in your body.

You rolled your eyes to the back of your head and your moans were muffled by the fabric in your mouth. While still choking you and eating you up with his eyes, his free hand travelled to your pussy and he went straightforward to your clit.

“You’re soaking wet, babe. Aren’t you a desperate whore?” His fingers moved in circular gestures and they were increasing in speed second after second. “My desperate whore, though.”

Eyes shut tightly, eyebrows furrowed together, and tension building in your lower stomach area, you whimpered and nodded at everything he was doing at that moment.

George was crazy about the way your wetness painted his fingers, the way he had been the one to cause all that, the way you were indeed slightly swollen yet begging for more, and the way you were entirely his. The entire situation was almost like a mirage to his eyes, and his secret devotion for you could not get any bigger at that moment. He lusted over you, but he also loved you more than anything else in the entire universe.

Soon enough, another orgasm washed over you as tiny tears escaped your eyes. Sounds that resembled screams quite a lot escaped your lips, but did not make very far as for echoing in the room.

George’s touch became gentle again and he allowed you to breathe properly again. You opened your eyes and found him smiling at you, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone and words of praise escaping his lips in whispered notes.

The mix of feelings both of you had always felt during these moments was something really out of this world, and how he could so easily switch from being dominant to being loving only made you feel more submissive to him.

“Is it okay if daddy fucks you now, princess? Do you think you can take it?” This time, however, you could not even nod. Pleasure was still sending waves of shock down your spine and you needed some extra time to recover. So you only blinked in response, tilting your head to the side and pressing your face against his hand.

“You remember our safe word, yeah? And you know that you can use it anytime, right? I’ll stop it right away, darling.”

You closed your eyes once more, humming in response. Deep down inside, you wondered if you could handle another round. You were exhausted already. Being teased the entire day was no easy task, and being teased by George Weasley was enough to make anyone drown in lust.

However, something inside of you wanted to go that extra notch. You knew he wanted it, too, and you would do anything to pleasure him. And, on top of all that, it had been the best birthday you had ever had, so why not make it memorable?

As you remained silent, he pressed gentle kisses to your temples and forehead, fingers running over your nipples through your delicate and almost innocent looking bra. Whatever answer came from you, it would not matter much to him. He was happy to stay with you like that, completely ignoring his own needs and focusing solely on you and what was best for you.

But you opened your eyes after a while, a new energy bursting inside you and that same old crave for him still burning as strongly as ever. You and George exchanged a long stare and both of you just knew it.

You knew you were respected and taken care of by your soul mate, and he knew he had found everything he had always looked for.

He undressed as you watched wordlessly, your underwear now soaked by your own saliva. A few moments later, he lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you a bit more by rubbing his shaft against your incredibly sensitive cunt.

“Don’t forget to use our safeword if you need it, princess.”

And, with that, he buried himself inside you. You arched your back and cried out instantly, the feeling of finally being full of him giving you everything you had been longing for the entire day. He got a grip on your hip bones and started pumping in and out of you slowly.

Your walls felt so tight around him, repeatedly clenching his member, and your warmness was not of much help either. He had spent the day in a torturous manner as well, imagining if you were enjoying what he decided to do with you. Images of you taking deep breaths from time to time, covering your mouth, and gasping had popped into his mind in the worst moments, and it had been hard for him to focus on anything else other than the moment he would see you again.

George fucked you in a romantic and patient way. He adjusted to your needs, paying attention to your body and your reactions. His thrusts were steady and deep, dripping with the great devotion he felt for you.

But when he felt his own orgasm was approaching, he sustained a faster and sloppier pace, your name leaving his lips like a mantra and his fingers focusing on your clit once more.

Unison moaning filled the air hovering above the two of you, and you felt you were close as well. It did not take long until you were coming undone for him and him only, nails digging onto his forearms and more small tears streaming down your cheeks.

George’s moans became louder and he knew it was time. While you still trembled and gasped for air, he slipped out of you, but kept on stroking himself. He violently pulled your panties out of your mouth and, once you understood what he was about to do, you stuck your tongue out.

His warm seed fell on your face, painting your tongue and bits of your chin as well. He breathed heavily, his hand still stroking himself and your name leaving his lips.

You somehow managed to pull off an innocent and submissive look, despite the exhaustion that now took over your body, while moving your tongue and savoring the way he had again made you his. With your eyes stuck on him, you whimpered and waited for his permission to swallow the white ropes on your tongue.

“Fucking Merlin, princess.” George was sweaty and a tad exhausted as well, but the sight of you with your lips covered in his cum was too amazing to be wasted. “Hold on a sec.”

He left you like that, tongue stuck out and cum continuously releasing its flavor in your mouth. And, when he returned, he had an instant camera in hands. Your eyes widened and, once more, he was surprising you with things he had never done before.

“Make a really pretty pose for daddy.” Sweet chuckles were captured by his ears, which only caused him to chuckle too and tell you, again, how much of a good girl you were for him.

You stuck your tongue out even further, and your fingers were brought up to your bra. You rolled up the piece and your breasts were then visible. Still using your fingers, you spread his cum around your lips and chin area, and even took a bit of it to both of your nipples. It was enough to make him hard again.

“Get ready now.” Right before he snapped the picture, you played with his cum, a string of the liquid connecting your tongue and your middle finger. He groaned at the scene, internally swearing he could fuck you until the daylight.

Once the picture was out and you could see it perfectly, you swallowed his cum, but enjoyed feeling the remains of it on your skin. For a brief while, he selfishly stared at the little square on his hand, mesmerized by the way the picture moved and had captured you being so dirty. His fingertips ran over his sensitive tip and he threw his head back, but he was quick to return to reality.

“Do you wanna see it?”

You nodded at his words, body turning towards him. George was someone who managed to look good even after exhaustion and huge waves of pleasure. His eyelids looked somewhat heavy, and he still found a bit of difficulty to breathe properly. Love overflew from your heart and you were unable to hold a small smile back.

His body fell down next to yours, against the white sheets of your bed, and his head rested on his pillow. He showed you the picture and, strangely enough, you loved watching yourself like that. Your self-esteem skyrocketed.

“Do you like it, daddy?”

“I love it, princess. I guess it’s my new favorite picture of yours. Being such a good slut for daddy, huh? Covered in his cum and showing it off.”

The picture was put down and your tired body was brought closer to his. He pressed his lips against yours in a sweet, slow and sloppy kiss, a huge contrast compared to the way he had treated you throughout your birthday.

He broke the kiss after a minute or two, and studied all of your features. The picture was obviously mesmerizing for him, but the reality he had created with you was much, much better.

“You’re the love of my life. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to celebrate your birthday with you.” As he whispered his confession, you placed your hands on his chest and scratched his freckled skin gently, something you know he adored. He peppered your face with delicate kisses and then proceeded to speak again, his caring nature slipping through the cracks of his dominant self.

“Happy birthday, princess. Words will never be enough to fully express my love for you.”

Celebrating your birthday next year did not sound too much of a bad idea, after all.

Tag list! ❤️ @efyra @writingsomewrongs @kellsslut @pineapplesandpinas @fiction-is-the-new-reality @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa @emmaev @asthmax @anchoeritic​ @eunoia-kth​ @asimpfortheweasleys @wand3ringr0s3​ @superbturtlemakerathlete​ @darthwheezely​

[darwin-xf]

Love is a Verb

His dick knew things.

In general, thinking with your little head not your big one got a bad rap.

But for him? The opposite seemed to apply.

Of course he’d been mortified when he sprung to life in her hand the night before, with Scully in full on doctor mode, acting so clinical and detached. While he was so very very exposed.

A wave of anger arose in the wake of his humiliation. At her. Which wasn’t fair. She was doing him a favor, after all. Examining him, because they were stuck in a crap motel in the middle of nowhere Florida, the day after a hurricane, flights snafued, roads clogged with debris. And him with a sea monster bite on his neck and an angry itchy red rash on his dick to match. She was caring for him, just like she always did. Even though neither one of them was exactly comfortable about the prospect.

But now, considering what that moment of vulnerability had led to, he was glad it happened. And hardly surprised.

And when his big head has been muddled and confused on a night a few weeks before? His dick had shown the way forward. When a different woman had laid her hands on him, slipped her tongue into his mouth.

He didn’t want her. He felt like a block of wood as she kissed him and touched him. And yet he let it happen. His mind filled with a fuzzy gray static as she whispered to him how she needed him, how she’d never stopped loving him, until she was kneeling on the floor in front of him. She opened his pants and he let her, hungry for something she was offering. He would think a lot about that later.

But then his dick was in her mouth. And she worked it, employed all her little tricks. And still it stayed soft.

Until, giving up, she stood. She crossed the room and poured herself a scotch. He tucked his junk in his pants and zipped up. Not even embarrassed.

“You love her,” Diana said, her back to him.

He nodded. “I do.”

“But Fox,” she said, closing the distance between them, sitting down next to him, “She doesn’t know you like I do. There’s so much I want to give you...”

She launched into the pitch he’d heard from her before. Since she returned, she’d been whispering to him whenever she could get him alone, offering him access. “There are so many things we can accomplish together, Fox. Why would you want to keep toiling in the dark when you can shape the future of the human race? You’ve more than earned your seat at the table. And your voice is needed there...”

Though he never really felt engaged in these conversations, his big head listened to what Diana had to say.

But the little one was more persuasive. Not to mention more persistent. The truth was, Scully had been the only one able to get him off for months. Though of course she hadn’t touched him.

His extensive collection of salacious videotapes these days stayed tucked in their hiding places, moldering in their cases. The magazines delivered to his door each month, Penthouse and Hustler and Escort and Razzle and Club, remained stacked on his entryway table, their spines uncracked, their pages unperused. Most with the black no-see-um wrapper still intact.

A fact Scully discovered while visiting his apartment a few weeks before. She turned up on the late side one evening, work on her mind, files in her hand, her body tucked dutifully away in some dark suit.

“Oh that,” he said when she placed her palm on the towering cache of smut, popped an eyebrow in his direction. She had spent enough time in his space to understand that this was a departure from his usual behavior, where his porn was concerned. Whereby he’d rip the covers off the mags as soon as they arrived and leaf through them, looking for anything particularly good. He’d turn down the corners of memorable pages then leave them piled haphazardly around his place: on end tables, under the fishtank, next to his bed.

The explanation was not something he was prepared to share. So he thought fast, and invented something on the fly that seemed remotely plausible. “Yeah, the boys tell me that those are going to be collector's items soon. Print is dead, Scully. Everyone making the switch from atoms to bits and bytes. Paper’s so pulpy and inefficient. I have a book on it somewhere...” He riffled through his bookshelf, glad to escape her excruciating gaze. He plucked out a book and handed her a copy of Being Digital by Nicholas Negroponte. “He’s a smart guy. You should check it out.”

His effort to distract her was in vain. She put the book aside without glancing at the cover and continued to silently cross-examine him. He pretended to be interested in another book he’d pulled at random, but the moment stretched on uncomfortably. "I thought I could get more for them if they remained in pristine condition,” he said as he paged through the book he wasn’t reading. For all he knew he was holding it upside down. “You know how people keep their Star Wars toys in the boxes with the cellophane on?”

She shrugged, unconvinced. But she moved on, willing to let it go. Her stacked heels clacked obnoxiously against his hardwood floors as she slowly made her way into his living room.

He doubted she wanted to know the real reason. Though he was pretty sure he could turn the tables on her if he blurted it out. It would serve her right for the way she roamed around his apartment and let her eyes light on his stuff, storing her little data points in that mind, trying to figure him out. But maybe one day the tea leaves of his pitiable life she seemed so eager to read would finally speak to her. Maybe it would occur to her what was actually going on.

Which was that every time he touched himself, he imagined it was her hand. And he would try to switch things over, open one of his skin mags— his trusty strategy for years when it came to getting his thoughts off his partner and back where they belonged —but it wasn’t working anymore.

He’d listlessly page through the glossies, looking for a promising spread, land on some blowjob scene and eyeball it for a while. But when he got down to business it, was her mouth on him, warm and receptive, her eyes on his face, his hands in her coppery hair. He’d smolder for a while, thinking of her lips, her strong small hands, and always her eyes, then feverishly work himself up. And the magazine, forgotten, would slip away onto the floor.

On the bright side, his inappropriate intrusive fixation on his FBI partner was saving him two hundred bucks a month he used to spend on phone sex. The last time he dialed in he couldn’t even get it up. So he spilled his guts to one of his regular providers, droning on for forty-five minutes about how he had it bad for his partner, all the things she did that made him crazy, the reasons he couldn’t tell her. Realizing even therapy would be cheaper, and feeling like a terrible cliché, he’d quit calling those numbers.

His videos were his last line of defense. Their absorbing input had always been able to capture his attention, so he’d try one of those. It might work for a few minutes, but the real action was behind his eyes. In his mind it was her heels digging in to the small of his back as he plunged into her tight little cunt. She’d be beneath him hot and panting, open her mouth to moan and he’d stuff his fingers in, slide them wetly against her tongue. Soon he’d be picking up the pace... The television would blare fruitlessly in the background, rife with bad dialogue and silicone silo tits and oh babys. The money shot would come and go, unseen by him, and the screen would fade to black.

The reason porn had quit working was simple: in his fantasies, she always comes too. Usually more than once. He’d start slow, imagine he was taking his time kissing his way down her body. That could take a while. Then he’d tease her, rubbing the fat head of his cock up and down her slit. When she begged him to, he’d slip inside her and slam his hips forward. He’d hold there, bottomed out, and kiss her sweet mouth. Then he’d slide it in and out, looking into her eyes, feeling every inch of her.

Soon he’d need to fuck her harder, faster. He’d reach down to tease her clit until she was thrashing and pleading. Then she’d say his name, and her face would change, and she’d come on his dick. He’d watch her ride it out, humming with pleasure as her warm wet circles broke against him and travelled up his body in waves. Till his nuts and his gut and his heart and his throat and his brain were replete with her. Finally he’d come, imagining he was cradled by her hips and rocking, buried deep inside her, spilling his secrets into her ear.

In his dirty busy mind he’d already had her so many places and ways: in showers and motel beds, in cars and elevators, bent over his desk at work, the door unlocked, her skirt bunched around her waist, her drugstore pantyhose dangling from her ankle. Quick or slow or sweet or mean, acrobatic or missionary, rough or tender. Or both. God. Even boring. Just the two of them in his bed, nose to nose under the covers, whispering and giggling and whiling away a Sunday morning.

And the most pathetic and woebegone detail? Sometimes his fantasies contained no sex at all. He wanted to watch a movie with her feet parked in his lap. He wanted to shop for groceries with her and hold her hand on the walk home. To spend a weekend with her on the Vinyard and show her his old high school. He wanted to rub her back when she was sad and play footsie with her under the table during boring budget meetings. He wanted to gather her close and kiss her eyelids and hold her in his arms as she fell asleep. To watch her to rise naked from his bed and pull on his clothes she’d just stripped from his body. On red eye flights he wanted to leave the arm rest up and snuggle with her under those dingy felt blankets. To read to her while she soaked in the tub and find the nooks and hollows of her body where she was ticklish. He wanted to make her giggle, make her laugh, make her cry happy tears. He wanted to make her wet just with his voice. To lay in bed and watch while she got dressed for church. He wanted to kiss her in front of her idiot brother, maybe even slip her a tasteful amount of tongue. To shower with her before work, to soap her up and shampoo her hair. He wanted to stock his fridge with an assortment of her gross non-dairy yogurts.

Scully. Before she’d even descended into his office and introduced herself, he assumed she was a plant. Or a dupe, a patsy. Why else would a promising and talented young agent be conscripted to his lonely, disrespected division? Most likely she’d already agreed to keep tabs on him, to cast his work in a negative light. And even if she hadn’t, he was certain she’d be manipulated, using the lever of her obvious ambition, into doing so. He also suspected, since she’d spent most of her time thus far in the FBI in the lab or the classroom, that she was a house cat. The kind of agent who might hold romantic notions about working in the field, but who would soon balk at the grueling, unpredictable hours, the endless travel, the physical grind. And blanch at the dangers. It’s no kind of life for anybody who wants a life.

By the time their flight touched down in Oregon on that first case, he knew for sure that she was fun to spar with. And all kinds of smart. And even sort of cute. And while it can obviously be helpful to have a partner if things go sideways, he remembers hoping that didn’t happen to them before she washed out and retreated back to the lab. Because he suspected this itty bitty pathologist with zero field experience and impractical footwear? Would be more likely to become a liability than properly cover his flank.

After they’d worked a half dozen cases together, it was fair to say he’d reconsidered the hasty assumptions he’d made about Scully. Which is to say she surprised him at every turn. Except on the couple of occasions when she’d astonished him, leaving him flat-footed and slack-jawed in her wake. Against all odds, he had himself a partner. Which is not to say he fully trusted her. Not yet. And he doubted she’d hang around much longer.

But still. He’d learned that she was game. Skeptical and rational, but up for anything. She never complained about bad food or lumpy beds. And courageous, staring down firearms pushed in her face without blinking. She was fearless and cagy, and could take a punch or dish one out. And in the next moment she could soften, to connect with a suspect or a victim, to care for a child, or for him. She believed deeply in what she was doing. When he bumbled into trouble, which he seemed to have a knack for, she more than had his back. Yet when she’d sided with him and blew off her buddies from the Academy? It wasn’t loyalty to him she was demonstrating, but to the victims. To the truth. Above all, Scully was honest.

In some ways, he knew her so well. Yet all these years later there was there were aspects to her he could only guess at. Scully, he’d come to understand, was a deeply private person. Didn’t give pieces of herself away in idle conversation, like most people do. The fact that he was a trained and skilled profiler didn’t seem to help. In his fevered mind he’d become preoccupied with the things he didn’t know about her. Like how, exactly, does she like to be touched? He thought about that a lot. Is she a morning sex person? (God he hoped so.) Is she loud in bed? Or more quiet and intense? A little repressed, or wild and uninhibited? He could imagine it either way. Is she bossy? Submissive? A little of both? What does she taste like? Does she talk dirty? Will she like it when he does? (Because he definitely does.) How would he tease her? What are her kinks? Does she like it rough? And if he wanted to go down on her for hours, would she be okay with that?

So, yeah. He loved her.

That switch had been flicked for him on a steamy summer evening, a moment when he’d been staring down the real possibility of losing her. She walked away. He followed her, flew out his door like he’d been shot out of a cannon. Stormed up to her where she’d turned to face him in his hallway. Fists clenched, voice raised, he was in full on fighting mode. But he wasn’t fighting her. He was fighting to keep her. So instead of telling her off, as his body language suggested he might, he told her what she meant to him. How he needed her. Things he hadn’t even realized before they came out of his mouth. But all of it the truth.

She’d been girded and resolute, her body rigid and self-contained. But then she broke, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, she softened and stepped into his embrace. He looked in her impossibly blue eyes glinting with tears and realized with dreadful certainty that, Christ, he was going to kiss his partner. More than that, if she let him, he was going to pick her up and carry her back through the door of his apartment and lay her down and fuck her.

That plan had been derailed, but the urge for him remained. And not long after, he gathered his courage and, with all the earnestness he could muster, he’d looked her in the eyes and confessed.

So he’d told her that he loved her. But had he shown her?

That was a thorny question, and it made him uncomfortable to consider it. Because he had to admit that for the most part, he hadn’t.

It was strange, but once his feelings for Scully had shifted, his behavior toward her had become less loving. For one thing, he didn’t let her in on that fact that she’d become the only featured player in his secret late-nite fantasy theatre. But more than that, he found himself especially irritable with her. Dismissive. Self-centered. Sometimes even cold.

When he was looking for an excuse to be angry with her, he told himself a story that she’d rejected him. Because, oh brother. But he’d seen her eyes go wide for an instant, felt her animal panic. She’d pored over his hospital chart and had to know he wasn’t high. So he’d concluded that she didn’t want him. Didn’t love him.

And Fowley’d chosen that inopportune moment to skip back over the pond and make a play for his ass. And though he had no interest in rekindling that relationship, just having her around reminded him of all the reasons it just might be a bad idea to get tangled up sexually with your partner.

More than that, even though he knew that Scully felt insecure because of Diana for several legitimate reasons, he hadn’t bothered to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about. When Diana called him and invited him downstairs for lunch, he’d go. Mostly to be near his files, and to mine the trashcans for cases when her back was turned. But he’d steal away from the bullpen, not tell Scully where he was off to, or why. He let her twist in the wind, wondering who Diana was to him and what her reappearance meant for their partnership.

It would make sense that once you’ve discovered the person you love, the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your days (not even to mention nights), the person who is, quite possibly, it for you? That you would try to make that happen. To lock that down. And yet he seemed to be doing everything but.

Even after she’d been shot by Ritter, and he’d almost lost her again.

And why was that? How to explain this puzzling behavior.

Maybe she didn’t want him, and he was just protecting himself.

The thing was, when he was being honest, he knew that wasn’t true. When he’d been about to kiss her in his hallway, she’d looked confused at first. And then concerned, with real fear flashing in her eyes. But by the time his lips were hovering over hers? They were on the same page. She’d gone molten in his arms, and her mouth awaited his, wet and ready. His body remembered how she’d opened to him, with her sweet breath and her fingers on his neck. He knew in his bones how that encounter would have ended, if not for that stupid fucking bee. Recalled it every chance he got.

As a psychologist, looking at the situation objectively? He’d have to conclude that he was engaging in some epic self-sabotage. Yup.

That night in her apartment when Diana had made her intentions clear, he’d agreed like some kind of docile sheep to join her. To scrum up with the other chosen few at El Rico Air Force Base as Armageddon loomed and save himself at the expense of the rest of humanity. And Scully, even though he wasn’t by her side where he belonged, was still fighting. For him, For them. For the truth. For the future.

And to repay her for her steadfast faith in him and devotion to their work? He was flirting with the one thing that could tear them apart. With inflicting a betrayal that could send her packing for good.

They’d dodged a bullet that night. More than that, they’d gotten their files back, and were free to resume their work. And by any measure he should have felt relieved. But he woke the next morning with a hangover worse than any he’d ever gotten from liquor. He looked in the mirror to shave and realized he couldn’t even meet his own gaze. He was ashamed. And he had to admit that he’d been seduced by Diana after all. Not into bed, but into complacency.

Needing some time and space to think things through, he called Skinner and redeemed a few vacation days. He threw some clothes in a bag and set out driving, not sure of his destination.

On the road, heading north, armed with this new clarity, he mulled things over. How was he going to feel, he wondered, when he succeeded and chased her away? That seemed to be his end game, after all. He knew what he’d do. He’d track her down to wherever she’d absconded to and interrupt her as she attempted to reboot her life. Then, looking desperate and half mad, he’d profess his love.

But it would be too late. She would conclude, quite logically, that he only wanted her when she was leaving. And even if she loved him like he hoped she might, she would not settle for that. Not Scully. And it would be selfish of him to ask her to.

It hit him then, with complete and utter clarity, that he had no idea how to love someone. He’d had bad models and a dearth of life experience in that arena. He knew how he felt. But love is a verb. It’s about what you do. She had taught him that.

He was good with the grand gestures, sure. Tracking her down at the bottom of the world and fishing her out of an enormous alien vessel, for example. Then breathing life back into her and hauling her to the surface while sidestepping rabid lizard monsters who swiped at them with razor-edged claws? Check.

But she needed more. For him to find mundane ways to express his care and concern, perhaps. To show her how much she mattered to him. How much he valued her and all the ways she contributed to their work. To his life. She needed to see that he put her first. She deserved these things. She had earned them. And he knew wouldn’t let him glimpse her secret self, let him know her like he desperately wanted to, until he gave them to her.

He wasn’t sure he could do it. But he knew he had to try.

He decided to start right away. He’d been thinking of her all morning, of course. About celebrating their return by pressing her her against a wall in their office and pushing into her, fucking her breathless and senseless before lunch, to be exact. But he hadn’t thought of her at all, he realized. Not really.

Scully. She’d be there right now, in the basement waiting for him, their first day back where they belonged. Wondering where he could be with half the morning gone. Bewildered as to what might be keeping him from reclaiming his precious turf. Maybe she already talked to Skinner and knew he was taking a few days off. Maybe she’d be worried. Or pissed. Or worse, wondering if he was enjoying a morning lounging in bed with a treacherous leggy brunette.

At the next rest stop, he pulled off and powered up his cell phone. He was relieved to see that he'd missed a call from her. She hadn’t given up on him yet.

Rather than listen to her message, he dialed her back. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey Mulder,” she said.

“Hey Scully,” he said. “Are you in the office?”

“I am,” she said. “Where I thought for sure you would be. Skinner told me you were on vacation. What’s going on?” Her voice was brittle. Defensive.

“I will be, Scully. I’ll meet you there. And soon. But I need to take care of a few things first.”

“Okay,” she said thoughtfully. “What kinds of things?”

“I, ah, I need to get my head straight before coming back. I’ve been mixed up. About some stuff.”

“I see,” she said.

They were both quiet for long seconds.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Me?” The question surprised her. “I’m good. Enjoying the quiet. Working on expense reports. Glad to be out of the bullpen.”

“You sure? You were popular, Scully. I think Agent Kargoll was working up the nerve to ask you out.” Mulder would glare at him as he brought her a donut on a little plate in the mornings. He’d leave it on the corner of the desk if she wasn’t in yet, like an offering to the high priestess.

“Yep,” she said. “I noticed that too. Reassigned in the nick of time...”

“I did my best to scare him off...”

“He was persistent, I’ll give him that.”

“He seemed like a nice enough guy. You could do worse than landing a boyfriend who arrives bearing gifts every morning...”

“I could do better, too.”

“No doubt,” he said. “What would be better than that?”

“Hmm. Why do you ask?”

“Research,” he said.

“Research,” she repeated. “Okay. Let’s see. The bearing gifts is ok. But maybe someone with some sense of what I actually like?”

“Let me jot that down,” he said. She snorted a little laugh. Which warmed him all the way through. “It’s true, Scully, you’re not a big fan of donuts. I benefitted from his crush on you more than you did.”

“I tried to wait until he had his back turned before handing those off to you...”

“You’re very kind,” he said.

Just then a truck blew by on the highway, laying on the booming brake, rocking his car.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I, ah, hit the road this morning. Just to think. Just to drive. But I suppose I’m heading home. To see my mother for a few days.”

“Everything okay?” she asked. He heard the concern in her voice, the fear that she’d be needing to tend to him trepanned and shocky, bail him out of jail. The usual.

“Yeah,” he said. “Or it will be. I really think it will be.”

“Allright Mulder,” she said after a long beat. “I’ll be holding down the fort. Drive safe. And keep in touch.”

“I will. And save me some of that paperwork, Scully.”

She laughed and hung up.

He had, in fact, visited his mother. She was glad to see him, and he stayed a few days, helped her out with some chores around the house. Got on a ladder and plucked the muck and leaves from the gutters, shifted some dusty furniture from the basement to the curb.

And he absorbed the silences of that house, his mother’s sadness, the way every possession, every exchange seemed steeped in a deep, abiding misery.

He remembered his mother different. Laughing, for example. Playing bridge with her friends, toying with her strand of pearls as she leaned in to gossip. Teasing him with a glint of joy in her eyes. Before Samantha had been taken.

It had broken her. Broken all of them. Now she ghosted around her own home, tending to her roses, watching television. Always alone. He lived much the same way. This was all that was left.

All because his father had been unable to protect them from the men he worked with, no matter how noble his intentions. The same men he had been tempted by Fowley to join up with, if he was telling the truth. Now they were reduced to ash. He had no idea what remained, but he knew he and Scully would find out.

By the time he climbed in his car to come home, he was committed to not making his father’s mistake. And to living differently. Less stubbornly solitary. To inviting some goodness into his life, no matter how strange it felt.

And last night, when it was actually happening, when he was wrapped up in bed with Scully in real life, it had been so vivid, so peculiar. As he rolled his naked frame against hers, time slowed down. In his head he heard the seconds ticking away distorted by doppler effect, whomp whomp. Felt his stiff prick slide against her buttery thigh, painfully slow. Pressed his ear to her chest. Imagined the steady squeeze and release of her heart beneath her breastbone. Heard the whoosh of her blood through her veins.

Looked up at her flushed face, this beautiful untamable breakable beast.

And he loved her.

He’d told her so.

Now he needed to show her.

Thanks for reading. Check it out at Ao3 This fic stands alone, but is also chapter 10 of Bedside Manner

[sirisuorionblack]

An unsafe home

Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader

Requested -  A Sirius X reader story where the reader is a Muggle born and a Slytherin. So when the tension of the war gets heavy in the castle she gets attacked by some fellow housemates. Maybe regulus is involved? I don't know. A protective and scared Sirius who just realises how violent things are starting to get even at a "safe place" as Hogwarts.

Warnings - Injuries. 

A/N So I went a little overboard here and perhaps it may be rushed in the end. And Regulus has got quite a major role in here. Anyways, hope you enjoy @too-many-unhealthy-obsessions 

“Another one,” Remus muttered, grimly as his eyes scanned rapidly over the newspaper, ignoring the minimal amount of food he had on his plate.

Sirius sighed, “Who?”

“A muggle-born,” James read over Remus’ shoulder, discreetly placing two more toasts on his place, “In a muggle town. It's not the worst case, she’s been there to meet her parents, and...all of them,”

Sirius winced, “Enough, Remus,” he gently pried the newspaper off his best friend’s fingers.

“It's growing rapidly,” James whispered, “Dunno what's gonna happen next,”

Peter, who sat next to Sirius, shivered. Noticing that Sirius looked at James, subtly shaking his head, asking him to drop the topic.

“Sirius!” A voice called him, happily. He knew the voice way too well for he has heard them rant for hours in the end and he had listened without a hint of annoyance.

Sirius whipped around to look at you, walking towards him with a wide grin, your green robes contrasting amidst the red and yellow on either side. You were different, you were unique and above all you were his. Sirius loved you, loved you more than anything in this world, after all, he had thousands of reasons why.

“Hello,” You greeted him with a big smile, almost startling him to think of how lucky he is.

Sirius pulled you into his arms, kissing you softly, as though you would break if a speck of dust fell on you, but both you and Sirius knew that wasn't true but completely opposite. Pulling away, he placed his forehead to yours.  

“You guys are so cute,” Lily cooed.

Sirius laughed as you buried your head into his shoulder, “I know, Evans,”

“But not as cute as us though,” James said, grinning at Lily, who shook her head with a subtle smile on her face.

“I still don't know how I ended up with you, Potter,” she said, kissing his cheek.

You glanced at Sirius and then at the two of them and back at him, “I know what you are thinking, darling,” He said, and then raised his voice, “You need to stand your point, Evans,”

“Oh, shut it, Black,” she rolled her eyes and then laughed.

“Alright, then, ladies and gentlemen,” You pulled away from Sirius and held the strap of your bag tightly over your shoulder, “Unlike you seventh years, we have some real studies to do,”

“Well, the sixteen year olds nowadays are real arses, arent they?” Remu commented, smirking at you.

You scoffed, “Trust me, Lupin, you haven't been with a thirteen year old for very long,”

Regulus joined you as you walked to your Potions class, “How are you?”

Remus chuckled, “She’s not wrong though,” he said to James.

“What the-?” you chuckled at the sudden choice of question.

“Did you complete the potions assignment Slughorn gave?” Regulus asked, skimming through the parchments in his hand.

“Did you?” you asked. Regulus gritted his teeth and shook his head.

You sighed having a vague idea of what might have taken his time. Smiling, you linked your arm with him, “Slughorn loves you, Reg, so, no worries,”

“Woah, look at that, will you?” a group of students blocked your path, the silver and green ties flashing as the malicious smirk on their faces made the two colours look dirty.

“What's wrong with you Black boys, one hanging out with the same mudblood his brother shags,” A girl in the front said, twisting a piece of hair between her fingers, a nasty smirk on her artificial pink lips.

Before you could react, Regulus had his wand out. “Regulus, no,” You warned, tugging his arm, “Let's leave,”

“Aw, to where?” The girl asked, “To that traitorous disappointing scumbag of a lover you have?”

She struck the nerve and she knew it for she let out a maniacal laughter, pulling out her wand from her robes.

“Stupefy!” “Petrificus totalus!” The two of you yelled simultaneously.

Slytherins behind the girl laughed and giggled watching curses fly off from two ends of two contrasting wands and motives.

A beam of red light flew from yours and the girl - Carie, you heard after one of the Slytherins cheered her - ducked it, hitting the buff boy behind her.

His nostrils flared as he held out his own wand, hurling curses towards you just as Carie did. Regulus raised his wand too, trying to fend them off but another Slytherin kid engaged him in a duel of his own.

You were getting exhausted, struggling to keep up with the hexes thrown towards you. Suddenly, there was a different burst of green light from the tip of someone’s wand, hurling right at you.

The next few minutes were spent in a blur - the green beam hit you right in the chest. You gasped, feeling as though the air was knocked out of your lungs as your head spun rapidly. Struggling with proper balance, you felt your body curve into a graceful arc and sensed the shirt of your school uniform get wet. The vicious dancing black spots took over.

On the opposite end of the castle, Sirius sat in his transfiguration class, doodling on the piece of parchment before him and often glancing over Remus’ shoulder at what he is writing.

Suddenly, a violent shiver ran down his body, a feeling of dread settling on his chest.

“What's wrong?” Remus asked, irritatedly, finally looking up from his parchment.

“I dunno,” Sirius mumbled, taking a deep breath and loosening his tie. Remus glanced at him, concerned one last time before returning to his notes.

Sirius glanced around the room for his friends, James was seated before him with Lily, raking a hand through his messy hair and staring at her while she listened intently to Professor McGonagall, Peter was to Sirius’ left, twisting the quill in his hand.

Sirius rubbed his neck, the restlessness rising within his figure as he shuffled in his seat.

The moment the bell rang, Sirius dashed out of the room, not even caring to take his bag as he rushed down the corridor in search of his brother and you.

He found Regulus first. Unfortunately, his little brother stood right before the hospital wing that did nothing to stop the dread rising in Sirius.

“Reggie,” Sirius gasped, “I mean, uhm, Regulus, have-are you alright?!” He spotted the red blotch on the front of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Regulus breathed.

“Then what's this!?” Sirius asked, panic raising to an unwanted amount.

Regulus took a deep breath and shuddered. He looked around the corridor as if expecting someone to be there, once he realised it was after all deserted, he threw himself into his elder brother’s arms, holding Sirius tightly.

Sirius drew a sharp breath as he uncertainly wrapped his arms around Regulus. He could feel his brother shaking, “Reggie, hey, it's OK, I am here,”

“She-they-(Y/N)-” Regulus stuttered into Sirius’ shoulder.

“What's wrong with her?” Sirius asked hurriedly, pulling away from Regulus, who took a shuddering breath and gulped. He raised his hand, pointing towards the hospital wing.

Sirius looked at the door and then back at little brother, the grip on his arm tightened, “Come with me?”

Regulus’ filled with tears as he slowly shook his head, pushing his brother away he ran.

“Reg-” Sirius watched as his brother disappeared into the corner and clenched his shirt tightly, looking down at it, he realised the red liquid - which resembled so much like blood - was now on his white shirt too.

Wiping his tears, Sirius warily walked to push the door of the infirmary open, afraid of what waited inside for him.

The smell of blood and potions filled his nostrils making him flinch. Sirius looked at the bed around except one crowded with nurses, he hoped his (Y/N) wouldn't be there, he hoped.

“Mr Bl- Sirius?” Madam Pomfrey looked at Sirius, her eyes widened. She rushed to him, “What are you doing here?”

“(Y/N),” Sirius said simply, looking behind her shoulder.

“Sirius,” she placed her hand on his arm, “She is not here,”

“Oh? But Regulus said-” he pointed behind him.

A young nurse rushed towards Madam Pomfrey and whispered to her. She sighed in relief and nodded, “Sirius, she is alright,”

“So she is here?” Sirius asked, hopelessly looking around, his eyes were drawn to the crowded bed however he distracted himself.

“Sirius,” Madam Pomfrey moved to stand before him, her hands on his arms, squeezing with motherly affection. She sighed and looked as though she was contemplating something, “She is here. I will let you see her only if you assure me that you would stay calm, am I clear?”

Sirius nodded rapidly and desperately. Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath and guided him to the farthest bed - the crowded one. He felt the air knocked out of his lungs as he realised that, after all, his hope was squashed into a pulp.

You laid on the bed wrapped in a new robe and the infirmary white sheet pulled up to your chest, nurses by you, checking your pulse and pouring measure potions into goblets. Sirius felt his world crumble as he saw your discarded white blouse, it was drenched with blood, the white colour almost invisible; if he hadn’t known better he would have thought you were simply asleep. 

Sirius grabbed whatever was next to him, providing support to his shaking figure. His breath came out in struggled pants. The red stain on his shirt is the love of his life’s blood.

Madam Pomfrey watched as the boy shivered and his knees wobbled as though he would collapse any second. She watched as he blankly stared at the ground, his mind, perhaps, occupied beyond necessary that allowed tears to well in his eyes but not drop.

Sirius drew a deep breath as he stumbled towards you, alerting the nurse who glanced behind him at Madam Pomfrey who shook her head.

He crouched before you, one hand cupping your cheek the other resting on top of your hands that laid on your stomach. With Sirius’ wobbling lip he leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“What happened?” He asked to no one in particular, his eyes still scanning your face.

“We don't know,” Madam Pomfrey answered, honestly, “Regulus had barged in with her, she was unconscious,” and she hurriedly added, “She is alright now,”

“When will she wake up?” he asked.

“Within an hour or so,” Madam Pomfrey muttered.

So, Sirius waited, often heaving deep breaths to calm himself. This was supposed to be his home, where he could be safe and protected, where his loved ones could be safe yet here you were.

Every since “Voldemort” was rising, ever since he ran away from Grimmauld Place, ever since the tension between him and his little brother rose, Sirius just wanted to take you away, away to a place where he knew you would be safe and secure, not a thing can harm you. Just you and him, like a family that he always wanted - protected, protective, safe and loved beyond measure. 

“Sirius,” You mumbled, squeezing his hand.

“Puppy,” Sirius whipped his head to look at you, “You alright? What happened?”

Gulping, you pulled Sirius closer, resting your forehead against his. Sirius moved so that he was sat on the edge of the bed, leaning towards you.

“I love you,” You gently whispered. Finally, the tears that were collected in Sirius’ eyes broke free and rolled down his cheeks rapidly.

Before you could react, Sirius smashed his lips to yours in a wet kiss. It was salty from the tears that still leaked from his eyes.

You pulled away first, hurriedly wiping away his tears although it was of no use, “Sirius-”

“I love you,” he took a ragged deep breath, “So much,”

“I love you too, Sirius,” you leaned to kiss his forehead. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you chuckled wetly, “It's OK, I am alright. Nothing is wrong. I am alright, Sirius, look at me”

“You couldn't have been,” a dry sob racked his body, drawing a gasp to tumble from your lips. You pulled him even closer, holding his hands that cupped your cheeks tightly and allowing him to rest his head on the crook of your neck.

“Please, please, it's OK,” you tried to console him.

Sirius pulled away and wiped his tears as you watched him intently. You tried to sit up and to help you, a young nurse was immediately at your side and that's when you realised there were people watching the interaction.

The nurses understanding the situation shuffled away from your bed to others’.

“What happened?” Sirius asked, shifting closer to you after nodding slightly as though asking for permission.

“Just-it was nothing, Sirius,” you mumbled, lying through your teeth and you knew Sirius found out.

“What happened, darling? Please, please, tell me,” Sirius said on the verge of begging.

You looked around using the time to contemplate your options - You could either tell him and refrain him from marching to the Slytherin common room (which would be definitely hard) or you could not tell him which is absolutely not possible.

You took a deep breath, taking Sirius’ hand in yours, holding it tightly, “I just -I-the Slytherins,” you sighed, “A duel, Sirius, and I missed it,”

“A duel!?” Sirius yelled, his forehead scrunched in confusion, “Who!?”

You were silent making Sirius repeat his question this time even insisting that before, “Carie, Carie Travers,”

The rage that painted on Sirius’ face was unlike anything you've seen before. His grey orbs were ablaze with fire and hatred as his body shook.

“Sirius,” you said, worriedly. He gritted his teeth, nose flaring as he stared at the goblet on the bedside table.

He let out a deep breath, composing himself and he nodded, “Travers, isn't it?”

“Sirius…”

“No, no, don't worry, I won't do anything,” he said, frightening calm.

“Sirius, please,” You said but he ignored it.

“How? How did the duel start?” He asked, looking into your eyes, intently.

“Not now, Sirius, please,” you pleaded, not wanting to deal with it now.

Sirius sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead, “I'm sorry,”

“It's OK,” you uncomfortably wrapped your arms around his torso and Sirius held you for a few minutes before shifting so that he leaned against the headboard and you protectively within his arms.

It wouldn't be OK. Perhaps, worse but not alright, Sirius knew that, of course, he did but he vowed to himself that he would protect you at any cost even if that means he would have to give his life, “I love you, mon amour,”

[ulalumewitch]

A Song of Shadows and Light

Short Story inspired by “Day 6: Book Predictions” by @gwynrielweek - my prediction is that Gwynriel is end game and they are mates. This takes place an undetermined amount of time into the future after ACOSF.

Author Note/Warning: Brief mentions of past abuse. If you find these ideas triggering, please skip. I hope I addressed them with the care and sensitivity they deserve.

word count: 3,279

theme: a bit of angst, feels

please note: light adult language used.

*******

Azriel’s shadow’s did not speak to him. It remained his biggest secret. They did not whisper in his ear. They did not shout, nor did they cry, nor did moan.

His shadows sang.

He always thought people would assume the truth given the name, but they never did. Others sometimes asked, ‘What do they say? What do they sound like? Do they speak to you often? Do they speak in riddles?’ But never did they ask, ‘Do they sing?’

The first time Azriel heard their song had been while staring at young hands wrapped in bandages as he sat in the cold, damp hell of darkness. The inky black he’d learned to survive in had been no life at all but the sort of torture no creature should endure. Especially not a child.

Azriel had always been intelligent. His mind worked in patterns and puzzles. When he’d been allowed to begin an education beyond the fundamentals of reading and writing - when Rhys’ utter saint of a mother took him under a literal wing - he seemed to understand everything taught to him the moment the instruction passed her, or any teacher’s, lips. Initially, Azriel thought it a gift.

Until he realized the curse of it. He never forgot anything he read or heard, and he never forgot a face. His memory remained woefully accurate. While it made him an excellent spy, Azriel used to pray to the Mother to take his memory away, to take his ability to remember the finest minute details away. Or at the very least the bad memories away…

There were seven cracks in the stone on the floor where he used to sleep, where the damp seemed a little less chilling. Twenty stones around his lightless cell. He learned them all by feeling, touching, counting. Games to keep his mind from wondering if perhaps he’d died. If, perhaps, the Mother forgot about him …

Azriel turned his face up at the sky and let the rain fall softly against his face. His wings twitched slightly at the first contact. Warm, summer rain. Refreshing. Revitalizing. The burgeoning storm ushered in cool air and finally broke the suffocatingly hot, humid weather that had plagued Velaris the last week.

He took a deep breath. And another.

The memory of the first song his shadows sang to him was not an unpleasant one. Perhaps one of the only memories from that place that didn’t belong to a nightmare. They did not sing of freedom or of hope. They sang of light. They saved him.

Every once in a while they would sing of that light. The light of stars against darkness, the light of dawn breaking after another battle won, the light of eyes sparkling in love. They wouldn’t sing of it often, but they usually sang when he needed it most.

Or whenever Gwyneth entered the room. They sang of light around her the most. Their song became loudest when she was near him and it always complimented her words, as if providing a symphony to accompany the voice that filled his dreams with rest. Real rest. Those few precious nights they fell asleep side by side doing research in the library had been the most peaceful and restful nights of his entire existence.

Azriel had been a fool. For all of his abilities to ferret out the secrets of others, to become those shadows to learn what words were whispered in the dark, he’d lost the ability to see past his own shortcomings.

He’d searched for the love he’d missed as a child his entire life. Azriel desperately wanted it for his own, to heal those old wounds and to finally become the creature he always thought he could be.

Instead, he’d lived in delusion after delusion. First, the Truth Telling Warrior Queen, and then the Lady of Flowers and Sun.

It wasn’t their fault, nor was it totally his. He didn’t realize how wrong he’d been until the creature the Mother and Cauldron had paired him with left.

Azriel couldn’t blame Gwyneth for leaving. It was the right move for her. The fact that she healed, that she worked so damned hard to be able to start a new life went beyond admirable. And she’d did it on her own. True, she had her Valkyrie sisters, himself and Cass as her mentors, and the Priestesses … and it was because of that support system that Gwyn was able to save herself from the dark and to follow her own dreams and her own path, whole and healed and independent.

And he would never stop her from being herself. Even if it ripped his heart to shreds to see her go. Even if he fought every day not to winnow to that sanctuary on the other side of the Night Court as she and the others began helping others heal from their own nightmares.

He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen in love with her. Hell, he didn’t even know he’d been in love with her until she left without saying goodbye. Until he found that godsdamned note pinned to his door, rolled up with a teal ribbon around it.

Again, words he wished he could forget burned into his memory …

Do not let the water break you, Shadowsinger. Do not be scared of the warmth light can bring either. Let it illuminate you, every part of you, because you are a creature deserving of every happiness, Azriel, and only you can stop you from finding it. I pray, one day, you will be able to leave your fear behind you. ~G.B.

Azriel lost her because he was afraid. The thing he’d chased his entire life alluded him because he’d finally found it and was too damned cowardly to admit it to himself. To admit that the teal-eyed Priestess Valkyrie Carynthian was in fact the love of his godsdamned life.

And she’d left and he refused to be selfish and to do anything that might potentially ruin the happiness she fought for and won. If anyone deserved living in the light of happiness and peace, it was Gwyn.

Azriel closed his eyes, the rain beginning to fall a little harder. A low rumble of thunder in the distance that belonged to nature and not his High Lord, rolled through his bones. He welcomed it.

“I’m sorry I was a fool,” Azriel said out loud.

The rain fell harder, drowning out his words. But as he said them, a small weight lifted as his shadows swirled around him, keeping some of the drops off of his skin. Their touch soft and reassuring.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way.”

Lightning flashed. Another crack of thunder.

‘She sings for joy and hope, her voice like a snow white dove,’ his shadows lilted, singing in his ear.

Azriel smiled through his tears as they mixed in with rain. She was happy then, she was exactly where she needed to be.

“I love you, Gwyneth,” he shouted to the storm.

Lightning and thunder and rain and his shadows sang melodies to mix with the symphony of the storm as the entire weight of the godsdamned world seemed to be lifted from him entirely. The truth and freedom of it so cathartic he let out a laugh and sob and -

A phantom pull to his middle had the Illyrian warrior stumbling forward, his hands braced and caught himself on the red wall of the training circle atop the House of Wind.

Another tug near his sternum … right over his heart …

Azriel turned as his shadows’ melody, wordless and sweet, crescendoed. A rush of breath passed through his lips as he found wide teal eyes staring at him.

He couldn’t move. For the first time in his life, Azriel forgot everything. If anyone asked him his name he likely wouldn’t remember.

All that he knew was that the beautiful creature walking towards him was no mirage. She stopped in front of him. Her beautiful copper hair somehow still shining through the dark and in the rain as it plastered to her head.

Something sparked in his chest. And Azriel, for the first time in his life, knew true happiness.

********

Gwyneth’s heart pounded as she ran through the house. It closed doors as she approached rooms as if telling her to keep going, the Shadowsinger would not be there. She had dreamed of Azriel every night since she’d been gone.

His hazel eyes, his cheekbones, his lips - those lips that she’d stare at and would forget to actually listen to what he was saying. And she’d have to ask him to repeat whatever it was and he would always quirk a smile - always the left side of his mouth - and then do as she requested. Like he knew.

But when she admitted to feeling something more than friendship. When she finally worked up the courage to broach the topic, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t because he didn’t want to push her, he gave the worst response possible.

Silence. Nothing. Not a single sound had passed those lips she’d come to love.

So, she’d left. She would have stayed. Would have carried on her work in Velaris because it was just as fulfilling as the work she now did on the other side of the Night Court. But she wouldn’t torture herself being around the Shadowsinger any longer. She’d taken his silence as a sign from the Mother that it was time for her to fly away from the nest that allowed her to grow and heal, and to live on her own.

She still had Emerie and Nesta for support as they were winnowed in a couple of times a week to help with training. The priestesses and faeries she had started to work with and train she already knew would be friends or at the very least amiable students and colleagues. Her new endeavor was exciting and scary and thrilling and all the things that she always imagined life could be.

The new compound that she, Nesta, and Emerie had dreamed up had been funded by the High Lord and High Lady, having agreed that more sanctuaries like the library should be available to others. It turned out more beautiful than she could have imagined. The Home for Wayward Stars included a temple, training centers, stables, medical building, and library. All to offer services as well as to train faeries in whatever they’d like to learn.

The compound had been built along the sea, nestled in a previously untouched basin surrounded by mountains, not unlike Velaris itself. The High Lord of Day, along with Rhysand, warded it to ensure it remained a safe haven for those seeking shelter. It was also guarded by new members of the Valkyrie so that all who sought sanctuary could begin healing in peace.

The High Lord and High Lady had been beyond kind, and even built her a small apartment that had a balcony that overlooked the sea, the waves crashing right below her and faced east. Every morning the light greeted her along with the sounds of the sea and it was perfect.

Except it really wasn’t perfect because when she woke up from her dreams of Azriel she would be alone in bed. And it infuriated her.

And so, Gwyneth decided to do something about it. The silence of his response ate away at her. She wanted a real answer. She wanted to know if he felt the same or if he didn’t. Even if the answer meant heartbreak she needed it. For closure.

But as she ascended the stairs to the training circle atop the house, her heart began to pound in her chest, and she knew he was up there. When she reached the top step she heard his voice and closed her eyes. Hearing it in her dreams was far different than the real thing.

“I’m sorry I was a fool.”

Was he talking to someone she couldn’t see?

But as she went to step out onto the roof, shadows swarmed her. Cool yet comforting, they swirled around her and gently pushed her back. She furrowed her brow but stayed put.

Gwyn loved Azriel’s shadows. When they’d researched together they’d always provide light touches to any knots in her neck and shoulders as she read, or would offer a cool breeze atop the house when training at night. Azriel always seemed to fret they would scare her but she loved them. Just like she loved him. And she just didn’t understand why -

‘Priestess of Light and Sea and Song, wait, it will not be long.’

Gwyneth’s mouth opened as she stared at the swirling shadows around her. Did they … did they just sing to her to stay put?

But Azriel’s raised voice stopped her thoughts.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way.”

She began shaking. Oh gods, what if he’d found someone else? What if she’d read him all wrong. What if he really was just a supportive friend and she had been so desperate -

“I love you, Gwyneth!”

Gwyn clamped a hand over her mouth just in time to muffle the sound of a small cry born from pure relief and joy. Her hand flew to her chest as her heart pulsed in a quick beat. She furrowed her brow and looked down. No, it wasn’t her heart, but very near it. Something around her heart.

‘We sing for our Master and thee, Princess of Light and Song and Sea, we sing for the mates of darkness and light and sky and sea.’

She stepped out onto the roof, the shadows retreating slightly but remained close to her. Out of pure magical instinct Gwyneth reached deep down into that place near her heart. The place that sparked alive whenever Azriel was near her or whenever she wished he was near her. She grabbed a hold of that place and tugged.

Gwyneth watched in equal parts wonder and amusement as the renowned Carynthian warrior stumble forward in response. He whirled and she couldn’t stop herself as she did it again.

Hazel eyes locked on hers and she knew all of the trepidation she’d felt had been for nought. He loved her. He only needed to go on his own journey to find it. And Gwyneth understood that the dreams she’d had must have been Mother sent to bring her back because Azriel was finally ready to accept the destiny that had been written for them in the stars long ago.

Azriel raised a wing out over her head to shield her from the rain. His shadows continued to swirl around them both.

“I love you too, Azriel.”

“Gwyn,” he breathed out, “What - how -“

She smiled as he sputtered slightly. Gwyn reached forward and laced her fingers through his. Her thumbs lightly running over the ridges of some of the raised bits of scars. Ridges and lines that she’d memorized during their moments alone together.

“I dreamt of you,” she whispered, “And I had to come see you. The house led me here and then your Shadows sang for me to wait while you shouted into the rain. Do you always bother storms with your confessions?”

Azriel’s mouth dropped open. His hands began to shake slightly in hers.

“They sang to you?”

Gwyneth nodded and smiled, “Would you like to venture a guess why?”

She watched, fascinated, as his shadows swirled around his ears. His eyes shuttered slightly and then began to glisten in the dark.

“Is it too soon to talk about a mating ceremony?” Azriel finally asked.

Gwyneth laughed, as tears of pure relief and joy stung her eyes. She ripped her hands from his and threw her arms around his neck. And kissed him.

Azriel’s mouth slanted over hers immediately. The kiss soft but heated as one hand dove into her hair and the other held her waist tightly to him. With the first tentative touch of his tongue to hers, fire lit her veins. She tipped her head back slightly and opened further for him.

His cedar and mist scent wrapped around her as surely as his shadows did, keeping them hidden. Gwyn held on to him, suddenly worried that maybe she dreamt again. That maybe this was nothing but dreaming.

But in that very moment of doubt Azriel pulled away from her. He ran his nose long hers and brushed his lips over hers in a way that made her consider how his lips would feel on her skin.

“This isn’t a dream,” he whispered, “And I love you and I’m sorry.”

She smiled and brought a hand up to cup his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as she ran a thumb along his cheek bone.

“I love you, Azriel. But for your penance I must demand a couple of things for our future mating ceremony.”

His eyes opened and his lips quirked up. The left side of his mouth. Always the left side of the mouth. Her heart leapt in her chest as warmth spread through her.

“And what’s that Berdara?”

She pressed the front of her body to his, allowing her curves to mold to the hardness of him, to the cut of muscles honed over centuries of being a warrior. Her own warrior called to him, ready to take on anyone who would dare to hurt him. The instinct to protect, she mused, and they hadn’t even officially done anything. Not yet anyway. Hopefully not much longer.

“That we have our ceremony by the sea, our feet touching water and land. That we have our ceremony at dusk as day and night hedge on each other. So that sky and sea and dark and light surround us. So for that sacred moment it will seem like we teeter on the edge of the universe and its us. Just us. And that you will do your duties and live your life and I will do the same and we will carve out a life just for us by forging those parts of us together to make a whole. So that we’re both stronger.”

Azriel leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. He brushed his lips over hers again before placing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. His lips lingered and then slowly pressed kisses to her cheek and jaw line and then … then he kissed the sensitive spot below her ear, warm and pleasant and her knees buckled.

His lips curved into a smile against her skin and she wanted to scream at him to stop - to not stop - to do it again but more.

Azriel moved his mouth to press a kiss to the pulse at her throat, and her toes curled in her boots. All of her breathing techniques forgotten as she struggled to remember how to draw breath into her lungs.

With his blessed lips still against her skin, nuzzling her, he replied, “As you wish, Princess of Light and Song and Sea. It’s a good thing I’ll be able to winnow to you every night. Tell me Rhys and Feyre made your apartment big enough for someone with wings.”

“Our apartment. And yes. Now, kiss me again, Shadowsinger,” she smiled, “And this time. Don’t stop.”

Azriel flashed a grin and before Gwyn could form another thought his lips met hers. And she fell. No matter where she landed, and no matter where her journey led her from here, she knew that she would be living that journey with the Shadowsinger, her mate, beside her.

So they fell together as his shadows sang to them a song of darkness and light, sky and sea, hope and love.

*****************

hope you enjoyed! i love all possible ships and these two give me the feels.

[zeldasayer]

Futile Devices — Chapter 5

A Javier Peña/Call Me By Your Name AU

gif by @pascalplease

Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Everything has changed since your father’s book with Javier was rejected, just as you and Javier were getting close.

Warnings: SMUT — age gap (reader is of age), inexperienced!reader themes, gagging, praise (use of “little girl”), vocal Javi, squirting. Angst. 18+

Masterlist | Chapter 4

——

Vita Murphy was born on April 9th 1963 in Milan, Italy to American architects Connie and Steve Murphy, who met your mother by chance one afternoon at a market in town. Taking a liking to Connie, Daisy invited her and her husband to one of their legendary parties. Your mother and father loved to entertain and invite interesting people into their home for cocktails and Daisy's delicious cooking. Your parents celebrated every holiday, birthday, or life event they could think of, any excuse to dress up, string lights through the fruit trees in the back yard and drink in excess to your father's extensive record collection. As a child, you missed most of the parties, having been put to bed just as they were taking off, but when Connie and Steve arrived to your mother's 35th birthday after meeting in the market, and saw you sitting alone at your piano, Connie knew that next time she would bring her daughter.

Even at 13 you felt the pull that Vita had. You watched as she floated around your home, seeming even more comfortable in it than you were, stealing sips of wine and hors d'oeuvres before noticing you and asking if you had ever had your tarot cards read.

"It's my favourite game." You spat out nervously unaware.

Vita just smiled with a nod, "Yeah. Mine, too."

And from then on, you were inseparable.

"She didn't cry, she sang!" Connie always said about her daughter's birth. "It was the happiest day of my life."

Made in her mother's stunning image, Vita had the most incredible large eyes and long blonde hair she cut only once a year. Connie knew at a young age that her daughter was special, as a believer in the universe and the infinite lives a person could have, she knew her daughter was an old soul put on Earth to love and protect the new souls, the tired souls, those who were born somewhere and didn't know why they were born there. She knew it would be quite the burden for one girl, but she saw it quickly in her daughter that it was what she was meant to do. A healer, a listener, someone who understood what many feared no one ever could. Vita attracted those who needed her, and in that, unfortunately led to a large turnover in friendships. Vita was used to strong, short bursts of complete female unity, where she loved you undyingly and provided the support that you needed to pass through a difficult period of your life. But not with you, there was no passing through with you. Not even during your extended stays in the United States or even now that you are gone most of the year in college, could your friendship be weakened.

"It's because you were siblings!" Connie exclaimed in a tipsy state on a summer night long ago. "In another life."

"Do you think?" Vita asked, turning to you.

You believed in Vita and her mother's cosmic knowing, and relied on it more than you were willing to admit. "Of course."

"You were brother and sister." Connie said before taking a sip of her wine, and going quiet.

She always goes quiet — one moment she will tell you how your whole life is going to be and the next, just as she's about to get into the details, she switches off without any explanation, claiming she "doesn't really know this stuff, anyway."

It always makes Vita roll her eyes, because she knows that's not the case for she is just like her mother. Vita saw everything and found people she couldn't read extremely frustrating. Vita has this otherworldly understanding of people and a patience unmatched by anyone you have ever met. She knows how devastating it can be to be seen, but how crucial in life it is to not only be understood, but accepted. Vita also knew how often you spent up in your head, in your make believe world where nothing could hurt you. How your lust for life was so consuming it left you unable to move, too afraid to start because it always felt like you were doing it on your own. Your best friend once told you with tears in her eyes that she wished she knew what planet you were from so you would have the peace of mind that you weren’t completely alone, and you thanked her because sometimes that is enough.

Vita is the human embodiment of home.

So why can't you tell her what is going on? Why does your throat close up every time you want to talk about Javier in any capacity? Why does your throat close up when you think about Javier at all? A part of you wants to run barefoot straight to Vita’s house and up to her room, beg her to help you understand your own emotions. Why are you so enamored by a man who always makes it so hard to breathe? How he manages to make you so hyper aware of your movements, yet he isn't even looking at you. How he's never there when you want him but you would drop everything to be close to him once more. You would drop everything just to be what he wanted again and it makes you sick to your stomach. It's like watching yourself at 15 all over again, when you believed the most important thing you could be was desired. Hell is the mind of a fifteen year old girl, and you thought those days were gone forever.

The tension in the house doesn't make it any easier. You and Daisy tiptoeing around your father and house guest. The quiet meals, that used to be your favourite parts of the day now leave you cold even in the relentless summer sun. You spend most of the time, sitting across from Javier, staring at him. Waiting for him to look at you so you can ask him what's wrong with your eyes. To let him know that he can come to you, that you want him to. But he never does.

Christian and Javier lock themselves away in the library most days and your mother tells you they still haven't come up with anything new. You're startled every night when you're woken by their raised voices traveling through the halls and you hold your breath until you hear their roaring laughter and you know they must be drunk.

You don't see Javier much these days, but you don't see anyone for that matter. Resorting to lazy floats in the pool by yourself or reading alone in the cool living room to escape the heat. It feels as though, if you can't be around Javier you can’t be around anyone at all and sometimes you can make that make sense but most of the time you ignore the irritating notion that you may really be going crazy.

But what was supposed to happen? Javier would fuck you and realize right then and there he couldn’t live without you? It’s so embarrassing because it’s true. You can't talk to Vita because you're embarrassed to admit you wanted to be more and tonight after another lonely dinner where you might as well have been eating alone — you dumped your dishes in the sink and slipped out to the back gardens for your abandoned childhood swing set. And you finally cried.

“Fuck!” You scream up at the sky and you kick your legs back.

As you create your momentum, swinging back and forth you can’t help but succumb to your own erratic emotions and you wonder why it has to be this way. Why can’t you just be happy with what you have? Why must you always need more? Why is it so goddamn exhausting to keep yourself neutral? You’ve never felt sad, only despair. Never angry, only full of rage. You’ve never been embarrassed, you only know humiliation. And you hate to think this way because you always search for your brain for a time you were truly happy, but you always come up empty.

Something is always missing. Something is always missing and you’re always alone but you can’t even be upset because you do it to yourself.

It feels like you’re taking the world on by yourself simply because you are. Because you feel like you need to, this is your burden and yours only. You must suffer to be rewarded for one day you will be able to walk in the sun and be alright.

But to what end? When will you be rewarded?

You want it to be Javier. Just being close to him feels like the reward. The energy you feel just sitting next to him, those eyes you want to swim in, the perfect angle of his nose and the voice that drips from his lips. It must be him, but he won’t even talk to you.

You spend the evening locked in this thought, the concept of the reward — you can convince yourself it isn't real but your heart aches for it knows it is the truth. Which is why Javier is so difficult. He is the one and it makes you dizzy with excitement, but you’re not sure if you can trust it. There is this pull of doubt at the corners of every thought because he still doesn’t know you. Though he could. If he just said the word, you’d spill every story, every thought, every idea you’ve ever had. How you long for more. More life. More love. More sex. More understanding. To truly be alive, not just living. Who could understand that better then him?

——

You like the way the cold ground feels under your bare feet as you walk back up to the house in the darkness. You feel lighter, now that you’ve cried and the house that sits quiet and empty is suddenly comforting. This is your life, your home. Javier is just a tourist and he should be so lucky to exist in the same space as you. But maybe this is you just channeling arrogance as to not be so sad, focusing on what he’s missing instead of your desperate need for him to actually see it.

“Claude?” You hear from the living room at the first creak of the wooden stairs.

You tiptoe through the corridor and into the living room to find Javier taming his fluffy hair with a yawn. Your jaw tightens.

“I’ve been waiting for you. I fell asleep.” He says and you just stand there, crossing your arms over your light blue summer dress. “Can you come sit?”

Shit.

“I don’t know Javi, I’m tired.” You shrug.

“Look, I just want to apologize.” He says, standing up and turning toward you, “We had sex and I haven’t spoken to you since and that’s fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen, but he doesn’t see because he looks down like he’s ashamed. You believe him. Gliding across the living room, you watch him in his usual ensemble — tight black t-shirt, soft cotton pants and his thick black framed glasses, and sit back down with him, on your side.

“It’s just everything with this book, I’ve never felt this kind of anxiety.” He says, his eyes cast down, resting his head on his fist propped up by the top of the couch.

You nod for you understand, but it hurt. “You didn’t even look at me this week.”

“I know.” He sighs, “I know, but I really am sorry. Please believe me when I say I’ve missed you.”

You look up at him, biting your cheek to contain your excitement.

“I miss you even while we live in the same house.” He says, looking away. His hand fidgets against his knee. “If you’re not at breakfast, or you spend your day here, reading in the living— I miss you when you aren’t around me.”

You wish there was a way to burn these words into your brain so you could have them at any time, to hear his voice say these things to you. This validation that he has felt the same after these long, horrible days of practically ignoring each other.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, you turn Javier’s gaze back to you, and study him as you feel the fine hairs of his beard under your fingertips. He looks tired, even behind his glasses you can see the deep longing for rest in his eyes. You don’t think he’s used to rejection either.

Javier leans into your touch with a soft hum and you could almost lose your breath from the tenderness. You want to hold him, bury your nose in his hair and tell him to rest with you. Just laying together, his big body between your legs and head on your stomach, until the inevitable rising of the sun. You can hardly bring yourself to imagine how beautiful Javi must look by the light of the morning.

“Come here.” You whisper, though it’s barely audible, as you rise up on your knees so you are flush against his side, looking down at him. Before you kiss him, Javier kisses you, and your hand floats down from his cheek to wrap your arms around his glorious neck.

Javi wastes no time, his one big hand dragging up your spine to squeeze the back of your neck, holding your against him. And with the other, letting his thick fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass. You can feel the desperation in his skin, and you want all of it, this exquisite juxtaposition of feeling both safe in his arms but that he could also crush you with his desire.

What was life before this? Before Javier’s thick moans into your mouth, his heavy wet finger tips tracing. He takes up all the air in the room and you don’t stop him. He is everything.

You break off the kiss for a moment and remove his glasses. “I missed you too.”

“I’ve only touched you once, but I have spent every day thinking about you. Kissing you. Having you.” He says, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “It’s all I’ve wanted, every day.”

“Why didn’t you tell me.” You ask, and you can’t help the confused look on your face but Javier doesn’t respond. You search his face anyway longing for something heartfelt, like he was locked up in his head, consumed by his feelings for you, like you were. Instead, he kisses you again. Swallowing any upsetting feeling you’ve had since you’ve touched him last.

Kissing Javier is a soft pleasure all in its own, but you want more. More skin. More contact. To ache around him again. To show him how much you truly missed him.

“Let me take care of you.” You whisper, your palm trailing flat down the man’s chest. You get lower and lower, kissing along the beautiful exposed skin of his neck, dragging your hand down the soft black fabric until you reach the drawstring of Javi’s pants.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and you feel his body stiffen as he looks around.

You nod, pushing your legs out from underneath you so you’re laying flat on the couch, your face practically in his lap. “Just relax.”

Javier lets all the air escape from his chest as you pull on the pants and he lifts his hips so you can get them down his thighs.

He watches you with heavy eyes, his mouth falling open as you kiss up the underside of his length, hardening under your lips. Swirling your tongue around the tip, you rest your head on Javier’s lower abdomen lazily, feeling him grow even more in your hand as you stroke him.

“Shit..” He says through his teeth, smoothing your hair back out of your face for you.

You continue to take your time teasing him. Humming in delight as Javier can barely contain himself, thrusting up into your hand shamelessly. He keeps his eyes closed, hands in your hair and you can feel the relief radiating from him. He was desperate for touch.

“Oh, Javi.” You coo, as his head falls back on to the couch, fucking up into your hand and you swear you can hear him whimper. This feeling of power over Javier is absolutely intoxicating, to feel so disconnected from him all week then to have him almost pathetically trying to relieve himself with any bit of human contact you’ll allow him.

“Look what you do to me.” He growls. “Fucking your ha-and...”

Javier reaches around, taking his length from your delicate grasp and pushes you lightly into his pelvis.

“You’re so fucking — soft.” He grunts, tapping his throbbing head against your lips before dragging his cock along your face.

You smile, letting him. Revealing your tongue for a moment to tease him once more.

“Thought you wanted to take care of me.” He says, his voice tight and you feel his hand in the back of your hair as he continues to run his length along your face. Grinning as his grip tightens, he doesn’t hurt you, it’s just about the control.

“I do.” You moan, as Javi softly pushes and pulls your head in a rhythmic motion, just hovering over him.

“Open your mouth.” He mumbles and you do what you’re told.

Javier motions your neck down, pulling you slowly over him, taking just his head in your mouth. “Is this okay sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You whimper around him, your thighs involuntarily rubbing together, searching for some kind of relief from the arousing pull of his voice.

“Yeah? F-Fuck your pretty mouth.” He grunts, thrusting up slowly, stretching your lips to accommodate his thickness. You close your eyes, focusing on the fullness, calming your breath to take him.

“Stay just like this.” Javier sighs, his other hand tangling into your hair to keep you in place and you hum in agreement. Then he thrusts — quickly like he’s actually fucking you and it comes as a surprise but the moan that drips from his mouth almost instantly is enough to make you squeeze your thighs tighter. You have never felt a high like this, being exactly what Javier wants.

You dig your finger nails into his thighs as he takes you, a blunt, bruising force to the back of the throat and you can’t help but gag.

“That’s a good girl.” He says, “Taking my dick in your hot fucking mouth. I love that sound.”

You gag once more and Javier pulls out to you gasping. Spit suspended from your mouth to his cock and you watch it for a moment before grinning up at Javi.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He shakes his head in disbelief, wiping the saliva from your mouth.

“I’ve never done that before.” You smile, looking down slightly embarrassed as you wonder if you were even any good.

“You keep saying that...” Javi’s voice trails off as he pulls your dress up to knead your behind. You love having his hands on you, playing with you. “But you’d never know...”

You try to suppress your satisfied smile, flattening your palms around the base of Javier’s shaft, you take him back in your mouth.

“Fuck...” he exhales long and slow, grabbing a rough handful of your ass before pushing you down on to him, taking him completely down your throat and keeps you there. Your eyes water, and your leg kicks out before he lets you breathe again, coming up for air with a cough you look up at him and he looks down at you like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

——

Javier pulls you back up against his side, and he looks up at you as he’s slumped down into the couch. You wrap your arms back around his neck, fluttering your fingers through his hair and he nuzzles your chest, pressing his lips into your skin. You wish he was like this always, soft in your arms.

Javi hooks a finger into the top of your dress and pulls down, freeing your breasts, nipples hard in attention and he takes one in his mouth. Your cradle his head as he sucks on the buds and you let your own fall back slowly, relishing in the feeling of his tongue and his lips, the brushing of his moustache and the digging of his nose and how sweet he looks in your arms. This is too much, you’re going dizzy.

Javier helps you pull your dress over his head and his lips quickly return to your nipples. His big warm hands squeezing your bust harshly, alternating with his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh and completely pressing his face into your chest. Even as you climb into his lap, on top of him completely nude, his tongue doesn’t give up until you pull his face up to yours for a kiss.

He tastes like everything you want to drown in and it’s heady, like a force you must fight before it completely consumes you, but you don’t want to.

“Fuck.” You gasp, grinding your hips along Javi’s length, desperate for more.

“Oh, god.” He chokes, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Are you going to fuck me this time, sweetheart?”

“Yeah..” You whine, reaching between your bodies.

“Yeah? You’re gonna bounce that wet little pussy on my dick?” His voice shakes into your neck, and it’s such a contrast from his stern “Get on your bed.” from days ago.

You nod, kissing up his jaw in this sudden codependency, his need to feel every inch of you as you both fall back into the couch.

“Relax, Javi. Let me do this for you.” You coo, sinking down on to him. You hum from the incredible stretch and Javier groans right into your ear.

“That pussy is so fucking tight.” He says, out of breath. “Don’t move.”

You obey him, stilling in his lap and Javier lifts his head from the safe space between your neck and your shoulder and he looks up at you.

“What if I just held you here like this.” He says, almost to himself, his hands coming up to your ass. “Stuffed full of my dick and I didn’t let you move.”

“Javi...” You whine.

“Would you still be my good little girl?”

“Javi...” You whine louder, your chest feeling like it’s going to collapse, Javier’s fingers digging into you and he gives you two small thrusts.

“You love being my good girl, don’t you?” Javier whispers, pushing your hair behind your shoulders.

More than anything.

“Yes.” You gasp.

“I know you do.” He says, guiding you slowly up and down. “Just sucking my dick made this pussy a dripping mess.”

“I love it.” You groan as the sound of your skin against his gets louder as you work your hips for him.

Javier looks a moment away from possession and it just fuels you, for you have him where you always want him and you want this to be the death of him.

You still again, but only for a moment to steady yourself as you get up on your feet.

“Shit..” Javier sighs, before he turns you both with your arms wrapped around him, his back now against the arm rest and his legs straight out along the couch. “There you go, baby.”

You reach behind you, finding your balance with your grip on his knees and you pull your hips up.

“Oh my fucking god.” Javier gasps, running his hand down his face and you push your hips down slowly, watching him and in this moment he is really yours.

Fighting through the burning in your arms and your legs, you give him everything you’ve got. Mewing in the pleasure of seeing him underneath you like this, needing you like this. Submitting to the grinding of your hips and the wetness that aches around him. You wish you could see yourself on top of him, your chest bouncing, skin glowing in sweat so he knows exactly what he could have, whenever he wanted it.

“Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” Javier says, his thumb dragging across your mound and down to your clit, that is begging for attention and the moment his fingertip grazes the sensitive nerve your legs clamp together. But he doesn’t stop. Even as his length falls from your body from the increased height of your hips, Javier’s hand doesn’t retreat from the soft thighs it’s wedged between. Circling your clit over and over, your arms buckle and you hold your breath. You thought you had the power but even on top of him you’re just putty in his hand and he knows exactly what to do to make you sing.

“Are you going to squirt for me again?” He rasps, his other hand pushing you down into his lap. “I want to watch this pretty little pussy squirt all over me.”

“Put it back.” You gasp, trying to force your legs open.

“Yeah, baby? Do you need my dick?” Javi teases, pushing at your thigh to open up for him again. He finally eases his dizzying pressure on your clit and holds you just above his pulsing head, slick with you. Running his tip along your folds, you try to sink down on to him, but he keeps you suspended.

“Beg me.” He demands. “You know I love the way you say my fucking name.”

“Please, Javi.” You whine, grinding your hips into nothing. “Please, I love your cock so much, give it to me.”

You push yourself up and fall forward so your hands are on his chest, “Please, Javi. Make me squirt again. Only you know how to fucking do it”

“Oh, fuck.” He groans, pushing up into you sharply despite your yelp. “Anything for my good little girl.”

Javier pulls you down, flush against his chest, still clothed against your’s nude and he wraps his arms around you. He smells like amber and fresh linens as always. Summer. A sunset. The breeze off the ocean and wine. Safe.

His grip around you tightens as you inhale him, pounding up into you as he finds your ear, and his voice is like syrup, “I’m going to take care of you sweetheart. Going to make this pussy cum. You tell me okay? I want to see it. Want to see you fucking soak me. Don’t by shy, my good little girl. Give it to me.”

“Fuck, Javi.”

“You’re so fucking incredible. Taking my big dick in this perfect little pussy. Let go, Claude. Cum for me, angel.”

You groan lewdly and Javi’s hand comes down on your mouth.

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” He warns, and you sigh into his palm. Angel.

This pace is overwhelming, and as he’s restricted your limbs there really is nothing you can do but take it, trying to keep your thighs from clamping together every time Javier brushes that incredible spot within you. Your moans getting longer, from an even deeper part of your throat every time. Your core twists and tightens as he brings you there, unlike anyone else ever has.

“Javi, now!” You exclaim, barely recognizing the screech in your voice and Javier pulls out. His lap wet with you.

“Oh that’s a good fucking girl.” He says, kissing the top of your head as you fall to his side. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Your house guest’s impressive length twitches in his hand as he strokes himself, his nose buried in your hair as you nuzzle his chest in hazy delight and he keeps whispering, “Fucking you is such a dream. You make it so hard not to just nut in that tight fucking pussy.”

You hum, lifting our head up and kissing him softly. “Cum for me.”

“Yeah?” He swallows.

“Please, Javi.” You sigh.

“Where?” He asks, stroking himself harder.

It takes all your strength, but you slip silently off the couch and on to your knees. “On my face.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He says, getting up quickly.

Javier takes your chin delicately in his hand, stroking himself with vigor with the other, and you display your tongue for him, feeling the weight of his cock on it instantly.

“Such a good girl, letting me cum on your pretty fucking face like this. I don’t deserve you. So fucking— pretty.” He groans, with everything left and in this moment you have him, again.

——

You wake in your bed, and you know it’s late because you’re hit by a wall of heat followed swiftly by disappointment when you realize you are, once again, alone. With your arm spread out at your side, you know you are going to be met with nothing but empty sheets and you still feel it at the pit of your stomach anyway.

You sit up with a sigh, back to normal you suppose. Another day of existing separately, but together with only your lost puppy sense of self and a fascination for this man to sustain you.

Then you see him. Javier leaning up against your balcony door with his coffee, wearing only his pyjama bottoms. He hears you stirring and looks back with a smile, “Good morning.”

——

Tags: @pascalisperfect @thefinalgurl @we-are-like-a-timebomb @ssppoorrkk @headsindreams @kehrite @nerdyknightwritersblog @tangledlove27 @chipotle-pour-moi @jokersdoll @zea-is-amazing @someplace-darker @kaylaylaylayla @spacenerdsebby @forever-rogue @fionnthebandersnacc @colourmeinblue @longitud-de-onda @dogsinspace @spitmillk @staellula @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @leo-moon @mandoandyodito @bonkybaaarnes @sadthotsonlylove @ah-callie @astrolo-galaxy @lockedoutofmyotherblog @hayley-the-comet @boybalm @casjason @mrsparknuts @blushingwueen @ignimbritetcax @benakenalove @fioccodineveautunnale @exrebelshocktrooper @pascalisthepunkest @sav-a-nna @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @solarwars @cumberbitching @rae-gar-targaryen @tabalugax @lokiaddicted @roxypeanut @ezraslittlebirdie @thisainttheway @none-of-your-bullshit @mand0-l0rian @assaultsofthought

Love, Zelda

[atticinthecafe]

its 1 am and I wanted to write before I headed off to bed. this jumps around a lot time wise and I did not proof read it I'm ti r e d

---

The first time Akira did this Morgana nagged at him the whole time.

---

"Joker! You've been wandering around the city for hours," Morgana whined from inside the bag, shifting around.

Akira just hummed in response. His eyes were distant and foggy, constantly trained on the distance. Sometimes they would scan across the crowds, almost like he was looking for someone, but for the most part he just seems dazed, lost in thought. He kept walking, the twists and turns memorized by the back of his hand, simply wandering. Sometimes he'd end up on a train to some other area, but he just wandered all the same.

"When are we going home? I'm bored!" Morgana complained, this time getting a bit louder.

This seemed to break Akira from his thoughts, as he frowned looking at his bag where Morgana sat.

"I can talk you home if you want," He spoke low, just to his cat, in a neutral tone. It was hard to tell what was on his mind.

"Yes! wait- you're going to keep walking?"

"Mhm,"

"I'm not leaving you on your own! I'll just tough it out then! But we better get food sometime soon!"

---

Morgana hadn't really known why he was wandering, but to be fair, neither did he.

He had his hand shoved into a pocket, holding the glove he had gotten from his rival and walked around the city, watching the scenery and the people go past as he drifted. It was different now. He had been doing this for weeks. Just- walking around.

Orginally he had no clue why he did it. Something weighed on him, made him feel heavy. He zoned out during conversations and stared into space. Morgana suggested maybe fresh air and a walk would help refresh his senses, but it just ended in him wandering.

He needed the space, to be away from people. He also needed away from his thoughts, but that wasn't so easy. The city provided a nice distraction. Different things to think about. But that didn't stop the soft lull of sadness from weighing down his head.

He missed Akechi if he was being honest. He didn't notice it. But it was like a low hum in the back of his heart. Invisible stress making him tired when he hadn't done anything. It haunted him and didn't leave him be.

---

Morgana at some point had mentioned how when cats lose a friend or someone they care about they'll wander around, meowing and crying out for the other.Akira wondered if Morgana had been talking about him when he brought it up.

Today he had left Morgana with Futaba. The fog in his head and weight in his chest had gotten worse the past week. He hadn't known why until Ryuji mentioned it was around the same date they had met Akechi.

Incredible how his subconscious refused to let go.

The rain pattered against his umbrella as he walked and puddles gently splashed beneath his feet. It was nice to get rain in June. He certainly didn't mind it. It gave the city a softer, calmer feel. It almost felt like the rain took some of his weight with it when it fell.

---

Akira was fine most days. He seemed normal. Almost like he had moved on, but there were some where he simply disappeared out the front door, and everyone knew. They knew he still missed Akechi, no matter how many times they told him he shouldn't.  They knew he needed space for a bit.

The one time they made him stay it was obvious how he was stressed without realizing it. He fidgeted awkwardly and didn't participate in conversation. He seemed like he wasn't there at all and when spoke to he'd look up confused and obviously off in his own world.

Sometimes they would intentionally tell him to take a walk. He'd get shaky and tense for no reason. Seem more irritable and quiet than usually. Not handle loud noises or being around people well. This is when his friends would step in and tell him maybe he should go for a walk to calm his nerves. Sometimes it would take him getting frustrated over something small and all his stress breaking like a dam for the others to take notice, in which case they'd quiet down and all pause to take care of him. Whether it be one of them going on a walk with him, or the group settling down to bundle up in blankets and form a small pile as they watched movies together.

He wished it would stop. The days where he was stressed without realsing it and dazed. The days where he felt like the slightest thing going wrong would cause him to start sobbing and he didn't know why. The days where he missed Akechi.

He wasn't even certain if he was alive.

---

It had been a few years. Akira was better. He was managing better. But he still suddenly disappeared for walks. Some nights he wouldn't sleep at all and instead wandered.

It had been one of those nights, and now here he was, head resting on the counter of Leblanc well Sojiro huffed at him in the background. Something about going upstairs to sleep and not staying up so late.

He didn't move though, and Sojiro didn't seem to mind. There was something calming about the atmosphere. It was warm and the chattering of the TV in the background provided comfort in it's own way.

He couldn't sleep, as much as he wanted to the stress tugged at his brain keeping him just awake enough to be unable to sleep but not awake enough to bypass his exhaustion. So he just sat there, soaking in the smell of coffee and the peaceful air.

---

A ring sounded from the door, and Akira didn't bother looking up, staying where he was.

That was until he heard a soft, almost amused hum as a chair besides him was dragged out from its spot, someone sitting besides him. His eyes flickered open and up to meet red ones, gazing at him fondly.

The time passed in sections, one moment he has his head on the table, next he knew Akira was a crossed from the man, getting started on his favorite cup of coffee, pressing his glove back into his hand with tears pricking at his eyes. Then he was brewing coffee. A conversation between them was happening but- he didn't hear it. It made his chest warm and light, the lightest it had felt it years.

He placed the coffee infront of the other with a smile. He could feel the pure, unfiltered love and happiness just to be able to hear his voice again rush through his body with every word the man spoke.

He hummed softly as the other pressed their hands together, the warmth filling his body yet lingering just where he touched him.

---

His heart felt raw.

Akira blinked open his eyes to Sojiro leaving. To the once warm comforting room feeling cold and bitterly lonely. The warmth that lingered on his hand feeling almost like a bitter sting.

He lifted his head up to find tears streaming down his face and his sleeves damp from where he had been resting his head.

Of course, it was just a dream.

His fingers found their way into his pocket, and he gripped the glove tight. His chest was nothing but raw pain that you would have figured he would have gotten over by now.

He just wanted to see him again.

---

The next few days were incredible low for Akira. He spent most of them asleep.

Dreams were incredible tantalizing now. The fact that occasionally, he would see Akechi again in them made them feel more worth while than reality sometimes.

It was lonely.

He spent a long time asleep that week. More than he should have, but he couldn't help it. The sting in his chest was hard to bare.

---

Akira laughed.

It was the fullest his chest had felt in a while. No longer that haunting hollow that followed him around from day to day.

He was still moving on, he still occasionally had days where he would wander. But they were less now.

The warmth that filled his chest when his friends smiled, the brightness in their eyes and the lightness to their tone when they said the stupidest jokes made the lonely fade.

He had forgotten how good they make him feel.

There was a bittersweet taste left in his mouth when he thought about Akechi. How he should get to feel the same warmth Akira did. How he deserved so much more than the cards he was handed, but Akira didn't linger on that. He couldn't. He had to move forwards.

Akechi would probably call him stupid for staying stuck on him so long. He would say how he shouldn't waste the life he has thinking about someone who killed him. How if anything he should be glad he finally won. There was no more rivalry to be had. But Akira still had to disagree.

Akira took every step as a challenge to be better. He spent the days trying to improve, telling himself that he couldn't fall behind now. He couldn't disappoint the rival he loved so dearly by stopping just because it was over.

He figured if Akechi ever did return, he'd give him a real challenge. If he met Akechi again he wanted to be someone he could respect, someone he could challenge and find worth challenging. He wanted to keep the rivalry alive in his own little way. It was just a promise in his own mind he had to keep. And he couldn't do that with a hurting chest, so he indulged in the moments surrounded by friends, with laughter in the air.

He would do his best to continue, just to prove that he could. He wouldn't forget Akechi, he didnt think he could, but he wouldn't fall behind because of him.

---

When the day was late and the sky had turned shades of orange Akira was left cleaning up Leblanc, making sure everything was ready for business tomorrow.

It had been a while since he had finally realized that he had moved forwards, but he was still making progress with each day.

He leaned back onto a shelf, letting out a soft satisfied hum as he relaxed for the day.

Then the bell on the door rung.

Then a familiar voice spoke, and Akira had to make sure this wasn't a dream.

"I hope I haven't come in too late for a cup of coffee Kurusu, I was hoping we could catch up,"

[zodiyack]

Voice

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, PTSD mention, I think that’s it

Words: 1,797

Summary: Tommy wants to spend the rest of his life with Y/n. A peculiar little thing about life is that you never stop learning, and Tommy learns a thing or two, letting Y/n learn more about him in return...or is it him who learns from her?

Note: I suck at words, Tommy Shelby edition. And I couldn’t come up with a summary or title for this so know that if they don’t make sense together (or the story at all)...I know.

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @stydia-4-ever​, @stuckysslag​, @marquelapage​, @i-love-superhero​, @psychkunox​, @tommyxshelby​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

The morning he met her was the first morning of many that his genuinely eyes opened since the war. Trauma had changed his life for what he thought was a permanent turn for the worst, but upon meeting her, it seemed that heaven was within his grasp once more. Impossible, he thought at first. Yet, later, when he put more thought into it, perhaps his redemption was actually there.

So the next time he saw her, he took a deep breath, reminded himself that he was no longer a boy, and went for it. Alas, his confidence joined him under the definition of cowardice in the very least second; she titled her head, innocent eyes sparkling with curiosity as she awaited whatever he had to say. But no words left his lips. She snatched them away with something even Thomas didn’t know of.

“Are you alright?” She asked, the concern in her voice lifting his spirits high as a warm feeling entered his body. It was the first time in what felt like centuries that a feeling as happy as that coursed through him.

It was also the first time that he was left without words. He tried, opening his mouth as if it were as easy as that to get the things he needed to say out, but he was still without anything but air.

“Sir?” Her brows furrowed. He couldn’t tell whether she was getting annoyed, scared, or just overly frightened for him, but he closed his mouth and reminded himself to breathe. Do not forget to breathe.

Was he sure he was a man? Or was he a boy once again? The same boy before the war who would blush and flirt teasingly, who held so much joy that his cheeks hurt.

And then it happened.

A smile grew upon his lips and he nodded.

A chuckle of relief left her mouth and she lifted her hand to her chest, resting it over her heart. “Oh thank fucking god- I admit, I was rather worried there. For both you and I!” She averted her eyes for a split second before redirecting them to his. “If you aren’t in any trouble... Is there anything I can help you with?”

The words were still lodged in his throat. So he did the only thing he could think of and sheepishly shook his head, turned, and left.

More interactions occurred between the two until one day, when she showed up at his office in search of a job. Lizzie knocked at his door, announcing that he had an appointment.

“Send ‘em in.” He replied lightly, not even lifting his eyes from the paper in front of him. Lizzie took a second, waiting for the moment that would never come- the one where he took a second away from work to actually look people in the face, but gave in with a sigh and closed the door.

“Go on in, hon.” She nodded her head to the door, returning to the typewriter and resuming her work.

It was silent aside from Lizzie’s typing. The click clacking of the keys, letters stamping the ink onto the paper, the quickness of her fingers at work. Y/n got lost in it momentarily before the noise suddenly ceased. Lizzie lifted her head, a brow quirked as she stared and waited for Y/n to enter Thomas’ office.

“Finally. Ahem, I suppose you’re here for...” Tommy started when the door squeaked open again but trailed off when he finally lifted his head. He couldn’t blink away the surprise, not this time. She truly caught him off guard.

And, apparently, him her.

“So he speaks? ...Ah- my apologies! Yes, Mr. Shelby, I’m here for a job...and, not on the topic of occupation, I would like to mention that you have a lovely voice. I think I’d enjoy hearing it more often.”

She definitely heard more of it.

Tommy gave her the job, and with it, a relationship. At first they were strictly boss and employee, but soon, it sparked into something more. Friendship. Good friendship. Close Friendship. 

Then ...Romance.

The day came where Tommy learned a lesson or two about love from someone he deeply admired and respected. Someone close, someone he loved but not in the way he did Y/n. Polly Gray payed her nephew a visit and taught him the thing he dreaded but knew he’d have to face eventually.

“If you want her to some day be your wife, then you have to let her in!” She’d taken a liking to Y/n as well. After all, she was technically Y/n’s boss as well, so she met the woman and didn’t hesitate in accepting their relationship. “She knows what you let her about this business, but one day she’ll either want to know more or find out on her own accord.”

Pol wasn’t just talking about business. She meant honesty in every way he could describe it. The depressive sides he hid from even his family, his brothers whom suffered the same aside, and so much more the world had yet to see. He could either hide it or show her, but one day it would come into the light.

It was true, and unpleasantly so. The downside to being part of the Peaky Blinders was one that came with life in general; Love wasn’t easy. If he wanted, he could just force Y/n out of the country, forget about her, and move on. She’d be safe and he’d be happy knowing she was, but deep down, he was too much of a coward to do something like that. Too afraid of what could happen to her, to her feelings, to his own...

So Tommy listened and grew a metaphorical pair. The night he planned on opening up to her, an uneasy feeling nagged at his gut. This was his one shot. His shot at being with the love of his life, creating a family and knowing what it feels like to be loved by someone, and not in a platonic way. He held onto the feeling she gave him and used it to power his courage.

“Are you alright, Tommy?” Her gentle hand that previously combed through his hair came into contact with his jaw. Not harsh, but gentle. Softly guiding his head, she forced his bright blue orbs to meet hers. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Her hand moved up slightly to caress his cheek. Thomas leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and reveling in the moment. He truly felt youth envelope him whenever he was with her. His demons faded as if they never existed in the first place every time her presence was with his.

Then, he lifted his hand to meet her wrist. He took the other with the same grip and opened his eyes, looking into her with the same admiration she had only mere minutes ago. “I know.”

“Then tell me...what’s bothering you?”

Tommy thought for a second, but just as the first time he tried to form words, his cowardliness came a ’nocking on his door. “It’s nothing, love. How ‘bout we sleep, yeah?”

Y/n hesitated but nodded, curling into his side and drifting off slowly. It took him a bit longer, but by midnight, the two were out cold. Of course, he never stayed asleep long. She didn’t know that, however. Tommy never let her stay the night until tonight, afraid of what she would think of his softer, more fearful side when he was too overwhelmed to hide it.

He awoke with a start, chest heaving heavily and breath so terribly uneven, one would think he were on the brink of death. That’s what he felt like. As though he were on the smallest ledge, seconds away from cracking down the part of which connected him too the land full of life and dropping him into the deepest pits of hell itself. Tommy’s nightmare woke Y/n too.

She was drowning in concern the second her eyes snapped open. “Tommy- Tommy!” He couldn’t help but panic, the PTSD too much for him, “Hey- hey, I’m here. Okay? It’s me.” she didn’t blame him. Instead, she gripped his wrists like he did hers and softly ushered him back into his calm state. Her whispers were reassuring and brought him back to reality, soothing his mind with powers similar to a siren’s.

“Y/n- I’m sorry-” He spoke hurriedly after she lit a candle- it provided them with enough light to see one another, not that the moon didn’t already do that enough.

“Don’t be. From the looks of it, this isn’t the first time this has happened.” She didn’t sound tired, not even a blink of sleep left in her eyes nor voice. “Tommy... Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tommy was a little taken aback by her lack of fear or other emotions like disgust, although he couldn’t quite think of a single reason as to why she’d feel that of all things, but answered her as honestly as he could. Just like Polly told him too. “I’m not sure... I was...cowardly. Though you’d be ashamed or something.”

She squinted at him, “Why on earth would I feel ashamed?”

A few seconds went by of his eyes darting around as he mentally searched for a possible answer and he came up blank. Thomas shrugged, “Fuck... I don’t even fucking know.”

They shared a chuckle, hushed but still very much real. Y/n caressed his cheeks again, tracing his beautifully sculpted features with gentle fingers.

“I love,” her eyes scanned his face lovingly, “every part of you. Whether you like a detail about you or not, I will love it with every fiber of my being. The good, the bad...the mildly confusing,” he chuckled with her, “I love it.”

Y/n pulled away from him and leaned him. She blew out the candle then readjusted her position under the sheets, squirming into Tommy’s side and resting her head atop his chest. It rose and fell with each breath he took, his torso lifting her head and dropping it as carefully as one would rock a baby.

“I’m here now, and I’m here to stay. We can either stay awake or, you can lie down with me and get through this shit together. Either way, I’m not letting you face anything else alone.”

“Y/n-” He was going to tell her that it was fine, shove another lie to hide his worries despite inevitable discovery.

“I mean it, Thomas. For as long as I live, you will never have to carry your struggles by your lonesome. So, in the morning, you can tell me what I’m gonna be helping you with.” She paused before cracking a smile. “After all, you know how much I love your voice.”

[captastra]

Relationship and Courting Asks Part 2

For Rhea and Felix <3! part 1

11.  ♥ Do they make an effort to find someone with similar views, be they political or moral?

Felix doesn’t make an effort as much as you figure out his views right away because he makes it known. If he finds someone he likes but they have the opposite views of him or aren’t even willing to have a discussion, I don’t see it working out. It’s similar for Rhea in that she doesn’t make an effort, but she can’t be with someone who is so different in her views. Its why her and Felix work out so well, he’s very passionate about what he believes in and needs someone to almost help him be able to direct his focus when it comes to what he is passionate about while Felix helps Rhea be able to be more open about what she believes in.

12.  ♥ Do they seek to find a partner purely to further the bloodline and name, is it for true love, or is it for pleasure alone?

Rhea wants a partner, something real. She stopped believing in true love when her parents died but started being in love when she fell for Felix.

Felix doesn’t put a definition to it. If he likes you, he likes you. Sometimes its just physical, which he doesn’t mind, though he always want it to be more. But if he were to list the people that he went for for true love, it would probably only be Rhea. He wanted to know everything about her, both physically and not. Rhea simply couldn’t get Felix out of her head and felt safest around him. Once she accepted that, she realized she was completely in love with him.

13.  ♥ Do they sleep in the same bed/room as much as they can or do they sleep separately?

Both would absolutely hate sleeping in separate rooms. Rhea and Felix end up sleeping in the same bed before they even truly get together for comfort and support. They have both been alone for a long time and found life seemed better being near each other. Plus, Rhea finally stopped having nightmares when she started sleeping in the same bed as Felix and Felix was happy to be wanted, especially by her.

14.  ♥ Do they make it a point to eat at least one meal a day together with their partner, or do they do as they please?

Yes absolutely, though at first it was just something they did as a crew. Dinner was eaten together but waking up together tends to make it way to eat together for breakfast too.

15.  ♥ Do they enjoy talking to their partners before going to sleep or is it straight to dreamland?

It’s never straight to dream land for them 😉but they always talk before going to bed. Felix going on about a serial, tossball game, something someone said that annoyed him. Rhea tends to listen more than talk, provide her input, or remind him he’s being a bit ridiculous if he’s frustrated about something silly. Rhea is more likely to talk more when they are having deeper conversations, the ones people have late at night, and she starts to bare her soul for him more overtime.

16.  ♥ Do they have at least one bonding activity they devote to doing with their partner exclusively?

Beyond the more physical activities, they always watch serials together. Felix has always been into serials since he was a child so when Rhea entered his life and she knew nothing of Halcyon’s more enjoyable past times, he took it upon himself to introduce her to all of them. It’s become a thing now, always watching serials together, getting snacks and cuddling on the couch or in bed. One thing that sometimes happens is Rhea reading to Felix from one of her Earth stories, though he tends to fall asleep pretty quickly and she reads silently to herself after.

17.  ♥ What sort of characteristics or quirks draw them to someone?

I’ll go with what drew them to each other. For Felix, he of course saw her beauty first, but it was the way she listened to him, how she devoted her time and focus to him when he wanted someone to talk to/listen. He loves the way her face lights up when she is talking about something that she is passionate about. He could never be with someone that didn’t have some kind of drive for something.

For Rhea, it was his passion, even though it could be over the top at times, that drew her in. The way he didn’t let things get to him (which is where she tells the other person off; Felix loves watching that) and that after everything he had been through, he still was motivated to keep going and finding his dream/path/whatever you want to call it. Also she finds him really funny and that always helps.

18.  ♥ Do they have a ‘type’?

Felix’s type is a strong person with a passion for something. But he also sees looks/first impressions of ideals before realizing who he does or doesn’t want to be with.

Rhea’s type is someone who simply sees her and is honest with her.

19.  ♥ What was their first impression about their partner/person they are courting?

Felix: damn she’s hot and she smiled at me! I gotta get to know her more, bonus points for being the captain of a ship! She’s my chance at a whole new life!

Rhea: Cocky but attractive and maybe he smiles just too right for her that makes her heart skip a beat (but she’d never acknowledge that). His smile stays in her thoughts long after she walks away.

20. ♥ How did their relationship start?

It started slowly, night after night staying up together stargazing, watching a serial. But their real relationship? It started during Peril on Gorgon when the nightmares became too much and Rhea couldn’t be alone, so she went to the first person that crossed her mind as to be the safest for her: Felix. They may have their hiccups prior to this moment, but in that singular moment, there is no other person she would trust. Felix never questioned their relationship. He probably should have but after that night, when Rhea shows up, it starts. They have a conversation about it, Rhea admitting she does like him and Felix finally putting into words what he had never been able to say, he wants her. To know that she goes to him over everyone else when struggling? Yeah, he’s not going anywhere now.

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 9 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.3k

Part 9 - Never trust a Snake

Tom’s dorm was the nicest one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. Single bedrooms were offered to head boys and girls only, as a further reward to their title. His room was the size of a normal five-bedroom, but instead of four additional beds, it was furnished with a welcoming couch, a nice wooden desk and chair, a fireplace and provided overall much more space. It wasn’t located next to the other dorms either, which had its virtues and disadvantages. The good thing was that you didn’t have to walk through the hallway of all the Slytherin boys’ dorms to get there. The bad thing was that Tom’s room was right next to Freda’s, so you had seen her a couple more times than you had wanted to. She had never said anything though and usually stomped off right away, brows knitted and red in the face.

Tom had ordered you to his room the day after Slughorn’s party, which was a privilege not many students were granted. Maybe not that much of a privilege if one was engaged to him. But thinking of it from your perspective, his fiancée, who he hadn’t even proposed to, who he wasn’t even in love with when the engagement took place, it certainly felt special. And like he wanted you to be there. He let you study there even when he had to attend to his duties as head boy, which took up quite a bit of his time.

And then there was the Moly. A magical flower, used to counteract enchantments, that Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, had given to pairs of students to take care of. They were weakest the last days before blooming and needed tending multiple times a day. It was a tricky task to keep them alive, so Beery had promised to give everyone who could manage it extra points for the Herbology N.E.W.T.s in advance. 

Tom had suggested keeping the Moly that had been given to the two of you in his room, as it would increase the chances of keeping it in good condition, seeing that no one else could get their fingers on it. Even though the plant looked quite healthy, he insisted on your help to look after it, as he was not willing to share points if you wouldn’t. So you had come to his room every day, only for the Moly of course.

Other times, when you were just reading or writing another Charm’s essay there, Tom used to stay nearby. He didn’t talk much, as per usual, and rather stared at you from across the room, but the fact that he never told you to leave and always asked when you would come back, for the Moly obviously, made it quite clear that he enjoyed your presence.

And you did too. So much that you had even spent the night accidentally. Accidentally, as in, you had stayed up way too long reading and making notes in your Guide To Advanced Transfiguration textbook, had really, absolutely, doubtlessly planned to go back to your own dorm, but couldn’t be bothered to get up from the sofa until you had finally fallen asleep. 

You woke up in Tom’s bed, not remembering how you had ended up there and sat up slowly, looking around, until you noticed him sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Have I overslept?” you asked, hastily fixing your hair and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“It’s Saturday,” Tom answered, grinning at your attempts of getting up. “8 a.m. You can sleep a bit longer if you want.”

“Oh, Saturday, yes. How did I… What happened last night?”

“You fell asleep on the couch. It didn’t look comfortable, you were all sprawled out and twisted. So I put you into bed.”

You swallowed thickly. He had put you into his bed? 

“Did you-”

“No,” Tom shook his head. “I took the couch.”

“Noble,” you said sarcastically, leading him to roll his eyes at you. “Why can’t I remember how I got into bed?”

“I used a Levitation Charm.”

“Oh. Weren’t you afraid I might’ve ended up on the floor?”

He chuckled, shaking his head as if doubting his skills wasn’t a thing Tom Riddle would do. “I tend to know what I’m capable of before I do it.”

“I see,” you answered. “Come here then?”

Tom looked at you questioningly before you reached out your hand, holding it in the air for him to take it. He did and you slowly pulled him closer, until he lay down next to you.

Your hand went up to his face and you ran your fingers through his hair, to which he closed his eyes, letting you play with his locks for a while. 

Now that you were fully aware of where you were, you noticed how different Tom’s linen smelled compared to your own. They had his clean, warm scent, of tangy embers dying in the fireplace, mixed with leather and something fresh like dewy iron. The scent had rubbed off on you while you had slept there and it felt like he had marked you, without even coming close.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” you whispered.

His eyes opened again. “You were completely knocked out. That would have felt off.”

“Well, for next time then,” you smiled, took his chin between your fingers and pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’re engaged after all. Have you forgotten?”

“Oh piss off,” he scoffed and pulled you in for another kiss.

Some hours later, when you were tending to the Moly, you looked over towards the fireplace, where Nagini was sleeping in front of. At least you assumed she was sleeping. Her eyes were open and her tongue flicked out of her mouth every now and then, but she seemed calm. You laughed to yourself at the sight, as it reminded you of a cat seeking warmth. Well, a pet was a pet, you figured.

“How’s the Moly doing?” Tom asked and went up to inspect it.

“Good. Great actually,” you said. “I think we’re going to earn those extra points from Beery.”

“Don’t you think it looks a bit sickly?” he asked, holding the thin black stem between his fingers.

“No, it’s alright.”

He uttered a humph. “You don’t have the book on you, the one I gave you for Christmas, do you?”

“No, it’s in my dorm. Why would you need that now?”

“Have you read through it? All the way?”

“No, I haven’t yet. I just flicked through it and read some recipes that sounded interesting,” you answered, not knowing what he had in mind. “I wanted to try one of the Potions after we’re done with school. They all seem to take a while.”

“Which one?”

“The Vial of Auras for starters. Why?”

He nodded, still looking at the Moly. “I think there’s a recipe for plant cultivation in there. Could be of use.”

“But it looks fine, why-”

He turned his face toward you, looking into your eyes. “Just bring the book next time.”

“Okay,” you said, although it sounded more like a question. “I can bring it tonight. I’m going out to Hogsmeade with Camille in the afternoon. I’ll be back around 7 I guess.”

“That’ll do,” he said and smiled, finally sounding satisfied.

It was five minutes past seven when you returned to Tom’s room. The date with Camille had been wonderful, although you had had one too many toffees at the sweet shop. You had also gotten the Potions book from your dorm, still wondering why the Moly would need extra support. It looked totally fine to you. 

Tom’s room was empty, aside from Nagini, who had curled herself around one of the bedposts. You went over to the desk, where the Moly was standing and put the book beside it. Next to the plant lay a handwritten note:

“Coming back soon - Dippet needs me for head boy duties”

Killing time it was, then. You took Tom’s Charms book from the stack and practised a few spells for a while, trying to revise those that would most likely be tested in the N.E.W.T.s. About ten minutes later, the door opened and Tom entered the room. He dragged his feet as he shuffled in and was slightly out of breath.

“Are you alright?” you asked while putting the Charms book away.

He nodded. You walked over and took a seat on the couch, patting the space next to you for Tom to join you.

“I brought the book,” you said and pointed towards the desk.

Tom sat down, looked at it from afar and squinted. “The book?”

“The Potions book you asked me to bring. Don’t you remember?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, I totally forgot.”

You frowned, slightly worried. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tom nodded and scratched the side of his face. “Yes, yes. I’m just a bit tired.”

Tired wasn’t exactly what you would have described the state of him. He seemed nervous and completely out of it, his shoulders hanging down limply. 

“Did something happen? What did you have to do for Dippet?” you asked.

His eyes roamed the floor while he pondered. “Nothing important. Just some scheduling for the prefects.”

Something cold rubbed against your foot and when you looked down, you saw Nagini, who had slithered over. She placed herself between Tom and you on the floor, her hisses a tad louder than usual.

“What does she want?” you asked.

Tom stared at Nagini vacantly and didn’t answer.

“Tom?” 

“Hm?”

“What is she saying?”

“She’s hungry.”

“Hungry? We’ve just fed her recently. Strange,” you said and bent down to pat her head. “I’m going to get you some more mice soon, don’t worry.”

Tom’s gaze roamed the room as if he was looking for something.

“Do you want to take a look at the book now? For the Moly?” you asked.

“No,” he answered. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead then.”

“You remember the day we got engaged, right?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, it was obviously an arrangement between our families,” he stated, waiting for you to confirm. 

“Yes.”

“So I was wondering… What’s in it for you?”

Your stomach dropped. What did he mean ‘what’s in it for you’? Your sister’s curse was the most evident thing in this whole situation.

“You know exactly what’s in it for me,” you said while folding your arms. “Actually, I could ask you the same thing. Don’t tell me you forgot why we’re doing this.”

He took a moment to think before answering. “Of course I haven’t. I just thought there could be something else. Like, perhaps your parents bribed my family.”

You blinked irritatedly. He had not just said that.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked. “You’re suggesting my parents took advantage of the situation, went and killed two birds with one stone? So that they could marry me off and make me your problem?”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then retracted. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“Because I’ll have you know, my family would never do such a thing,” you interrupted him. “I know yours probably would, but my parents are not like that, believe it or not. I thought you knew that by now.”

“I was just wondering. No need to make a fuss about it.”

“You know what?” you said and got up from the couch, making sure not to step on Nagini. “You sound exactly like Ben. Only more rude. And I thought you didn’t trust him. But it seems that you don’t trust me either all of a sudden.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tom said and followed you. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We’re done here,” you huffed, making your way to the door, followed closely by Nagini, until Tom grabbed your hand.

“Don’t leave now,” he said, pulled you in a bit closer and a whiff of cologne wafted your way. He reeked of sweat and coughed so loudly you thought he might throw up any moment.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Tom,” you answered, your hand still in his. “Maybe you have a cold coming on or something because you don’t seem like you’re in your right mind. Now let me go.”

“No,” he said but turned his face away from you.

Suddenly the door flew open and you sucked in a sharp breath when you saw who it was. Tiernan Lestrange. And next to him was... Tom? Standing in the door frame, his eyes darting back and forth between you and… You looked to your left, to the person next to you and saw that Emlyn Avery was standing in Tom’s place, still holding your hand.

You wrenched your hand out of his grip and took several steps backwards.

“Avery?” you asked. “What is going on?”

Tom, the real Tom, still stared at you, a fire burning behind his eyes as he quickly walked into the room. Lestrange followed and closed the door behind himself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tom hissed, both at Avery and you.

Avery kept silent, a nasty grin forming on his face.

“He… You,” you stammered.

“You two? Holding hands in my room?” Tom yelled, his chest heaving. “Are you kidding me?”

“I can explain.”

Could you really?

“Well, I hope you can. Taking Avery into my room to do who knows what? Care to explain that?”

“He was you!” you said, only then noticing how crazy you must have sounded. 

Tom shot you a look that told you better not to take him for a fool. His thoughts must have raced at top speed inside his head, as you could practically see him thinking. His eyes scurried from your hand to Avery’s, then up to his face. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he clenched his fists and he couldn’t seem to stand still. You wondered what his next move would be. Punch Avery in the nose, curse the two of you, or rush out of the room? It reminded you of the time he had seen Ben and you at the Black Lake. 

“Please,” you whispered. “Let me explain.”

Tom sighed and avoided looking at you. He shook his head as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. It almost looked painful. Finally, he went up to Avery, pointing his wand right below the boy’s chin.

“Sit down,” Tom spat. “You too Lestrange! And I don’t want to hear a single word from either of you.”

They did as he said and Tom led you to the other side of the room, followed by Nagini. He cast a Muffliato Charm on the two boys so that they wouldn’t be able to hear what you had to say. 

“Go on,” Tom then said, still avoiding eye contact.

“I came here around seven, as we agreed. I brought the book but you weren’t here. Then I saw your note on the table and waited for you. You, I mean Avery, came in shortly after. But he looked exactly like you. Just until you showed up right now. I swear to Merlin.”

“What do you mean he looked like me?” Tom asked, an annoyed frown on his face.

“He looked and sounded just like you. I thought he was you. He acted weird and I didn’t trust him, but I thought you were just stressed out. The only way I could possibly explain this would be Polyjuice Potion.”

“You don’t really think one of them would be able to brew that correctly, do you?”

“I don’t,” you mumbled. “But how else would it be possible? You have to believe me. I would have never brought him here. Or anyone.”

He looked at you now, so intensely, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, trying to see if you were lying to him.

“Why would he do that?” he then asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered and gave it a good thought. “He asked me about some things. About the engagement. Maybe he was trying to convict me. They haven’t trusted me ever since the school year began, remember?”

Tom nodded and exhaled strongly, walking in circles around you.

“Did he touch you?” he asked.

“No. He just held me back when I wanted to leave. Just my hand, nothing else.”

“Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. If he touched you, I swear I’m going to-”

“No. He didn’t.”

Silence. Nagini’s quiet hisses disrupted your thoughts and you noticed that Tom seemed a lot calmer now.

“Why was Lestrange with you?” you asked.

“He came up to me when I was done at Dippet’s. Tried to babble on for ages about assignments.”

“That makes sense. So you wouldn’t disrupt their plan.”

“What did Avery ask you exactly?”

“If my parents had bribed your family. So we would get married.”

“Idiot,” Tom muttered.

“That’s what I thought too.”

Tom eventually stopped circling you, placed himself beside you and you both watched Lestrange and Avery sitting next to each other on the sofa. They didn’t dare look back at you and simply stared down at the floor like two ten-year-olds waiting for their parents

to punish them.

“Oh, and another thing,” you began. “Avery stinks.”

Tom, to your surprise, laughed.

That made you a bit more confident, so you asked: “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

He did? You looked at him, taken aback.

“Nagini,” Tom said to you while watching as the snake’s head reared up. “She’s your witness. She confirmed you’re telling the truth.” 

“Good girl,” you said and smiled at her, to which she hissed happily. You really had to get her some more mice. “Now, what were they thinking? What point were they trying to prove?”

“Let’s ask them,” he said, broke the Muffliato Charm with a swift motion of his wand and walked over towards the couch.

“I’m going to ask you some things,” he said to them. “And don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can tell. You’re lucky you caught me on a good day, actually.”

They both nodded.

“Polyjuice Potion?” Tom asked.

Avery looked over to Lestrange. They both nodded again.

“Where did you get that from?”

“Stole it from Slughorn,” Avery mumbled so lowly, you could hardly understand.

“Speak up!” Tom ordered.

“We stole it from Slughorn’s stock,” Avery repeated. “At the party, when everyone was dancing.”

Tom sighed and pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose. Of course they hadn’t brewed it themselves. They were far too daft.

“Why?” Tom went on. “What’s the reason for all that?”

“Well,” Lestrange cleared his throat. “We were only doing it for you, Tom. To make sure she’s not betraying you. To find out if she and her family were using you, you know.”

“So we could help you,” Avery added and nodded vehemently.

Tom grinned coldly. “And you thought I wouldn’t have found this out myself by now? That I would need your help? Seriously?”

“We thought-”

“No! You didn’t think at all,” Tom interrupted. “You went behind my back, stole from a teacher and disrespected my fiancée. You’re both an embarrassment for Slytherin and I swear, if I ever see one of you just looking her way, it’s not going to end this lightly.”

Both of them nodded again and looked down onto the floor, not saying anything.

“Now follow me,” Tom said, still angry with them.

“Where are we going?” Avery asked as he got up.

“I’m going to report you to the headmaster of course. And trust me, you’ll be glad Dippet is going to choose your punishment and not me.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[ceo-of-daichi]

Request ~ ‘Lydz! I need a Daichi fluff so bad. SO BAD. Could I request a long distance relationship with Daichi, and one day after s/o cries over the phone saying that she misses him, he decides to fly to her as a a surprise!! 😭💖 it can be a hc or drabble one-shot, whatever you’re comfortable with! Thank you bb ily ❤️’ ~ @mrs-kuroojinguji

Characters ~ Sawamura Daichi x Fem!Reader

Genre ~ Fluff

Warnings ~ Kinda a rollercoaster of emotions... a bit of the reader crying

Word Count ~ 1.8k+

A/N ~ Haven’t written a long fic in a while so i hope you guys enjoy this!!!💛 Thank you to @scorpiosanssexy for beta reading this☺️ Also i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write Ana😫

‘I love you baby…’ You hear as you hang up your phone, tossing it to the side. Another night where you slept in an empty bed. You had lost track of how many it's been without him by your side physically. A year? Maybe closer to two? The hope that one day soon you would wake up to his warm arms around you, his breath fanning on the back of your neck. Comfort, something he automatically provided. It was in his aura, whenever he was close and sadly you hadn’t felt it in a while.

As much as you loved the UK it was far away from home, not only your family but your friends and from Daichi. The one you wished you could spend every waking moment with, someone who you could see yourself with for the rest of your life. You felt so far away from him, 5,732 miles to be exact, a number you had spent so many sleepless nights thinking about. As your head hit the pillow you figured tonight was going to be another one of those nights. 

Your day seemed to drag as all you could think about was Daichi’s words to you last night. ‘I can’t come see you yet, I'm so sorry, work is piling up and with my family wanting me home I just can’t spare the time to fly over… I’m so sorry, I'm going to have to fly over in summer.’ Was what he had said, he was meant to come see you after Christmas, but as it was early into January now you had lost hope for seeing him. 

It wasn’t long before both of your universities started up again for the new term, you would have to pray he would be able to come visit in summer or you could get the funds to see him. It was getting hard to be away from him, everyday the ache seemed to worsen in your chest.

Even when you both first got together, he knew that all you needed to feel better was a hug or his arm comfortingly on your back. To be pulled onto his lap so he could hold you impossibly close, you were always someone who has loved his touch. You were addicted to it. Both of you knew that it would be harder long distance yet you couldn’t bear to break up. But it was starting to prove to be harder than you anticipated.

‘You know you don’t have to continuously stir the pasta right?’ Your roommate Beth said, you wondered how long she had been watching you. Glancing at the clock you realised you must have been there for at least 40 minutes. 

‘Hm? Yeah of course I know, I just like to make sure it's done… which it is.’ You replied, as you looked down at the pasta that was now basically mush in the pan. Letting out a deep sigh you drained it and put it in a bowl.

‘You’re seriously going to eat that? Oh god no [y/n]...’ She said as she took the bowl straight from your hands throwing the whole thing in the bin.

‘Hey! I like that bowl?!’ You protested as she led you to the couch.

‘Lets order takeout, I can tell you have been thinking about him again… Still no chance he can come?’ Beth asked as she scrolled through her phone for both your favourite takeout. You didn’t reply as you got lost in your thoughts once again. You didn’t realise how obvious it was that you weren’t doing well and even though Beth knows you better than anyone, she wouldn’t mention anything unless she thought it was serious. 

‘He just said he couldn’t come… It's been almost 2 years since I have seen him physically, not on the other side of a screen. I miss him so much and it's starting to get harder to talk to him over the phone because everything hurts Beth… I love him so much.’ You practically word vomit as your eyes start to prick with tears.

The hurt evident as she pulled you in for a hug, letting your tears free as if they had been trapped in your ducts for years. Quickly dampening her shirt as she tried to do as much as she could to calm you down, it was no use though. ‘Do you think he just doesn’t want to see me? Maybe he’s found someone else?’ You questioned out loud as loud sobs continued to wrack your body.

‘Hey… Hey! I don’t know much about this guy, but from what you have told me he seems like a really respectable guy who loves you. Plus he’s your boyfriend so he has to be amazing! Have you thought about telling him how you feel?’ Beth asked getting up quickly to grab you some tissue. 

‘No, I haven’t! I don’t want him to think I don’t trust him, because it's not that at all…’ Before you could finish sniffling out everything you had to say your phone lit up. A bright picture of Daichi from the last time you saw him covering the screen, arm around your waist and a goofy smile adorning his face. Daichi who you loved so much, who it hurt so bad to think about for no reason other than he wasn’t here. He wasn’t by your side, he was 5,732 miles away.

As you got up to go answer the phone in your room, Beth gave you a sympathetic smile and a quick mouthing of ‘tell him’. A deep sigh passed your lips as you closed the door separating you from the kitchen, you knew she was right but something was holding you back. 

Cleaning yourself up slightly you finally answered the facetime call. ‘Hey baby…’ You said greeting him with a small smile. You knew he could tell you had been crying the minute he answered when his face dropped. ‘Hey baby-girl, you okay?’ He asked and that was all it took. You couldn’t keep it from him anymore, tears spilled once again from your eyes as you told him everything. 

Daichi’s heart broke as he watched you cry on the other side of the screen, he wanted to gather you in his arms and tell you it was going to be okay. That you would both get through this together, however he was lost for words. He couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t even get you your favourite food to cheer you up. He wasn’t there. As you both talked it out, he couldn’t stop apologising, every ‘i’m sorry’ that fell from his lips felt so natural yet should it be? 

Once you had calmed down and the facetime ended, Daichi couldn’t get the image of you crying out of his head. How had he not seen the person he loved and cherished so much in almost 2 years? 

The night was long and tiring for both of you, neither could sleep, plagued by thoughts of what’s next? What can either of you do to better the situation? You couldn’t dream of leaving him but what if you had no choice. It was 3:27am and you decided it was probably better to try and take your mind off the situation, falling asleep in front of the TV was better than not falling asleep at all. 

A couple days passed, although you couldn't stop thinking about Daichi you had gone back to normal with him. You thought it was strange but since that night Daichi seemed a lot more upbeat, wanted to call you more and was texting you constantly. You weren’t complaining though, you loved how he seemed to be making more of an effort since you had confessed to him. 

‘Wow you actually managed to cook the pasta properly this time?!’ Beth said, an amused expression on her face as she sat at the table across from you. This caused a laugh to erupt from you, she was right once again. ‘Yeah I guess things are improving huh?’ You replied as she laughed along. You had made pasta properly, not as if it was anything special but it tasted good you thought. 

As you both chatted and giggled away you were interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘Did you order food?’ You question as you got up to answer, wondering who it could be at such a weird time as your eyes scanned the clock, 10:36pm. Swinging open the door your whole body froze. 

His brown hair was tousled and out of place, his grey sweatpants hanging off him perfectly and although he looked tired and rushed to anyone else. You had never seen someone so handsome before, not being able to stop yourself jumping on him. Despite being exhausted, Daichi still managed to catch you in his arms. ‘You came…’ You whispered into his shoulder, taking in his scent. How you had missed his slightly woody smell, it smelt like home.

‘I couldn’t not come… It broke my heart to see you cry because of me, I dropped everything to come’ He smiled, as he rubbed your back comfortingly placing a kiss to the side of your head. Suddenly 5,732 miles didn’t feel long at all when you were in his arms, realising the exact reason you didn’t break it off with him originally, he was worth the ups and downs. Worth the long nights of falling asleep on facetime because of the time difference, worth every ‘i love you’ text and every ‘i miss you’ whispered over the phone.

As he let you down and grabbed his stuff to bring in you couldn’t help but admire him. Has he got bigger? His arms looked so much more refined and muscular, the 2 years training to be in the emergency services sector clearly having an effect on his body. Before you knew what you were doing you gripped his bicep softly, he really was stronger than before you thought. 

‘You okay there baby? Something interesting?’ He chuckled as he watched your face heat up, scooping you into his arms again. Not wanting to admit you really liked the change in his body you buried your face into his neck. ‘I just missed you a lot…’ You confessed, not like you hadn’t told him this before but being held in his arms made it so much more real. ‘I missed you too princess…’ He whispered, lifting your chin to look at him before pressing his lips to yours.

It felt like a lifetime had passed since the last time your lips had met, but it was just as amazing as the first time. All fears and worries suddenly dissipated, the only thing that mattered right now was him and how much time you had to make up for. 

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