#this is barely coherent but neither are my thoughts on this game | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

padme-parker · 4 years ago

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Mizpah // the darkling x f!reader // ch 6

summary: given some time alone to think, the pieces begin to fall into place. you go to confront the darkling be he avoids you at any given cost, until one night you go into the one room you were never granted permission to enter.

warnings: cursing, talks about violence/torture and death, alcoholism

A/N: the truth finally comes out. This is all over the place bc I was trying to rush getting it out. 5.9k+ words and 12 pages later, here we are. not proofread, will comeback later to edit.

ANA KUYA’S voice echoed in the back of your mind as you laid on your cot, calling out for Mal and Alina as they ran away from her. It was the day Grisha came to the orphanage to find out if one of their own had been whisked away into a place like this. You examined the walls, cracks running up and down them. The windows barely opened, and when they did, they let out horrible screeches. Water leaked from the bathrooms, the annoying drip a constant on your mind.

Maybe you should’ve gotten up from your bed and got tested by a Grisha. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to stay in such a run down orphanage. The Duke was rarely here, so no one really cared about his orphanage no matter how infamous he was. But being Grisha meant leaving Mal and Alina behind, something you couldn’t do because they had become your only family. Besides, Grisha don’t get sick, therefore you weren’t a Grisha.

You could never be a Grisha.

AS you phased into consciousness, you could hear someone muttering something in the background. Your hands were so cold, you reached out for something- anything that could give you warmth. You tried to blink away the blurriness of your eyes, nothing seemed to work. The person rushed to your side, clutching both of your hands in one as the other stroked your cheek.

“Go back to sleep.” He said, brushing your hair back. Closing your eyes, he assumed you had fallen asleep already. He resumed his mumbling, the words slowly becoming coherent as fell back asleep.

“It’s...too...soon..”

THE painful pounding of your heart had subsided as the Grisha left. Mal walked into the room followed by Alina, who was sporting a new wound on her palm that Ana Kuya had scolded her for.

“Come on, get up!” Mal urged, knowing from the look on your face that the pain had already left you.

“Where are we going?” You said eagerly, scooting to the front edge of your bed to lace up your boots.

“To the meadow.” That was all you needed to hear before running out the bedroom door. Mal and Alina’s footsteps padding behind. The three of you started a mildly competitive game of tag, the other two making sure you didn’t exert yourself.

In that moment, you were who you were supposed to be. Three children lying on the field, making stupid promises to each other.

“We can’t hide forever, but we can run.”

THIS time when you find yourself in a field, there’s a man laying next to you. It was the same man from your dream, shoulder length hair and clean shaven face.

“Aleksander?” He lets out a hm, awaiting your question. “Where am I?”

“What do you mean, my darling?” Aleksander- General Kirigan- or whoever the hell he was turned to look at you, laying one of his arms upon your stomach. His hand keeping a firm grip on your waist. From your peripheral view you could see him studying you.

He started with your eyes, taking in their color and your long lashes. He moved from the curve of your nose until he got to your soft, plump lips. You stared at the sky, afraid of what you would see, who you would recognize if you turned to face him.

“We’re at our meadow.”

WHEN you finally regain consciousness, you find yourself alone in a nearly dark room. Only one lantern had been lit up. It was just before dawn, you could see the sun beginning to peek out. Someone had changed you into a nightgown, you didn’t know who it was. Perhaps it was Alina or maybe the Darkling, maybe neither. Either way, you were thankful they decided to change you out of the robe you had fainted in.

With great struggle, you propped yourself up, your elbows taking the brunt of your weight. You crawled to the foot of your bed to put on your night slippers. The rug under your bed only went so far before it hit the cold floor. You slowly made your way to the desk, sitting yourself in front of the mirror.

The magic Genya had performed on you days ago had worn out by now. How long were you out for? The dark circles under your eyes had returned, seemingly worse. Your skin, although already dull, became more dull and pale. Whatever shine you originally had was gone. Your eyes look sunken in. While your hair was frail and also lost the shine that Genya gave it.

“Saints..” You whispered to yourself as you raked a hand through your hair. You were basically a dead person walking. You considered fetching a servant to bring you Genya, but decided against it. Throwing on a robe, you silently made your way to the war room, hoping to find the Darkling there. When you entered it remained empty, along with the bed he usually slept in. You walked the halls looking for one of his oprichniki, yet they weren’t around either.

There was no use in barging into his bedroom when it seemed like he was gone. Plus you didn’t want to invade his privacy knowing that he could have you killed for going into his room without permission if someone had seen you. You spotted one of the palace guards, walking up to him as you placed your hands into the pockets of your robe.

“Excuse me, do you happen to know where the General is?” You asked, staring into the guards eyes.

“He left a week ago, accompanied by his personal guards.” Was all he said, not disclosing why he had left. A week? Had you really been unconscious for a week? This usually never happened to you, not like this.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“In a couple of days.” He said, not giving you an exact day. You quickly thanked him before making your way back to your room to change for the day. The dull ache of your heart was finally leaving, allowing for you to feel more like yourself. You were able to spot the sun in the sky as you finished changing. You thought about basking in its light when your stomach growled loudly.

I suppose I should eat, you thought. It’d been nearly a week since you were able to feed yourself, your last meal being breakfast. You could remember someone feeding you periodically throughout the week, now knowing the Darkling had left, it was most likely Alina. You rang for a servant, asking to be brought breakfast when she arrived. Surveying the room, you decided that the Darkling wouldn’t mind if you did a little retouching.

You moved the table towards the window, wanting to eat in the sunlight without having the harsh winter winds freeze you. Opening the curtain allowed for more sunlight to stream through, a grunt of triumph leaving your lips as you looked at your new setup.

The squeaky wheel of the servant’s cart alerted you of her presence, rushing to open the door before she could knock. You took the tray from her hands, closing the door with your foot as you skipped towards the table, eager to get some food in your system.

The food they had given you was practically the same, sweet pea porridge, a tall glass of water, and a bowl of grapes. It wasn’t your favorite, but you ate it anyway. Savouring the familiar crunch and sweetness of the grapes. Sitting in the sun had left you feeling giddy and warm, excited for summer when you would be able to go out whenever you could and feel the sun on your skin.

It was the same warmth you felt whenever the Darkling touched you, even when you saw him in your dreams, there had always been a lingering sense of familiarness-- and affection. You saw the look in his eyes just seconds before you passed out, the shock as you said his name, the concern visible in his eyebrows. Him whispering, stay with me, please. It was all foreign to you. In fact, his behaviour was strange to you.

You’ve always heard of the Darkling being cold, menacing, someone you had to fear. There were stories of him ruthlessly slaughtering the Drüskelle, using the Cut to separate multiple heads from bodies in a matter of seconds. Yet he welcomed you into his home without a second thought. He fed you, gave you clothing and a place to sleep, even gave you a tour of the Little Palace himself. You were sure he had never given someone the treatment that he had given you, so what made you so different? What made you so special to him?

You didn’t miss the look he gave you when you first entered the war room, recognition and longing bright in his eyes. He tried to hide the emotion, but you were able to catch it before he returned to his dark and empty gaze. It would explain the memories, but only fueled your confusion and curiosity more. Had you shared a past life with him? If so, why were you back? How were you back? Getting lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the person knocking until they opened the door and announced themselves.

The familiar red hue of his kefta brought you comfort. You were too trusting lately, you’d only met Fedyor a week ago. Just the sight of his kefta had calmed something down in you. This palace was changing you, bringing out something from within you that never existed. Being this trusting on the fields would get you killed.

“Good morning, Fedyor. What brings you here?” You greeted him. This time you already had your boots laced up, the tray in your hands ready to be disposed of on the table by the door. “Going to escort me to combat training?”

“Actually, the General forbade you from stepping foot on training grounds again.” You let out a loud gasp as you whipped towards him. Thinking there was something wrong, Fedyor stepped forward, reaching his arms out to steady you just in case anything happened. In your anger, you slapped his hands away.

“Oh just you wait until he gets back,” You seethed, “Who does he think he is? Taking away my combat training privileges?”

“He’s the General, he can do that.” Fedyor responded, a small smile on his face.

“So what am I supposed to do then?”

“Well, you could still go to the library.” No, you didn’t want to risk running into the Apparat again. “Watch the Grisha train.” He offered a meek smile. “Walk the grounds.” Perhaps you could go on a horse ride later, but right now there was one thing on your mind.

“Is Alina training right now?” The heartrender gave you a nod, “I guess we’ll be going to her room then. She has something I want to borrow.” With the flick of your hand, the two of you were on your way.

“I’m going to ask you a question, and if you don’t want to answer then that’s okay.” Fedyor squints his eyes at you, before motioning to continue. “Has the Darkling ever taken up any lovers?” The question makes Fedyor stop in his tracks, a baffled look on his features.

“Well..I..” He struggled with his words, not knowing if he wanted to tell you. What would the General do to him if he told you? It was common knowledge that General Kirigan had been alive for a couple centuries now, he thought everyone knew of his endeavours. “The General has been around for many years, so naturally he has...had sex before.” The mention of it made Fedyor blush. “But he’s never settled down with someone. The closest I ever saw was with Alina.” This didn’t surprise you, Alina herself had told you about what had almost happened between the two.

“In the tent, when he tested her to see if she was Grisha, I saw something in his eyes. It was admiration, but there was also a defeated look in his eyes. As if he had given up on something because he found Alina. Reasonably, it could’ve been relief, since we had finally found the sun summoner.” Fedyor pauses, thinking wisely about the next words he spoke. “Alina and the General were growing close. Everyone saw the look they gave each other the night of the fete. But any public traces of their affection for each other had disappeared that night. The two are only seen interacting when he visits her for a gradual check-in.”

“And he’s never spoken of any other lovers?”

“Not consciously, no. On the very rare chance where we ride in the same carriage, sometimes when he falls asleep he’ll whisper about a woman. Moya dorogaya, he’d call her. That’s all I know.”

Moya dorogaya, my darling. It was the same name the Darkling had called you in your dream.

“May I ask you a question?” He inquired, you nodded your head, allowing him to proceed. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

A smile so bright that could light up the room came to your face, “My friends down near the south Ravka border. A pair of siblings that taught me to fight before they defected from the First Army.” You confessed. “One of them also introduced me to my love of epic poetry.”

When Alina’s door came to view, you didn’t bother knocking as she had already left. After fetching what you needed, you quickly exited her room.

“I haven’t seen them since they left.” You rubbed the birthmark at your throat. Besides Mal and Alina, the siblings were also the closest thing you had to family. They considered you as their sister, even begging that you left with them. But you told them your place was here in Ravka, with Mal and Alina.

“I’m sure you’ll see them soon. Once Alina and the General get rid of the fold, we will have access to our docks again.” He said, trying to comfort you.

“I hope so.” The rest of the walk was filled with comfortable silence as you fiddled with the edges of the red book. As you neared your door, Fedyor stopped, telling you he would be just outside if you needed anything. Without wasting another second, you ran to the chair in front of the window.

The Istorii Sankt’ya glistened in the sunlight. Something about it had been calling out to you, urging you to read it and find out more. You flipped through all of the pages of the saints until you found the one that had been calling out to you.

Sankt Ilya in chains. Ilya Morozova. Morozova’s herd.

“One day. When the war is over and the shadow fold is gone, you will bear my name. You will become Mrs. Morozova. I swear it.”

The voice of the Darkling rang clear in your head. The memory made your heart come to a stop as you struggled to find a possible explanation for his words. The only conclusion you could inevitably come to was that you were the sole lover that Fedyor had been talking about.

As the sun began to set, you looked at the drawing once more. The stag, sea whip, and firebird all depicted. You called out for Fedyor, asking him to come into your room.

“Can you bring me dinner for two?” You politely asked.

“Sure, were you planning on eating it yourself or shall I fetch someone while I’m at it?”

“No. You and I are going to have a nice, long talk while we eat dinner.” His face paled as the words left your mouth.

“Oh...okay.” Was all he said before he scurried off to get the food. You tucked the Istorii Sankt’ya under a pile of paper in your desk to hide it. While you waited for Fedyor to return, you lit up some candles and lanterns now that the sun was going down. It was no fun eating in the dark.

Well, sometimes it was. You thought back to the orphanage. Night where you, Alina and Mal would sneak out of bed to have a piece of bread. The bread was never enough, but the excitement had always spurred the three of you on enough to make it a nightly routine until Ana Kuya eventually caught on.

When Fedyor returned, he rolled the cart over to where you had been seated. He placed a golden tray in front of you and another for himself right across from you. He also brought a big pitcher of Kvas for you to share.

Lifting the cover from your plate, you found yourself staring at some sort of meat pie with a side of root vegetable soup. Fedyor had the same meal but had pickled herrings instead of soup.

“Ugh, I don’t know how you eat that stuff.” You said with disgust. “I’m glad you guys don’t force me to eat that.” Although it was common peasant food, it never appealed to you. It was something you’d always hated.

“The kitchen staff have a strict list of foods you like and dislike.” That made your head snap up to meet his, who made the list? You had a scheming suspicion that it wasn’t Alina, leaving you with one suspect.

“Tell me, Fedyor, do you know what the General plans on using Morozova’s Stag for?” You inquired, feigning curiosity. You saw his hesitation, clearly uncertain if he could trust you. “I was, after all, one of the last trackers to spot it.” You reminded

“The stag is rumored to be an amplifier created by Morozova himself. Whoever wears it would hold the greatest power known to mankind. One that could rival the General’s.” He said, taking a bite of his meal before continuing, “He plans on giving it to Alina in order to get rid of the shadow fold. She’s strong, but not strong enough to get rid of it on her own.”

“What about you, do you believe they will be able to banish the fold together?” There had been a swirl of doubt pooling in you. The shadow fold was the one thing that had kept Grisha safe from the rest of the world. With the permafrost in the North and the mountains in the South, Ravka had practically been perfectly disconnected. Yet the Drüskelle and Shu still managed to slaughter Ravkans and Grisha alike.

“Yes, I do. It’s something very important to the General. That the sun summoner reversed what his ancestor, the Black Heretic, had created.” He explained.

“Right, we’ll then what happens after? It’s been so long since West Ravka has been able to connect to East Ravka. Who’s to say that they don’t want to create a monarchy of their own?” Fedyor paused at your words, he hadn’t thought much about what the West Ravkans wanted. He only knew how much his people longed to be free of the shadow fold.

“One step at a time.” He ensured, not sure if he believed the words he just said. He didn’t know what would happen if West Ravka decided to break off and become their own sovereign state. Whatever trade and weapons they had obtained came through the trading ports of the docks in West Ravka. Without it they’d have nothing. They would be nothing.

You finished the rest of your meal, occasionally talking about your time being stationed in the South while he talked about his Grisha adventures. When it came to an end, you helped him clean up and wished him a good night as he rolled the cart away. The pitcher of Kvas laid untouched, your fingers twitched at the thought of having a drink. You stared at it as Fedyor rolled it away, your throat begging for something to drink. Instead of giving into your urges, you chug whatever leftover water you had laying around.

As you got ready for bed, you couldn’t help the strong feeling of loneliness overcome you. You tried to push those feelings away when you jumped into bed, not wanting to have a miserable dream.

WHEN you wake, you find yourself in the deadly permafrost of the Fjerda-Ravka border in nothing more than your lace nightgown. The snow under your feet melted as you walked around, searching for another sign of human life. You didn’t feel the familiar nip of the cold at your fingertips or toes. It was that same warmth you felt with the Darkling.

You caught sight of your own breath as you whipped your head around, the snow catching in your hair. As you stumbled into a tree, you felt the recognizable carving, stating that you were now in Fjerdan territory. Your feet had walked on their own accord, not knowing where you were going until you stumbled into a clearing. The same clearing where Dubrov and Mikhael had died, slaughtered brutally by the Fjerdans. The clearing where you had killed two of their own without a second thought.

The clearing where you had finally found the stag.

The very same stag that had now stood in front of you.

You inched closer to it with careful and calculated steps. It didn’t back away as you approached. It showed no signs of aggression as you laid one of your hands upon its antlers, your other going to stoke its fur.

It was giving you that same look it gave you when you first encountered it with Mal.

Mercy. Respect. Most of all, understanding.

IT had been two days since you dreamt of the stag. You hadn’t dreamt of it since then, in fact, you hadn’t been dreaming of much since you saw the stag in your dreams. You thought about bringing it up to Alina during breakfast, but decided against it, the conversation somehow drifting towards the General.

“I was giving him a report of my progress last night-”

“Last night?” You interrupted, “As in a couple of hours ago?” She nods, confused by your behavior. “When did he get back?”

“The night you woke up.” She replied, as if you had been informed already. No one told you he had returned, you hadn’t even seen him once. Fedyor didn’t even tell you of his return during dinner. With a huff, you got out your chair, moving towards the door before asking Alina one last question.

“When did you mention me to the General?” She gives you another confused look, not knowing what you were talking about. That was the only answer you needed as you made your way to the war room.

He knew you. Even before he discovered Alina and took her to the Little Palace, he knew you first. Your thoughts ran around rampant and unprovoked, trying to come up with a viable explanation as you stomped towards his hall. Before you could even reach the doors of the war room, you were stopped by his oprichniki.

“The General wishes to be alone right now.” She said, hold up a hand to stop you.

“Tell him that I want to speak with him.” You replied, she looked you up and down. You wore no kefta or guards uniform. You were merely just a First Army soldier in her eyes.

“I doubt he would want to talk to someone like you.” Great, you were dealing with a Grisha Oprichniki with a horrible superiority complex. With a scoff, you turned away and walked to your room. Holding back every urge in your body to punch her.

WHEN night came, you found yourself struggling to get some sleep. After your encounter with that rude oprichniki, you tried your best to at least get a glimpse of the Darkling. You tried walking in the gardens in hopes to see him, no luck. You walked past the singular window of the war room, only to find the view obscured by the curtains. You paced the halls as subtly as you could, waiting for him to exit the war room. But he didn’t leave. Not once, so you just gave up and decided to try again the next day.

The black silk of your slip on did little to soothe the irritation you felt. In fact, it seemed to irritate you more as it slipped around even at your smallest movements. With a sigh, you got up from the bed and walked towards the dresser with the intention of changing into something that would provide better comfort.

You ran your hands through all the different laces and fabrics of the nightgowns until it landed on the gold kefta. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try. You took it off it’s hanger, before walking towards the mirror. You examined it closely. The fabric itself had shimmers of gold, the black thread similar to any other kefta. As you surveyed the back of it, you noticed the handiwork of a fabrikator. Someone had tried to mend the rips of the kefta, but they were still visible up close.

The kefta had fit like a glove when you put it on. It gave you a sense of belonging. That maybe as an orphan you had finally found a home. You ogled at yourself in the mirror, the golden fabric had practically made you glow. You placed your hands into the pockets, surprised to feel something in one of them.

Grasping the object, you pulled it out. It was a letter. Covered in blood, dirtied and ripped at the corners, but still a letter nonetheless. You contemplated reading it, making the motion to put it back into the pocket before a thought crossed your mind. It wasn’t like anyone was going to find out.

You opened the letter and began to read it:

Dear Aleksander,

My darling, I don’t know why the universe has continued to bring us together. But I am thankful that they’ve given us a chance to be together once more. I have loved you for all of my lifetimes, and nothing could change that.

At least, that’s what I thought. But you’re no longer the Aleksander I once knew. Something dark has taken over you, your lust for power consuming you. I don’t know who you are anymore.

That’s why I’m doing what’s necessary, you’ve been in power for too long. It’s time for you to stop. It’s time for Ravka to be whole once more.

I’m sorry. I hope with whatever love you have left in your heart for me, that you could forgive me.

Eternally yours,

Y/N

You froze as you saw your name signed at the bottom of the letter. Lifetimes? As in more than one? This could wait no longer. Shoving the letter into your pocket, you threw open your door. The halls were empty, his oprichniki were either on a break or a shift change. Either way, you didn’t care.

You barged into the war room, expecting him to be hunched over a pile of maps, but he wasn’t. The next place you looked was his sleeping quarters that had connected to the war room. This bed was empty too, the sheets still cold. You knew of one last place he could be, and didn’t care about the risks.

You walked towards his door, each step filled with the burning curiosity you felt. Placing your hand on the doorknob, you didn’t expect it to turn. You would’ve assumed he kept the door to this bedroom always locked. But then again you were the only person who would dare enter his room without permission. After entering his room, you shut the door. Not wanting to raise suspicion to anyone who might’ve walked the halls perchance.

You paid no mind to the layout and decorations of his room as you fervently searched for him, only to come up empty handed again. Where could he possibly be? Perhaps he went for a midnight stroll. Or possibly he left the Little Palace again. But before deciding on going back to your room, you were adamant on searching the entire ground for him.

As you made your way back towards the door, your eyes briefly flashed to the portrait above it. You were frozen in your tracks as you did a double take. There in the painting was you, depicted in the gold kefta you had put on mere minutes ago. Behind you was the General, who had one hand clasped around your waist, the other resting on your shoulder. The two of you smiling brightly, it had practically been one of the only other times you’d seen him smile.

The letter in your pocket felt like it weighed a ton, your mouth going dry. In your panicked state of mind, you didn’t notice the shadows jumping up and down the walls.

“My darling.” You never heard him creeping up on you until he started talking into your ear, his whisper making you involuntarily shiver. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of him.

Turning around, you didn’t expect to find his hair dripping wet, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. A blush formed on your cheeks as you tried to look at anything but him.

“Don’t call me that.” You spat out, he reached one of his hands out to touch the kefta you had put on. His touch lingered from the black stitching to the collar of the Grisha jacket, his fingers ghosting over your neck. “I’m going to ask you one more time, have we met before?”

The General saw no use in keeping the secret from you any longer; you had worn the kefta he’d made for you centuries ago, most likely read the letter in its pocket, and now you had just seen the portrait he’d hung up of the two of you. It was evidently clear that you knew something was going on.

“What do you remember?” He deflected, not answering your question.

Flashes came to your mind, ones you had dreamt, others were new.

“I remember...my death. The night those soldiers shoved a knife in me.” You confessed. You also saw other things. Horseback riding in the woods. Long nights in bed spent talking about the future. Him training you, teaching you how to wield a sword. The birthmark at your ribcage, the one on your neck, and the long ones on your back. They had all been scars. Marking all the deaths from your previous lives.

Three scars, three separate lifetimes with him. You reached up to touch the scar on your neck, “They..I-”

“This one, the Fjerdans gave you this one. We were hunting for the stag when we had gotten ambushed. They killed you for the sole purpose to see me in pain. I begged them to take me too, but they found too much joy in my grief. The Drüskelle held me on the ground, my hands spread apart, as I watched you bleed out.” You can see the tears form in his eyes as he recalls the events of that night. He walks around you, tracing the rips of the kefta. The rips had consequently been placed exactly where the scars on your back were. You could tell by the familiar pattern he traced, a once soothing action that now caused you great anguish. “The Fjerdans also gave you these ones. They tortured you for days on end. When I finally found you, it was too late. There was no healer that had the power to help you. All I could do was hold you as a heartrender calmed you, minimizing your pain.”

“I can’t remember that, why can’t I remember that?” You panicked, to which the Darkling turned you to face him, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs rubbed your face in a reassuring manner.

“It’s not often that you fully remember what happens to you. It’s your brain's way of protecting you so you don’t get overwhelmed.” Well you certainly felt overwhelmed now. It was all too much to take in at once.

“The shadow fold..” You hesitated, removing yourself from his grasp. “Was that because of me?”

“Yes,” he confessed, “I created it after you first died. A way to protect all Grisha. I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand. But it was one less threat we had to worry about.”

“I don’t understand. Why me? Why is it always me? Why do I always come back to you?”

“There’s a reason why the universe has continued to bring us back together, my darling. My other half. My life.” He walks up to you, grasping your face in his hands. His touch was different this time, it was cold yet welcoming. It felt familiar. The shadows engulfed the room as you felt a power rush over you. His eyes darted towards your lips, hesitating before leaning in. You close your eyes as you feel that familiar warmth consume you. His kiss is soft, gentle, yet you could tell he was holding back from ravaging you.

He pulls away, resting his forehead on yours. You kept your eyes closed, lost in the memories.

“Open your eyes.” He whispered. When you had closed them, the whole room had been taken by his shadows, leaving the two of you in darkness. But as he stood in front of you, his hands on your cheeks, the whole room had been illuminated. “My sun summoner, I have loved you all of my life. For all of your lifetimes.”

“Maybe one too many.” What else was there to say? You always knew, somewhere deep down inside of you, that there was something special different about you. You didn’t know it until now, until you were reunited with your other half. “But I thought Grisha couldn’t get sick.”

The smile falls from his face, “I believe..that this could possibly be our last lifetime together.” He disclosed. “Neither heartrender nor healer could explain what was happening to you. I think it might be the consequence of avoiding eternal death for so long.” He joked, his eyes meeting yours.

“I thought your last life had been our final one together. I waited hundreds of years for your return. When I had caught wind of a sun summoner being found, I thought it was you. When it wasn’t I felt as if my heart had shattered all over again. That you would never return to me again.” The Darkling squinted as the light around you grew brighter. His touch was making you unstable.

“But Alina-”

“Can’t know. No one can. I can’t risk your life again. Not anymore.” He replied, “Especially when this could be our last time together.”

You struggled to find a name to call him, the General felt too formal, and to you it seemed too early to call him by his given name.

“Aleksander, my darling. Call me by my name.” He said, withdrawing his hand from you and letting the shadows shrink back to the ground.

All your life, you had subconsciously fought the Grisha within you. You had always been Grisha. Using the powers you had been born with had given you back your strength, albeit not all of it. You enjoyed- reveled the rush it gave you.

“Aleksander,” His name left your lips in a hushed whisper, “..what if I want the stag for myself?”

Mizpah tags: @all-art-is-quite-useless @devilxangel @musicconversedance @parabatai-winchester @runawayolives @tartiflvtte @rbg1933 @thatguppienamedbae @batgal96 @thebarisinhell99 @5hundreddaysofsummer @kaqua @queenseneschal @benbarnes-supremacy @princessofpersia96 @takethee @dontjinx-it @freakytillthemoon @amortentiaaaa @marvel-ousnesss @coolninjavoid @areomalfoy @pansysgirlfriend @universalirwin @leavejuliaalone @xx-winwin-wednesday-xx @honeyofthegods @lunamyangel @d-list-goddess @comphersjost @telepathdestiel @the-celestial-kitsune @thestoryofmylife9 @s-corpionem @pancakeisreading @sanna2020 @secretsandtinyshadows @savannah-elliott @maliasblue @tea-effect @disneyandharrypotter @futuristicpinklemur @tanyaherondale @the-puff-is-strong-with-this-one @hxgreeves @yourboiialucard@thereeallink @ladyblablabla @wolfieellsworld @p3nny4urth0ught5 @louweasleymalfoy @the-natureofme @itsloveroflife @oddlittleminx @within-thehollowcrown @itsfangirlmendes @heyyimlaynna @jgtfvhsg @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @auggie2000 @itsnotquimey @jtownraindancer @sonnensplitter @sarcastic-and-cool @poulterfilms @spookybooisa @stickyknightflowerbailiff @hollandsweetie @yungkvte @evyiione @2023-padfoot @kawaiimarshmallow @nikki-sixx-is-daddy @sanktawylan @blackbirddaredevil23 @athenamikaelson @mellifluous-cosmos @mylittlecrazyworldofinterest @iiclarixa @lcandothisallday @agent-jbarnes

Mizpah taglist is CLOSED for now!

S.a.B. forever tags: @deceivedeer

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan #ben barnes

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chaos-burst · 5 years ago

Text

questions and answers

He had meant to be rude. And it had not worked even a little bit. Eodwulf is sure that anyone else would have been offended. Hell, he’s even sure that the other members of this weird group were absolutely offended on behalf of their friend. But Eodwulf can’t say he has ever met a person like this.

There was no malice, no ill intent, no anger.

When you work with Trent you have to be aware of every little shift in the mood. The slightest twitch of an eyebrow can mean the weather is about to turn foul. Eodwulf knows what to look out for. It had been his intent to rev this weirdo up and it had backfired spectacularly.

Damn.

No meat. No booze. And balls of steel, apparently. Eodwulf had never seen anyone talk to Trent like that. And while Bren‘s—Caleb‘s—words of wanting to kill Trent outright had been more than Eodwulf would ever admit to his mentor, it somehow felt less crazily reckless than to call Trent Ikithon, Archmage of Civil Influence for the Cerberus Assembly and one of the most powerful mages in the Empire, a fucking fool.

To his face. With a smile. In a complete sincere manner.

Eodwulf doesn’t want to replay the words in his head over and over again but his dumb brain has latched onto them and he can’t stop. Only this time it’s not one of Trent’s lessons that forces him to obsessively repeat something until you have internalized it to the point where you can cite it in your sleep.

No.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people.“

Eodwulf has it on repeat in his head the whole way back to the tower and it is still going when he lies down hours later to sleep.

“What are you“ had not been meant as a serious question when Eodwulf had asked it. But by the time he finally falls asleep he feels like it has become a very vital question indeed, because who or what would dare to speak to Master Trent Ikithon in a way like this with an honest smile on their face.

Because for some reason his thoughts have decided to betray him, Eodwulf’s brain makes his tongue and lips form the words again when they see the Mighty Nein the next time. This time, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited to dinner—Trent has very specifically not been invited, you could say he was uninvited with quite a few flowery words in a strange accent.

And as soon as Eodwulf sees Caduceus he remembers the weirdly polite scratching of a chair, the wide smile that indicates that this is a person Eodwulf possibly can not force to lose their composure through careful placed rudeness. And his mouth betrays him.

“So. What are you, really?“

Caduceus blinks mildly surprised before his unfamiliar features shift into a warm smile that has Eodwulf feel quite a lot of inappropriate things he didn’t expect to find in a place like this.

“Gardener. Maker of fine tea. A decent cook. Keeper of graves“, Caduceus lists of and he uses his long fingers to count the things that are important to him about himself.

“Very powerful cleric“, Jester chimes in from the right. She has Astrid next to her in a chair and Eodwulf is pretty sure that Jester has started to put flowers in Astrid’s hair. But surely he must be mistaken. Who in the Nine Hells are these crazy people?

“Oh, yeah. Well, that too, I suppose“, Caduceus says, his smile still warm like honeyed wine.

“Huh“, Eodwulf says because he can’t for the life of him think of something else to say. But Caduceus is yet again pulling out a chair for him so Eodwulf straightens his shoulders and sits down next to Caduceus. Across the table from him the angry one throws herself into a chair and stares at him.

There’s no fear there either, but she can be easily angered, something Eodwulf is good at. He gives her a canine smile and she holds up her middle finger.

This group is full of people with an enormous lack of self preservation.

And they are so loud.

Eodwulf almost doesn’t hear it when Caduceus turns to him to ask him a question.

“Huh?“, he says again, like a fool.

“And what are you, was what I wanted to know“, Caduceus says, his lazy grin open and honest. There is no malice in his words. He actually wants to know.

Eodwulf thinks “Murderer, wizard, protégé, spy“ but he doesn’t say any of these things. “Maker of graves“ comes to mind, but it seems like too dark of a joke to make.

“Enthusiastic about both meat and booze“, he says in the end and Caduceus laughs.

“Yeah, as are most of my friends.“

The implication these words bring is probably only in Eodwulf’s mind but it makes him swallow and look away to find Astrid’s eyes. But Astrid now has pink flowers in her hair and a look of absolute confusion on her face as Jester rattles of compliment after compliment about various of Astrid’s features.

Eodwulf can’t help but look at Bre—Caleb. And he sees that there is a soft, barely noticeable smile on his old friend’s face as he watches the scene unfold.

What am I, indeed, he thinks.

Trent’s orders have been clear. Get close to the group called the Mighty Nein to find out what they are working on with Lady Vess DeRogna.

Eodwulf allows himself to think that Caduceus might have been right. Maybe Master Ikithon is indeed a fool.

Because being in the presence of these people is like nothing Eodwulf has ever experienced and it makes him think, wonder, question—

“Here we are again“, Caduceus says after, yet again, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited for dinner. Eodwulf wonders if this group just wants to make it very easy to spy on them, or if they have an agenda of their own—but it’s hard to believe that there might be any coherent agenda behind anything these people do.

He has watched the buff one called Yasha try and play what looked like a harp made of bone and when the angry one, Beau, told her that she looked hot playing the harp Yasha had torn two of the strings which had led to a whole scene of apologies and various tries to fix the harp.

Jester has drawn dicks on pretty much every surface this magical mansion has and she delights in the fact that Caleb brings the dicks to life in various colors. At some point he made glowing sparkles shoot out of one of the dicks Jester had drawn and Jester had laughed as if this was the best joke she had ever witnessed.

Eodwulf notices Astrid’s eyes on Jester.

Eodwulf also notices that while there seems to be no agenda or efficiency behind anything, they are still being watched.

Beau and Fjord look at them. And Eodwulf is pretty sure Caduceus watches everything as well, but he does it without crossing his arms and glaring so much.

“Looks like it”, he answers. Caduceus offers him tea and Eodwulf’s first instinct is to decline, but then he remembers that “maker of fine tea” had been very high on the list of descriptors so he takes the cup he is offered while somewhere in the background people start screaming something that sounds like “FLUFFERNUTTER”.

Eodwulf tries the tea. He’s not a fan of tea, but this tea is absolutely delicious and he finds himself impressed.

“I believe this one comes from the Hollburns’ graves. Those remains made the tea grow quite fast, it was impressive.”

Eodwulf blinks at his tea and then at Caduceus. For a second his brain wonders if this statement should register as a threat, but it had been delivered with such honest delight and a sense of pride that Eodwulf discards that feeling.

“What?”, he asks. Caduceus points at the tea.

“Oh, well, my family grows tea on those graves we’re keeping. In case you wanted to ask me again what I am. Or—hm, I think I already mentioned that I am a keeper of graves?”

Caduceus trails off and looks thoughtful and Eodwulf stares at him.

“Keeper of Graves. That make you a follower of the Matron?”, he asks.

Caduceus looks at him and smiles.

“Not quite. My family serves Melora. But we are descended from a champion of the Raven Queen.”

Eodwulf can’t help but wonder if this was some kind of weird joke. But his goddess usually isn’t one for joking.

Eodwulf considers for a second, then he pulls out the raven feather pendant from under his cloak.

Caduceus nods. “So”, he says and smiles widely. “What are you?”

Eodwulf snorts.

“For real?”, he says.

Caduceus’ smile widens.

“For real.”

It feels like this has become a sort of game.

“What are you?”

“Moral compass. Middle sibling. Eccentric. Amateur flute player.”

Eodwulf finds that through this question he himself posed the first time, he’s been forced to think more about himself than he feels comfortable with.

“What are you?”

“Decent chess player. Dog person. Sportsman. Only child.”, are the things he says out loud.

“Self-made orphan. Patriot. Volstrucker. Torturer.”, are the things he thinks to himself.

Eodwulf has the impression that Caduceus is somehow aware of the things he doesn’t say.

“So. This is the crew you’re running with now?”, Eodwulf asks Bre—Caleb one night before the Mighty Nein will leave with Vess DeRogna to who-knows-where. Neither Astrid nor Eodwulf did get very far with their planned infiltration work. Eodwulf is not even sure how hard they even tried.

It’s very easy to get swept away by the chaos and the weirdness and the complete lack of fear that the group displays when it comes to him and Astrid. They are dangerous people in a lot of ways.

The Mighty Nein are also dangerous people in a very different way. A way that Eodwulf doesn’t know anything about.

“This is my family, ja.”

He says it, just like that, without looking at Eodwulf.

Family.

The word tastes bitter in Eodwulf’s mouth as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“Weird people”, he says. Caleb huffs.

“You can say that, yes. But they grow on you very quickly”, he answers quietly and with a small, fond smile that makes something inside Eodwulf ache. For a long time Eodwulf pitied Bren for breaking, for not making it, for failing, for being locked away and discarded. Now he realizes that maybe, in a very macabre sort of way, Bren becoming Caleb through failure was the better end of the bargain.

It feels blasphemous to think that.

“The pink one is especially weird”, Eodwulf finds himself saying and he takes a big swig of whiskey from his flask before handing it to Caleb.

“Ja, I noticed that you seem to have a... uh... particular kind of interest in him. And, if I may add, he in you.”

Eodwulf takes the flask back after Caleb drinks. He contemplates the different sorts of feelings inside his gut as the words sink in. Then he tucks it all away very carefully, just as he learned through many years of being in Trent’s presence.

“Still don’t know what he is”, Eodwulf says. Caleb snorts and shakes his head.

“His people are called Firbolg”, he provides.

“Not sure that’s what I mean. Not anymore, at least.”

It seems dangerous to admit that. Caleb turns his head and looks at Eodwulf with a shimmer in his eyes that Eodwulf can’t read. Many years ago he was able to read Bren like an open book, but Caleb is another book entirely.

“You deserve to have some nice things, you know. You deserve friends. A chance of—hm. A chance of peace. A chance for redemption, if you want it.”

Eodwulf gets up and tugs away his flask.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people. Pain is inconsequential, it’s love that saves them.”

Eodwulf understands the truth in these words now. Bren was broken, Caleb is being healed. Eodwulf doesn’t think that there’s anything left in him that can be saved. Or should be saved.

“Good luck on your journey tomorrow. Don’t die”, Eodwulf says and he leaves Caleb behind.

What are you, he thinks. A sentimental fool.

Astrid sits next to him on one of the balconies of her house and looks up at the stars above them. The Mighty Nein have been gone for six days and it has been very quiet.

They sit in silence and share a bottle of whiskey, passing it back and forth instead of words. It’s been like this for many many years that they’ve allowed themselves to just be. Today though, Astrid breaks the silence.

“I’m going to be the one who kills him.”

She says it quietly, without remorse, without indicating that this is a scandalous statement. She says it just how other people would say “I’ll go to bed soon.”.

Eodwulf stops breathing for just a moment. Then he inhales the cool night air and turns his head to look at her.

“Could kill you for treason”, he says. She looks at him and cocks her head slightly, the analyzing gaze of a murderous spy meets its equal in silence.

“I’d love to see you try”, she says. Eodwulf grins. It feels reckless.

“Don’t die”, he says, the same thing he’s said to Caleb before. Astrid regards him for a long moment and Eodwulf takes another sip. “Will you help me or try to stop me?”

Eodwulf considers this for a moment. Would he try to stop Astrid should she try to kill Trent? No. Would he help her? He doesn’t know that either.

“Can’t you just wait for Bren to do it for you?”

“I won’t lose to him again.”

Eodwulf snorts.

Always so competitive.

“That’s some fucked up shit, Astrid.”

“Shut up, Arschloch.”

Eodwulf grins before getting up to stretch. He puts his hands on the railing of Astrid’s balcony and wonders what Caleb’s new family is up to.

Making a new family never came to mind before. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale. While he contemplates the question whether he would help Astrid kill Trent Ikithon, a slow, familiar voice pops up in his head.

“Hey. Uh—Jester told me to send you an update. We’re still alive. Hope you’re good. Got a new question for you. What will you become?”

The rustling of Astrid’s clothes as she stands up as well somehow tells him that she received a message in her head as well. She steps beside him and puts her hands on the railing next to his.

“They’re persistent”, she says quietly.

Eodwulf nods and inhales.

He doesn’t know what he will become. He didn’t even know that was a question to be asked. The path is clear. It always was.

Pain doesn’t make people.

“Not going to answer?”, she wants to know.

“Don’t have an answer yet.”

It’s unclear to him whether she means her own question or the message Caduceus just sent him.

He answers the sending spell with a simple “I don’t know.”. It takes a few minutes before another message comes in.

“That’s good. Uncertainty is good. It’s the first step in a better direction. I’m going to kill a dragon now. Wish me luck. Good night.”

“I’ll keep you posted on the answer to that question of yours. I’ll see you tomorrow”, he says and leaves Astrid behind on the balcony. Eodwulf thinks about something he hasn’t thought about in a very long time. A priestess in his Matron’s temple once told him: “Death is the only certainty in life.”.

He thinks that Caduceus would agree.

And Eodwulf hopes that the next time he sees that weird, reckless man, he’ll have an answer for him.

#cadwulf #blumengrove #caduceus clay #critfic #critical role #eodwulf #cr spoilers #fanfiction #caduceus #text #screeching into the void #this got a bit out of hand #but i just wanted to get some stuff out of my system

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slytherinwh0re · 5 years ago

Text

A dare is a dare

Fred Weasley x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni) and swearing

Summary: Where you’re dared to jump in the lake naked as Fred watches.

Masterlist

There’s nothing better than an end of year party at Hogwarts. The Gryffindor common room was packed with students of all four houses, the never ending supply of firewhisky promised a good time.

You stood around talking to a few friends, the effects of the alcohol making everything funnier than it should have been. However, not even the slight buzz you had going could stop your eyes from roaming around the room, looking for a certain red head you couldn’t get out of your head.

As soon as your eyes locked with Fred’s he smirks and makes his way over to you, pushing through the crowd of people, never once losing eye contact.

The thing with Fred was that both of you were very obviously attracted to each other but both were too stubborn to make the first move. This soon turned into a little game of sorts and as much as you enjoyed it, it was starting to drive you crazy. The lingering touches and constant flirting weren’t enough anymore, you needed more.

“I’ve been waiting for you, George was just about to start a game of truth or dare.”

“Well come on then Weasley, you know I’ve never said no to a game of truth or dare.” He smiles at your response, grabs your hand, and leads you to the circle of people waiting to play, sitting down next to you.

“Alright everyone, you know the rules. If the bottle lands on you it’s your turn, you can’t pick truth twice in a row and if you’re dared something you have to do it, no exceptions. I’ll spin to see who gets to go first.” George said, looking far too pleased with himself as he spun the bottle. Everyone waited in anticipation to see who it would land on and of course when it finally slows down it’s pointing directly at you. Just your luck.

“What’s it gonna be (y/n).” George has the biggest smirk plastered on his face but you aren’t one to back down.

“Dare.” You say with a smirk of your own.

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you (y/l/n).” After a minute of thought you see his face light up, this can’t be good. “I dare you to jump in the lake.” You can’t help but laugh, I mean come on.

“I really thought better of you George, I’ll be back in 10 minutes.” You start to get up when he starts talking again.

“You didn’t let me finish. I dare you to jump in the lake. Naked.” Your eyes immediately widen along with everyone else’s. “And I think you should take my dear brother Fred with you so we know if you’ve actually done it.” That little shit, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Not a problem, come on Fred.” You say, trying your best not to show that you’re internally freaking out. You gulp down the rest of your drink, needing the extra confidence and with a final wink from George, you and Fred leave the common room.

“(Y/n) you know you don’t actually have to do it if you don’t want to right? I’ll tell them you’ve done it if you’re uncomfortable.” Fred whispers as you sneak through the dark corridors. You knew you didn’t have to but this might just be what finally puts an end to the silly game you were playing with each other.

“A dare is a dare Fred.” You grab his hand, leading him away from the school towards the shallow part of the lake. The hot summer night was perfect for a dip in the cool water. The nerves had left your body and instead were replaced with excitement.

“Go on then (y/l/n), you know the rules.” The Weasley was smirking, probably thinking you’d back down but he was surely mistaken. Without saying a word you reach for your shirt, yanking it off. Your bra, shorts, and panties follow shortly after. Once you were completely bare you look back at him and the look on his face was enough to make your confidence sky rocket.

The boy looked like he may faint, the lust in his eyes made your stomach do backflips. No one had ever looked at you with such amazement.

“Like what you see Weasley?” You tease. The rising tent in his jeans making the answer obvious.

“You’re bloody perfect.” He starts reaching for you but you’re already turning around running towards the lake, feeling his stare burn into you. Once you get deep enough, you dive in. The cool water feeling amazing on your naked skin.

Your head breaks the surface and you wave at Fred, making him laugh as you do some summersaults just for the hell of it. After swimming for another minute you decide it’s time to get out.

He never looks away as your glistening body makes its way to the shore, back to him and your clothes. The air makes goosebumps rise on your skin and your nipples pebble. You hear the soft groan and can’t help the smile that appears on your face, loving the effect you have on the red head.

You walk right up to him, stand on your tippy toes and whisper in his ear, “I’m wet.”

“Put your clothes on. Now.” He demands as you pull away from him, pleased with yourself. You do as you’re told as quickly as you can. Once you’re done he’s dragging you back through the halls and common room, ignoring everyone hoots and hollers as they see you come in soaking wet and goes straight for his dorm room.

Once inside he slams his lips on yours, walking you backwards until the back of your knees hit the side of his bed. He breaks the kiss to yank your shirt off, your bra goes as well. His lips travel down your body while you grab at his soft hair, eliciting small groans from him. Fred takes one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it and you can no longer contain the moans that have been threatening to escape.

“I don’t know how I’ve gone on this long.” He pants pulling away from you as you reach for his shirt.

“Me neither.” You pull him back down to you, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he slowly grinds himself into you. The large bugle in his jeans rubbing against all the right places.

You unbutton his jeans and he pulls them off along with his boxers, your hand stroking his length. The skin feeling like velvet in your hands, his tip red and dripping with precum.

Fred yanks down your shorts and underwear, letting his eyes make their way up and down your slightly wet body.

“Bloody perfect.” He mutters before kissing your neck.

You take his dick and slide him through your wet folds, not wanting to waste anymore time. You’ve waited for this for far too long.

“Are you sure about this love?” Fred looks up at you and all you can manage is a quick nod.

He guides himself to your entrance and pushes in. The loud moan that leave your mouth makes that handsome smile appear. Your legs wrap around his waist as he speeds up, all coherent thoughts leave your head and all you can manage to say is his name on repeat.

“Oh my God Fred.” You moan as he unwraps your legs from him and brings one of them up to rest on his shoulder. The new angle making him feel even deeper than he was previously. Your hands run up his hard chest and lightly scratch down making the boy above you groan. The raspy sound driving you mad.

The force of his thrusts make your tits bounce and you throw your head back, loving the feeling of his big hand making it’s way up your chest to your throat.

“Such a tease love, undressing in front of me like that just so I’d fuck you.” His hand tightens slightly against your neck, the other hand rubbing circles into your clit.

“Fred I’m gonna cum.” You barely get out before your walls clench around him, his name falling from your lips. Your high rocking through your body, making your toes curl and vision go white. He watches you fall apart under him with that little smirk until he’s spilling into you with quiet groans of your name.

He falls on the bed besides you and you start laughing. He looks over at your with a smile on his face.

“What’re you laughing at?” He questions.

“I win.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #weasley family #fred and goerge weasley #Weasley smut #the weasleys #draco malfoy smut #harry potter smut #hp smut

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zeromorph · 2 years ago

Text

tagged for a tag game by @odense, ty! cutting for length:

(per usual, tagging a handful of folks I think enjoy ask games, but of course no pressure and if anyone else feels like doing a questionnaire feel free to treat this as a tag! c: @lightspren @moejra @re-lmayer @kickhopper )

What book are you currently reading?

I just started In the Watchful City by S. Qiouyi Lu! ær "Mother Tongues" is one of my all-time favorite short stories, so I was excited to pick this up--it's very different, but I'm enjoying it so far.

What’s your favourite movie you saw in a cinema this year?

I wasn't much of a cinema person even before the pandemic (though I’m better with them now that I’ve figured out I have a better time if I get a captioning device), so I've barely been in theaters at all the last couple years and haven't this year--I did see Batman last year though!

What do you usually wear?

jeans and usually a t-shirt or some sort of button-up, maybe a blouse sometimes, if I'm honestly I'm not totally sure where the line between blouses and button-ups is. jeans are the most comfortable pants and I will die on that hill.

How tall are you?

5'5''/165cm, or thereabouts

What’s your star sign?

when I'm in a mood where I think astrology is fun I say sidereal Cancer but at this point when I'm talking to strangers I refuse to give them any information about my birthday until I'm sure they're not gonna be weird to me about it

Do you share your birthday with a celebrity or historical event?

I mean there are only so many days in a year so I assume the answer is technically a bunch of em, but nothing comes to mind

Do you go by your name or a nickname?

name in everyday life! I hate Ruthie and Ruth isn't otherwise easy to nickname haha. I do also use November in a limited online context though, and I’m generally fine with people giving me one-off nicknames

Did you grow up to be what you wanted to be as a child?

I mean, I wanted to be a lot of things as a child, including storm chaser, professional spelunker (whatever I thought that would entail), and construction worker. I did actually go through a veterinarian phase, though, and I’m now on track for a vet tech license, so close enough!

(on the other hand, I spent most of my later childhood/adolescence sure that I would live in academia forever, and, well. every year I thank the program-assigned advisor who blew my mind by giving me a funny look and telling me not to go to grad school if I didn’t want to.)

Are you in a relationship? Who is your crush if not?

I'm neither in one nor particularly interested in being in one, at least for the time being!

What’s something you’re good at versus something you’re bad at?

I am good at making soup, and bad at going to bed on time.

Dogs or cats?

cats--I like dogs well enough, but I like being able to give them back to their humans, and I miss my cat constantly (she’s fine, she’s just in Texas with my parents). though professionally my heart lies elsewhere entirely--my jam is avian and reptilian medicine. (bird anesthesia is cool and weird because their respiration is cool and weird! reptiles are just generally Neat.)

What’s something you’d like to create content for?

I'm working on a cosplay project right now! it's for the title character from Hollow Knight. the why is partly easy to explain (unlike any of the other video game cosplays I've thought about in passing before, it only requires making a few pieces; also, if I ever wear it to an Event TM, improv anxiety is off the table because I don’t have to talk) and partly difficult to talk about coherently (it's about. about the--all my things about artificial beings and personhood, and about expectations and love and hope and the unsustainability of pressing yourself down to fit a mold and the breaking of cycles). anyway now half my office floor is workspace and when I finish the mask it's going to make me too tall to walk through doorways so figuring out how to transport it anywhere will be a separate adventure but I'm having a great time.

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

some absolutely wild shit that went down at my online ttrpg group's last session. I am turning the events around in my hands like a snowglobe with our characters toppling around inside of it

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

I was hoping for more snow this winter :c

What’s a hidden talent of yours?

my stock answer to this sort of question is that I am surprisingly and uselessly good at Freecell (current win streak on my laptop: 2526)

Are you religious?

sort of! depends on your definition, I suppose. I believe in Gd the way I believe in ghosts, which is to say I don't believe in ghosts, but I don't definitively believe there are no ghosts, either, so if someone tells me I'm in a haunted place I'll greet the ghost as a matter of course, and honestly I think "are there literal ghosts tangibly haunting the world" is the wrong question to ask to approach the concept of ghosts anyway.

I also go to services fairly regularly and have a lot of feelings about Torah and I'll say the shehecheyanu just about any time I have an excuse to because I love the feeling it helps me give shape to. a rabbi I took a class from once said, about prayer, "I don't know if Gd is listening, but I know I'm listening," which I think about a lot. religious action isn't about belief or even necessarily faith for me, it's about community and a way to explore and express my wonder for and sense of connection with the world around me. so, in a heartfelt rather than lukewarm way: sort of.

What’s something you wish to have at this moment?

the grade for my radiography final. worst-case scenario I only needed a 53 to pass the course, so I’m not too stressed, but the prof's graded about half the exams so far and mine's not one of them and I just want to know my overall grade

#in which Ruth makes text posts #ask meme

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softluci · 4 years ago

Text

trendy [hcs]

someone (@yourlocalsinnamonroll hi again!) sent me a request a Long time ago asking me to do more gen z headcanons, and i have been working on this on and off for Months. this is something that i’ve had on my mind for a long time, and it most definitely can be associated with/attributed to gen z.

this isn’t sfw so Minors DNI, but for a fleeting, wonderful period of time, there was a trend on tiktok that went, “buss it, buss it…” are you familiar? that should be enough of a summary, right?

anyway, once again, for my peace of mind, minors dni, and reader is g/n as usual, enjoy!

[a/n: so because this is so long, this part is going to be, like, the actual headcanons, and then the backstory i have for this will be right here]

lucifer

“intrigued,” would be the best word to describe how he was feeling. it didn’t cover the full spectrum of emotions that washed over him, but it was definitely a start. he started forming coherent thoughts after the fifth loop, but that's his business🤨

for one, he was upset. you mean to tell him that you could dance like this the entire time, and you—first of all, you never offered to do it for him, or on him, and you know his obsession for you would increase tenfold he has an appreciation for dancing of any and all kinds. you were depriving him, and for what reason, exactly? have you never been acquainted with shame before?

second of all, not only were you keeping this crucial information from him, but you told everyone, at the same time. why can't he ever have anything for himself? he should relax— it's not too big of a deal, he's not too hurt because he'd have you to himself soon enough.

well, really, right now. he is suddenly in dire need of entertainment, you understand. he just called you to tell you to come to his room, and he would be a liar if he said he didn’t like how nervous you sounded.

mammon

can everyone, like, get out of hell for a few minutes? he needs to be alone. the video is on its nth loop. he's laying face down on his bed, trying to recover from the siege you just put him under—how dare you?

you're supposed to be his—his cinnamon apple, his human, his everything—and you sent this to the group chat? is nothing sacred? is nothing in this world for him alone? what is wrong with you, genuinely? most importantly, why haven’t you ever even offered to dance with him?

really, he's hurt. betrayal of this magnitude is bound to sting, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

now, the pain of your treason aside, that was very easily the best thing he’s seen in a decade. before he collapsed face-first onto his bed, he was watching very intently, for at least two full minutes. he was actually so invested that questions didn’t form in his mind until, like, the tenth loop—but that was neither here nor there. now that he was recovering from the bomb you dropped, he had half a mind to go to your room and interrogate you among other things.

unfortunately for you, he really only operates with half of his mind anyway, so he was already out the door. however, you have nothing to be afraid of. as we know, mammon is a man easily crumbled. all you have to do to disarm him is ask him if he liked it.

levi

he knew.

he didn’t know, like, exactly what was going to happen after he helped you trick out your d.d.d, but he knew it was gonna be fucking Something.

he didn't even get through the video, actually—the beat dropped, so did you, and, suddenly, his phone was across the room. his face was a deep crimson, and his thoughts were barely coherent, but he was already out of his bedroom.

simply put, he knew his brothers. he knew at least two of them would be on their way to you soon enough, but they wouldn't get there before him. he knew what he was going to do before his thoughts were fully formed. he'd get there, he'd bring you back to his room, he'd hide out with you in one of his cursed games—he would help you. if the two of you went slow enough playing it, everyone would have calmed down by the time you got back, right? right.

was he being a bit dramatic? of course not! you would be safest with him, tucked away from his brothers until he was certain they wouldn't try anything. you know them, you know how they get, right? he'd never do anything like that unless you wanted him to. you are his best friend, and, really, he owes you this safety. this is at least twelve percent his fault.

satan

oh. oh, wow.

now, how many times did he watch that video? he doesn't know, he wasn't counting. he wouldn't tell you even if he was. he needs to maintain some kind of dignity here—not that there was anything undignified about being attracted to you, of course. it was just, well, you know—he was better than his brothers.

in general, not when it came to you, but, even still. he's at a level of self control that they can't even conceive. now, have you been slowly, but surely, ebbing away at his centuries of hard work? yes. did this video put something of a dent in his poise? yes.

but, in all honesty, it was fine. satan was smarter than all of his brothers, more patient—you know, better. he knew exactly how he would go about this.

he wouldn't talk to you about this tonight, tomorrow, or the next day. he would play a waiting game, lure you into a false sense of security—and then, when you think you can trust him, when you think he's forgotten or just wants to show you mercy—then. he would come for you then. just wait for him.

asmo

miffed. he was miffed. like, arms crossed, tapping his foot on the floor, shaking his head—miffed. once he was done staring at his screen for five minutes, he had about seven bones to pick with you.

first of all, why didn't you come to him if you wanted to do your makeup and pick an outfit to film in? he's not saying you looked bad—believe him, he was staring for a reason—but you would've looked so much better if you let him style you. second of all, you had the absolute gall to make something like this and not invite him to join you? you're a villain. no, really—

but what really got him—what really drove him up a wall—was the fact that you never even hinted at the fact that you could dance like that. why did you keep such crucial information from him? he wasn’t even gonna think about the fact that you had yet to do it on him, it would be too much for him to process at once—your audacity would become palpable. he should really calm down, getting this upset is bad for his skin.

now that he’s thinking about it, you were wearing a full face of makeup. it hasn’t been that long since you sent the video, you’re probably still wearing it, right? well, he wouldn’t be a good friend if he didn’t help you take it off! he knows he was a bit peeved a few minutes ago, but, well, that was a few minutes ago! now, as he reflected on his initial reaction to your video, he was in a forgiving mood. he was already on his way to your room to help you with undressing unwinding, and, admittedly, to tease you a little a lot—he thinks you’re cute when you’re flustered.

beel

he was more confused than anything, honestly. he wasn’t feeling jealous or betrayed like his brothers, nor was he feeling possessive at all. he was just confused, for a few reasons.

first was the fact that everyone in the group chat was yelling at him. all he did was send an emoji of a fork and a knife, and everyone was on his ass all of a sudden, like he was the one who sent the video. he was the only person with their priorities straight, and there was lucifer, trying to scold him via text message, which only furthered his confusion. he was an adult, and he was fully allowed to have an appreciation for the finer things in life, up to and including your dancing skills.

he was careful to relay his message in a private chat, not thinking too much of it. he would’ve given anything to see your reaction, but he wasn’t cruel enough to go to your room minutes after you sent it. he could easily do it tomorrow.

this, of course, brings him to his second point of confusion. he really doesn’t get why you decided to do this on camera instead of on his face on top of him, but, like, to each their own. he’s content with the fact that he even got to see it, but he feels like he should still let you know the offer is there.

belphie

first of all, you're already here, but for the sake of malice—go to hell. he was about to go to sleep, you absolute heathen. second of all, because he lost time he could've spent sleeping, you're going to have to take some responsibility and atone—immediately. he had a (correct) feeling that you wouldn’t be willing to come up to the attic, and he wasn’t willing to compensate for that by going to your room.

this was, while a bit annoying, perfectly fine. it was late, it was a school night, you were undoubtedly going to sleep within the next hour or two. he would know once you did, such is the nature of the avatar of sloth, and then, he would pay you a visit while you were dreaming. nothing to be nervous about, don’t worry, he just had a few questions.

the first question being, why, exactly, didn’t you just unsend the video when it was so clearly sent on accident? that’s not to say he didn’t enjoy watching it repeatedly, but he was quite curious. whatever—it’s not like everyone is going to know it was an accident, anyway, and he’s glad no one told you about that messaging feature. he uses it on lucifer all the time, but that is neither here nor there.

the second question being, now, given that it is so clear that he is a bottom, why did you never—

#G O D #this took me so fucking long #this is the price i pay . for having no brain #now i can focus on the other creations in my dumb little drafts #like god intended #anyway here go the tags #obey me #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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catty-words · 4 years ago

Note

song lyrics meme: "hoodie" by hey violet for ben/devi (the hoodie in question /could/ be a denim jacket, perhaps...)?

bless you for giving me an excuse to expand the jean jacket 'verse. you don't have to have read thought we were through, me and you to understand this, but it'll probably help.

makes me feel a little bit closer (to you wanting me back)

Seeing the blurred-at-the-edges image of him giving Devi a piggyback ride through the hall on the last day of school light up his phone makes Ben’s heart slam against his ribs, too much inertia to slow down.

“Miss me, David?” he asks, and then winces at himself. That’s his opening? Really?

Devi’s scoff fills his ear. “Look who’s talking. You trying to set a record for speed-answering the phone or something?”

He throws down his pen, reclines back in his creaky dorm desk chair. “My reaction time is immaculate, so.”

She exhales loudly, and he closes his eyes. He can see the way the tension in her shoulders would dissipate: uncorked Devi, fizzled out and still.

Sure enough, her next words reach him soft and low. “Fuck, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“You, too.” The reciprocation comes out bloated with feeling, and he has to pause and clear his throat. “I wasn’t sure if, you know, if—”

“Oh, my god, dude,” she says, and he can hear her smile. “Just call me when you feel like it. You’re not gonna cramp my style or some shit.”

He grins back, but suddenly that’s not enough. He needs to see her face. “You mean, no more than I already do by merit of existing?”

“Yes,” she says, as he toggles his laptop awake…opens her Instagram. “Exactly.”

“Tell me about Princeton,” he says, heart leaping into his throat when he sees there’s a new post. Some Thursday night outing with a group in which he should probably be more ashamed to find, thanks to frequent perusals of her feed, he recognizes a few people.

“Okay, well, first of all, I’m barely even special here,” she says immediately, and he can tell she’s given this answer a few times already. “It’s kind of bullshit.”

He snorts, scrolling past the group shot. And then kinda…short-circuits.

The next image is Devi alone, standing beside some statue it’s too hard to make out in the dark and head thrown back with laughter. Which might have been enough on its own to cause his chest to seize, but she’s also wearing The Jacket.

“…What’s going on? Did I lose you?”

“Huh? Oh! What? No, I’m—” He breaks off with a tittering laugh. “I’m here.”

“Ben,” Devi says seriously, and he can feel his overeager heartbeat pulse in his temples. “We’re not even a month into the first semester. You’re not allowed to be having a nervous breakdown already, okay? That’ll make it way less satisfying when I bring home better grades than you for winter break.”

Slowly, painfully, his organs all grind back to work, the pressure in his chest releasing. “Yeah right, David,” he manages. “Like that’d be impressive, anyway. Your courseload’s way lighter than mine.”

“You’re taking one more credit hour than I am,” she says, and he can hear her rolling her eyes. “Let’s maybe calm down here.”

He shrugs. “A heavier load is a heavier load.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Too easy.”

“And that’s what he said. Y’know, cause misogyny’s a bitch, and slut-shaming is rampant on college campuses across the US.”

“I miss you,” he says, the words slipping out easily, fervently.

It should probably feel like admitting weakness. The mature thing was splitting, after all, which necessarily means the immature thing is hanging on.

But she’s still wearing his jacket, she called first.

“Well, duh,” Devi says, and he knows her too well not to pick up on the well of emotion she’s trying to keep boarded over with bravado. “I’m awesome.”

Two can play that game; hope forced to remain in Pandora’s box at gunpoint.

“Not, from what I hear, at Princeton. There, you’re completely average.”

She clicks her tongue at him. “See if I ever call you again.”

“Okay,” he says, calling her bluff. “Bye.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she says, making him laugh. Then, “Tell me about your roommate.”

He does. And then he tells her about his really cool sociology professor. And then she tells him about the Princeton orchestra and the dining halls and her own roommate until it’s nearly two in the morning and neither of them can string together another coherent thought.

It’s the first time his stuffy dorm feels a little bit like home.

#devi x ben #never have i ever #lyrical mini fics #formal leatherjacket #replies #my fic #been jamming to this song on repeat #again i say:#on the playlist it goes!!

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retrievablememories · 5 years ago

Text

baby! | johnny (m)

title: baby! pairing: johnny x black!reader genre: smut, pwp summary: in which you wanna be johnny’s twinkie instead of his toaster strudel 💀 word count: 1.8k warnings: oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, spitting, impregnation kink/breeding kink (apparently they’re not the same thing? although i don’t know the difference…), creampie a/n: look...breeding kink is the crème de la crème (literally!!) but it’s hard to write it in a way that doesn’t border on corny or creepy...i’ll let y’all be the judge. also this is the 3rd fic i’ve written about this man within the span of a month, PLEASE send help. 🛌🏿

[2:13 a.m.]

It’s boiling hot.

You smooth your hand over Johnny’s hair as he rests his head on your stomach. He plays with the string on your sleep shorts, twisting it around his fingers as he stares off into space, blinking slowly.

You don’t know how or why the AC decided to break at the start of summer, but it would be just your luck that this happened. The repairman won’t be able to come out until Thursday, which is still days away. Until then, there’s no other choice but to keep all the fans on, stand in the refrigerator, and take as many trips to the pool as possible. It’s too late at night for the third option, and you’re currently too lazy to get up and do the second, so you opt for the first. The ceiling fan running above you provides some relief, but not enough.

“Can I ask a question?” he says suddenly. You glance at Johnny, who’s now looking up at you with his chin digging into your stomach.

“What is it?”

“Have you ever thought about having kids?”

You pause at that, your hand stilling on the back of his head.

“Maybe...a few times. Yes. Why?”

“...With me?

You blink a few times, and although it’s already hot in the room, you can’t mistake the sensation of your body getting hotter.

“Well....yeah.” You feel a little embarrassed about it, though you aren’t sure why, and your voice gets softer. Johnny grins like he’s just won a prize. “Maybe one day in the future. But not now…”

“That makes sense,” Johnny says. He doesn’t do a very good job of hiding his disappointment, which even he himself finds silly. Of course neither of you are ready for kids now. “It’s a nice thought to have, though.”

You go back to petting his hair, only more slowly than before. Silence hangs in the room again. You want your thoughts to slow down enough so you can finally go to sleep, but something keeps itching at the back of your mind. The same thing that warmed you when he asked the question. Now that he’s put it out in the air, you figure there is no better time. You can’t resist it.

“But...if we decided, sometime in the future…” Your words catch Johnny’s interest, and he looks up at you again. “How...uh. How would you do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, how would you...get me pregnant.”

Johnny is fully engaged now. He props himself up on his elbow. His right hand rests on your abdomen, his fingers skirting across the sliver of brown skin revealed by your tank top. “You mean...how I’d fuck you? Come inside you?”

Your breath catches. “Y...yeah, that.”

“That’s a good question…” Johnny worries his lip as he pretends to think about it in-depth. Meanwhile, his hand slips into your shorts, his fingers rubbing against your clit and your outer lips—you decided to forgo the underwear tonight because of the heat. “I guess I’d have to get you wet enough for it first.”

“No kidding,” you sigh, arching into the movements of his hand.

Johnny shuffles himself farther down your body so he can pull your shorts down and access your pussy. He doesn’t waste any time with sliding his tongue through your lips and sucking your clit, moaning softly into your skin. You slip your hand back into his hair, tilt your head back, and focus on the sensation of his tongue and fingers stretching you open and getting you all slick and hot for him—just as he promised.

You’re almost delirious at how good and surreal this is, like you’ve been wrapped up in a blazing hot fever dream. Johnny licks into you and pulls back the hood of your clit so he can drag his wide tongue over your bundle of nerves. His fingers scissor inside you with practiced movements, motions that have been performed dozens of times before, and he knows that he can pull an orgasm out of you in only a minute or two when he really wants to make it fast and Earth-shattering.

You continue gripping his hair throughout your climax, using that anchor to reality to help you ride his fingers and tongue to ultimate bliss. He could make a game of this if he wanted, drinking more from you until you nearly have to kick him away, but he gives you a break this time by pulling away after the first orgasm.

Johnny gives you a few moments to calm down, rubbing your thighs and watching your chest rise as you breathe and resisting the urge to move his hand down a few inches farther and make you melt in his grip again.

When you seem coherent enough, he asks, “Can we...without the condom?”

You and Johnny have yet to have sex without a condom, although you’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Since the first time you slept together, actually. You’ve spent a ridiculous amount of time fantasizing what it’ll be like the first time he comes in you. And...you’ve been on birth control the entire time, waiting for this opportunity to arise but previously unsure how to approach it. Now, it’s sitting in front of you, and it’s too good to pass up.

Your throat is dry from the exertion of being pleasured in a burning hot room. “W-we can. We should. This is….practice, after all. Isn’t it?”

Johnny smirks and nods. He makes quick work of his shirt and underwear before pulling your legs up, and you think he means to place them on his shoulders, but he keeps bending them until they’re pressed against your chest. You stare at him with wide eyes. “This would be the best position—you know, to make sure it gets in deep enough.” He explains it as casually as he would if he were talking about anything else, and your head spins a little just from the anticipation of feeling him inside. “I’d want you to take every drop…so much that there’s no way you wouldn’t get knocked up.”

You merely nod, too excited and breathless with lust to say much of anything to a statement like that. You’re pretty immobile in this position and will have to let him do most of the work, a thought that makes your spine tingle.

Johnny tilts his head down and you wonder what he’s doing for a moment before you feel his spit hitting your pussy and running down your ass. “Jesus, Johnny…” You’re stuck between deciding whether it’s really sexy or maybe a little gross when he slides into you, giving you the satisfaction of feeling every inch of him at once.

When he enters you in this position, he feels as deep as humanly possible, the tip of his member kissing your cervix, and it’s only compounded by the raw feeling of his bare skin against yours. “God, we should’ve done this sooner,” is all you can mutter. You can feel him throb inside of you in a different kind of way, and it’s a sensation that’s hard to explain verbally, but you can feel it through every nerve in your body.

Johnny seems lost for words for once in his life, his hips stuttering as he pushes and pulls your body and tries to find a rhythm that won’t have him nutting in 5 seconds. “Fuck,” he swears heavily as he watches his cock glide into you and come back out covered in your wetness. “I’m gonna fill you to the brim.”

Johnny fucks you hard and slow, and you can barely catch your breath with how intense it all feels. You’re almost afraid your body will burst apart at the seams. His dick pushes against your cervix on some strokes, and it makes your eyes roll back a little every time. His torment is far from complete, though, as he shifts his hips until he’s rubbing against your g-spot, and now you truly think you must’ve died and entered a new realm.

You hold onto your legs, digging your nails into your skin, because it’s the only thing you can do as Johnny pushes your body into the mattress. “Please, Johnny,” you moan, and you don’t even know what you’re asking him for. More? Less? But there’s no way you want less of this feeling, so you decide it can’t be that.

“Beg for it,” Johnny’s voice is rough, though there’s an unmistakable tremor in it, too. “Beg for my cum. Beg me to give you a baby.” Johnny drags your hips closer to his so he’s practically rutting into you at this point, making your walls clench onto him in an effort to never let him go. His pubic bone stimulates your clit as he fucks you, and you doubt you’ll last much longer now.

You’re not really sure what comes over you—maybe months of pent-up fantasy—but at that moment, there’s nothing more you want than to be filled up and claimed by him, with his seed coating you from the inside out.

“Make me yours, Johnny,” you cry out, slurring your words. “Come in me, please, put a baby in me.”

You come soon after this, your legs shaking as Johnny refuses to let up on fucking you through your climax. You let go of your legs, wanting to move away lest you be completely overwhelmed by the sensation, but Johnny grabs them and keeps you in that position.

“Don’t run. You’re not going anywhere, not until you take all of this dick.”

“John, I-I can’t…” You’re so wet that it’s leaking between your bodies and making everything even messier, and your clit is still hypersensitive and thrumming with pleasure. Johnny seems to revel in this rawness, though, and you honestly don’t remember the last time you’ve seen him this riled up.

He spits on your pussy again and rubs your clit, and with you not even recovered from your second orgasm, you’re over the edge again, shouting his name and a bunch of other words you won’t remember after all this is finished.

Johnny gives you a few more hard thrusts before burying himself deep and finally releasing inside you, his warm cum flooding your walls. His thighs tense and tremble as your body milks him of everything he has to offer. Sweat drips down his neck and trails down his chest, and his arms shake as he holds himself up above you.

Slowly, he pulls out of you and watches as some of his release comes dripping out. He doesn’t get to watch for long, though, as you immediately put your legs down, sprawling across the bed in exhaustion.

“Thanks. Now I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” you groan, closing your eyes at the thought of a sore day.

Johnny lies next to you looking tired and happy. He giggles, nudges his nose against yours, and kisses your lips in a gesture that’s a sure contrast to what just transpired. “Did I answer your question, at least?”

“Yes…and then some.”

#johnny smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct ambw #ambw smut #ambw kpop #ambw scenarios #ambw fic #nct johnny #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #tumblr is so raggedy it barely let me post this #this site's infrastructure ain't shit!

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mediocre--writing · 4 years ago

Note

maybe billy and Steve are just playfighting whilst taking their clothes off to get into bed and Steve playfully tries to smack billy with his belt, but then that triggers a reaction in billy bc of his dad. Billy feels bad bc he knows steve wouldn’t hurt him, but Steve feels bad bc he didn’t mean to do that to billy

I’m so sorry this is really late

(tw child abuse, panic attacks, allusions to smut)

They were a tiny bit drunk. Just a little. Not even that much.

But it was enough of Steve's dad’s liquor to get them tipsy enough to start playfully hitting each other.

And that somehow turned into soft shoves towards the stairs which led to a few playful butt smacks while getting to Steve’s bedroom.

They’re giggly and having fun and they’re starting to kiss, while also trying to manhandle each other, and Billy has his shirt off and is climbing onto the bed while Steve's trying to get his pants undone.

He's undoing the belt buckle as Billy is climbing on the bed on his hands and knees, being cheeky as ever, shaking his ass, when Steve pulls the belt out of its loops with the loud metal clinking together.

As Steve finally got the belt off of his hips, he gently (really, it was barely even a tap) patted Billy's butt with the leather part of the belt.

Billy’s elbows fell out from under him after the action and Steve immediately dropped the belt, because Billy never just slipped, and if he did it was followed by a laugh.

But Billy didn’t laugh, if anything, his breathing got faster and shallower as he tried to turn to sit on the bed properly.

“Billy?” Steve asked worriedly, not knowing quite what happened.

Billy didn’t respond, sharp points dragged down his throat into his stomach, bees buzzing in his head, bopping in 30 different directions.

The picture he saw of Steve crouching in front of him was blurring around the edges and instilled strikes of fear into him every second more he stared, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away because Steve was supposed to calm him, not do whatever was happening now.

But Billy blinked in rapid succession, each time the person in front of him changing from Steve to his dad--to Neil. He couldn’t catch his breath long enough to convince himself that it was Steve--just Steve.

Steve's voluminous, beautiful, brown hair was morphing into the dreaded buzzcut that his father had.

Those beautiful doe eyes he could never look away from were now so harsh and scrutinizing he couldn’t stand to hold eye contact.

The soothing voice, the sweetest, most soothing voice that Steve could muster was distorted and wrong.

“Billy, Billy please look at me, calm your breathing down. Deep breaths, sunshine,” was turning into a chorus of “You can’t even catch your breath? I barely hit you! How do you expect to be a man if you can’t stand a few hits?!”

The red lights blinking and alarms blaring were impairing his ability to process a coherent thought and was brought to the real world by a gentle touch from Steve, yet he flinched because, in that moment, Steve wasn’t protecting him from his thoughts--from Neil--Steve was Neil.

Steve kept pursuing, not sure how to take care of Billy in this state. Usually, Steve can hold Billy in his arms through the freak outs and panics, mostly caused by the Upside Down trauma. Now, it’s a whole other ball game.

Neil’s touches were never kind and sweet without disgusting motivations, they were rough and harsh. The soft touches were always followed by red handprints and purple bruises.

Steve reached out once more, aiming for Billy’s fingers to hold but grabbing his wrist when Billy had flinched.

“Dad, please,”

A pathetic beg, a whine so quiet and painful and full of a fear you’d find in a puppy that was left on the side of the road.

Steve’s hands recoiled in on themselves and he drew them closer to his body, touching his chest, as if that would alleviate his shattering heart.

Billy had moved himself from sitting near the edge of the bed to laying on his side, curled into a ball with his head tucked into his chest, eyes shut tight and lip between his teeth.

Steve didn’t know what to do. He could barely navigate Billy’s emotions when he was fully there, but with him like this, barely talking and eyes glazed over, there was no certain direction he could follow to lead him out of the dark.

He left him there for a minute or so, let him curl into himself, maybe he needed to be alone, though Steve had no intentions of actually leaving the room, but Billy just started shivering more, shaking as if it was vibrating from deep in his bones.

Then, the whimpering started. It was sad and pitiful and barely comprehensible, but squeezed and tugged at every string holding Steve’s heart together.

He moved to be closer, not next to Billy, but closer. The whimpers got quieter, but Steve wasn’t sure if it was because Billy felt safer with Steve or was still clouded with the thought of Neil hurting him for being “such a pussy.”

So he moved even closer, laid a soft hand on his back. Began with just finger tips, then slowly, after making sure Billy’s breathing wasn’t changing too drastically, pushed his palm to rest on his back.

After no surprise sobbing or breathing patterns, Steve moved his hand up and down, dragging his fingertips along Billy’s spine in a calming manner, slowly adding more pressure to his touch when Billy’s reaction didn’t change.

It took two and a half hours.

Two and a half hours of rubbing his back, of shushing his sobs, of regulating his breathing, of soft reassurances, before the haze that had taken Billy’s eyes finally cleared. Like the beautiful blue sky after days of storms.

Billy hadn’t talked, didn’t talk during and didn’t talk after. He gave quiet hums of agreement and disagreement when Steve got him ready for bed and when they finally crawled into the sheets for the night.

It took him a while to fall asleep, but he enjoyed the reassuring feeling of Steve’s chest on his back while he slept.

In the morning, neither were quick to get out of bed, for neither had to work, hence the drinking last night.

Billy was still quiet, talked, grabbed and pulled Steve into a tight cuddle, but didn’t speak, not until after their coffee and breakfasts.

“I’m sorry--about last night,”

“Hey, you shouldn’t be sorry for that, Bills, you know that it’s alright,” Steve reassured as they lazed on the couch watching whatever show happened to be on.

“I know, I don’t mean--I know that I didn’t do anything, I’m sorry I worried you, though, I can’t remember it, like I remember my thoughts, but I know you were scared, and I--”

“Bills,” Steve softly grabbed his chin and turned his head to meet Billy’s eyes. “It’s ok. You were out of it because you got scared, and that’s fine. Don't take this the wrong way, but I’m glad that it happened. I’m glad it happened with me, when we were alone, and when I could devote time and attention to you. And if you feel compelled to talk about it later, I would love to hear anything you have to say, and if you don’t, that’s alright too, because I love you, Billy, and I just want you safe and happy,”

Billy didn’t really show much expression on his face, didn’t show how he felt with a soft endearing look or a passionate kiss or an ‘I love you, too.’ “Can we take a bubble bath?”

Steve chuckled, “Anything you want, sunshine,”

#harringrove #stranger things #Steve harrington #billy hargrove #Neil hargrove #Steve x billy #billy x steve #tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw panic attack #tw neil hargrove #mediocre—writing #mw harringrove

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ajstyyling · 4 years ago

Note

Alright friend if you're still taking prompts, how about a first kiss for Sukitara? 💜

Thank you for the prompt!! This was so fun to write! Since it's June I decided to make the first kiss also a first pride prompt! Hope you enjoy and thank you for screaming with me about these ladies!! Also, pls feel free to keep sending prompts!

Closer

For Katara, most days riding the T was a game of listening to a podcast, rolling her eyes at the asshole consultants in uncomfortable looking suits, and avoiding eye contact with weirdos.

Today, though, the boring suits and the even more boring men wearing them had been traded out for a cascade of colors. Everywhere Katara looked she saw the array of vibrant colors.

Rainbows adorned everything in the car—from pasties to pet collars, sunglasses to flags, rompers to jock straps, and everything in between.

The car was cram-full and, in typical fashion for the T, the air conditioner barely worked. But Katara couldn’t find it in herself to mind. With each stop along the green line, the thrumming of Katara’s heart grew louder and louder. Today was her first pride since she came out to her friends and she couldn’t remember being more excited—or more nervous.

She was excited. It felt like a rite of passage. Another step toward living as her authentic self.

She was nervous because Suki, the first girl that made Katara realize that she might, maybe, not be as straight as she thought, was sitting beside her. They were pressed together tightly in the packed car so that every time the train stopped, their elbows and legs rubbed against each other’s. Each time it happened, Katara would blush profusely and apologize, but Suki brushed it off and told her that next time Katara should just hold her hand instead of the silly pretext. Each time this sent Katara into a deeper spiral of blushing that only seemed to encourage Suki.

When the train finally arrived at Copley Square, everyone streamed from the packed cars and made their way through the station. Katara and Suki lingered behind to watch a busker, dressed in a large bear outfit, play a version of Tegan and Sara’s 'Closer' on a keytar.

“Are you excited?” Suki asked, reaching out and taking Katara’s hand in her own, pulling them both along, and up the stairs toward the exit.

All Katara could manage was a nod. The air condition was working fine in the station, but suddenly Katara felt like her entire body was on fire. She kept glancing down at where their hands were laced together.

They exited the station hand-in-hand and took in the sight before them. Food stalls lined the plaza in front of them and music blared from speakers on each corner of the plaza. Various people moved through the crowd passing out beads and noisemakers. Some folks danced, others tossed glitter, others stood quietly to the side and took in the revelry with a shy smile. A colorful array of floats glided down the street at the far end of the plaza.

Katara felt overwhelmed, but Suki navigated the plaza expertly and her firm grip kept Katara close. Suki pulled her past the dancing and out toward the street where the floats drifted by. For the next half an hour, they watched the floats go by, screaming and clapping for their favorites as those aboard the float waved and blew kisses toward them.

“You two are so cute,” an older woman called from their side.

“Huh?”

“I said that you and your girlfriend are so cute.”

“Oh. She’s not—I mean, we aren’t—It’s not—” All of Katara’s words felt trapped in her throat, too complicated and confusing to explain to this random, well-meaning woman. .

As always, Suki saved her. “Sadly, not her girlfriend. Just lucky enough to be her guide for her first pride.”

Once again, Suki had come thro— wait? Sadly??

Katara’s brain felt like it was short circuiting. What did she mean by sadly? Was she just being dramatic? Maybe she was just trying to mess with this woman.

The older woman’s eyes flickered between the two of them and a meaningful glance passed between her and Suki before she said, “My mistake. You must be a really good friend. My wife was a ‘really good friend’ for a while too.”

Katara’s cheeks burned, but before she could form a coherent word the woman wished them both a happy pride and disappeared into the crowd.

A slightly uncomfortable silence settled over them as they watched a few more floats drift by.

“Did you—”

“Sorry abou—”

Katara and Suki spoke at the same time, both blushing and gesturing toward the other to continue.

While she still had a dash of courage, Katara continued. “Did you mean what you said?”

“I’ve said a lot of things,” Suki said with a slight smirk.

“To that woman, I mean. About being sad that you’re not my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Suki said, “that. I’m sorry if that woman made you feel uncomfortable.” She sighed, and took a deep breath. A sinking feeling rolled down Katara’s spine and she readied herself for the gentle let down. But when she met Suki’s eyes, she saw something burning in them that she hadn’t noticed before.

“So did you mean it?” Katara asked.

“Of course I meant it, Katara.” Relief washed over Katara and that relief transformed into wonder as Suki continued. “You tell the best jokes and have the prettiest laugh. You’re a bad singer and a great dancer. You love them both so much and I don’t think I will ever get tired of watching you do either. I don’t even think I have words to describe how pretty you are, but sometimes, when I look at you I swear that my brain starts reciting poems I’ve never even learned. Anyone would be lucky to be your girlfriend, or boyfriend.”

“Even you?” Katara asked, unable to meet Suki’s gaze.

“Yes. So, of course I’m sad I don’t get to be your girlfriend. But I didn’t want it to be weird, and I’m sorry if that woman made it weird.”

“What would you feel if I said that I’m also sad I’m not your girlfriend?”

Suki was silent for a beat, her eyes blown wide as she searched Katara’s face for the truth behind her words. “That would make me happy,” Suki said, at last. When Katara looked up, their eyes met. Shaking her head, like she couldn't believe the words she'd just heard, and grinning widely, Suki added, “Very, very happy.”

The world around Katara went silent, or maybe her heart was beating too loud to hear anything else. Tentatively, she took a step toward Suki, then another, until their bodies were inches from each other.

Suki made no effort to mask the way her eyes trailed down across Katara’s lips, then back up to her eyes, before dropping to her lips once more.

Her eyes fluttering close, face inches from Suki’s, Katara whispered, “Well prepare to be very, very happy then.”

Months later, neither remembered who kissed who first. All Katara remembered was Suki’s hand brushing lightly across her jaw, her lips warm and insistent as they pressed against Katara’s, her gasp as Katara’s tongue brushed against hers.

When Katara pulled away, after what might have been five minutes or perhaps five days, her mind was blissfully blank.

They stared at each other for the briefest of moments before, all at once, they both broke out into wide grins.

Suki stepped forward, closing the gap between them once again. “You were right.”

“About what?” Katara asked.

“I am very, very happy,” Suki said, before she captured Katara’s lips with her own once again.

The rest of their words were saved for much, much later.

Read the fic on AO3: Closer

Send me an atla ship prompt

#sukitara #atla fic #sukitara fic #suki #katara #pride #first kiss #tumblr prompt #my writing

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 27

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: If you read carefully, you knew this; if you didn't: reader was drugged at the party. Hangover from Hell ft. boys being cute, Loki being best friend material and reader fully integrating him into the Gen-Z community via Monster energy drinks and depressive music whilst being sad. I live for Loki/reader friendship tbh.

So folks, this is the last big plot thing before the endgame. I reckon it's about 10-15 chapters left until out happy ending and the next bit is going to focus on developing reader's and Stephen's relationship. There will be smutty parts too - either chapters or interludes, idk, depending on how well they'll integrate into the story.

I love y'all.

Ow, was my first thought upon waking up. My head throbbed something fierce, the pressure behind my eyelids was unbearable and my mouth tasted like a bog on a sunny summer's day. I was warm, from both sides, and one of the bodies felt foreign in everything besides the smell - sandalwood leaked through the lead curtain of alcohol and sex.

Needless to say, I had trouble piecing together the fine details of last night but had enough coherence to remember our... Activities. I was sore and Strange's long arm was still possessively draped over both me and Tony. The luck was on my side as I carefully wiggled out of his grasp, padding to the bedroom on quiet feet. The sorcerer barely moved, only grumbling briefly at the loss of my warmth and immediately quieting, shamelessly snuggling into Tony.

I would have not exaggerated if I said it was the worst hangover of my life. It was baffling, really, because I'd gone way wilder and didn't suffer half as much after effects; my first attempt to brush my teeth ended with my face resting against the toilet bowl, my empty stomach rejecting what little liquid in it was left as the room spun on its axis. That was incredibly embarrassing and I hoped my boys wouldn't wake up to witness my best impression of a bum - and they didn't, both men still sound asleep and interwined like snakes when I put on the shirt closest to me and departed in search of coffee.

My mood only worsened. Steve and Bucky were already up, shoveling an impressive amount of eggs and bacon, as Bucky quietly teased Steve about his own hangover. The blonde man was slightly greenish, disheveled - we traded equally glum looks and nodded to each other in silence. The smell of food made my stomach churn and I retreated, one black coffee in hand, towards Bruce's lab, having been informed by Friday that neither Tony not Stephen planned on waking up.

"Morning, Princess," Bruce smiled kindly, pushing his glasses out of the way to hold me close and give me a sweet kiss. "Had fun? The boys still asleep?"

I giggled at Bruce calling Tony and Stephen boys. "Yeah. I wouldn't be wearing Stephen's shirt if he was up and about, I think." I pointed out the obvious.

Bruce chuckled, holding my face to give me a long, thoughtful look. I stared back, hoping convey my respect and adoration without having to say a word; like Tony, I wasn't particularly apt when it came to talking feelings. Whatever Bruce was looking for, he found it, and sealed it with another kiss, twice as long and twice as sweet. We stood like that, my head on his shoulder and my arms firmly holding him to myself, until the elevator dinged behind the glass wall, revealing a shirtless Stephen and Tony in his pajama pants, both men bickering animatedly.

"Aw shit, here we go again," I rolled my eyes, unhappy about the possibility of the magic being broken. I rather preferred all three men to be like yesterday: friendly, kind and relaxed.

"I will kick them out if I have to," Bruce shrugged, turning me around to face them.

Tony smiled, seeing me, stopping mid-conversation. "Princess, I am disappointed in your lack of manners. You left me with Merlin and he is mean." The engineer unceremoniously snatched me from Bruce and smooched me, hangover breath and all.

"Gross, Tony," I rolled my eyes, giving the man a light shove in the chest. "Morning, Steph," I addressed the third man who had gone back to his usual stoic expression. Just to see his resolve crack, because I loved pushing his buttons, I gave him a good morning kiss too, and was unexpectedly blown away by the eager response from his side. As I pulled back, I noticed his cheeks dusting a light pink.

"I came to get my shirt but I think you'd rather keep it," The sorcerer's fingers caressed my skin beneath the collar of his shirt, voice still low and scratchy from sleep and those magnetic eyes fixated on the exposed flesh of my chest, no trace of previous awkwardness.

"You sure 'bout that?" I pushed one of the sides off, exposing my shoulder, seeing Tony gulp the remainder of my coffee, one hand already messing with the screen that Bruce was focused on. "I think I look better without it," I would never miss an opportunity to tease the uptight man.

"Quite," He grinned, "It's a shame I didn't get to see much last night..." Two could play this game, okay.

"Oh, but you will," Tony piped up suddenly, a hint of smugness in his voice barely covered by Bruce's fond chuckle. I really didn't know what to say, suddenly overwhelmed with the attention, my emotions amplified by the hangover - party drugs tended to exaggerate my anxiety on the comedown.

And what a comedown it was. My social energy ran out very quickly so I complained about a nasty headache and retreated into my room, Bruce's gentle hands pressing a bottle of Ibuprofen into my own. Despite my attempts to tame my rioting body, it got worse before it got better and shortly before lunch, I had thrown up twice more. Pissed off, I ran a bath with cold water and sat in it until I felt somewhat human to prepare myself for a journey to Wanda's apartment - as a last resort, I was going to chug on of Pietro's Monster energy drinks that I knew he kept hidden there.

The retrieval was a success. Cans securely hidden in the kangaroo pocket of Tony's oversized hoodie I had thrown on, I had to make a haste detour to throw up once again - the closest bathroom was in Loki's apartment and I only managed to knock twice before throwing open the door and making a mad dash for the porcelain throne, a very confused Asgardian following my movements with raised eyebrows.

"Hangover from Hell," I croaked once the first wave subsided. Loki nodded in understanding, waved a hand to summon me a water bottle and shut the door behind himself.

As I sat there, desperately trying to understand why was I feeling like utter shit... It clicked. Bile rose to my throat once again, and I just dry heaving, mulling my revelation over and over again.

I didn't take any drugs. I had been drugged. My memories became hazy and dream-like shortly after someone had given me the drink... Someone, who? It was a split-second moment; Sam, even in his drunk state, didn't keep his eyes off me for too long. Maybe it had been someone the team knew? Possibilities began playing out in my head. Cursed was my overactive brain - the anxiety from the leftover drugs was making me panic.

"Fuck, FUCK," My hands shook - I only noticed it because I had spilled water on myself, adding cold and wet to the unpleasant sensations I was already experiencing. "Why am I such a fucking fuck-up." Taking a drink from a stranger seemed downright idiotic now. Middle school bullshit.

"Are you alright?" Loki's worried voice interrupted my inner monologue.

"Yes," I replied, voice cracking. "No. I don't fucking know."

The door all but flew open, the Asgardian taking several long strides to take a good long look at me. The frown on his face tells me all I needed to know about my physical and mental state.

A slender hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "What happened?"

I laughed tersely, feeling tears to begin welling in the corners of my eyes. "I'm an idiot," Seeing his face get annoyed briefly, I conceded: "I got drugged yesterday. My drink."

The hand that he had slid between my shoulder blades froze. I felt his whole body go rigid and his nostrils flare, the smell of ozone and something foreign - magic - filling the small space. The air around us became charged with the power of his anger. "Pardon?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

I physically fought with the need to flinch away from him, settling for lowering my eyes and staring at the dark stain on my hoodie. "I got carried away dancing. Someone handed me a drink and my stupid ass just shotgunned it," I confessed, picking at the wet spot. "And I can't tell anybody because I had a threesome with Stephen and Tony," I suddenly realised, my voice raising in pitch. "They're gonna think I didn't want it and feel bad. You know how Tony blames himself for everything under the sun..." Another wave of dizziness and nausea hit me as I leaned against the wall closest to me.

"Alright," Loki conceded after a brief pause. "We absolutely are telling the others. I'll make sure they understand," The Asgardian stated firmly in a tone that bore no argument. Seeing me lift my head to protest, he interrupted me before I could say anything: "Did you... Did you want it?" He asked me, hooking a single finger under my chin to look me in the eye.

I nodded, feeling my face heat up.

"You're not lying. The team knows of my ability to detect lies. Nobody will blame anyone..." Loki trailed off, obviously already plotting something. I wished it were a prank both of us were conspiring on instead of... Trying to make sense of this cluster fuck of a shit show. The circus called, they seemed to have left their clowns behind. "Although I will have a word with Sam." The Asgardian muttered darkly.

"No, it's not his fault. I just got too relaxed, I need to pucker up and be responsible for myself," I protested, damn well knowing it wasn't the Bird's fault. Everyone was drunk and I should've known better.

"It's not yours either," Loki sneered, seeing right through my self-loathing. It took a deep, slow sigh for him to calm down. His expression softened and the hand that was on my back resumed the gentle stroking as he scooted closer to me to press my side against his chest. "Vile people of this kind aren't exclusive to Midgard. It could have happened to anyone."

I nodded, my logical part briefly taking over as the waves of nausea and dizziness waned. I stifled a giggle, coming to another sudden revelation. "You holding up my hair as I barf out my hangover? That makes you qualified for the position of my Best Friend," I stated with a snort.

Loki chuckled, relaxing bit by bit. "I accept the position," His voice was unusually soft and a little bit shaky; I chose to tactfully ignore it. "Shall I call for assembly in the war room?"

I sighed, the dread and anxiety creeping it's way back in. "Can we just... Wait a bit? I have something- hold on-" I rummaged around my pocket, taking out two cans of Monster. Loki eyed them curiously and I extended one to him. "It probably won't do much for you but for me it's a last-resort hangover cure." I popped open the metal cap, seeing him do the same. "Be warned though, it tastes kinda funky if you're not used to it," I announced the disclaimer but it simply egged Loki on.

The scrunched up face he made was pretty funny. "It's sour but sickeningly sweet at the same time? I can't tell," He briefly eyed the written ingredients on the can.

"There are a bunch of flavors. Pietro likes the plain one, I like the purple one better, it's not so tongue-burning." I paused to inhale loudly. "If this is what college life looks like, I don't want to go," Mustering up my courage and gathering my balls in a knot, with one broad motion I closed my nose and poured the carbonated acid down my throat until my eyes watered. "Gimme a minute," I hiccuped, trying to keep it down.

Wide-eyed, Loki took a chaste sip of his own drink, eyeing me warily. He looked part impressed part disgusted with the little stunt. "I am pretty certain that is counter-productive."

"Caffeine make brain and body go skrrt," I argued back. "Friday, play my "grant me the sweet release of death" playlist. I'm upset," I announced and the AI obliged silently, the first notes of Placebo's 'Exit Wounds' beginning to play. If I was going to mop in a stranger's bathroom, I was going to do it with style. Even if said style was just simply stealing in my own misery with emo background music.

Loki stared at me, I stared back, both of us lost in our respective minds. At one point, he began swaying to the music slightly, resting the cool tin of the can against his cheek; I followed suit, mouthing along to some of the lyrics. It took us about a dozen songs to finally finish the liquid acid that was Monster energy drink and my ass felt like the bathroom tile itself: flat and hard.

"Do you ever feel like the universe just hates you for no fucking reason?" I groused, taking Loki's outstretched hand and slowly feeling the blood rush back to my legs.

"You wouldn't believe," He rolled his eyes in solidarity, vanishing away the empty containers. "Norns, give me a Hel-damned break."

I laced his arm through mine as we exited his apartment, feeling considerably less upset than I was before. I couldn't protect myself, but one look at Loki's sullen, irritated expression was bound to scare off anyone who dared to interrupt our mission.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader

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dumblydork · 4 years ago

Text

Wasn't expecting to be back as a writer so soon but I just absolutely CANNOT get enough of writing headcanons and AUs and JUST BEAR WITH ME OKAY

Also I feel like this is super long but it might not be idk

Some more Hinny, with a bit of Romione! So this one is set in the modern magical world. Hope you enjoy! And don't forget, if you have absolutely ANY Hinny headcanons you'd want to see written, please drop me a message or an ask anytime and I'll do my best to write one 3>

"This class just CANNOT get any worse." Ron muttered, drawing lazy lines with his pen on the History of Magic textbook they were reading.

"We literally live in 2020, do we really HAVE to study all this old age crap?" He continued, now shifting to drawing circles as the teacher droned on.

Harry for one, wasn't listening to the professor (though he did vaguely hear him mention 'Goblin War' but that was about it) and neither to Ron. Harry was busy staring out of the window onto the busy streets of London below their high classroom, thinking about a certain redhead.

A certain redhead who also happened his best friend's sister.

"Hi!" Hermione's voice came in an excited whisper as she started taking out her textbook, the dull grey of it made slightly happy with all the colourful muggle stickers (once affronted, she had told Harry that they were called 'Post Its' but Harry just could never bother with the name), full of notes and extra bits. Hermione was careful not to let the professor know that she was suddenly here, a thought which hit Harry when Ron exclaimed almost loudly before Hermione kicked his foot under the table to shut him up.

"I swear to Godric you weren't here literally a minute ago how- Harry?" Ron wondered, calling his best friend.

"Yes it's very odd Ron." Harry almost sighed, back to his brooding. Hermione was doing weird things always- it was nothing new.

"Please be like Harry and stop looking so surprised. Let me focus." Hermione sneered at Ron and whipped out her pencil, furiously noting down from the board whatever the professor had been droning on about for the past 45 minutes.

"And that, is all on the Goblin War of 1785 today. Make sure you finish your homework- remember, 4 pages on the magical strategies used by the two goblin sides to win the war. I need it handed in on Monday. Class dismissed." The professor walked out with his nose in the air, as if he had imparted the knowledge of a lifetime in one single lesson. He waved a lazy hand at the board which wiped off all the notes, releasing a few cries from the back where some kids were still making notes.

"Thank Godric that's over!" Ron could almost cry. Harry was back to paying attention, especially after Hermione slapped his hand. "Earth calling whatever planet Harry Potter is on!" She laughed. The three of them got up and walked out into the corridor.

"What lesson do we have next?" Harry asked absentmindedly.

"What's up with you today? You've been like this since we returned from the Burrow well over a week ago." Ron said thoughtfully, an arm slung carelessly around Hermione's shoulder, who was surprisingly okay with it.

Harry snapped back to reality. If Ron found out, it would be Harry's head and nothing else.

"And what about the two of you? Care to explain," Harry looked at the Ron's arm, "whatever this is? You two have been just finding ways for touching each other, don't think I haven't noticed." Harry finished with a whistle, knowing this was the nerve he had hit. He almost grinned to himself.

"That," Hermione shrug off the arm around her, blushing furiously, "is just two friends being friendly." She finished, but there was a considerable change in the pitch of her voice.

"Yes yes whatever." Harry flicked a lazy hand at the two, knowing fully well they had gotten up to something in the Burrow which was only between the two of them.

The trio had reached the cafeteria where they sat down on one of the empty benches, having half hour free before moving on to Harry's most despised class- Chemistry, or Potions as it was called in the older ages.

Harry let his thoughts move back to the Burrow (courtesy this couple who were now sitting with their sides practically touching). The Burrow was Ron's house, and the trio's favourite hangout. They were there for the summer break, which had ended a week ago, but the memories were still as old as yesterday.

"Oh please, I will kick your ass at Quidditch." Ginny, Ron's younger sister and the youngest Weasley piped, her fiery red hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Quidditch was the one thing Harry really enjoyed- it was rare to have Quidditch matches in school now with so much course load, so these summers were what he lived for.

Particularly this one summer where Ginny had turned up looking just gorgeous, something Harry had failed to notice in the 6 years he had known her. It wasn't as if she wasn't gorgeous before- it just struck him differently this time. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the fact that she could make Harry laugh almost always. She was not only gorgeous- Ginny had developed a sense of humour and sarcasm quite unlike her brothers- they were fond of practical jokes, whereas Ginny was more of the sharp tongued type who could make an entire room laugh without as much as waving a hand. And it was absolutely fabulous. Harry had found himself staring at her practically everyday of summer since he came to the Burrow three months ago.

The way she tied her hair up, or how she bit her lip when exasperated with her Math homework and the way her lips opened slowly first when she laughed. The slight, barely perceptible crook in her teeth and the generous sprinkling of freckles all across her face. It was all suddenly very endearing to Harry.

And hence, midway through his last week at the Burrow, Harry had come to the conclusion that he had started fancying Ginevra Weasley, his best friend Ronald Weasley's younger sister. Not to mention practically Hermione's best friend, despite being an year younger.

So that was why Harry was barely able to keep his impulses in check when he saw Ginny in her Quidditch outfit, wearing a red and gold jersey with cream coloured bottoms. But when he thought of how he could have his ears boxed in by Ron, he could very much focus back on the match and not on a heart-achingly stunning redhead.

"Language, Ginny. This girl," Ron's mom, Molly, muttered under her breath, currently putting up laundry by swishing her wand back and forth. All of the Weasley siblings were back home at the Burrow, except for Percy and Bill, who were both busy working.

"Sorry mom! As I was saying Harry, I will definitely kick your bottom in this match." Ginny corrected herself.

"Please, we shall see." Lately it was getting increasingly difficult for him to produce coherent responses in front of the woman he had come to consider as practically a sarcastic goddess. But he was proud of this response- he should continue thinking about Ron's punches.

"Okay, positions, and go!" Harry heard Arthur, Ron's father say and the match began in earnest. Hermione was sitting this one down with a novel, but at the moment was preparing a jug of lemonade the Muggle way.

Ron and Harry were one team, whereas Ginny, George and Fred were another. The game lasted for a good 40 minutes before Harry and Ron won the game by obtaining the 'snitch' (which was actually just an enchanted flying ball, kindly given to them by Arthur who had an obsession for all things Muggle).

"What happened to all that talk of kicking ass, huh?" Harry laughed, almost falling into one of the reclining chairs. Molly was handing out cool glasses of lemonade. "I think mine needs more ice." Harry said, sipping from his glass.

"Oh I totally forgot the ice! My wand is in the kitchen though." She said sheepishly, not wanting to give up her spot on the recliner. Or rather not wanting to get up from her spot next to Ron, who had decided to perch himself on Hermione's recliner despite there being an extra empty one.

"That's okay, I'll get some myself." He grinned. "I'll come too- I need to change out of this." Ginny added. They walked back inside the Burrow which was empty, with the entire family outside in the garden.

Harry waved his wand which was lying on the kitchen counter into a bowl and ice appeared, shining in the sunlight but not melting. Magic.

He added a few to his glass and leaned on the counter, sipping lazily on the drink. It was good to be away from the noise for a minute. Ginny reappeared downstairs, having changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and unholy thoughts came rushing back into Harry's brain.

"I'll get some ice too, now that I'm here." Ginny took out an empty glass and filled it with ice, presumably wanting to fill it with lemonade later. But the way she took the ice gave Harry goosebumps- she leant across him instead of asking him to move and picked a few pieces of ice from behind him. Harry was frozen in his place- Ginny made no move whatsoever to stand behind. She stood inches away from Harry, just a few centimetres shorter than him.

"Oh for goodness sakes Harry, kiss me already." She rolled her eyes but the tip of her ears went red.

"What?" Harry spluttered- it was something he had been wanting to do since the start of summer but putting it into words stunned him of sorts. Was he THAT readable?

"Don't think I haven't seen the way you've looked at me all summer, Harry. It's not that difficult to know that you fancy me. A lot. And just so you know, I do too. A lot. Have done so since Ron introduced us.* She whispered, but stepped back after her confession.

Harry was still stunned, but could anyway notice the distance she had put, now slightly unsure after her brazenness. She still stared at him, her lips shaped into an imperceptible 'O', begging to be kissed. So that's what Harry did- he pulled Ginny back towards him by her waist and placed his lips on hers, almost tasting sunlight but with cherry swirled in it. His hands remained at her waist but Ginny moved hers to lock around Harry's neck, slowly playing with the curls at his nape. She smiled into the kiss, parting her lips were slightly, just so Harry could taste her; it was sinful but decadent. Very much like a good bar of chocolate. More than good. An absolutely unbelievable bar of chocolate.

When they finally pulled back after what could have been a lifetime, or an eternity, or a few seconds, Ginny grinned at Harry. "Do you not have anything to say?" She stood there's suddenly a bit shy, with her arms still around Harry's neck.

"You said all of it for me. I do fancy you- maybe way too much." He said, feeling as if Ginny's brazen confidence was transferred into his veins.

"That's a relief, because I might or might not have been looking to get you to kiss me." She said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You what?" Harry stared at her incredulously, before breaking out into a wide smile.

"Don't worry, the bit about me fancying you is real. Have done so since I was 10." She added seriously.

"So are we a thing now?" Harry raised an eyebrow, quite enjoying the small circles he was making on Ginny's side.

"Keep dreaming on, Potter." She removed her hands from around his neck and disappeared like she had reappeared after changing, what felt like ages ago. Harry smiled to himself before walking outside again, his lemonade glass forgotten.

---

"Really Harry, one would think you're in love the way you're zoned out." Ron stared at him, as Harry snapped back into the real world.

"Huh? Oh yeah." He agreed absent mindedly, still reeling a bit from that summer afternoon.

"You're in love?" Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised as she looked up from what looked like homework.

"Forget me, but you do seem to be." Harry glanced at her notebook, which had R+H scribbled messily on the margins. He grinned as Hermione and Ron blushed furiously.

"Okay fine, me and Ron might have kissed at the Burrow." Hermione said, snapping her book shut as Ron stared at her longingly.

"How interesting, because me and Harry did something similar." Ginny suddenly appeared from behind and sat beside Harry, pressing her lips to his cheek.

The two boys stared back and forth. Ron's eyes widened but returned to their normal size, as Ron slung an arm around Hermione again, except this time she actually leaned into him.

"What? Is happening?" Harry looked around, first at the couple in front of him and then at Ginny. This was all extremely confusing.

"Did you think you were the only observant human to ever exist? Hermione Granger is my girlfriend, Harry. Nothing escapes her. Not when one of her best friends kisses another one of her best friends." Ron laughed.

"Wait so you're not mad?" Harry was still shaken. Was his worrying all a waste? If he'd known, he could have spent more time with Ginny, locked behind doors, his lips on hers-

"Why would I be? I'd rather Ginny end up with you rather than some other git from school." Ron's voice cut into his thoughts breezily.

"Oh. Okay." Harry settled before smiling at Ginny and weaving his hand through hers.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry's eyes widened.

"Wait. Hermione Granger is your girlfriend?!" The typical Potter late realisation. The three people around him laughed heartily before Harry joined in, shooting Ginny an endearing look, making the tips of her ears turn red.

#hinny au #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry potter headcanon #harry x ginny #hinny headcanon #hinny #headcanon #school #romione #ron x hermione

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