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whirlybirbs · 3 years

Text

FEVER-DREAM ; echo/reader

summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.

word count: 3k

pairing: echo / f!reader

tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star

a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.

i reference character redesigns by @nibeul in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough.

“How does it feel?”

The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway.

His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use.

When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.

For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet.

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.

There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives.

Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing.

No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika.

In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.

This makes him feel... good.

He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.

Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.

(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky.

Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.

The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)

“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”

Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.

You wince.

You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.

“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.

Echo feels small under your gaze.

Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.

In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin.

His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.

That damn thing.

A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough.

It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.

Echo catches it.

His eyes narrow playfully.

He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.

You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.

You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto.

It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.

“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.

“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.

“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.

The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.

Then:

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.

A baited trick. He’s smiling.

The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.

“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.

The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.

“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.

His laugh is warm.

“Maybe not.”

“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Then, you remember the task at hand.

You clear your throat.

“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”

Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized.

Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.

Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now.

“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep.

Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin.

In his lap, both his hands twitch.

He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.

You don’t press him on the details.

In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.

In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.

Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.

You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link.

After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.

“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”

Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile.

Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.

There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.

You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”

Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak.

“...Same as before.”

You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”

It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.

He can feel.

His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.

Your breath catches at the touch.

Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed.

The closeness itself is making you dizzy.

Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.

Your skin is hot.

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.

You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.

He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.

The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you.

You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation.

Your mouth is moving before you realize it.

“What does it mean?”

Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.

“What does what mean?”

“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”

The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.

You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.

It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.

His nose brushes yours.

Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.

You want to kiss him.

He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.

And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...

Enter Omega.

“Echo, we’re back—!”

The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way.

You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.

“Hi.”

You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”

“...Whatcha guys doin’?”

Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”

“...Riiiiiight.”

You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact.

“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”

“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”

Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right.

“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.

You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”

Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.

“...What the kriff was that?”

#HE IS A CORPORAL!!!!!#let echo say fuck #and omega #echo x reader #echo imagine #arc trooper echo x reader #echo/reader #echo/you #echo x you #tcw imagine #tbb imagine #sw imagine #the bad batch imagine #THANK YOU ANON WHO SENT ME THE UPDATED SPREADS #LOVE U ANGEL

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spidernerdsblog · 3 years

Note

Hi 🙋‍♀️I have a request if u take them. Cud u write sth about Tom Holland x singer reader and the reader is performing at the Grammys or sth and the performance and song and costume is like really seggsy and Tom gets jealous??? Idk 🤷‍♀️ Sorry to bother u I just love your writing

Sorry this took me so long was at a lack of ideas. I strongly believe Taylor Swift’s reputation deserved a Grammy. So I'm borrowing her album for the reader. Hope you like this.

Pairing : Tom Holland x Singer! Reader

Warnings : angst, fluff, jealousy, suggestive theme, missed typos

Mini Playlist : Endgame by Taylor Swift, There’s nothing holding me back by Shawn Mendes

Baby I'm jealous

You and Tom were seated at the back when your limo pulled over at the venue. You could hear the commotion from the inside even though you have walked numerous red carpets by now but it still seems to be a little nerve racking to you. Especially when this is the first time Tom is accompanying you to the Grammys which is going to be a big deal for the media. The security personnel opened the door and as you stepped out of the car you were flooded with flashing lights from the cameras.

Tom held out his hand for you, you slipped your arm into his and walked with a dazzling smile posing for the cameras “you look amazing, darling” he knelt down to whisper in your ear. In the meantime a lady journalist came forward to ask you a bunch of questions.

“So Y/N three nominations this year, how are you feeling?”

“Well it’s always good to be back here and share the stage with all these talented artists as usual I’m excited and looking forward to the night” you answered.

“We see you have brought company this year” she remarked which had you blushing.

“Yeah, I couldn't think of a better company than him on this very important occasion” you said bashfully tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Tom, what do you have to say?” she poses the question to him.

“Uhh I mean she has always been an incredible singer and her songs are the reason that made me fall in love with her in the first place” he replied looking proudly at you.

“Aww you both are adorable. Wish you the best” she said before leaving.

“Thank you so much” you thanked her, walking inside the auditorium and sat on your designated seats. There you were met with lots of your friends from the music industry as you said hi and chatted with them for a while.

“Hey Y/N how are you?!” you heard Shawn from behind as you turned around and went to eagerly hug him. You and Shawn were really good friends from the beginning of your career and you have always been supporting each other’s works.

“I’m good, how are you?” you chirped.

“I’m fine now” he remarked cheekily and went to sit beside you as you started talking catching up on each other totally ignoring Tom. To be honest he was a little annoyed seeing you so over friendly with him but he brushed off his thoughts quickly.

The show began and a few awards were distributed with some performances in between by different artists. You too had to perform for tonight which also included a duet with Shawn and soon your time came as you stood up from your seat to go backstage.

“Best of luck, love” Tom said to boost your confidence.

“Thanks babe” you kissed on his cheek lovingly.

“See you on the stage Y/N” Shawn snickered.

“Oh I’m looking forward to it” you blew him an air kiss and headed backstage to change into your stage outfit. The stage was set and you could hear the loud cheers of the audience from backstage. Truth to be told you always get a little nervous before any public concert but this time it was different because Tom sat there in the audience and you are more excited than nervous to perform. The lights went out and the screen doors slid open as you walked on the stage with the spotlight on you. The notes begin to play as you vocalize striding across the stage with oomph.

I wanna be your endgame

I wanna be your first string

I wanna be your A-Team

I wanna be your endgame, endgame

The crowd cheered as the supporting dancers slowly entered the stage. Tom sat amidst the crowd in awe witnessing you in your full glory. You owned the stage like a queen. He knew you were the prettiest woman he has ever met but the bodycon suit you were wearing accentuated your curves all at the right places.

Big reputation, big reputation

Ooh you and me we got big reputations, ah

And you heard about me, ooh

I got some big enemies

You waltzed around the stage with a sultry look in your eyes, slightly swaying your hips making the crowd go crazy. Tom was very good at keeping his emotions under check but when it comes to you he’s a possessive man so when he heard a few men from the crowd passing comments of how hot and sexy you looked he was fuming from inside. You went on to sing two more songs from your album then transitioned to Shawn’s latest single.

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

“Make some noise for Shawn Mendes!” you cheered as he emerged from the backstage playing the chords on his guitar and the audience screamed at the top of their voice.

I wanna follow where she goes

I think about her and she knows it

I wanna let her take control

'Cause everytime that she gets close, yeah

He sang with his gaze directed at you which didn’t go unnoticed by Tom who was looking at you both with narrowed eyes and clenched jaws.

She pulls me in enough to keep me guessing (mmm)

And maybe I should stop and start confessing

Confessing, yeah

You joined in singing along the lyrics with him exchanging flirtatious gestures with each other. You encouraged the audience to sing along with you.

Oh, I've been shaking

I love it when you go crazy

You take all my inhibitions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

There's nothing holdin' me back

You were clearly having a fun time sharing the stage with Shawn as you both swayed to the beat with a wide smile and the crowd cheered you on. Tom heard someone saying “they make a good pair” and he completely lost it. Now he was jealous even though he knows it’s wrong because you had always made it clear that you loved him more than anything but you in that ravishing outfit dancing and singing being way too comfortable around each other wasn’t helping much.

Your performance ended after some time and Tom couldn’t be anymore happier. You were back in the audience again as Shawn couldn’t stop praising you “you just set the stage on fire Y/N! It was awesome”

“Oh shut up! You weren’t bad either” you quipped. Tom sat there silently feeling neglected at how you had time to talk with everyone except him. The show ended with you winning the three categories you were nominated for : album of the year, song of the year and artist of the year. You were elated at your achievements as your team escorted you for a photo session. You saw Tom standing at a distance and walked over to him.

“Why are you standing here? Come and stand with me” you said, grabbing his arm.

“No I’m better off standing here rather than being your arm candy” he says bitterly pulling out his arm from your hold.

“What?!” you were slightly taken aback as you looked at him in confusion.

“Hey Y/N!” your manager called out.

“Just a moment!” you told him to wait and dragged Tom to a corner.

“What the hell was that back there?” you hissed at him.

“You know it very well” you shrugged with a disinterested look on his face.

“I-I really don’t understand where this is coming from Tom but are you upset with something?” you were really concerned with his sudden outburst.

“Well isn’t that obvious? When your girlfriend brings you to a public event to treat you like a sidepiece and goes on flirting with her colleagues on stage it is naturally upsetting” he jabbed at you.

“Are you even listening to what you are saying Tom? Everyone here are my work friends just like you have” you retorted in a hushed tone.

“Well it looked more than just friends” he bit back.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you were totally done with him, fuming at his accusation.

“Y/N come fast!” your manager called you again.

“Yeah coming!” you replied and turned to Tom again “you know what it was actually my fault that I brought you along with me. I thought we were ready to take the next step in our relationship but it clearly doesn’t look like that” you snapped at him and walked back to have your pictures taken. You were stopped by various people, for interviews as well as to congratulate you for your win but you were so annoyed with Tom you couldn’t concentrate properly.

Towards the end of the night, you had almost forgotten about Tom’s comments as you busied yourself into conversations with different people from the industry, sipping on champagne.

As soon as he cooled down Tom was quick to realize his mistake and tried to approach you several times, but you successfully ignored him by preoccupying yourself elsewhere. He eventually caught up to you, grabbing your arm before you could walk away “Y/N, please. Can we just talk for a second?”

“No I don’t think so because I’m quite busy flirting with each and every guy over here” you snapped, turning to walk away. He grabbed your arm again, “Y/N, c’mon love, I’m really sorry” he whined.

You whipped around “not now Tom. We will talk after we get out of here so if you will excuse me” saying so you walked away to be stopped by a reporter for another interview. The after party ended an hour as you and Tom exited the place. You climbed into the limo, quickly putting up the privacy window. Tom climbed in after you, taking a seat glancing at you.

“What?” you scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. You could tell he was really upset with what he’d said earlier.

“Y/N.. I can't even explain how sorry I am” he started “I know I was being a dick back there and I feel terrible about it”

You leaned back in your seat sighing “you know what, I'm really tired. Can we talk about this after we reach home?” He nodded silently in agreement without uttering a single word on the drive back.

Once you got home, you walked through the living room and made your way into your shared bedroom. You sat on the bed taking off your heels and massaged your ankles. After sometime Tom joined you in the bedroom. He takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie as you stare at him for a second. He looked so good in formal attire which filled your head with filthy thoughts. How you could have celebrated your win in a different way but he had to ruin it by acting out like that.

“Y/N, I truly am sorry. I.. I have no excuse for my behavior. It was completely my fault” he walked over to you, sitting next to you on the bed.

You sighed deeply and stood up walking over to your walk in closet. Your hands went to your back to reach out to the zipper of your dress “I really didn’t expect this from you at least. Of all the people I thought you would understand since you are in the same line of work” you said with disappointment clear in your voice. Tom hung his head low in shame.

“I know babe it was rude and totally uncalled for. I was a fucking idiot and let my insecurities get the best of me” he said with remorse.

“Then just think about how I feel when I have to watch you making out with other women on screen. I never said anything to you. Instead I always supported you and you on the other hand questioned our relationship just because I was singing and dancing with someone else who happens to be a very good friend of mine” you ranted still struggling with the zipper of your dress “a little help please?” you huffed slightly irritated and angry.

Tom bit back a smile as he walked over to you and helped you unzip your dress. He took your hands in his and pecked on them gently “I didn't mean to ruin the night for you” he apologized, looking down at your hands.

You pulled out your hands and crossed your arms “well it wasn’t that bad given that I won three Grammys but I wished you were there by my side” you said completely forgetting that you were standing there in just your strapless bra and very tiny pair of lace underwear.

Tom was eyeing you the whole time with a known smirk plastered on his face. You noticed that and looked down at yourself “oh, c’mon. I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!” you scoffed, throwing your hands in the air. You shook your head in annoyance and grabbed the black silk robe, tying it around your body.

Tom was broken out of his trance as he walked over to you, placing a hand on your cheek “Y/N believe me I’m really sorry. I wish I could take back all the horrible things I said to you. You didn’t deserve any of it. Sorry for being such a jerk to you”

Your expression softened as you held his hand gently “well I’m glad to hear that. And even if I try I can’t stay mad at you for a longtime so apology accepted” you said with a smile.

“Thank you darling it would never happen again I promise” he says stroking his thumb on your cheek bone as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips “and I mean it” he stated a hand reaching up to untie your robe as your robe fell open, your breath hitched “though it was slightly your fault too, how do you expect me to not get jealous seeing you with someone else looking so bloody gorgeous in that outfit?” he hooked his index finger under the silk on your shoulder, pulling the robe down slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin “but I’m really sorry” he whispers in a husky tone.

“Then prove it” you looked at him challengingly, a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without any further delay Tom crashed his lips to yours effortlessly lifting you up by your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

...........................................................

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland fluff

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shipping-kitchen · 3 years

Text

Sweet Burning Pleasure

Kinktober, Day One: Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs

Fandom: Resident Evil VIII

Pairing: Lady Dimitrescu/Female Reader

Words: 4,500

Warnings: body horror, really dubious consent/non-consensual, aphrodisiacs, the reader definitely thinks she’s going to die for most of the fic, lots of blood and blood drinking and vampire things, explicit sex, graphic descriptions of cuts and blood

Summary: You are a maid in the Dimitrescu Castle, doing your best to keep your head down and survive. You eventually catch the attention of the Lady of the castle.

Important Note: I’m posting my Kinktober one-shots daily on tumblr, unedited! Eventually I’ll edit them and post them on AO3, but for now this is the first draft, and I hope you enjoy it ^-^

You were well aware that working at the Dimitrescu Castle was tantamount to a death sentence, but when Mother Miranda asked for new women to volunteer… it was an honour to be recognized by her. It would guarantee that your parents would eat well for the coming winter. The years in the village had stretched on, and you knew that your chances of staying on the farm were slim. Too many of your childhood friends had already been ushered away, to experiments and servitude to the Lords that surrounded the town.

You could become a wife in the town, produce more children to continue the cycle, but you couldn’t stomach the idea of marrying one of the men that you had grown up beside. Better to step forward, volunteer as a maid, accept the new dress that was sent your way, pack your scant belongings, and hug your parents goodbye as you began the walk towards the castle that loomed above your village.

You were wearing the dress that had been given to you when you were chosen: a grey dress that gathered at the waist and then flared out around your legs, falling to just below your knees. Paired with the apron that rested overtop, it was more elegant than the clothes you grew up with, but still clearly the clothes of a servant.

Your bag bumped against your shoulder blades as you walked through the gates, leaving your village behind. It was early Spring, and the vineyards were beginning to fill with greenery. The lattices surrounded you, the scent of fresh soil and new growth almost covering the decay of the scarecrows that hung around the path.

It was easier to look at the slowly growing vines than to face forward and the castle doors becoming larger as you drew towards it. Your heart was pounding, anxiety prickling on the back of your neck and the tips of your fingers. No one ever came back from the castle, and you had no idea what was waiting for you inside.

All too soon, your feet were climbing the stone steps towards the main doors. You paused in front of them, fixing the folds of your dress and pressing your hair back into place. Then you took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

It was long seconds before the door opened, revealing another woman in a similar grey dress. It wasn’t someone from the village, which didn’t surprise you. All of the Lords hired foreigners, the village not enough to staff their needs. She was an older woman, her hair beginning to grey.

You curtseyed, a small bobbing movement.

“I’m the new maid, ma’am. Sent from the village.”

“Well, come inside.” The woman stepped back and you obediently stepped inside, trying not to flinch as the huge door was shut behind you. “What’s your name, girl?”

The main hall of the castle was resplendent and golden. A large painting of three women was illuminated across the hall. There were delicate vases and intricate designs everywhere you looked. You told the woman your name, occupied with gazing around the hall in awe. You had never seen such splendor, and it filled you with both fear and anticipation.

“Hmm. Well, I’m the housekeeper, Ms. Matheski. You’ll take your orders from me. Welcome to Castle Dimitrescu.”

You had expected life at the castle to be something out of a horror movie, abstract ideas of dark hallways and boarded up rooms. The truth was much different: life at the castle was hard work.

There were dozens of rooms, and you had to prepare each one on a rotating schedule. There were sheets to wash in the river, fireplaces to clean out, mantels to polish, floors to mop. Every day, you worked hard and collapsed into bed for a deep sleep.

You rarely saw the mistresses of the castle, dressed all in black and cackling as they walked down the halls together. All of the servants knew to get out of the way when their voices came down the hallway. No one discussed the red crusted around the mistresses’ mouths, but everyone knew. The servants cleaned out the goblets, after all.

Sometimes, you encountered Lady Dimitrescu. While her daughters announced themselves with their raucous conversation, the lady of the house moved with an unpredictable silence. Many times, you were on your knees in front of a fireplace, covered in ashes, when you looked up to see Lady Dimitrescu behind you, watching your work.

The first time it had happened, you had scrambled to your feet, dropping to your lowest curtsey. Your eyes on the ground, you waited. Her presence was all-encompassing: she was so large, and in her white dress, unlike anything else in the castle.

Lady Dimistrecu had laughed and told you to continue working. On her way out of the room, she had touched her fingers to the top of your head, and your knees had gone weak from fear. And then she was gone, and you collapsed back in front of the fireplace.

Since then, you had gotten used to the Lady’s presence, and the way she came and went, overseeing everyone’s work. Those who made mistakes were the ones to disappear: you made sure that you listened carefully and double-checked your work.

And so you survived, into the winter.

Winter in the castle was different: the fires were kept blazing, more wood being ordered from the village almost daily. The windows were boarded up, to keep out the cold. Before, the Dimitrescu daughters had come and gone from the castle, but now they remained in their rooms, more sullen and more likely to lash out.

You kept working, you kept your head down. You did your best to avoid the daughters and please the Lady. Ms. Matheski was never displeased with your work, but she wasn’t warm with any of the girls who worked in the castle. You didn’t blame her.

One day, you had been assigned to the main hall. The main hall had to be cleaned daily, unlike the other rooms, and it was a dangerous assignment. Lady Dimitrescu was picky about the banister, and the daughters often came through the main hall on their way from their rooms. The winter was dragging on, and the mistresses were restless. Daniella, especially, had taken to tormenting the maids: tearing their clothes, throwing rats at them while they worked, and occasionally dragging them off to the lower levels, where you had never been asked to work.

You made your way into the main hall cautiously, entering through the servant door. It was empty, and you got down to work. The fireplace was first, cleaned out and then refilled with new wood and lit again. The castle was kept at a warmth that was almost stifling in winter, but you knew better than to complain.

Once the fire was lit, you turned your attention to the dishes that had been left on the table in the hall. The daughters liked to dine here, and often left a mess. It would take you several trips across the castle to the kitchen to clear the table, so it was best to get started.

You gathered up the first stack of dishes and made off, your dress swirling around your legs as you made your way down the familiar hallways. You tried not to let them rattle, cautious of drawing attention to yourself, and breathed a sigh of relief when you reached the kitchen without incident.

“Dishes from the main hall,” you told the maid washing dishes. “More to come.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and you headed back out the door, your soft leather shoes making no noise on the carpeted hallway as you went back to the main hall.

When you entered the hall, you froze. Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters were all in the hall, warming themselves in front of the fire you had recently lit. Bela was reclining against her mother’s chest, her sisters’ heads resting on their mother’s legs. It was a relaxed tableau, and not something you felt that you should be present for.

But Lady Dimistrecu was already looking towards the door as you stepped in, so you dropped into a hasty curtsy and reached behind yourself for the door.

“Please, continue,” the Lady commanded, waving her hand towards you. “The table needs clearing.”

“Yes, my Lady,” you said, hearing your voice come out quiet and hesitant. You clenched your jaw against your own hesitation, and walked towards the table. You could feel the eyes of the daughters upon you. You only hoped that their closeness with their mother would be enough to keep them content.

You gathered the plates and the goblets, trying to keep your hands from shaking. You could do this, despite the eyes on you. You could do this.

Distracted by your fear and the prickling awareness of your watchers, you picked up one of the knives the wrong way, and felt hot pain shoot through your palm.

You inhaled, but made no sound of pain, and forced yourself not to jerk back. Instead, you calmly placed the knife on the stack of plates with the others, and picked up the stack.

When you turned, Cassandra was standing directly in front of you. You had never seen one of the daughters this close, and it was immediately apparent that there was something wrong with her eyes. It looked like there was something moving inside the darkness of her pupils.

You refused to flinch backwards. Fear crawled up your spine, but you stood still. You held the plates steady. Your palm was burning where you had cut it.

Cassandra’s hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist.

Despair grew around you. This was sure to be the end, no matter how careful you had been.

She pulled your hand forward, and there was no resisting her grip. The plates slipped from your grasp and shattered on the floor at your feet.

Your palm was splayed upwards, and you could see how shallow the cut had been. Only a few beads of blood were brought to the surface, tiny droplets along a jagged line where the knife had dug into your skin.

An unnatural whine came from Cassandra’s chest, more like a cicada’s song than a human voice. She leaned towards your palm, and you closed your eyes, unwilling to watch.

There was a growl and then a harsh tug as Cassandra’s hand was pulled off your wrist. You pulled your hand back to your chest, opening your eyes to see Bela tussling with Cassandra on the floor, both of them making a strange growling-whining noise.

“Mine,” Cassandra hissed.

“Mine,” Bela growled back, and slammed her hand through her sister’s head. Insects exploded around her arm, twining up towards Bela’s face, and both of them dissolved into a swarm of struggling insects. As they fought, you took two steps back, and then pelted towards one of the further doors.

You didn’t expect to make it, but somehow, the door was closing behind you and you were still running, following the winding hallways back to your room. You slammed the door to your room and leaned against it, panting.

You could feel your heartbeat drumming against your ribs and your temples, your hand clenched in a fist around the cut that had started the fight. You knew, logically, that you aren’t safe here. This room was just another part of their castle, it would be easy enough to find you.

But you were in your own space. No one had ever come into this room while you’d been here. It was your safety in the castle. A place where you had never felt afraid. The fear was already beginning to fade, even as you struggled to hold onto it. Should you run? Would they forget? Would their mother blame you for their fight?

You unclenched your hand and looked at the cut again. The blood was already beginning to dry. You knew you should clean it, your hands still ashy from the fireplace. There was a washbasin in your room and you moved towards it, dipping your hands into the cold water. It came from the well outside the castle, and while it was boiled for the Lady’s baths and morning toilette, it was still cold for your own basin. It grounded you, washed away the last of the adrenaline. You watched the ashes swirl into the water. There wasn’t enough blood to turn the water pink. Such a small cut.

Surely it would be easily forgotten.

As you dried your hands, there was a knock on your door. One, two, three raps, and then silence.

The fear returned, a lump in your throat as you moved towards the door. There were no windows in your room, no escape from whatever waited on the other side. A disappointed housekeeper, a curious maid, a murderous mistress…

You put your hand on the doorknob, inhaled, and opened the door.

White fabric greeted you, falling in elegant ripples to the ground.

“Hello, my pet,” said Lady Dimitrescu. “May I come in?”

You stumbled back, unable to deny her. She bent to enter your room, her hat brushing the edges of the doorway. Like her daughters, she was pale as moonlight. When she straightened, she was very close to the ceiling. The servant’s quarters lacked the high ceilings of the rest of the house, not made with the Lady of the house in mind.

“I’m sorry, my Lady,” you managed. “I didn’t mean to drop the plates.”

“Mmm. My daughters are impatient. I don’t blame you for the accident.” Lady Dimitrescu reached towards you, and you allowed it. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, just as Cassandra had held you earlier, but the scale was different. Her palm cupped your entire wrist, her fingers wrapping up your arm to the elbow. You had never felt so small, so helpless, so delicate. “I’ve spoken with them.”

“I… thank you.” Your body was thrumming with a mixture of fear, hope, and contact. Her fingertips rested delicately on the inside of your arm, against the veins.

“You are a rare delight,” Lady Dimitrescu murmured. “You caught my daughters off-guard.” Gently, she turned your palm upwards to show the faint line where the knife had cut. Her thumb traced the mark, expression going hazy for a moment. “You surprised me as well.”

“My Lady?” you asked, unsure what to make of her attention. You tried pulling your hand back, and her grip tightened on your arm, sudden enough to make you gasp. Her eyes snapped upwards to meet your gaze, and she looked hungry.

“It’s been a long winter, my dear,” Lady Dimitrescu said, as if it were a confession, as if this were a conversation, as if she were not holding you in place. “The wine is sweet, but you… are almost certainly sweeter.”

That was enough for you to know where this was going. You pushed yourself backwards, trying to wrench your arm from Lady Dimitrescu’s grasp, but it was no use. Her fingers were like marble on your wrist, solid and unbreaking.

“Hush, my pet.”

Her other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, and you heard yourself make a short sound of fear. Instinct made you freeze in place, your nape cradled in her palm. Her fingers rested on your collarbones. She was leaning down above you, and her eyes were so dark and hungry.

“It will not hurt,” Lady Dimitrescu whispered.

And then her lips were on your neck, and she was lying, it hurt, soft lips and sharp teeth and then searing pain up and down your spine. You could hear yourself crying out, you could hear the sound of her licking the blood from the bite mark. It was wet and wrong and you couldn’t free yourself from her grasp, no matter how you squirmed in her arms.

It seemed like forever before the pain began to dull, still radiating along your shoulder and back. The ache drew inwards and became almost unimportant. Lady Dimitrescu’s arms were strong around you. You could let your body relax, and still she held you close to her. Your blood had stained the white satin of the arm she held behind your head, keeping your neck steady as she fed. You could feel her lips and tongue, teasing the ragged holes made by her teeth, keeping the blood flowing. But somehow, it just didn’t hurt. You found yourself eased by her closeness, the certainty of her hold on your body.

Between one breath and the next, Lady Dimitrescu drew back with one last kiss to your wounds. She looked like her daughters now, crimson all around her lips and dripping down her chin, messy and dark. She groaned as she looked down at you, her gaze flickering from your neck to your eyes and back again.

You still felt like unable to move. Lady Dimitrescu was holding you, and there was no need to go anywhere. Your limbs were too heavy, even if you had wanted to. You blinked up at her, dazed by the hunger that still burned in her eyes after her meal.

Gently, Lady Dimitrescu lifted you into her arms like a child, cradling your head and hips. She laid you down on the bed, traced a finger through the ruined skin where she had bit you.

“As sweet as any fruit before Mother’s gift,” the Lady whispered, kneeling beside the bed. “You are exquisite.”

You wanted to touch the blood on her lips, but your hand only lifted slightly when you tried to move it.

She smiled at the movement, took your hand in hers. Again, you felt like a doll between her palms, so all-encompassing.

“Let me give you a gift of my own, my sweet.” You watched Lady Dimitrescu reach up and take off her hat, tossing it carelessly to the other side of the room. Her hair was held in a low coil behind her head, and she pulled the elastics from it, letting the waves fall over her shoulders. From the centre of the coil, she extracted a narrow blade. It was silver, delicate carvings on the blade flashing in the low lights of your room.

The Lady of the castle always wore gloves, but now she took them off and put them on your bedside table. Beneath the leather gloves, her hands were grey and white lines like marble spread beneath her skin. She rolled up one blood-soaked sleeve of her dress, and you saw that the white and grey lines went all the way up her body. Glancing at her face, from so close to her, it was clear that she was wearing some kind of makeup to make her appear pale like her daughters.

Lady Dimitrescu brought the blade down on her own arm, and you watched it cut through her skin. You half-expected the blood to be grey, but it was as red as your own.

She held her arm over your mouth, and you felt the warm droplets drip onto your lips. Soon your lips would look just as scarlet as hers.

“Open up, my pet,” Lady Dimitrescu told you, a smile in her voice.

Obediently, you parted your lips, and the blood met your tongue. It didn’t taste like metal and copper, as it did when you bit your lip. This was rich and full and thick, burning in your throat like whiskey when you swallowed it.

“Good.”

She watched you drink, your blood on her lips and hers on your own. The burning in your throat spread to your stomach and then out to the tips of your toes and your fingers, even your scalp prickling with sudden warmth. The dull ache of your neck went away, and when Lady Dimitrescu passed her fingers over the bitemark again, you felt that the holes are gone, your skin whole and healed. Her fingers still came back red with blood, though, which she licked from her fingertips with clear enjoyment.

Too soon, her arm healed and the blood stopped. You opened your mouth, silently asking for more, and she laughed at you, a low chuckle that made the burning even worse.

Then she leaned down and pressed her lips to yours.

There was the familiar taste of your own blood, thin and metallic. There was the unfamiliar feeling of lips against yours, prompting and playing. Her teeth nipped at your lip, and you returned the favour. She hummed approval, and you brought your hands up to run your fingers through her hair. You hadn’t noticed when the heaviness had left your body, but now every atom of you was screaming that you want to be closer to her.

Your Lady pressed into the kiss, overwhelming you for a moment. There was so much to think about, tongue and teeth and lips and the silken feeling of her hair. Her fingers were cupping your chin, changing the angle of the kiss, trailing down your neck to caress your collarbones.

The light touches were setting your body on fire, pressing up to get more contact. Lady Dimitrescu obliged, curling herself over you. Her knees rested low on the bed, her arms wrapped around you, the bed complaining under your combined weight. She was a solid wall of fabric brushing against your chest, your hips, and you wanted to be closer.

Lady Dimitrescu broke from the kiss and you moved on instinct, pressing your lips to the corner of her jaw. She tilted her head, giving you access, and you kissed down the elegant curve of her neck. When the need for more pressed at you again, you bit down on her neck. She moaned, and it was the most human sound you’d heard from her all night. You kissed and bit down to her shoulder, pushing the fabric of her dress out of the way.

You felt like you were out of your mind with this strange burning that flared through your body, needing something from her, needing everything from her. You tore satin in your quest for her skin, some still-rational part of your brain shocked at your audacity.

Grey skin stretched down her shoulders, marked with those same pale lines. She was warm under your lips, and you scraped her skin with your teeth. Lady Dimitrescu shifted against you, holding you closer, and you could hear her breathing unevenly.

At least you weren’t alone in this wild need. She was hungry for you, and you could taste it when she brought your lips back to hers, with new urgency.

“Please, my Lady,” you managed when she drew back. You didn’t know what you were begging for, and she was a work of art with her dress torn, hanging off one shoulder, blood and lipstick smeared across her chin.

“Yes,” Lady Dimistrescu said, her voice low. She leaned back and you whined at the loss of her warm presence, but then her hands were lifting your dress, effortlessly freeing you from its layers. The rush of air on your bare skin did nothing to cool the fire, and you grabbed for her wrists as she threw your dress carelessly across the room.

Only when Lady Dimitrescu’s hands were back on your bare skin did you relax, arching into the sensation. Her fingers are a little sharp, and she traced them delicately across the lines of your ribs, the soft rolls of your stomach, and then, teasing, across the curve of your breasts. You could feel your breath catch, helpless to stop yourself from pressing into the touch.

She practically purrs at that, leaning down to lick the remaining blood from your neck. Stopping to nibble your collarbone, she mouths down to the top of your breasts, cupping them and tracing their outline. It is a sublime torture as Lady Dimitrescu puts her mouth to you and you feel her tongue tracing around your swiftly hardening nipple.

You hear your voice crying out, hear your Lady humming her pleasure, feel her hands pinning down your hips. The air is cold: the sheets are soft: there is so much sensation racing through your body.

“Please,” you whisper, shuddering against her. “Please, please.”

And her hands run down from your hips, along the line of your outer thighs, and then delicately up the delicate inner thigh, making you squirm. She is close to where you’re soaking through your undergarments, so close and so far.

You’re panting, burning, moaning, and then her hands are finally on you, certain through the fabric. Her tongue, her fingers, you rock between them, overwhelmed.

Lady Dimitrescu slides your undergarments down without lifting her mouth from your breast and then you are bare to her, entirely. You can feel how wet you are when she runs her fingers across you. It’s too much and not enough.

Her touch leaves you for a moment, and you gasp for breath. When she touches you, it feels like the whole world narrows to her fingers and mouth. Without her, there is too much. The room is cold and you are still burning.

Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t make you wait long: she slides back on top of you, her knees caging your legs as she bends down to kiss you. She is too large for the bed, nearly bent in half to reach your mouth, a nightmare of grey skin and streaked blood, and she is everything you desire. She kisses with a demanding pace, and you return it.

Her fingers creep back up your inner thighs and you spread your legs as best you can. Your Lady is quick to return to your centre, starting slowly with her exploration. It brings the fire down for a moment, calm strokes along your folds, teasing brushes across your clit. Then the light touches begin to be too little, and you squirm under her. She draws back from the kiss to laugh again, and strokes you in earnest. Pleasure blooms from her fingers, and you lose track of your body. Your edges are dissolving into something greater, the only concrete part of you the place where her fingers are taking you apart.

She bites down again, this time just above your collarbone, and everything comes apart.

There are waves of awareness and pleasure, Lady Dimitrescu guiding you through them with leisurely movements of her fingers.

Once the shaking has passed, you collapse onto your pillow. Everything feels very distant, echoes of a real world that has stopped existing.

Lady Dimitrescu presses a kiss to the bloody mark that she left on your shoulder, and shifts you closer to her. When she bends her legs, she barely fits onto the bed, and your legs are draped over her thighs, your head pillowed on her arm.

“Sleep, my sweet,” your Lady whispers, running her thumb over the curve of your hip. “Rest and heal. I will be here when you wake.”

You have no choice but to obey, darkness dragging you downwards. The last thing you are aware of is the warmth of her embrace.

#nsft #lemon #kinktober #kinktober 2021 #resident evil #re8 lady dimitrescu #re8 #lady dimitrescu/reader #resident evil village #my writing #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #dubious consent

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jamilelucato · 4 years

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The Duff || Fred Weasley

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader (any house)

summary: your life became too stressing lately, and Fred Weasley, although generally very annoying, manages to distract you just enough when he stops talking.

A/N: completely based on the book The Duff. Like completely. So reader may have some issues with her appearance. Sorry about my other fics! It’s just that, when an idea pops, I have to write. It’s a big fic. (feel like it’s one of my brightest works)

words: + 11k

warnings: insinuations and mentions of sex; body insecurities; sick father, etc

Harry Potter Masterlist || Musical Hogwarts Series

You couldn't understand what could be the fun in going to Three Broomsticks to party. The place is one of the oldest bars in Hogwarts, but not long ago, Madam Rosmerta decided to add a dance floor in one of the darkest sides of the pub, and she got one of those muggle music machines. It was very nice if your thing was dancing in sweat and rubbing your body in people.

Easy to say it was most definitely not your thing.

"Okay, that's it for you," said Madam Rosmerta, taking your mug away. It once was filled with butterbeer, but the barmaid seemed to think you had gotten it filled way too many times for a night.

"Oh, come on," you complained, "there's no alcohol on those."

"I know. But it has sugar, and you had one too many," Rosmerta said, ignoring your pout and walking away from your side of the counter so she could serve other costumers.

Your brain fought a battle to decide if it was worth contesting and explaining that not offering you more butterbeer was causing the barmaid to lose money when the stool next to you cried with the weight that was jumping on it.

"Good evening, y/n," said the boy who now sat next to you.

It was inevitable when your eyes rolled just by smelling his cologne. There was no need for you even to turn to know who it was. Only one boy in the whole Hogwarts was confident enough to wear such cheap cologne as if it was holy water.

"Get the hell away, Weasley," you cried, wishing, profoundly, to have another butterbeer with you.

Madam Rosmerta noticed the new client sitting close to the counter, and she quickly came back to serve him.

"Fred Weasley," she greeted him with her playful smile. She knew the Hogwarts teenage boys only flirted with her in hopes of a discount, but she enjoyed it, considering it rather fun. "What can I get you?"

"My usual butterbeer, Ro," he said, charming her with his smirk. She chuckled, while he passed her a coin.

"If you're getting him one, you're getting me one too," you warned the barmaid, raising a brow. Your serious approach worked because, with a sigh, she walked back with two drinks.

You tossed her your coin.

"That is officially your last one, young lady, so you better enjoy it," she threatened before leaving and playing with her hair solemnly for Fred to see.

He was still smiling when you decided to look at him. He was a bastard, but, boy, was he handsome.

"You have five seconds to disappear from in front of me now that you have your drink," you warned. Even though Fred's eyes followed the back of Rosmerta, yours was still staring at him. Maybe the amount of disgust you felt for him could pass on with a look.

"Chill, would you?" Fred took a sip from his mug, supporting his arms on the counter, finally looking at you. "If you're so bothered, the dance floor awaits."

You chuckled, frowning right after. "Look, Weasley, don't you have any other girl to fuss around?"

He smirked, thinking you were falling for his game. "Do you have friends you'd like to suggest?" he played, raising his brows. "Is Jess still single?"

"I'd be dead if I let you stay even one meter close to my friends, do you hear me? I don't want them catching any diseases," you shivered just with the thought of how many girls (and STDs) this boy before you might have encountered.

"So they are here," his eyes narrowed as if he was scanning the dance floor, searching for your girls.

"Go away, Fred," you sighed, tired of that conversation. You took one sip of your mug, but the butterbeer was no longer enough to keep your mind away from Fred Weasley's affairs. "And stay away from Jess and Casey."

"Oh, y/n, just put a good word for me, please. I mean, it is your job," Fred leaned in, closer to you and his scent attacked your nostrils again, making you lean back.

"It's not my job to help you, Weasley."

"Well, as their duff, I think it is," he drank from his mug, ignoring your confused look.

"Duff?"

Asking him what the word meant called his attention back to you, but he seemed surprised you hadn't heard about it yet. "You know, designated ugly fat friend," he replied, making a peculiar gesture with his neck as he spoke the last term.

You couldn't possibly have heard him right. "Excuse me??"

"Look, I don't mean to offend," he shrugged his broad shoulders, a gift from all his years playing Quidditch.

He noticed how fast your expression was changing.

"It's not like you're an ogre or anything, but in comparison…" his eyes wandered back to the dance floor, this time yours followed, seeing Jess and Casey — your longest-time best friends — dancing with some other students. "Think about it. Why do they bring you here if you don't dance?"

"Shut it, Weasley. They bring me here because I'm their friend; stop with your nonsense," your mind was working incredibly hard to stop you from believing that you were the ugly friend. Because that could not be the truth. Especially if everyone already knew and the one to tell you about it had to be the most annoying Gryffindor.

Fred had the nerve to reach over and pat your knee, but you jerked away from him. "Look," he said, "you have hot friends… really hot friends."

All the butterbeer you had drunk was starting to make you sick. Perhaps Rosmerta had been right, but if you had to bet in a guilt part, you'd bet on the ginger.

"The point is, in a group of friends, there's always a weak link, a Duff. And girls respond well to guys who associate with their Duffs."

"Where are you getting this info? The Quibbler?" you never meant to offend the Lovegoods, but Fred Weasley was speaking rubbish at this point.

"Don't be bitter," Fred pressed his lips together, pausing. "What I'm saying is girls find it sexy when lads show some sensitivity and socialize with the Duff. So, please, help me here, and just pretend to enjoy our talk."

There it was, in front of you, the living, redheaded proof that stupidity is capable of making people persevere for years. You already knew that Fred was a womanizing asshole, but it was unexpected to find out how worthless as a human being he is, too. Pretty faces definitely aren't everything.

With one swift motion, you jumped to your feet and flung the contents of your mug in Fred's direction.

The remaining butterbeer flew all over him, splattering his striped polo collar shirt. The liquid got his ginger hair wet entirely, which surprised you because, usually, you wouldn't have such great aim.

His face burned with anger, and his chiselled mandible clenched angrily. "What was that for?" he snapped, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"What do you think it was for?" you snapped.

"I have no possible idea."

Madam Rosmerta appeared again, giving Fred a white cloth to dry himself, but it wasn't enough. Part of you wanted to be mad at the waitress for helping Fred, but you knew she just didn't want him to ask her to take you out.

"If you think I'm letting one of my friends leave this place with you, Weasley, you're very, very wrong, " you spluttered, staring at him with fire in your eyes. "You're a shallow jackass, and I hope that we never cross paths again."

The stupid muggle music played so loud that no one but Rosmerta overheard you, and she probably found you awsome. She loved some teenage drama.

You grabbed your friends as quickly as you could. They were about protest all the way to the secret passageway back to Hogwarts, so you decided it was best to explain what was happening.

"What's wrong?" Casey asked. Her once perfect dark hair was now wet — part of you wondered if the sweat even belonged to her. For such a smart Ravenclaw, you expected more of her.

"Let's get back to school; I just can't stand to be in this hellhole for one more second, " you said, dragging their reluctant bodies along behind you.

"Why are we leaving so early? It's only, like, nine-fifteen," Jess asked, frowning a bit, looking at you with her sad big blue eyes. Her Hufflepuff charm was about to work on you when you remembered why you were living.

"I got into an argument with someone, " you said, and Jess puppy eyes quickly disappeared, opening the place for her angry face to emerge. "I threw my Coke on him, and I didn't want to stick around for his response."

"Who?" Casey asked. You'd been dreading that question because you knew the reaction you'd get.

"Fred Weasley." two girly sighs followed your answer. "The guy is a man-whore. I can't stand him. He sleeps with everything that moves, and his brain is located in his pants—which means it's microscopic."

"I doubt that, " Casey said with another sigh.

"He's a jerk," you said, hoping your voice sounded like it was final. The tunnel back to Hogwarts seemed endless.

"That's not true," Jessica inserted. "Katie Bell told me he talked to her when she was alone at the Yule Ball. She was with Angelina and Alicia, and she said he just came up and made conversation, really friendly."

That made sense. Katie was definitely the Duff if she was out with Angelina and Alicia. And you knew for a fact that Angelina left with Fred that night.

"He's charming, " Casey said. "Give him some credit." Her smile slowly faded when she remembered that you threw at him your beer. "But what the hell did he do to you tonight, huh?" Now she sounded concerned. Took her long enough.

You sighed, noticing that saying something would only make their worry and you really wanted to avoid their pity. "Nothing, " you lied, "Fred just pisses me off."

Duff. The word bounced around in your mind as you three reached Hogwarts. When you took a last look at your friends before each parted to your houses, Fred's statement that you were the unattractive, undesirable tagalong seemed to be confirmed.

Jessica's perfect hourglass body and big brown eyes. Casey's athlete's features and impeccable skin. You definitely weren't like them.

"Well, see you tomorrow for the feast?" Jess asked the two of you.

You and Casey shared tired smiles. Although Casey would've like to stay a little longer at the Three Broomsticks, she welcomed extra sleeping hours. Her Quidditch player schedule didn't leave her much time to rest.

"See you," you stated, walking away slowly, letting your feet lead the way to your dorm where you'd try extra hard to forget the whole Duff thing.

You picked your blanket up to your chin, not wanting to get out of bed so soon, even though you could very much get late for Snape's class.

Fred Weasley words were hunting you like a ghost. They shouldn't be, because you sure didn't care about his opinion. But the courage he had called you that disgusting abbreviation and how you seemed to find the one out from every single group of friends you walked past.

It had been a week and a half, so why did his words bother you? You were brilliant and a good witch, always there for your friends. Thus, who cared if you were the Duff?

If you were charming, you'd have to deal with lads like Weasley hitting on you. Ugh! That could be a Duff benefit, right? Being unattractive didn't have to suck.

Damn Fred Weasley! You couldn't believe he managed to pack your head with such superficial bullshit. Getting out of bed with a jump, you were committed.

You wouldn't think about Duffs ever again.

Thursdays were homework day, at least for you and your best friends.

When classes were over, the three of you would meet at the library for a long late afternoon, reading through books and doing assignments. And, of course, spilling some tea with whispers.

That afternoon was being way bored than you expected. It was like Jess and Casey interrupted your reading all the time to tell you something new, but that day they seemed to have nothing to say.

And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.

Suspicious.

You stared at them, who pretended they hadn't been facing you all along and turned back to their essays.

"Okay, what is it? You two are awfully quiet," you whispered, leaning closer to them, scared the librarian could hear you.

They exchanged looks before, sighing, Jess gave up on her silent treatment.

"Remember when we planned on going to Three Broomsticks tomorrow?" she pouted, trying to work her big eyes on you.

"You two planned, you mean. I never agreed on it."

"We kinda find dates to go with us," said Casey, ignoring your comment on the matter.

You stared at your two best friends, holding yourself to not laugh.

"Thankfully. I never said I wanted to go," you pointed out with a smile, turning back to your book.

Jessica didn't seem satisfied with you looking away just yet.

"We can find you a date," Jess suggested.

You chuckled. "Alright," you spat — the possibility sounded ridiculous; principally when Fred's words still echoed in the corner of your mind.

"y/n, you have to come," Casey's tone was more serious. "You never go out unless we force you. So, if you don't want a date for yourself, you are thrid-wheeling."

"Not in Askaban, I am not!" you protested, raising your voice way too much but thankfully nobody was around.

Jess tried to work her puppy eyes again. "Please," she sobbed. "If you don't come, I'll feel guilty. Do you want me to ditch Cormac?"

"You are going with Cormac??" you asked, genuinely concerned because he was younger than you, but then you recalled he wasn't younger than her.

"Just show up," said Casey, not really allowing you to object. "I'll pay you a butterbeer."

Her offer was very, very tempting. You had no idea if one could become addicted to butterbeer since yours never had alcohol, but you're getting closer to that.

"But I'll only stay 'till nine," you informed.

The two girls smiled, and Jess had to hold herself from clapping in excitement.

"That'll be enough," said Casey.

"Is your father okay?" Casey asked you as soon as Jess left, and she had the open opportunity to corner you.

She was the only one in the school that you were brave enough to confess what was happening to your father. He had been recently attacked by some Death Eaters, and the Cruciatus curse left him with severe brain damaged.

It happened during the summer, before the start of your seventh year, so you had a couple of weeks to recover from that news before going back to school.

But when your mom's first letter arrived, saying your father was getting more insane with time, no amount of preparation was enough to hold back your tears as you ran out of the Great Hall.

You were able to lie to Jess, but with Casey, you weren't so lucky. Besides, her mom worked at St. Mungo's, so she already knew about your dad way before you told her.

It had been two months since you've been ignoring your mom's letters, all of them. You are too scared to read what they've got to say, and she doesn't let you go back home anyways.

You wanted to be with him, your father, hold his hand, make him better. But your mom was firm on her decision about you graduating Hogwarts.

So, when you stared at Casey's beautiful face, you had no idea what to answer.

"He can't get better," you said, in tone way harsher than you were planning. Who knew that not speaking about a matter would make you feel more painful towards it?

Casey gulped — she was always like that: she would touch the wound, but she had no idea what to do about it later.

"Do you want me to write to my m..."

"No," you quickly answered, not even letting her finish. "I just need to graduate — then I'll deal with my dad."

"It will take longer while 'till graduation, y/n," Casey pointed out. She knew you were convincing yourself it was just a couple more months, but that was a terrible lie you no longer could satisfy yourself with.

Casey wanted to do something, but taking you out was all you allowed the girls to do to you. You hated the new club atmosphere of Three Broomsticks, but you had to admit, it was pretty distracting.

"Promise I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"Promise," you said, before leaving your best friend alone in the hallway.

Snape's latest assignment stood before you, with a lot of notes from the Professor, pointing out all of your mistakes.

And there were a lot of them.

When class ended, you walked up to the Professor, gulping and shaking. You knew he didn't dislike you, but you were never too careful with Severus Snape.

"Professor, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yes?" he turned to face you; his black robe swirled with his movement.

"I just want to know if this essay was, hm, a big part of this year's grade?" you asked, avoiding looking in his dark eyes. "If so, can I do something else to improve my grade?"

He swallowed before answering, his serious tone implicating he didn't want to be having this conversation.

"You used to be my best student, Miss y/l/n, but this year you turned into the worse," he said, pausing in that terrible way only he knew. If your last year's grade hadn't been an Outstanding, I would have written you off my class by now."

You stared at Snape, unsure of what to do next and terrified of the man before you. He never treated you that way.

"Sorry to bother, Professor," you said, leaving right away, knowing very well that he had just ruined your rest of the day, including the night with your girls.

But what would you tell them? They would say that Snape was always like that. And even Casey, who was bloody smart, didn't have classes with Snape anymore. She would say for you to drop it too.

Your mind led your feet to the Moaning Myrtle's abandoned bathroom. There, your cry could be confused with hers by those who passed by. Thus, no one would disturb you.

The ghost wasn't even startled when she heard you come in, crying, and throw yourself on the floor near the sinks. Myrtle has seen you there since the school year started when you read your mother's first letter.

You usually went there at night, when you were sure you wouldn't see anyone. But after years of trusting Professor Snape — and believing that he would never mistreat you — what you heard today was the culmination.

When you decided you had cried enough, you headed out of the bathroom, holding your Potions (terrible) essay closer to your chest. You walked around the castle, but, perhaps, your eyes lost contact with your brain — the next thing you knew, you ran smack into Fred Weasley.

As if I needed more reasons for wanting to die.

You stumbled backwards, and your essay slipped from your arms, heading straight to the floor.

The ginger boy grasped you by both shoulders, his big hands catching you before you had the chance to slip over your own feet.

"Watch it," he said, steadying you.

You two were standing way too close to each other, and once again, you could smell his cheap cologne, this time it seemed to spread all over your body. Bloody hell, am I gonna smell like Weasley now? You shivered with disgust, but he misread it.

"Trouble standing up?" he joked, looking down at you with a cocky smirk.

He was really tall — you'd forgotten that, sitting next to him at the Three Broomsticks that night.

"Do I make you weak in the knees?"

Ignoring his stupid question, you knelt down to get the essay, and he did the same, grabbing it first. You forgot how to breathe for a second, hoping he wouldn't try to read it — and notice all the corrections Snape had made with permanent ink.

However, as soon as he grabbed it, he was handing it over to you.

You took it and brought it back closer to your chest, stepping away from him and his stupid perfume and stupid touch that sent weird and uncomfortable chills through your spine.

You were starting to walk away, leaving him behind when you heard:

"Thank you, Weasley," he attempted to copy your accent. "See you around, Weasley."

But you rolled your eyes and didn't even venture to look at him again.

How you managed to get out of your dorm and show up was all Jess and Casey's fault. If they hadn't been talking about you going out all week, and then Jess almost crying for you to appear, you would've rather very much stayed in bed.

You drummed your fingers on the wooden surface of the bar, your mind far away from the muggle music and your very dance-pants friends.

Your mind was tricking you in remembering about your father, something you were really trying to push away. Why hadn't you insisted on staying with Dad? Why hadn't you read mom's letters?

You kept imagining your dad, wallowing in his misery… alone. You wondered if at least your mom would visit him at St. Mungos. They were never the clingy type of couple, but maybe now she could be more sentimental.

But neither you were sentimental. So why now? Why care so much for your dad when he was never that much of an extraordinary parent?

"Evenin', Duffy."

Why did that nitwit have to sit next to you?

"Go away, Fred," you scolded, looking down at your fingers, playing with your empty mug.

"I can't, " he said. "First of all, the only reason you're here's that I taught you and your friends how to scape Hogwarts," you rolled your eyes while he continued, "besides, I'm not one to give up easily. I am set to snog one of your friends," he shrugged as if he was the biggest gentleman on Earth.

"Then go talk to the one," you suggested, not even turning to see his face.

"I would, but Fred Weasley doesn't chase girls. They chase him."

His sentence stayed in the air around as for a second before you burst in laughter. He couldn't be sober to say something like that. You faced him, finally, and confirmed — he very much had just arrived, so he wasn't drunk. He was just stupid.

Handsome, but stupid.

"Til they come to me, you get the honour of my company," he said, and then he took your mug away from your restless fingers. "Lucky for me, it doesn't look like you're armed with a beverage tonight."

You awaited for his laugh, but it never came.

"What is it with you today?"

"Already told you I'm not in the mood, Weasley," you reminded him.

"What's wrong?"

"Go...away," you warned, slowly.

You no longer good handle the tension burning inside you, it had to be released in some way, and it needed to be right then. But you didn't want to cry, not in front of a bunch of students partying, and there was no way you were going to vent with the dimwitted next to you, and punching someone would just get Rosmerta disappointed.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Fred asked, touching your shoulders carefully. He was forcing you to face him, even though he was being too gentle for his usual. "y/n?"

Then it was like your systems had stopped working — like a magic spell went wrong. Your only excuse is that you were under an unbelievable amount of stress, and you detected an exit.

You needed a distraction, and your chance was staring at you with sparkly eyes. Regret was the last thing you were thinking about.

An opportunity sat on the barstool beside you, and you lunged at it, literally.

You kissed Fred Weasley.

You grabbed him by polo neck of his red t-shirt, pulling him closer and locking your lips on his. He froze at first, but it didn't take him more than three seconds to understand what was happening, and the hand once on your shoulder was now on you cheeks.

Fred returned your urge, biting your lower lip, making his way inside your mouth with his tongue. Your hands left his neck and went to his hair, surprised to find soft hair.

His hands flew to your sides and pulled you toward him as if his hair was the secret to his horniness. As you wrapped your fingers in the strands of red hair, his fingertips dug into your waist.

It worked better than punching someone would have. Not only did it help you release the tension, but it distracted you. It's hard to think about your dad when you're making out with somebody.

He leaned into me, and I hauled at him so hard that Fred nearly fell off his bar stool. At that moment, both just couldn't get close enough to each other. Your separate seats seemed like they were miles apart.

Nothing existed, but the physical connection — there were no emotions in the way. It was amazing not to think. Nothing! Nothing… until he screwed it up.

His hand slid up from your waist, lingering along your back, and came to a stop around your boobs. Everything flooded back, and you suddenly remembered who had his lips on yours.

As fast as you jumped on him, you leaned away, taking your hands from his hair and shoving him away.

His hands dropped, one landing on your knee, as he pulled away. He looked astonished but weirdly pleased.

"Wow, Duff, that was—", but he never finished. You were already gone, running out of the bar and rushing to get to the secret passageway.

You didn't look back. If Fred followed, once you got to Hogwarts, he turned around.

When you reached your dorm and jumped on the bed, your heartbeat was impossible to keep track. You told yourself it was because of the run back to the school, but your mind was still playing flashes of the snogging session that had just happened.

It wasn't fair to remember his touch and how out of limits he was —good kisser, but still a jerk.

You didn't want to admit it, but you were madder at yourself than at him.

Two days.

That was the amount of time you managed to stay away from Fred Weasley since the little "incident".

One thing was for sure: it had numbed completely any stress your father situation was afflicting him. It had even made you forget about your recent bad grades.

Now, every time you got distracted, the only thought that filled your mind was a non-stop replay of the kiss you and Fred shared. It made you feel weirdly sick in the stomach, and you swore you could feel his disgusting touch as if it dirtied your body forever.

Jess and Casey didn't even bother arguing with you about leaving early that night — they felt guilty because they left you alone at the counter. Of course, you didn't tell them about the whole Weasley situation, but, even though Jess seemed clueless, Casey noticed your change in action.

How defensive you were towards their questions, more than usual. How you avoided spending too much time at the Great Hall.

So, when she purposely asked you to watch her Quidditch practice, you knew she was testing you. Perhaps Casey thought something worse was happening to your dad and if that was her bet, you wouldn't be the one to make her see the other side of the coin.

"Came to watch me play?" an annoying voice asked, calling your attention to your left where Fred Weasley stood flying up in his broom. His torso was tilted towards you, who was sitting in the stands.

One look was all you took for your mind to fill with disgusting memories, and your stomach was killing you once again. You faced back the field, where Casey was supposed to be practising, but, apparently, the thing was over because she and her teammates were nowhere to be found.

That explains the Gryffindor in his robes, you thought, sighing and gathering your things before getting up.

Fred was still staring at you, analyzing, expecting.

"I'm not here for you, Weasley," you spat.

Your temper surprised him, but he managed to recover before you could notice.

"What a pity," he sighed, letting the corner of his lips turn up. "I thought you wanted a second dose of fun."

You stared at him, with your angry issues burning up. If before kissing him he already had his ways of pissing you off, now it was like he was power was ten times stronger.

Your first thought was to hex him right there and then, but he wasn't worth that much worry.

"That wasn't fun, Weasley," you decided to state the obvious; something Fred seemed to have been having trouble understanding.

"You seemed very entertained twirling your fingers in my hair," he smirked, holding a chuckle while your eyes widened and you closed your fists.

"That was a mistake; I wasn't in my right mind," you said, clenching your teeth in rage. That boy was driving you crazy.

From behind him, you recognized Casey, walking on the field, already out of her Quidditch robes and holding her broom with just one hand. You knew that was your way out.

"Fine, blame it on the butterbeer," he sighed, "if it's what makes you sleep at night."

"What makes you think, Weasley," you paused, stepping closer to the end of the stands and closer to the ginger, "that I think about you at night?" you raised your tone involuntarily, letting your emotions get the best of you.

"Your body language, for one, Duff," Fred smirked again, feeling his win just because you were getting out of control.

Last time you were raged like that you had kissed him, so perhaps it could happen again.

But the nickname set you back. You were still bitter, but now you remembered why — it was because of that shallow nickname and that stupid boy.

You turned around and stepped away, to the end of the stands. You needed to get out of there as fast as you could.

"See you around too, Duff," you heard Fred shouted, but you didn't dare look back.

Casey met you at the end of the stairs, where a bunch of Gryffindors were crossing paths with the Ravenclaws leaving.

"Was that Fred Weasley? Talking to you?" was the first thing Casey asked when you were close to her enough to hear.

"Yep," you sighed, still tense because of your conversation.

"Godric! Is he hot in his Quidditch uniform!" she gasped, but different from you, she had that romantic, girly look on her face again. It made you wanna vomit.

"Please, Cass, you can find someone hotter than him," you protested, frowning.

"Someone hotter doesn't take Fred's hotness away," she argued, raising a brow towards you. She was messing with you, of course, but knowing it didn't make it easier. She didn't know about the kiss, so for all purposes' sake, she still thought you would never even touch him.

"Can't you just pine over — hmm, I don't — George Weasley, his twin?" you said, sarcastically. "If you think Fred's hot, George is too, and I'm pretty sure he's a better person."

"Too vanilla," she replied as if it proved her point.

"How would you know?" you asked, but couldn't help but burst in laughter with her, both very sure this conversation wasn't going anywhere.

Casey was right again. Not about George being vanilla — that you couldn't be sure, being that you had never talked to the chap. You couldn't manage to say more than three words to George, his presence always made you kinda weak in the knees.

But George didn't know about it, and neither did your best friends, and you intend in leaving thing at that. George was kind of your platonic crush, it was healthy to have one (probably), and he was never cross that line.

Funny, huh, how George made you feel starstruck, and Fred made you wanna kill yourself.

The thing Casey was right was about Fred being hot and charming. He was appearing more times than often in your mind, and for the rest of the week, he no longer popped as a replay of a kiss. Fred was appearing in your mind as new sexy scenarios, things a deep part of you wanted to experiment. And apparently, with him. Yikes.

You tried to convince yourself that those scenarios were with George (had happened before) but, at this point, you knew how to differentiate the two very well. And, deep down, you knew who was the ginger biting your neck and intertwining his legs in yours.

And that infuriated your guts.

"You did that for what?"

Your question echoed to the Great Hall, with a dozen of heads turning to what the little show you were putting on.

It was not your intention to make a scene, but, at that moment, you were more enraged than you'd ever been your whole life. Casey was your best friend, and you knew sometimes she was bold for the greater good, but you doubted that doing what she did was for the greater good.

Because you were feeling like shit.

She had intercepted your owl with your mom's letter about your father's condition. Casey had observed that you were ignoring your mom's messages — last night she went to your dorm room with Jess for a girls night, and ended up finding accidentally a box packed with the parchments unopen.

So she planned on getting your owl before it dropped its letter over you and she managed to sit next to you and starting reading it aloud, without telling you what she was reading.

It was only when she got to the second line of the thing — "they say they are doing everything they can and they don't want to raise our hopes, because his chance of recovery is almost none"— that you realized that it was your mom's words.

You got so angry as never before, shouting at Casey to shut up, and without overthinking, you cast a fire spell on the thing. Thankfully she dropped the parchment before it burned her hands, but that doesn't mean that she didn't get angry at you too.

Jess watched and came closer, trying to find words to say, but she didn't know what was happening and she didn't want to side with anyone.

You felt the urge to cry, but, not in hell, you were doing it in front of the whole school. You gathered your bag and ran out of that place, not looking back — even though Casey was screaming "I'm sorry", and Jessica was asking you to wait.

"Hey, wait up," a voice called, this time it didn't belong to a girl.

You froze at your spot, your feet slowly turning to face the boy following you in the empty hallway. Traitors, you wanted to say to your feet.

"Not now, Weasley," you said, trying hard to look away, but once his dark eyes met yours, you just couldn't bring yourself to walk away.

"Then, when? You need to talk," he pointed out, taking his hands out of his pockets, not yet breaking the eye contact. It was like he knew that he looking at you was the only thing keeping you there.

"You heard the show, huh."

"Just saw you, angrily walking away," he said while you nervously grabbed your bag's handle. "Thankfully, there was no butterbeer in your hands."

His attempt to joke went not as smoothly as he expected. You faced your shoes, biting your lip with the stupid idea that popped in your mind. You knew what you planned wasn't right.

But when he stepped towards you, it felt natural.

"Just shut up, Weasley," you said, before getting on your tiptoes and leaning in to kiss him.

He was surprised, again, but this time he was quick to respond and somehow smarter — he grabbed your waist and guided you to a door that only he knew existed in that hallway.

It was a broom closet, probably the brooms first-years use to train flying.

This time there was no inhibition. Fred's mouth in yours was not going to be enough to forget you fighting with Casey and your mom's words about your dad. You needed more. Thankfully, Fred Weasley was more than pleased to serve, fastly taking your white shirt off while you unbuttoned his pants.

"Are you sure of this, Duff?" he asked before pulling your black skirt up.

"I said shut up, Weasley," you reminded him, in a bossy tone. And in case he tried to open his mouth again, you locked it with yours.

Things were worse than ever before.

After Casey's episode, you hadn't talked to her ever since. She tried, the first few days, but she saw you were ignoring her and with time, she gave up. Jess attempted to convince you to talk to Casey, and for that, you started ignoring Jess too.

Your grades weren't getting better any time soon — Professor Snape was now no longer the only one complaining to you about it. Thankfully, the other Professors were more understanding about it than Severus — the school knew about your father situation.

Oh, yeah. About your parents: since Casey attempt to read you a letter, you haven't touched one yet. And you weren't going to do it anytime soon.

The only person you were hanging out with — by Merlin, you never thought that would happen — was Fred Weasley.

It was easygoing with him because there wasn't much talking to do. He knew better than to ask you anything related to your personal life — even though he tried, a lot.

You two would meet primarily at the Room of Requirement — it usually provided a bed for you, so that was more comfortable than any broom closet. If he ever attempted to make conversation, you'd shut him up with your lips and locking your fingers in his hair — that was his soft spot for sure.

You noticed he was trying to be your friend, more than just a hookup because he was lately scheduling your meetings in places where more people were around — therefore you couldn't just kiss him.

Today, you two were meeting after his Quidditch practice. In his defence, you had indeed mentioned how hot after-trainings sex could be, and that was, probably, where he got the idea.

You were waiting for him in the ground leaned in the entrance to the stairs to the stands, laughing with yourself, because, not long ago, when he mentioned you waiting for him at the Quidditch field, you thought the idea was absurd.

"There he is," you said, placing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans, walking side by side with a just showered Fred Weasley.

"You came."

"You said for me to come," you replied, tilting your head towards him and chuckling. It wasn't like you and any other places to be, but he didn't need to know.

"Hey, Fred, what are we..." started George, rushing to Fred's side and gasping at the notice of you. "Oh, hey, y/n."

So nice to have a Weasley calling you by your name instead of the stupid "duff" thing Fred seemed to love.

But that was George — the George Weasley — and all you managed to do was blush and nervously say hello back.

"Well, brother, got do something with y/n first, but, later, we can..."

"— don't bother with me! I'm sure we can hang out the three of us," you interrupted Fred, glad this time you didn't stutter.

Fred practically spat out a laugh, looking at you like you were crazy. "We? With my own twin?"

You pushed Fred by the shoulder, disgusted by the bullshit he had suggested.

"We can change our plans," you elaborated. "That's what I meant, Fred."

George's eyes went from you to Fred, not sure of what to say next. He didn't know what was going on between the two of you — you'd threatened Fred that you'd kill the whole Weasley family if he decided to say something.

"Are you sure? Fred and I can do the prank later."

"It's a prank? Then count me in!" you smiled, pushing Fred's shoulder again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

There was one exact reason why Fred didn't tell you — it's because you weren't interested, especially in personal stuff and principally in pranks.

"Wow, y/n, I reckon I've never seen you so excited," George commented, smiling.

The three of you started walking away from the Quidditch field while Fred mumbled something about him being the reason for your excitement — for that you replied with pinching his left arm.

You had never laughed so hard in your life. Fred, George and you were sitting on the floor of the empty library, leaning your backs against a dusty shelf in the dark corner of the room.

"Did you see his face?" George giggled, placing a hand over his chest where his heart was beating extra fast.

All of the hearts there were beating fast.

It was almost midnight, and by the school rules, you three should be in bed, but the amount of enthusiasm you were feeling was convincing you being a reckless student wasn't so bad.

You were sitting in the middle of the twins, your hands tossed on the floor — the left one just a couple of centimetres away from Fred's. He was watching you, paying very close attention at how the red slowly painted your face back, since it had been white because of all the running from Filch to not get caught.

"Thanks for tagging me along," you said, with a small smile, looking at George.

"Anytime," George said, thinking it was the right thing to do. "You're fun to be around. I see why you wanted to hang out with her, Freddie."

You would've teased Fred about the silly nickname if it wasn't gonna ruin the beautiful moment you and George were having.

Fred watched his twin and you, giggling with each other, talking about random funny stuff related to Argo Filch, but he couldn't hear the conversation quite well. He could only focus on how you were leaning towards George, and how, involuntarily, your hand ran away from his.

"Well, chaps, I've gotta keep going," George announced, getting up and shaking the dust out of his clothes. You pouted, saddened by the departure of your favourite twin.

Fred didn't even breathe, scared that would make his brother want to stay. It wasn't like he was addicted to you — Godric, no! — but he was really looking forward to spending some time with you. Just with you.

"So soon?" you replied, noticing that one prank and you now could speak perfectly well with George. You had no idea why it became uncomplicated, but spending time with him only made you notice what you already knew — he's very different from Fred. "See you later, then."

"See ya," George then turned around and walked out of the library, making sure he wasn't being heard.

As soon as George was away, Fred turned to you, using his hand to bring you face towards him. You allowed it, not really having much choice when he touched you like that.

"Why did want to prank with us?" he asked, looking straight into your eyes.

You shrugged, saying nothing. But something in your expression — maybe the quick thought of George — gave you away.

"George," Fred sighed, surprisingly angry, but not enough for you to notice. His hand fell from your face to his side. "You like him."

"Puff! What? No. What?"

Yeah, your reaction wasn't the best. But Fred shrugged, letting his jealous side hide and acting like a jerk because it was so much easier than caring.

"Are you only with me because I look like him?" he asked, making sure his tone sounded like he was playing with you instead of really curious.

"No!" you replied, faster than you expected. "First of all, I'm not with you. Secondly, no, Freddie," — you used the nickname to mess with him — "I didn't pick you because of George. I picked you because you were there."

Fred stayed in silence, absorbing your answer.

You were suddenly lost in your thoughts, remembering that first kiss not so long ago. And then you remembered all of those lonely nights at the Three Broomsticks, where your only companies were Rosmerta and... Fred.

"You are always there."

"Yeah," Fred sighed, not sure of what you meant with that. However, he was still in jerk mode, and for that, his hand flew back to touch you, this time choosing more sensitive regions, like your belly, particularly, above the waistband of your jeans, a place that Fred had already learned to be one of your weak spots. "So, is now when you're doing what we had scheduled to do?"

You turned to face him, making it easier for him to reach your abdomen.

"Do you only think about that?"

He pretended to be thoughtful.

"Yes."

It came as a hell of a surprise when you were called to the Headmaster's office. You had been doing nothing — aside from escapades with Fred, and trying to get back to your studies, you haven't been doing much — so you didn't stall to see why they needed you.

You were even more surprised when the person awaiting fro you in the office was your mom.

"Hi, sweetie," she tried to smile but failed.

You didn't move since you opened the door and saw her, because her visit probably meant something you didn't want to be true.

"Is he dead?"

"What, sweetie? What did you say?" she asked.

"Dad. Is he...?" you whispered again, not brave enough to say it too loud.

"Oh, Merlin, no! That's why I'm here, actually. He called for you yesterday," she explained, stepping closer to you since you haven't been moving. "I sent you a letter, but you didn't reply, and I was so anxious..."

"Father called me? He said my name?" you were shocked because last time you saw him, he had no idea who you were.

"Yes, sweetie. I guess he remembers you," she smiled. "And me," she added.

"Can I see him?" you were fighting tears at this point.

"Of course, sweetie! That's why I'm here," she smiled, and opened her arms, knowing very well that all you wanted to do was bury your face on her chest, just like when you were little and scared. But this time, all you felt was happiness.

Returning to Hogwarts was hard. Not because you were sad — Merlin, that had been your best weekend ever! You father was almost completely recovered, although now and then he was saying some gibberish.

It was hard to come back because you wished you'd stayed longer with your dad, but your mom knew you needed to finish your school year before anything else.

A conversation that you had with your father kept replaying in your mind since you walked in the school. It was before you left when he encouraged you to enjoy your life because he wished he had enjoyed his more — especially when he thought he was dying, having Death Eaters play with his mind.

So when you saw George in the hallway, you knew you had to do something about your whole starstruck situation.

"Hey!" you called him.

"Hi, y/n," he faced you, a smile appearing in his lips. "Haven't seen you all weekend."

"I had to be away. Dad's stuff," you really didn't want to tell him about it right there. "Anyway... I don't know how to say this, but I've been feeling incredibly confident lately, so here it goes... Would you like to go on a date with me?"

You had no idea how you manage to say it. Perhaps pranking someone together does change a person, but while you waited for his reply, George didn't seem so hard to talk to.

"You want to go out... with me?" he played with his hair while saying it.

"Yep," you gulped, suddenly regretting you recently discovered confidence.

"Okay," he frowned for a second before smiling lightly. "Three Broomsticks, Wednesday?"

"Perfect. See you there?"

He shook his head in response, then turned and walked away. You stayed there, expecting a wave of happiness to come, but it never did. That's odd, you thought, before heading to your dorm, which, weirdly enough, you had missed.

When you pushed the door open, you saw the two figures sitting on your bed, as if they had been waiting for you for a long time. Jess and Casey looked at you as you walked n, with sympathetic smiles on their faces.

"What are you two doing here?" you asked, but you weren't mad. Just curious.

You had missed them too.

"I'm here to apologize. Should've done it sooner, but you didn't allow me," said Casey, getting up and stepping closer to you. "I now know your father is better, but you were right, that letter could have something horrible written on it and had no right reading it."

You stared at her, unconsciously reaching for her hand, anxious to meet her hot touch again. You were still happy, of course, but that talk made you bit sentimental.

"I'm sorry, y/n," she said, allowing you to hug her and hugging you back in the way only she knew how. Jess jumped out of bed and embraced the two of you; although you couldn't see her face, you'd bet she was smiling and crying at the same time.

The three of you stayed like that for a while.

"But, thank Merlin, he's okay now," Casey continued, slowly pulling away from the group hug.

"How do you..."

"Fred told us," said Jess, sitting back on your bed and suggesting you two did the same.

"Fred? Fred Weasley? How did he know?" you were completely startled.

"He asked about you. The three of us were confused because, well, he was right, nobody had seen you," Jess explained. "Long story short, McGonagall told him about your dad, and he told us."

You gulped, taking in that new information. Fred worried about you, that was new. Well, you did leave with no warning, but for a not-a-friend with benefits, you never consider he would care if you disappeared.

"Did he say anything else?" you rounded, suddenly worried he could have told them about your little escapades.

"Should him? Your father is okay, right?" Casey entered a worried-mom mood, and Jess seemed to be concerned too.

"My father is getting better, yes," you replied, but now it was too late. They were curious, you sighed, knowing very well that, as your best friends, they had all the right to know what was going on. "I may — or may not — have started a no-strings-attached relationship with Fred Weasley."

"You did what??" Casey widened her eyes towards you.

You spend half an hour explaining to the girls what was going on in your sex life, and they were good listeners, never interrupting unless you paused. You missed those girly talks so much that you wondered how you managed to spend weeks not talking to them.

"Wait. But your date for Wednesday is George?" asked Jess, clearly confused with the end of your story.

"I never had the guts before," you said, remembering how only the idea of asking George out would've made you weak in the knees a year ago.

"But you like Fred," she stated, convinced she was correct.

"What? No. Why did you...? Merlin, no," you rambled. You thought you had made it clear that being around Fred longer than necessary made your stomach sick and everything.

Jess and Casey exchanged looks as if they knew something you didn't.

"Fred's repugnant. He still calls me Duff, can you believe it? I mean, 'hello, honey, if I'm such the disgusting, ugly friend, why do you sleep with me?' " you said, laughing with yourself, imagining you facing Fred and telling him that. But the girls kept with their suspicious stares. "I did explain what is Duff, right?"

"You did," said Casey.

"Still not convinced you don't like Fred, though," added Jess, raising a brow towards you.

"I don't! Besides, now, I don't need him. I'm going on a date with his brother, and my father is fine. I have no worries," you reminded them, getting up from your bed. "Well, maybe one problem. I still need better grades."

"That I can help," said Casey, allowing her nerdy Ravenclaw shine.

You tried to corner Fred the whole Tuesday, but he seemed to be nowhere to be found, until after dinner, when you approached him when he was leaving. Thankfully, he was alone.

"So you are back," he said, looking you up and down in that way that only he knew. You looked around the hallway, scared that students leaving the Great Hall could hear you two talking, so you gesticulated for him to follow you to the broom closet — coincidently, where it all started was going to be its end too.

"Fred, we need to talk," you said, closing the door behind you and trying to find the light switch.

"You finally realized?" he sounded hopeful, with a playful smile on his lips.

"Realized what?"

He was set back with your response. Fred was thinking of something else when he asked you that, but he wasn't going to let you win. Although you really didn't have any idea what he was talking about.

"Realized you can't live without me."

"HA! Very funny, Weasley," you said, rolling your eyes.

He stepped closer to you, expecting you to do what you generally did in that closet, and, even though, his perfume made you lose your senses for a second (that didn't use to happen before, did it?).

"Well, I brought you here because... You see, we aren't doing this anymore," you swallowed after saying it — it was as if a knife was held in your neck.

He leaned in, looking down at you. His playful smile was long gone.

"You want to do it the right way. I get it," he said, pressing his lips together for a pause. "We could just jump to the fun part."

"Fun part? There isn't a...", but you weren't able to finish. His lips met yours mid-phrase, and as usual, you couldn't care about anything else but his lips.

What was the thing I need to tell him? Never mind now.

Your hands were playing with his hair, but something was different this time. There was still an urge — one that shouldn't be there, giving that you had no problems to forget right now — but you two were acting slowly, appreciating every touch.

When with Fred, you never felt ashamed of your body, but somehow this time you were very self-conscious, afraid that he wouldn't like you. Which was stupid — he had been... with you for too long to now started caring about your form.

What you didn't know what was that, if anything, he was finding you even more beautiful tonight, with the weak light of the closet highlighting every gorgeous curve of your body.

While you two undressed (with his lips away from yours), you were able to remember you shouldn't be there, snogging him and well, about to do other things with him. You had gone there to end this thing.

You sighed, too perplexed at the view of the ginger boy's body. The light was also highlighting his best spots.

A good-bye, you concluded with yourself. You were allowing yourself one last night, before staying away from Fred.

And if it was going to be a good-bye, you were sure you wanted to make it the best yet.

When you asked George out, he had been puzzled, and really scared of what to do next.

You had never jumbled him with Fred before — and after spending so much time with his twin doing Merlin knows what he expected you to never do it.

He thought it was rather cute that you took the first step and asked Fred out. Well, you did confuse the twin, but George assumed you probably were too nervous with your own feelings.

So using his best "hey, brother, this is gonna sound funny" voice, he went to find Fred to tell him that he had a date with the girl he had pining over for the last month.

George had never seen Fred say no to other girls, neither had George seen Fred stay in the castle for a Friday night, then a skip a Hogsmeade trip. You had changed Fred, even though George was sure Fred had not noticed it yet.

"What is it, George?" Fred asked, anxious to leave and meet you, no matter where you could be. He had heard that you had just got back in the castle and he just... he wanted to make sure you were alright.

"y/n, she... well," George nervously giggled. "She mixed us. She thought I was you."

"Really?" Fred was not expecting at this stage for you to mix him with his brother.

"Yeah, and hm, this is funny," George gulped before continuing. "I think she asked you out. On a date."

"She what??"

"Yeah, I guess she was on a rush, because of her father, and she said something about feeling confident," George went on. "Anyway, I said yes because I knew you'd have said yes. It's Wednesday. At the Three Broomsticks."

Fred stared at his brother as if he had solved all the problems in the world.

"She really did that?"

George shook his head yes and pointed out: "Don't mention she mixed us. It will probably make her feel worse."

"Are you sure she thought you were me?" Fred asked, overthinking it.

"Well, of course. Why else would y/n ask me out?"

You had to borrow a foundation from Jess (your skin tones were not so similar, but it was enough) because on the last night, Fred had exaggerated a little.

He never left a mark on his body, but yesterday he had overcome himself. As the brush rubbed the foundation on your neck, you remembered the night before.

"You are mine, Duff," he said, between one hickey and another. "Just mine."

Unintentionally, you lost yourself in thought, your mind continuing its replay from the night before, as you brushed your sensitive skin.

"Only I can make you feel this way; only my touch makes you shiver," whispered Fred, and incredibly, it was true. But he was Fred, and it couldn't go on.

So when it was over, and you both were too tired, you got dressed and stared at him, knowing what was coming next.

"Thank you, Fred, seriously. For everything," he watched you as you gulped nervously. "But this really can't go on. I have a date tomorrow."

"I know."

You were about to leave, but you immediately turned, facing him with wide eyes.

"You asked George out. I know," he seemed sad. And you have never seen Fred sad before. You wanted to do something, but what could you do really?

"Fred, I..."

"Look, you had your good-bye, y/n. You can get out now," Fred said. "Go hide. It's what you do, right?"

"Hey, don't turn this on me!"

"Somehow, this is my fault?" Fred asked while putting on his pants. Although angry, he didn't seem scary. "What you want me to do, y/n? I'm the jackass womanizer, aren't I? Go get the better twin."

"Fred Weasley!" you shouted his name, trying to shut him up. "We were never a couple; don't act as if you care now! Don't act like you're jealous!"

"Why? Because I can't be jealous of you? I can't care about you?" he shouted back.

"Care about me? You call me Duff, Weasley. All the damn time! How am I supposed to know you care about me if you keep reminding me how ugly, fat and disgusting I am?"

Silence fell upon the two of you.

That was the knife in your neck all along. The stupid nickname, it all came back to it. Fred had no idea how much power that nickname had over you.

"I never meant it that way, y/n," he said, gulping slowly.

"No?" you asked sarcastically. "Really? I remember you telling me I have hotter friends."

"But that was before!" he protested.

"Before what?" you asked, but his reply never came. The words he couldn't say died in his chest — buried forever. "See you around, Weasley, " you said, before opening the door and leaving, without looking back.

You shook your head, slowly coming back to reality. The hickeys were enough hidden. It didn't look perfect, but the Three Broomsticks had terrible lighting, so it would be okay.

You wanted to stay in, curled up in bed, playing in repeat your good-bye, and blame yourself for that sadness in your chest, but you were too embarrassed to dump George.

The place was crowded — Hogwarts older students were practically all there, having the time of their lives on the dance floor. You wished George could never find you, so you went to the counter to hide behind a mug of butterbeer.

"Hey there, pretty," said Madam Rosmerta, who have missed you all those nights without you. "Butterbeer?"

"You know it," you said, about to throw her a coin when someone pressed a hand on your shoulder.

"Make it two," he said, and he didn't even need to speak to you know who it was. That cheap perfume was going to be the death of you. "It's on me," he told you, tossing his own coin to Rosmerta who disappeared to get the mugs.

"He's not coming," he added a second later, hating the silence around you two.

"I figured it. When I saw you," you explained, gulping.

Rosmerta brought two mugs back, and both of you took a sip from it, unsure of what to say next.

It wasn't like you two fought last night because you hated each other. In fact, it was probably the complete opposite, but both looked like stupid cowards, afraid of your own feelings.

"Look, I..." he started, but you interrupted him, placing your hand on his arm over the counter.

"Let me say this first," you said, locking your eyes on his. "I shouldn't have asked your twin out. Even if we were just friends; what I did was a jerk move."

"You liked him first," Fred pointed out, trying to defend you from yourself.

You chuckled. "Oh, Merlin, no. I thought he had a pretty face," you explained, tilting your head towards him, and he understood your joke right away, joining in the laughter. "And he seemed like a nice guy. Like, huh, I thought he could treat me nicely," you looked away from his big eyes, facing the shelves with liquor.

"But?"

"What?" you asked him, turning to face him once again.

"I feel like there was a 'but'."

You smiled.

"But you also have a pretty face, and recently, you've come to treat me nice too," you said, and he pressed his lips together while slowly shaking his head up and down. "Well, actually, if it's just between you and me, your face is prettier."

He raised his brows. "Is it?"

"And your body too," you added, just to make him smile.

"Is mine bigger?" he asked, back to his normal joker self.

You pushed him lightly by the shoulder, not hard enough for him to fall off the stool.

"Never saw his, sorry," you decided to tease, and you both giggled.

"I'm sorry. About the Duff thing and all," he said, swallowing. "I kept the nickname because I thought it was cute. If I knew it bothered you so much, I'd have stopped. And I wouldn't have used it during sex."

"I'm okay with it now, I guess," you said. "It wasn't that bad hearing it during sex if I'm honest."

You tilted your head to the left, biting your tongue to not laugh because it was not funny. But Fred just had a way to ease your mood.

You thought silence was going to hunt you two again when Fred spoke.

"Is this the part where you admit you have feelings for me?" he smirked, placing his hands on your knees, relaxing you even more.

"Maybe," you chuckled. "Is this the part where you admit you have feelings for me?"

"Yes," he said, surprising you. "I have feelings for you."

"Well, I have feelings for you too, Freddie," you smiled, passing your fingers through his strong arms.

"You're not gonna forget that nickname, are you?" he faced away while asking.

"Nope."

"Fine by me, Duff," he replied, messing with you too. He then leaned closer, pressing his lips on yours, and it didn't take long for his hands to find your waist and bring you as closer to him as the stools allowed.

"But we are going slower this time, Weasley," you warned, parting your lips for just a second.

He smiled in the kiss.

"It's always better that way," he replied, probably remembering the soft, slow sex from last night because you were sure remembering that too.

You slapped his arm just strong enough for him to pout, but you kept kissing him anyway. When you two kissed, nothing else mattered— it was only the two of you in the world.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley #Fred and George Weasley #Fred and George #george weasley x reader #harry potter #the duff

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tothemeadow · 4 years

Text

~*ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ OᑎE*~

warnings: alcohol consumption, oral sex

words: 2.8k

Prologue

Perhaps you should’ve have taken Daki more seriously. After that fateful night at the so-called gathering, she’s become adamant on getting you hooked onto the luxurious life. Frankly, you thought the rest of the night was a bore, watching rich people mill about, talking to each other about issues that you could wish to understand. The only thing that really kept you going was the company of your best friend and the delicious edibles set on the many tables.

Time and time again, Daki brought up the encounter you had with Idris’ friends – could they even be called that? She gushed about how handsome Rengoku Kyojuro was, how darling it would be to hang off his arm. You noticed the suggestive hint to her tone; you knew exactly where her train of thoughts was going, and you’d be damned if she acted upon them.

In fact, you’re entirely positive that she’s planning on whisking you into her lifestyle. Even now, as you sit in some one-roomed, slinky club, she taps a manicured finger against her chin. The place itself is dripping with wealth, from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the clusters of velvet chairs, right down to the mahogany bar you sit at. You don’t have the slightest clue how Daki knows of a place like this, but – judging from the few other patrons acquainting the place – it’s meant for those types of meetings. You have the slightest inkling that this is where she met Idris in the first place.

Glancing over at her, you can understand why Idris was drawn to her in the first place; of course, Daki has always been insanely beautiful, but her sense of fashion is impeccable. Combined with her short skirt and the thick platforms on her feet, her legs are long, soft. She looks like she just came off straight off a runway; she might as well have, if the big Chanel logo on her beret hints at anything. She’s perfect sugar baby material, and you’d be lying if you’d say you didn’t respect her for pulling off such a feat.

“Mitsuri really liked you,” Daki’s saying. You snap back to attention, mentally cursing yourself out for getting lost in your thoughts. “She thinks you’re really pretty, too.”

Ah, Kanroji Mitsuri: renowned fashion designer and easily one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever met. Her welcoming, bubbly personality had definitely struck a chord inside you, and you were more than thankful that she had been so nice. Hearing something like that, though… Well…

Staring down at your wine, you swirl the deep red fluid around in your glass. “She’s just being nice,” you say, deflecting the compliment. You didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing.

Rolling her eyes, Daki pops a grape into her mouth and waggles a finger at you. “Listen here, darling; Kanroji Mitsuri thinks you’re pretty. I wouldn’t take that so lightly.”

“You’re also drop dead gorgeous,” you shoot right back. “Of course you wouldn’t take it so lightly.”

“You’re missing the point,” Daki says with a sigh. “An insanely hot and rich woman – who has a great personality, by the way – is interested in you. By the way you two were talking at the gathering, it’s almost like you two have known each other forever.”

Deciding to take the bait, you set your wineglass down and turn towards her. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Go on a date with her, obviously. I know Mitsuri will treat you right. And, if the night ends well…” Trailing off, she follows up with a giggle. “We’d be sugar sisters.”

“Come again?”

“Oh, come on, (y/n)! Think about how much fun it’ll be! Mitsuri will spoil you rotten and you’ll have mind-blowing sex.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at the unexpected confession. Wait, did that mean…?

Daki flashes you a sly look. “What, you don’t think I only like men, do you? I may have fucked around with Mitsuri once or twice… But it was only a physical attraction, nothing more. Sometimes you just need to get with a woman.”

Embarrassment crawls up your neck at the mere idea of Daki and Mitsuri engaging in certain… activities. Warmth floods your system; you should be ashamed of thinking of your friend like that, but she did just tell you something you particularly didn’t want to know. And, truth be told, you are growing the slightest bit curious as to how Mitsuri’s like in bed…

A smirk pulls at the corners of Daki’s pretty mouth. She obviously knows what’s going on in your head – the two of you have been friends long enough for it to be second nature at this point. However, it still catches you by surprise as she fishes out a little piece of paper and slides it across the bar to you. “Since you’re clearly thinking about it, have her number,” she purrs. “I don’t think you’ll regret giving her a call.”

Taking the paper into your hands, you examine the neat, curly writing. You can imagine Mitsuri writing down the number, a flattering smile on her face. Your heart nearly skips a beat; did she really feel attracted to you? It’s just that, well, somebody at her social standing would usually stick to someone in the same group. You’re nowhere near it, so to have something like this happen… It’s kind of incredible.

You sigh. “Fuck it. I’ll call her.”

Daki eagerly claps her hands. “That’s my girl!”

On second thought, you might be regretting your decision.

Around you, the delicate clank of crystal glasses and fine platters intermingle with the soothing piano music. Other patrons talk amongst themselves, the slight murmur of dozens of voices reminding you of a hoard of bees. Some call out to the waiters passing by, wanting them to refill their glasses or get the check.

The dim, golden light makes the place ethereal, a heavenly glow surrounding everyone’s heads. Your hands glide over the spotless tablecloth, the pristine white of it practically mocking you. Jeez, if a single drop of wine spills on it, they’d probably just throw it away. Damn rich people and their ways – the mere idea of how much this tablecloth costs has your head spinning.

“You don’t have to look so scared,” Mitsuri says. “Believe it or not, but everyone here is just like you.”

You nearly scoff at that. You want to tell her that no, nobody is like you. You’re not rich and swanky, not by a long shot. Besides, this is Kanroji Mitsuri you’re speaking to. She’s part of this crowd; and since she’s a renowned fashion designer with a fairly large following, she’s practically a celebrity.

“I find that hard to believe,” you mutter. Picking up your glass, you take a careful sip of water, not wanting to cause a spill and embarrass yourself.

It’s not helping your nerves in the slightest that Mitsuri looks the way she does; hair pulled into a high ponytail, a slinky dress with a plunging neckline, dangling earrings that reflect the soft golden light. You don’t want to be disrespectful and stare at her pure, creamy skin, but it’s so hard. She’s downright beautiful – breathtaking, even – and it’s a challenge to keep your head on straight.

Her green eyes practically light up at your comment, a light giggle passing through her plump lips. “Everyone feels the pressure, you know. The need to keep up a perfect façade. It’s a shame, really, how so many people in this room wear a mask constantly.” She sighs, then, leaning forward and perching an elbow on the table and resting her chin in her palm. “I’ll be truthful, darling. The very first moment I met you, I knew you’d be different. You’re not some stuck-up corporate brat who’s too deep in their own shit to know right from left anymore. It’s refreshing.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. She hit the nail right on the head; sure, the upper class are usually depicted as being entitled assholes, but to hear it from Mitsuri? That’s just gold. She joins in on your laughter, the sweet, tinkling sound gracing your ears. It’s actually incredible how comfortable you feel around her, despite only knowing her for a couple of days.

“Plus,” Mitsuri continues, her laughter dying down, “I think you’re really cute.”

Scoffing, you try to downplay the excited fluttering in your heart. She’s almost been gushing about how nice you look all night, how much of a pleasantry it was that Daki introduced the two of you. Even better, she was so freaking ecstatic that you called her. Okay, yeah, so maybe you’re interested in Mitsuri. Who wouldn’t be? With the personality of a puppy and the looks of a supermodel, how could anyone say no to her?

“Now you’re just spoiling me,” you tell her.

“What can I say?” Mitsuri replies, voice smooth. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Shock floods your system, sucks almost all the air from your lungs. Jaw dropping, you gape at her, completely at a loss for words. It doesn’t matter, though; your waiter comes back with the meals the two of you’ve ordered, placing them down gently on the table and busying himself with pouring glasses of wine.

“Enjoy the meal, ladies,” he says, his thick accent flooding his words. With a polite bow, he takes his departure, stepping away with quick, precise movements.

Staring down at the food you ordered, your mouth begins to water. Even though you aren’t the biggest fan of these damned rich people, you’ve got to admit that you’re jealous of the things they eat. Like, look at this! This is something King Midas would eat himself!

“It’s almost as if you’ve never eaten before,” Mitsuri says along with another adorable giggle. “If that’s your reaction, then I’m going to have to take you to every high-end restaurant in town!”

“What? No! Mitsuri, you don’t have to do that!” you ramble. “It’s just… Well…”

“Oh, come on. I want to.” Mitsuri pauses, then, picking up her glass with slender fingers and taking a sip of her wine. “I agree with Daki, you know,” she continues, “I think the two of us could have a lot of fun together.”

“…I’m afraid I don’t understand…?”

Mitsuri casts a devious smile over the rim of her glass at you. “Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll find out soon enough.”

If you can recall it correctly, there’s a saying that would fit perfectly into this moment – blame it on the alcohol. Oh, but you’re not stupid. No, you at least have the guts to own up to your actions, as great or as stupid as they can be. That being said, you don’t want to admit to how desperate you’re feeling.

You didn’t doubt Daki for a single moment. As kind as she is beautiful, Mitsuri is the perfect package. She only managed to prove that point over and over again throughout the evening, swapping stories and genuinely taking the time to get to know you better. You still can’t believe she’s taken so much interest in you, but you aren’t going to complain about it any time soon. In fact, you’re glad that she’s into you.

Perhaps it was your tipsy mind that made you say yes; that’s what you want to believe, anyway. You don’t want to own up to the fact that you practically jumped at the opportunity of Mitsuri taking you home, to some swanky penthouse in one of the richest parts of the city. You barely had any time to gawk at the immaculate décor or overpriced furniture; no, what you got was a short tour as Mitsuri drug you off towards her bedroom.

The moments from there on out became nothing more than a blur. Clothing being slipped off, hands roaming over bare skin, the delicious heat of Mitsuri’s mouth. Your mind is still reeling from the turn of events, but you don’t have a single chance to think about it.

Heavy pants break through your lips, grace the still air in Mitsuri’s bedroom. The mattress is large, unforgivably so, topped with some of the softest blankets you’ve ever felt. Settled between your open legs, Mitsuri looks nothing short of perfection; long ponytail clutched in your grasp, her full eyelashes fluttering, the prettiest of blushes on her face, she’s a remarkable piece of art, reserved for your eyes only. The sounds spilling from between your legs is utterly sinful. Her lips and tongue eagerly work away at your sopping cunt, break down your walls until you’re a moaning mess.

“Fuck, Mitsuri,” you breathe, voice turning shrill towards the end. “That feels so good.”

Mitsuri moans at the praise, her manicured nails digging into the plush flesh of your thighs. Arching her back even more, you’re presented with a better view of her godly ass, the defined dimples on her back. She’s too gorgeous to handle, too fucking sexy. Giving her ponytail a yank, you relish in the pleased hum vibrating in the back of her throat.

“Naughty girl,” Misturi purrs as she pulls away. A mix of slick and smeared lipstick cover her lips, the lewd shine making your insides tighten. “I didn’t say you could do that, now did I?” The mere controlling tone of her voice causes another fat drop of slick to push its way out of your pussy. Eyes locking onto the sight, Mitsuri cracks a salacious smile. “Does baby girl like being talked down to?”

“Don’t… Don’t say it like that,” you whimper.

“I’m just speaking the truth,” Mitsuri purrs. “It’s not my fault this pretty little pussy likes it.” With her words, she traces a finger up and down your slit, collecting even more slick. Waggling the coated finger in your vision, she makes sure your eyes are on her before she slips it into her mouth, her swollen lips wrapping around it. “So tasty,” she moans. “So fucking sweet. You’re a real treat, you know that? It’s a shame Daki didn’t introduce us earlier.”

“Mitsuri-“

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t call me that,” she warns, the honey in her voice turning into something darker, heavier. You swallow thickly. “If you don’t mind, sweets… Call me Mommy. That is, unless you don’t want to cum? That works too.”

Oh, god, with an expression like that and her fingers playing with your sex, you’ll call her anything. “Mommy,” you murmur, “please.”

“Hmmm… What was that?”

Clenching the blankets between your fingers, you call out louder, “Mommy, please!” A loud gasp bursts from your throat, then, as Misturi shoves three fingers into you with no hesitation whatsoever. Her mouth descends on your clit once more, a pleased hum escaping her mouth at your sweet, sweet taste. Your hips buck into her wildly, your back arching off the mattress.

Mind clearing, vision turning fuzzy, your orgasm crashes over, your slick spilling all over her fingers and onto the blankets below. Mitsuri chuckles at that, seemingly pleased with both herself and your reaction. She keeps pressing on, though, her mouth and fingers working you through a second orgasm, and then a third. She’s relentless in her quest to make you cum over and over again, leaving you a shaking, crying mess of overstimulated nerves.

“Oh baby,” Mitsuri purrs once she pulls her mouth away. “You’re such a good girl to me, aren’t you? I’ll groom you real nice, shape you into something utterly perfect,” she continues, leaning in close and brushing her lips against your ear. “You’ll let me, won’t you? Come on, baby, let’s have some fun.” Shuffling up your body, she perches herself over your face, thick thighs encasing your head. “Be a darling and help me out, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you coo. “Yes.”

In the end, Daki got what she wanted – a sugar sister.

Granted, you weren’t super eager to jump on the opportunity at first, but after some convincing from Mitsuri, you figured why not? As long as it’s with Mitsuri, there’s no harm, really. Plus, if you’re going to continue having incredible nights with her… Hell, of course you’re gonna agree!

“So, how did the date go?” Kyojuro’s voice rings through the phone. He sounds a bit too eager to hear the fine, juicy details.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mitsuri teases. Sitting comfortably next to you in bed, she scans her eyes of your sleeping form, at your bare arms and shoulders unhidden from the blankets. She smiles. “It went great, actually,” she says, voice gentle. “(y/n)’s incredible.”

“She’s a looker, too,” Kyojuro says. Even though Mitsuri can’t see him, she knows he’s smirking. “Real beauty.”

“Heh. It almost sounds like you want me to share her.”

Kyojuro huffs in amusement. “Now that sounds like a good idea. Even Tengen wouldn’t shut up about her after she left. Maybe if you’re feeling generous…?”

Running her fingers over your smooth skin, Mitsuri bites her lip. “…Maybe. If she wants to be shared, that’s up to her. Either way…” she trails off, gives a light giggle. “She’s great in bed.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny pillars #kny pillars x reader #kny hashira #kny hashira x reader #diamonds are a girl's best friend series

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how-many-stars-can-you-count · 3 years

Text

Ladynoir July day 1: Older

THIS FANFIC DOES NOT END HERE!! THE STORY CONTINUES ALONG WITH EVERY DAY OF JULY BASED ON WHAT THE THEME OF THE DAY IS!! This is just chapter 1! Enjoy!!

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Cat Noir" a breathy voice said behind the door which Ladybug opened quickly after transforming, not believing the truth of what she just heard.

She hasn't seen her cat partner in months since she moved to New York to work there. As far as she knew, he was supposed to be in Paris right now, calmly enjoying his life and waiting for Hawkmoth to make his next step... which he didn't do since, like, 3 years now. But as long as the butterfly miraculous wasn't in her and her partner's possession, there was still a risk their enemy would strike again.

"Cat Noir!"

He looked up to see her, still breathing heavily but managing to call out her name "Ladybug..."

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other in disbelief, he was wearing his Astrocat suit, she noticed, which meant he must've just arrived from Paris to her house and must be exhausted.

"Come in" she gestured to her empty living room, and he did as she asked.

He slowly sat on the couch, careful not to bring any damage to it, he was already feeling guilty for suddenly entering her home late at night, without even warning her he would - not that he himself knew that - so ruining her place on top of all that wasn't a great idea.

"You okay?"

And just like that she snapped him back into reality.

"Y-Yeah, yeah... eum... no? I- I don't know...

I'm, I'm SO sorry for bothering you, I just, didn't know where else to go, and as I was flying from Paris I remembered you and your house location and-

-Hey! It's okay! Really!" She replied, in a tender tone, emphasizing every word she's saying, to let him know she was only saying the truth...

He smiled sweetly and then took a deep breath. "I ran away from home."

Well, she wasn't expecting that. She knew it was wrong to just run away, because, of course his family and all his loved ones would be worried sick right now, but, she knew it wasn't the right time to tell him that and talk to him objectively. Based only on the look on his face, he just needed comfort, and she was definitely gonna give him that.

Besides, she's known him for so long now, he is responsible. If he ran away, then it was for a good reason. She was sure of that, because she truts him.

"You can stay here if you want...

-Really?! I- I don't wanna bother you though.. I know you have work and all and coming here was a bad idea in the first place and I should just go and-

-CAT NOIR! It's fine! It really is!! I... was kinda feeling lonely anyways, plus... I miss you a lot so... It's a win-win!!"

His smile lit up the room and warmed her heart, seeing him happy was one of her favorite things in the world, especially if he was happy thanks to her.

"THANK YOU SO SO MUCH M'LADY!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME"

He pulled her into a tight embrace and she was surprised, pleasantly surprised, to this gesture... Oh she missed his touch, companym voice so so much... Days felt empty and meaningless without his goofy smile and his presence, which is why she knew for a fact that those were gonna be the best days of her life, with him staying with her...

And, yes, maybe, just maybe, her heart fluttered when he called her with the nickname she got used to over the years, that nickname she didn't realize how much she missed...

"Wait right here Cat"

When she came back she was holding a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. God he missed her baking so much. Memories of them sharing a snack before patrol started and after it, how he would always compliment her cooking and how she wouldn't admit that it made her blush, filled his mind...

Admiration and gratitude filled his eyes as he looked up at her and whispered "thank you"...

That's all he needed after the awful day he just went through, probably the worst day of his life.

"Wanna talk about it?

-Talk about what?

-Why you ran away...

-No. Not today..

-Okay then. We won't talk about it."

She smiled at him sweetly and he returned that gesture.

"So how's Paris?

-Empty without you..."

A sad smile covered her face, she knew that he probably wasn't the only one who felt that way, after all, Paris' beloved hero didn't step into Paris for a while now... Fans were disappointed that she left, her loved ones heartbroken...

But they were still proud of her and happy to see her pursue her dreams of becoming a fashion designer, even if it ment not seeing her anymore.

"Hawkmoth?

-Still on his endless hiatus. At this point I would guess he probably quit or idk died or something..

-CAT!

-What he's not immortal!!"

They both laughed at his comment.

"I'm actually kinda sad that he's not akumatizing people anymore... DON'T GET ME WRONG! It's just that, fighting villains by your side was the best entertainment I could get!

-Oh c'mon! You're definitely still having fun with your old friends and new ones from work right?

-Well I work for my father, it's... a family job, so I'm kinda forced to do it.. It's not awful! I know for a fact that a lot of people would kill for having my job, but... it kinda gets lonely and it's not my thing...

-Then why don't you work what really is your thing after the family job??

-Yeah well the thing is, I don't know what it is that I want!"

Silence filled the room for a few seconds.

"Anyway, what about your job? You told me you were going to make your dream come true!

-I am! It's the best job I could hope for! But I wish I was back in Paris... here I feel like a stranger! But... with you around, I think I'll feel like home..."

Air escaped his lungs, while happiness filled his entire body... Ah he felt like a teenager again, blushing and getting flustered over the slightest sign of affection he gets from his beloved lady... But he couldn't help it! He was stuck in this one sided love for the rest of his life!

Little did he know, this wasn't going to be the case.

A yawn escaped his mouth..

"Tired already kitty cat? It's only 10 pm!

-Well it's not you who traveled from a continent to another after having an emotional breakdown due to the worst day of your life!

-Ouch! Fair point."

He giggled and she joined him right before she went to prepare his bedroom aka the guest room. She never expected she'd use it but well, here they are!

As soon as she finished he met her there.

"Woah! Thank you LB! It looks amazing!

-I didn't do much but your welcome!

Oh! Btw you can detransform in here! I won't enter your room without permission and you won't enter mine because I probably wouldn't be wearing a red mask there!

-Yeah sure...

-And there's also some cheese for Plagg on this table!

-Thanks! He'll appreciate this so much!

-Your welcome kitty"

They stood there staring at each other lovingly until they realized that they were.

"A-Anyway good night, Cat!

-Good night bugaboo <3"

She blushed at the nickname (again) but decided to ignore it, right now was NOT the time to accept unwanted feelings towards a certain black cat...

@ladynoirjuly

Chapter 2

#Ladynoir #Ladynoir July #ladynoir july 2021 #Ladynoir day 1 #Ladynoir fanfic #ladynoir fanfiction #Ladynoir fic #ladybug #Cat noir #Chat noir #Ladynoir july day 1 #Miraculous aged up au

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omniscientreaderr · 3 years

Text

hi! need input lol i found out about the villain wrangler au and got so inspired :) haven't actually written in a hot 5 years but apparently i can bang out 1.1k words for a story but not my homework :" i actually wanted to write more but didn't know if it be offensive in any way. so yes input thank you - be kind djfkdkke I'm scared but I'm really open to feedback :)) ok dankes to whoever actually sees this! have a great day

- (this is after the VW gets saved, and the one that saved him is meeting to give the girl a pep talk) -

The villain shuffles into the hospital, meeting with the eyes of the VW as he glances up from his clipboard.

VW: “hey! Thanks for saving me the other day :) appreciate it! You ready to meet the girl?”

B: “yeah…as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess? What am i suppose to say? I don’t do fancy motivational speeches like that captain, I don’t know how i’m supposed to encourage and help her…she’s going to be insecure, she’s going to be wallowing in a pit of uncertainty over whether she’s ever going to be…accepted. How am i supposed to help a girl with that?!”

The VW looks over at him with a gentle smile, steering B into a nearby seat, setting his clipboard on the nurse’s tray next to them.

“Hey. Hey. The fact that you know how she will feel, the fact that you worry about whether you can help her, is all that matters. You don’t need fancy words designed to psychologically rouse the masses - i personally have always found them pretentious - you just need to tell her what you’ve always wished to hear. Speak from the heart. Words really don’t come easy, but the rawest, most truthful and touching ones are those that come from the place of absolute vulnerability. Words from the mind, touch the mind. But words from your heart? They touch the heart.” He laughs, taking a pause. “Honestly, I could go on a whole spiel about why is it the speeches of villain appeal to the masses, and how they always gain so much support. You’ve got this.”

B simply nods, giving the VW a small smile, before resuming chewing on his bottom lip. Standing outside the girl’s door, he lifts his hand to knock on the door, before dropping it again. He pauses, leaning backwards against the adjacent wall. “What am I doing? Me? A fuckin pyromaniac helping a little girl? Heck, I can do fighting that obnoxious righteous moral spewing jackass in tightey-whiteys. I can do getting dropped from 10 stories. I could even do pickin up ladies with just my words. But this? No. No way in hell am i walking in there, just to disappoint that kid.”

He walks away, ready to tell the VW that sorry to disappoint, but he couldn’t do this.

The door to the room swings open, a nurse bustling out with her cart. He presses himself against the corner, hiding from the view of the nurse. He glances over, catching sight of a tiny, fragile girl in that all-too-big white sterile room, sitting up on her bed with a sad smile on her face. The door closes all too soon, but that sparks something inside him. He walks towards her door and knocks, as if guided by some impulse, a duty towards this little child.

“Come in! Did you forget something, R? I promise you that if it’s your stethoscope it’s gone!”

He takes a step in, still shrouded in the darkness that the entryway is covered in.

“OH! Hello! Are you lost? Do you need help getting somewhere?”

She beams at him, turning her body slightly to see him, and he sees it. He’s struck by the image of a child scarred across half her body, snaking past her uncovered arms and legs…and across her face, where a pure, warm and joyful smile sits.

He brushes his long fringe back and finds himself rolling up his long sleeves, almost unconsciously. For the first time, in possibly his whole life, he was willing to let someone see him. See him, with his scars on display, not hidden behind a mask, or his hair, or the long sleeves he always wore. He wanted someone to see him. He…wanted to let this girl know she was not alone, that she was not broken.

He stepped forward into the light, quirking his lips into an awkward, unsure smile.

“Hi, Emilia, I’m B, and a little birdie told me you wanted to meet me, so here I am.”

The child shoots upright, nearly clambering out of bed to rush to him.

(Ok she becomes quieter because the dialogue is meant to be poignant. The atmosphere is quiet. It’s two people reflecting, basking in the presence of the only person who understands their pain. There’s no need for pretences, to push the traits that make you likeable.)

Alarmed, he takes large strides to her bedside, catching her before she topples over, having gotten tangled in her blankets. He lifts her back up, before scratching his head, taking a seat next to her bed.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to touch you without your permission.”

The child says nothing, simply nodding her head excitedly, grinning at him. She reaches for his arm, and he places it in her open hand. It’s so tiny. She’s so small. She’s adorable.

She traces his scars, and he waits for the wave of insecurity to hit him. For the voice that urges him to pull back his sleeve and not let anyone see his wounds. But today, it stays quiet. She points to her own healing wounds from the grafting surgery, saying, “Same.”

Now that he’s near her, he’s hit by the full brightness of her smile, the enthusiasm at seeing him, the anticipation of what he would do or say, and something pulls at his heartstrings, and loosens the string of tension and worry that has been restricting his tongue.

“Sorry. I’m not very good at this, haha.”

He pauses. The child offers another encouraging smile, holding his calloused hands with both of her hands.

“I guess…I wanted to let you know that these scars don’t matter. They don’t. They don’t take away the warmth of your smile, the fact that you brighten up the day of everyone around you. They don’t…they don’t…take away your worth. Or any of your beauty. Fu- AHahah don’t listen to anyone who tells you this. It’s a long road, but you’re not alone.”

“Not alone”, the kid repeats. “Not alone”. He notices tears in her eyes, tears that he doesn’t realise are reflected in his own eyes, and he is struck by the comfort that he finds in them. He isn’t alone.

He wills his tears back, giving her a brighter grin. “Did you know that in some cultures, scars are actually seen as signs of bravery? The more you had, the more brave you were among the tribes. They were warriors, feared, esteemed, respected for their wounds. You must be a mighty fine warrior. I bow in your presence, my lady.”

Their peals of laughter reverberates through the ward, ringing in the ears of concerned nurses, hiding watery smiles, in the ears of the kid’s anxious parents, sobbing into each other. She’s laughing. She’s happy. Not those calculated smiles and calculated giggles that hide a lot of pain and insecurity, full of the desire to be…desirable, but one of pure joy. One, of a child rediscovering their youth.

(Unfin.)

#villain wrangler #villain wrangler au #one shot #beniceiscared #enjoy

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thrillridesz · 4 years

Text

love hotline ▫ younghoon

➳ pairing: younghoon x reader ➳ genre: fluff, slight angst ➳ word count: 4.2k ➳ requested?: no

a/n: this is written as a birthday special for tbz’s one and only bread boy >< i’ve made this a little different from how I usually write my fics so I guess I’m experimenting? do let me know what you guys think of this writing style ^^

also this is so late omfg and his bday is almost over but here goes!

edit: successfully edited!

Love Hotline! This is y/n, how can I help you?

Hello?

Hi, is there anything I can help you with?

Um, yes. Is this the number to call to sign up?

Yes, it is! Are you looking to sign up for a membership?

Yes.

Great! Could I get your name and age?

There was a hesitant pause on the other end before the guy spoke up again.

My name is Kim Younghoon, 23 this year.

Ah ok, awesome. I’ll just need your number now so I can send you a link to our online form to fill up or do you want us to use this number you’re currently using? We’ll try to get in touch with you with your match within 3 days!

3 days? That quick?

Yes! We try to be as efficient as possible to ensure client satisfaction.

Ah… I see. You can just use this number that I’m calling with.

Alright! Give me a moment.

Ok.

I’ve just sent the link, did you receive it?

...Yes. Yes, I have.

Great, do you have any other questions?

No. Not at the moment, no.

Alright so I’ll end the call here? If you have any other questions, you can feel free to call again.

Ok. Bye.

Goodbye!

Hello?

Hello! This is y/n again from Love Hotline, I’m here to inquire about the online form you’ve yet to submit? Do you wish to withdraw your application?

Oh… Um… No, I’m just thinking about it.

Hmm, why’s that?

…. I’ve never dabbled in the online dating scene before. I’m just a little nervous and apprehensive about the whole thing I guess.

Ah! That’s completely understandable. All I can say is, it’s always worth a shot. No pressure at all in applying. If you’re ultimately not comfortable with it, you can always drop us another call and we’ll cancel it for you.

Really? You’d do that?

Of course.

I…. Ok, thank you. I’ll try to come to a decision by tonight.

That’s completely fine. Thank you so much! Have a lovely day ahead.

H-Hello?

Hello, this is y/n from Love Hotline. Is this a bad time?

*muffled sounds*

Um no, it isn’t. Sorry, I just woke up.

Oh! I’m really sorry, did I disturb you?

N...No, you didn’t. Don’t worry about it.

Um, ok.

A short moment of silence.

Is there a reason why you’re calling?

Oh, yes! There is, I’m sorry I was just a tad distracted.

You don’t have to apologise but go on anyways.

Right… Based on the information and preferences you have indicated on your form, I think we’ve found a few good matches for you!

Is that so? Tell me about them.

Ok, our first match’s name is Yeh Shuhua and she is 20 this year. She is also a first year criminal law student! Some of her hobbies include acting and singing.

Criminal law student?

There was a hint of surprise and awe in Younghoon’s voice.

Yup! Pretty cool, no?

I suppose so…

Don’t make up your mind just yet! I’ve got two other matches! Next up, we have Park Sooyoung who also goes by Joy. She’s a 23 year old florist who works for her family’s flower shop business. She has also mentioned that one of her dreams would be to travel all over the world.

Oh, that’s interesting… Does that mean flowers won’t work on Valentine’s anymore?

There was soft laughter from the other end of the line at his comment.

Maybe? Is that going to be a setback?

... I don’t know. Probably.

You’re funny, Mr Kim.

Please just call me Younghoon. Mr Kim makes me feel old.

Ah, alright then! You can just call me y/n then.

Sure.

Are you ready for your third match?

Yeah, go off.

Ok, so last but not least… Your third match is Jang Yeeun. 22 and a current freelance graphic designer. She claims to be vegetarian but doesn’t mind if her partner isn’t one.

Vegetarian? That’s a commitment I don’t think I could ever make.

Same here, honestly but hey! More props to her.

Right.

There is soft laughter in the background from Younghoon’s end of the line but it is barely audible.

So? Has any of these 3 ladies caught your eye, or should I say ear so far?

I… I’m not sure. Is that all the information?

Hm, I could send you a little excerpt of their profiles if you’d like?

That would be great, thanks.

Alright, hang on a minute.

Rustling sounds as the phone is placed aside. A short moment passes before Younghoon hears a crash followed by a yell.

… Hello?

Silence.

Is everything ok?

The silence continues and Younghoon contemplates hanging up and just calling another day. He is about to do so until he hears your voice.

Hi, hi! Sorry if you’ve been waiting long!

Is everything alright? I thought I heard a crash.

Ah, yeah. That was nothing! I had to go retrieve a few files, just to double check some stuff before I send it over! I guess I wasn’t looking when I rounded the corner because I ran smack into someone. It was carelessness on my part, really. I really should look where I’m going.

Oh, are you ok?

Yeah! I’m ok, thank you for asking.

No problem. Was just wondering. It seemed like a pretty nasty crash.

Oh um… Kind of, yeah.

Kind of?

Well… That person was holding a cup of hot coffee and it spilled all over so...

Hot coffee? Did you get scalded?

Um… Yeah, I did.

That must have hurt a lot! You should really apply some ointment on the burn.

I will! Thank you so much for your concern, Younghoon. I’ll send the profiles to you and get to that immediately after?

You can send me the profiles later. I can wait but your hand can’t.

There was a pause before you replied.

Ok.

Anyone could have heard the smile in your voice.

Hello?

Hello, this is y/n from Love-

I know who you are. You don't have to keep reintroducing yourself.

Ah, ok alright. Figures. Sorry, it’s just a habit at this point.

It’s no problem.

Right, I’m just here to check in anyways! Have you decided on which match to call?

Not really.

Why not?!

... Was there a deadline that I’m not aware of?

Oh no, there isn’t. I’m just surprised. It’s been about 3 days since we last talked over the phone about your matches. I just thought you’d have picked someone by now.

It’s not exactly a priority of mine.

There was a pause before he continued.

How’s your hand?

It’s much better! Thank you for asking, I’ve just been applying medical cream to it regularly so right now, it swells a little less.

That’s great to hear then.

Yup.

A short moment of awkward silence ensued.

I hope you don’t mind if I ask you this but... Why did you sign up for the Love Hotline?

Hm? Why do you ask?

Well... You said finding and making a match isn’t a priority of yours so that got me wondering. Most people would have made their decision relatively quickly and taking 3 days to reply is almost unheard of in the office.

... I don’t know. Now that you’ve put it that way, I’ve got no idea why I’ve signed up either.

Not even the slightest clue?

Not really.

A pause.

I think I was just bored.

You gave a snort which you quickly masked with a cough.

I heard that.

Younghoon’s voice was accusatory, almost even a little playful but not aggressive.

I mean, joining because you’re bored? Not going to lie, that’s a first.

Oh nice. For once in my life, I’m first at something. Thanks, y/n.

A melodious laughter rang out from the other end of the line.

How are you still single with humour like that?

I’ll take that as a compliment. Truth be told, I have no clue. If I knew, I wouldn’t be single.

That's true. Oh yeah, you still haven’t told me who you have chosen to call!

Do I have to make a decision now?

Preferably? The faster you do, the faster we can get this match under way.

... I’ll just let you make the decision for me then.

What? Why me?

The incredulity in your voice was clear as day at his words.

Since I can’t make a decision and you need me to choose a match, why don’t you do it for me?

I can’t for the simple fact that my boss will have my neck if it ever got out that I chose for a client.

Well, your boss doesn’t have to know that. It’s going to be between us anyways. If you don’t tell and I don’t tell, who’s going to know?

Well... It’s just weird. I’ve never been asked to do this.

Hm, there’s a first for everything. I trust your decision.

Really?

Yeah, why not?

There was another pause.

Just don’t betray that trust.

You chuckle.

I won’t because I’m not going to choose for you. How hard can it be to just make a decision? These are all great matches!

Precisely because they’re great matches, I can’t choose.

You're impossible.

Thanks.

Younghoon, I’m just doing my job here.

Isn’t your job to accede to your client’s requests?

That was a tone of mischief in his voice.

Oh my god. I don’t even know how you look like but I’m sure you’d look like a proper asshole.

Wow, language. Is that the way you speak to your clients? Can I speak to your manager please?

You laugh and Younghoon smiles.

You are incorrigible.

You’re too cute.

There is a short pause as the two of you registered what he just said. Flustered, he scrambles to say something.

I-I... T-That didn't mean a-anything. I was j-just saying-

That didn't mean anything? I’m hurt.

You giggle and he stops mid-sentence.

What?

I’m just messing with you, I know that didn’t mean anything. I call people cute all the time too, especially my neighbour’s dog.

Right...

So anyways! Pick a match!

No.

Please?

Just pick one for me. Client’s orders.

Fine, I’ll pick a horrible match for you.

I’d call your manager then.

I hate you.

I know.

Ugh, ok fine but this is the first and last time I’m doing this.

I’ll take it.

Great, I’ll talk to you soon then! Keep being annoying, bye.

Sure, I will. See you.

The call ends on a light note and Younghoon stares at his phone. What is this fluttery feeling in his heart?

Hey, y/n.

Oh, you recognise this number now?

Yeah, I have a decent memory for stuff like that.

Nice.

So to what do I deserve this honour of you calling?

Don’t be dramatic. I was just calling to ask about your call date. How was it?

Younghoon grins at your lighthearted reply.

I’m surprised you chose Joy.

Really? If I remembered correctly, you were the one who told me to choose a match for you.

I did but I don’t know why. I’m still surprised.

Maybe you should pick a match yourself next time so you can be a little less surprised? But that’s beside the point! How did the call date go?

It was not bad, actually. She seems pretty cool.

Right? See, I’ve got an ear for perfect matches. I know my matches when I hear them. I’m amazing.

Yeah, yeah. I guess we can expect a call from the Prime Minister any time now.

Stop being sarcastic and just admit that your matchmaker is capable and excellent at her job.

No, shan’t.

You are horrible. I get you a match and I don’t even get my thanks.

Well, fine. Thank you.

That’s better. Good boy.

Don’t call me that, I’m not your dog.

So you’d prefer good man?

At your reply, Younghoon nearly spat out the water he was drinking.

That's so weird!

Exactly.

Call me neither!

Fine, fine. I was just kidding anyways.

There was a distant call from the other end of the line and from the other end, Younghoon could vaguely hear your name being called. He felt his heart sink a little despite himself.

Oops, duty calls. I’d love to talk more but I’ve got a meeting. I’ll catch up more with you some other day?

Sure. Bye.

Bye!

Hey, Younghoon. Wow, this is new. You’re calling me first this time.

Yeah, hey. I just wanted to call to inform you that the match with Joy fell through. I’m going to need a new one.

What?! Why?

You screeched and he had to hold the phone away from his ear.

Geez, don’t screech into the phone.

Sorry, I’m just shocked. Why’s that? Didn’t you say she wasn’t bad?

Yeah, she isn’t bad. Just not my type.

What’s your type then?

The next word was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

You.

There was a long pause and somehow Younghoon couldn’t bring himself to say the words that bit at the back of his mind. ‘Just kidding’, because subconsciously was he really kidding though?

Quit horsing around.

You laugh awkwardly and he frowns. This wasn’t what he expected.

Y/n...

Stop clowning. I know your antics, you-

Before you could say anything else, someone else called for you in the office.

Oh, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you next time? Also stop being a clown, it doesn’t suit you. See you!

Y/n, I-

Call ended.

“...Meant that,” Younghoon mumbled to himself.

Hello, this is y/n from Love Hotline. How can I help you?

Stop it.

Isn’t that what you always say?

Well, excuse me for following company policy.

I was just teasing you. Why have you called anyways?

What do you think?

My common sense says you’ve called to inquire about my call date with Shuhua.

Your common sense is right. So, how did it go?

It went fine, I guess?

Fine, you guess? What kind of an answer is that?

A perfectly reasonable one. You wanted an answer, I gave you an answer.

This guy...

You groan in frustration and Younghoon had to stifle his urge to laugh. Teasing you was becoming a hobby for him.

C’mon, cut me some slack here.

It went fine. We didn’t really talk about much.

Ok, so what exactly is ‘didn’t really talk about much’? You gotta work with me here, bud.

Well, we got along fine for the most part but as far as chemistry goes, there wasn't really any?

Tell me about it.

We basically talked about our day and ourselves and I think that was about it.

Are you serious?

I don’t get paid for lying to you, y/n. Of course, I’m serious.

That doesn’t sound like much.

That’s what a conversation lacking in chemistry sounds like.

How do you know there’s no chemistry as you say?

Your tone was indignant and internally, Younghoon felt a twinge of disappointment in his heart. Were you so bent on making it work between him and Joy first and now Shuhua?

Why are you so determined to get me and Shuhua to work as a match?

I’m sorry?

There was surprise in your voice.

Well, I mean... It’s my job. I’m a matchmaker, of course I have to make sure my matches match. The faster, the better.

Right.

Yeah, so how do you know there’s no chemistry or no chance between the two of you?

I guess we just didn't have much to say beyond the basics? At one point, it was beginning to feel forced.

Really?

Yeah, no point continuing something that’s forced.

Are you sure it wasn’t just awkward first ‘date’ jitters?

Younghoon couldn’t keep away the frustration in his voice as he replied, feeling weirdly angered for some reasons.

No. It wasn't.

A pause.

Are you alright?

Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?

You sound like you’re mad at something.

Do I?

Yeah. You do.

Ok, then I guess I am.

You want to tell me what’s going-

I like you.

Another pause.

What?

I said I like you.

You’re kidding.

You start to laugh but it died down as soon as he replied.

I’m not.

But... Why?

It’s just you. I don’t know why but talking to you has always been comfortable. Remember when we talked chemistry? We have that chemistry. It just came out of nowhere.

A-Are you drunk?

Younghoon felt anger course through his veins at your words.

Does it sound like I’m kidding?

...W-We can’t do this.

Why not?

... We just can’t. It’s company policy.

They don’t have to know!

I... I...

Realisation suddenly dawns upon him.

You feel the same, don’t you?

I...

If you feel the same, why do you keep pushing me on call dates?

I couldn’t...

There was desperation in his voice as he cried.

You can, they don’t-

I can’t.

He felt his blood run cold.

Why?

I need this job, Younghoon. I can’t lose this job. If they find out that I’m dating a client, I’m done for. I’ll be fired.

You could-

I can’t look for another job.

I’ll help you look for one.

It doesn’t work that way.

There was tone of sadness in your voice.

This is the only job I’ve found that manages to pay my bills. I can’t lose it. I need this job. This job is something I got because of my mom’s connections and if I lose it, I’ll be disappointing not just my company but also my mom. My mom worked hard to allow me to work here. We were never well off and my mom worked her guts off as a salon assistant assisting the rich. It was through years of work and making connection did she become friends with the owner of Love Hotline who also happens to be my boss now. I can’t embarrass her like this.

Y/n...

What are you doing?

A sharp voice that wasn’t y/n’s interrupted and even though he wasn’t where you were, he knew in his heart that something had gone wrong but before he could say anything, the line went dead.

Call ended.

A week and a half passes without any calls. Younghoon grows more worried by the day. Did something bad happen? Ever since that last call, there wasn’t a single word from you at all until one night. It was approximately 2am at night when the phone rang. Grunting in annoyance at whoever is calling at this time of night, he reached out and answered the call.

Hello, who’s this?

Hey, Younghoon.

At the sound of your voice, he perked up and he was immediately alert even though it was about 2am in the morning.

How’s it going? You haven't called in awhile. And whose number is this?

It’s my personal number.

There was light sniffling and immediately, Younghoon’s happy mood disappeared.

Hey, what’s wrong?

N-Nothing...

I can hear you crying. Tell me what happened.

I... I... Nevermind. It’s stupid. I should never have called you. This is so extremely unprofessional of me, let’s just forget I called you. Bye.

Wait, y/n! Don’t!

Call ended.

The number you’ve dialled is not available at the moment. Please try again later.

Younghoon:

hey y/n, are you ok? i tried calling so many times but you wouldn’t pick up

if you see this, pls reply. i’m worried for you

if you need someone to talk to, call me anytime

pls

don’t just ignore this, i want to help

Y/N:

I’m fine. I just need some time to myself

Younghoon:

ok. i understand. pls don’t hesitate to msg me. know that im here for you.

Y/N:

ok thanks

The number you’ve dialled is not available at the moment. Please try again later.

The day was bright and sunny as the sun bore down relentlessly on the earth. There was a slight summer breeze in the air which Younghoon would have normally loved but this time, it did nothing to uplift his mood. All he could do was stare listlessly at his phone, awaiting a call from a certain someone.

It’s crazy how the last time the both of you spoke was almost 2 weeks ago. To him, 2 weeks was an awfully long time and internally, he missed listening to your voice. There was always something so cheery and enchanting about your voice from the very first call the both of you shared even though he’d never admit it. The worry in him hadn’t dulled in those 2 weeks as he mulled over your whereabouts and wellbeing. The last time you two talked, you had been crying and in a depressive mood. Not being able to do anything killed him on the inside and as he entered a nearby café he frequented, the smell of bread which was usually his favourite scent in the world that would always bring him a sense of comfort did nothing to sooth his nerves.

As Younghoon stood before the cashier, he said absent-mindedly as he reached for his wallet, “I’ll have the cheese toast.”

“Ok, that will be eight fifty.”

Younghoon stiffened. That voice...

“Y/n?”

At your name, your head snapped up and your eyes widened as you made eye contact with the man in front of you. He had chestnut brown hair that fell in soft bangs over his eyes but not in an unkempt way. His dark eyes were large and soulful, seemingly containing whole galaxies in them and his demeanour was gentle yet firm. He was tall as well so you had to slightly crane your neck just to look at him. Although you had never met this man, there was something so deeply familiar about him.

Younghoon could hardly believe his eyes. Here you were, right in front of him and you were every bit as beautiful as he imagined. He felt his heart pounded rapidly against his chest as he stood transfixed. It was awhile before he managed to get a grip and slowly, he said, “We need to talk.”

As the two of you sat down over coffee after your shift, he peered at you with a look of concern on his face.

“What happened?” His voice was soft as you had remembered and immediately, you felt at ease.

“Well, long story short. I got fired.”

His eyes widened.

“From Love Hotline.”

‘B-But... How?”

You took a small sip of your latte. “Remember when I had to hang up abruptly in the office?”

He nodded his head, dread creeping in. Surely...

“That was the day I got fired.”

Younghoon felt his heart fall with a messy splat. This was all his fault.

“I... I can’t tell you how sorry I am, y/n. I-”

You placed a finger on his lips and you had to try your best to ignore the burning feeling on your finger at the feel of his soft lips.

“Don’t. Don’t apologise because it’s not your fault.”

“But I-”

“I think deep down everyone knew that I was falling.”

Younghoon stared at you with a blank look on his face, his eyes shining with an indescribable emotion.

“Falling?”

You smiled to yourself.

“You probably don’t know this but remember when you told me you liked me?”

He looked at you curiously and you continued, “Do you have any idea how happy yet conflicted that made me? I knew I’d lose my job but I knew that I liked you as well. I wanted so desperately to accept your feelings but I couldn't. I feel like my colleagues had already known about my affections towards you given the way I’d talk to you in the office. Someone must have told on me, I guess I was too obvious about it. That night when I called you at 2am, it was possibly the worst night of my life. I had felt so lost and hopeless that I didn’t know what to do. But then, I thought of you and this is so cheesy but... I felt like you were the only one I could turn to although I chickened out before I could say anything... I didn't want to burden you.”

You chuckled sadly and Younghoon reached out to grasp your hands in his. The feeling of his large hands on you was so heartwarming that you felt like you could cry.

Drawing in a deep breath, you said, “I get it if you don’t want me anymore because of how long I had ig-”

“Don’t say another word.” Younghoon breathed.

He reached his hand over to cup your face and caressed you as the both of you stared deep into each other’s eyes. To think that such a deep bond can be forged between the two of you over a series of phone calls felt almost surreal. If you had told him even 6 months ago that he’d meet you, the love of his life over something as tacky as Love Hotline, he wouldn’t have believed you but as he brought your face closer to his, he knew that there was nothing he’d trade in the world for you when his lips came into contact with yours.

“You’ll never be a burden to me,” he whispered. “You are everything that I always wanted and everything I never knew I needed.”

417 notes · View notes

sylvie-writes · 4 years

Text

Bad: The Unfortunate Ending

Inspired by this song ➳ Bad by Lennon Stella

(Ransom Drysdale x wife reader)

A/n: this is my first attempt at angst so here we go...

Disclaimer: not part of my fall writing, this is just a lil something bc I needed to write, it makes me happier after days as today.

Warnings: Cheating, mild profanity, shitty angst & writing. Ransom being an asshole (rip all the soft Ransom stories I’ve written)

Series Masterlist

Never in a thousand years would you have seen yourself sitting in Boston’s most expensive and high end restaurant, a steak simmering at 500 degrees laying out in front of you, and the Ransom Drysdale sweetly smiling at you.

“Wait, before you start eating, I have something to ask you, love.”

Was he gonna break up with you?

Ransom reached over his plate to reach your hand gently bringing it to his lips while maintaining eye contact with your shocked expression, soon calming.

Oh whew.

The man then set down your hand, and folded up the napkin in his lap before rounding the table, getting down on one knee. Your eyes were already welling up with tears, making it impossible to see all the people staring at you and Ransom.

“(y/n) (l/n)...

… … ...

Will you marry me?”

After his adoring speech, the four little words came out and the man on his knee was staring up at you like you were a goddess. Overwhelmed, you happily spewed out the words of acknowledgement while Ransom slipped the lavish diamond onto your ring finger, kissing the now ringed finger before scooping you up from your chair, the two of you in a deep kiss amidst the cheers.

A few months later the two of you got married, and everything was a dream. You had a lovely house, and a husband who was practically your closest friend. The two of you spent all your time together, told every joke, talked all the time. Believe or not but Mr. Fancy Pants had preferred that you got married sooner rather than having an extravagant wedding ceremony.

So that's what you did. One lovely Monday morning, you and Ransom drove to the courthouse, in the beamer, as if it were just any other day.

You thought then and there, that this was it. Life was finally playing in your favor...

All the little gifts you gave

I call it over compensating

Feeling just like a princess

Every answer was always yes

You had me living in a dream

“Oh Ransom!” You played with the little puppy down at your feet, a red ribbon adoring it’s small, yet fluffy neck.The little thing jumped into your arms, causing you to lift off the floor, walking closer to Ransom.

“Why did you get me a puppy, Hugh?”

He just cheekily smiled and shrugged, walking by to kiss your cheek. “No reason!”

You just laughed it off before going outside to play fetch with the energetic fur baby.

Ransom always treated you for no reason, at times you really hated him for it, but not once would he ever let up.

About four months into your marriage, Harlan had invited you and Ransom to some writer’s charity gala, a black and white party, meaning Ransom was gonna rent a tux and you’d find an overly priced yet attractive dress.

So, one Saturday afternoon, you and Ransom went to the mall, getting fitted for your clothes. You weren’t about the name brands like Ransom was, but today, Ransom now had full advantage to shower you in expensive clothing having already picked his tux yesterday. His sneaky little plan to go dress shopping with you.

“What about this one?” Your husband held up a black slip dress designed by Prada. Curiously you walked up to him, checking the tag to see its $1,000 price. In all honesty, from the looks of the dress, you had assumed Ransom picked up a simple dress. Sure, it was pretty but you weren’t about to pay that much just for the name. For what it is worth, you could sew and tailor the damn thing yourself.

“That’s ridiculous, Ransom. I’m not about to pay that much.”

You went to go walk off before you felt Ransom’s hot breath in your ear.

“Who said you were paying?”

Turning around, you playfully pushed him in the chest to which he laughed and peppered kisses all over your face.

“Ransom! Stop, you’re making a scene!”

He pulled away for a minute, your giggles ceasing.

“Let me treat you and I will stop.”

Quickly, the man resumed his attack, your pleas soon becoming words of compliance.

“Fine!”

His signature smirk danced across his lips, while his free arm snaked around your waist ushering you to the tailor’s stand.

What's forever long to you

Did you say that to her too

Making sure that I'd never know

Callin her while the shower goes

It was a little after midnight and Ransom wasn’t home yet, today he had been out with some friends, not inviting you. Your only company for the day was your precious little puppy, who was curled up against your stomach. The endless worry had kept you up all night as you mindlessly stroked the puppy’s back, trying to calm your own nerves.

Eventually, an hour later, the hallway light shone under the door, Ransom coming in. He was met with your worried look and came to rush over to your side.

“You scared me to death, Ransom. Two hours ago, you were supposed to be back!”

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry baby. Now, get some sleep, I love you. Forever, my love.”

Ransom gently pulled the blanket over you, kissing you goodnight, then heading off to shower.

Turning on the shower, Ransom pulled the phone out of his pocket, scrolling to the bottom of his contacts and dialing, Blair❤️.

“Hey baby, today was amazing Ranny!”

A deep chuckle left Ransom’s throat, the woman on the phone giggling.

“I know, angel. You are the best, love ya forever, Sweetheart.”

Blair continued to gush over the phone, recalling the earlier events of the day at her house where Ransom had spent the whole day. (leaving that sentence to the eye of the beholder.)

Shower, and you, long forgotten, Ransom spent the rest of the night talking to the woman, leaving the bedroom to go downstairs, assuming you were already asleep.

Ironically, that night, you dreamt of all the times you and Ransom would stay up just talking and laughing...

Then crawl back in bed, it's a shame

I probably should've known better

It was 4 am, and Blair had fallen asleep on the phone, leaving Ransom to bid her goodbye and get some shut eye himself.

It was like sleeping next to a stranger, the warmth of the bed now gone. Coldness, replacing the loving embrace.

About two months ago, your work gave its employees a week off for the holidays. It was once in a blue moon that you got to see your family, so you seized this opportunity. You wished your husband could have come, but Ransom had to stay behind to help Harlan with an upcoming novel. In truth, Ransom never saw himself reverting back to his bad ways, but who knows what entices people to change.

One night, Ransom went out for a drink, a young lady, about twenty-seven years old, came up to the sulking man. He was drowning his sorrows in a couple of beers, wishing he were there with you. Oh how he missed you!

“Hey stranger.”

The sultry voice hit too close to home for Ransom, a voice he knew all too well.

And let’s just say a few drinks later, he came to remember his old fling as Blair.

I wish that you would've treated me bad

The truth is you couldn't have loved me better

Now I'm left feeling twice as sad

I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad

It felt like you were living a hallmark movie, and never would you have thought any different.

Your feet were propped on the Ransom’s lap as the two of you laid down Uno cards on the coffee table.

“Ransom?”

“Yes, darling?”

You set the Uno cards in your lap, adjusting on the couch so that you’d be straddling Ransom. The man brightly smiling at you, enveloping you with his muscular arms. In complete bliss, you leaned forward and kissed him, a slow and intimate kiss. Time completely stopped as you were just in your own little world.

He treated you so well, you’d never be prepared for the heartbreak that’d ensue.

I wasn't catching on to you

Blinded by your lips so smooth

Excusing all of your gotta goes

Leaving me to be all alone

“Do you really have to go, Ransom?”

Your arms were wrapped around the man’s neck, pleading for him to stay. A small frown made a way onto his lips before he leaned in to kiss you deeply, pulling away from your lips while you were still trying to catch up.

“I gotta go.”

With that, he rushed out. A business meeting was it? Or was it Harlan? You couldn’t remember. For the past two months, you’ve been accepting all of his excuses, soon all of them blending, yet in the end you were always left standing in the house, alone with your dog.

It's okay, you told yourself. Sure he forgot your birthday last month. It’s fine.

As long as he didn't forget your wedding anniversary next month, everything would be fine…

Right?

Then you took my heart just the same

I probably should've known better

No it wasn’t fine. He forgot your anniversary. He forgot you. In the mornings, he’d no longer stay with you, instead finding an excuse to rush out, no kisses, not even hugs, Rarely did the two of you talk and soon, it became your new normal.

You should’ve known better.

Every word you said you was sweet but you was lying

Everything you covered making up just to keep to me from crying

Another late night, Ransom had gone to help his mother at some dinner party for her business, or so he said. He left early this morning, claiming he was gonna help set up and that he’d be home by 8. Yet, here you are, watching the 11 o’clock news, waiting for your husband’s arrival since he had left you with radio silence all day.

Suddenly, the door flew open, a sloppily dressed Ransom, stumbling in, clearly piss-ass drunk.

“Oh you're awake!”

You walked over to help him sit on the couch, just as you were about to turn off the lamp beside the couch, you noticed a tint of red lipstick on Ransom’s lips. You hadn’t worn any lipstick today, right?

Tenderly, you traced your thumb over his lips, as his eyes gazed into yours.

“Ransom, what’s on your lips?”

In a poor attempt, Ransom went to grab your hand, missing and instead grabbing your shoulder, leaning in to kiss you, instead getting your ear.

“It’s nothing, (y/n).”

His head was laying on your shoulder, as he was about to fall asleep, his energy suddenly gone.

“Really? It seems like something, you have a woman’s lipstick on your lips for god sake!”

Ransom then perked up and hugged you tightly, whispering reassuring words to you. Drunkenly, his words mashed together, causing you to barely understand his “comforting” speech.

“I love you so much, sweetheart, I’d never do that to you.”

Sweetheart, a name once reserved for you, now unknowingly shared with another woman.

Believing his lies, because why not? He had never given you a reason not to trust him, not yet anyway.

I wish that you would've treated me bad

The truth is you couldn't have loved me better

Now I'm left feeling twice as sad

I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad

That very next week, Ransom had to leave once again, this time a boys’ trip to the club. You thought nothing of it, now used to his absence, keeping to yourself with the dog and some friends.

Later that afternoon, you were enjoying a sandwich and lemonade out on the front porch when a Maseratti pulled into the driveway, a familiar man stepping out.

“(y/n)! Is Ransom home?”

The man pulled you into an embrace, leaving you confused at his presence.

“Why are you here Oliver? Ransom said he was out with you and James.”

Oliver just shrugged his shoulders, he too jumping to the same conclusion. At this point you were just seeing red, storming into the house, Oliver following. You practically were stomping holes into the hallway for your footsteps were as heavy as your heart. Maybe all along you had been suspicious deep inside, maybe you just never wanted to believe it.

Then finding Ransom’s phone in his nightstand, you came back into the doorway to meet Oliver. If your suspicions were true, you’d like to at least embarrass the dumbass in front of his friend. They all knew he was a playboy at heart, but after you, every one had assumed he’d matured somewhat.

Clearly, they were all wrong.

Your husband was the biggest idiot in the world, making his password your anniversary date, for he was so forgetful. You found this hilarious, because he forgot your first wedding anniversary, god you were so naive.

Was this wrong? Sleuthing through his phone?

Sure. But it could never equal up to what you were about to find.

Opening text messages, 50 unread, all from you, your messages definitely ignored as a woman named Blair was at the top of his messages.

You gagged at the heart by her name, one that used to be by yours. Scrolling through the texts, you found yourself growing angrier by the minute, finally, you just lost it. With great vehemence, you slammed the phone against the floor, making it shatter everywhere, Oliver and your dog, slightly jumping.

It was then that it hit you.

You crashed to the floor, crying hysterically, as the world came crashing down with you. Oliver, crouching down on the floor, trying to calm your sobs.

Tonight you were gonna confront that backstabbing, no good, cheating son of a bitch.

Tell me the truth

Was it worth it was I worth it for you

'Cause we were perfect we working til you

Forgot to tell me you been seeing someone else for six years

It was 9 pm and you hadn’t expected Ransom’s arrival for another hour or two, so you spent the time packing your bags and drinking some coffee, preparing yourself to tear the man a new one.

This time, there wasn’t a slammed door signaling Ransom’s presence, rather soft footsteps and his low voice, like the old days.

Ha, the one time he gets home early. Ehh you were ready anyway

“Hey babe! Oooh can I have some?”

Before you could answer, Ransom took your mug and a few swigs of coffee, handing it back to you, placing a kiss on your head. In utter surprise, you looked up at the man who just smiled down at you.

“You look I haven’t kissed you in weeks, my love.”

And with that he pecked your lips quickly, walking to the counter, you still trying to process what had just happened.

It was true. He hadn’t kissed you in weeks.

No, you weren’t gonna let him win this time.

“It’s because you haven’t.”

Confusion swirled around on Ransom’s face, allowing you to continue.

“You haven’t kissed me in weeks. But you have kissed Blair, I'm sure.”

The coffee mug in his hand dropped onto his foot, shattering, leaving you smirking at the small victory.

Heartbreak can make one go insane. Afterall, you are losing the one person you loved most, losing yourself along with them.

“For months I have put up with your bullshit…”

A good ten minutes passed of you yelling at Ransom, the man unexpectedly letting you finish.

“You’re a cheating, son of a bitch.”

Angrily, you ripped off the wedding ring, now noticing Ransom wasn’t even wearing his, for god knows how long too. Once upon a time, he’d proudly wear it all the time.

“(y/n) wait--”

Ransom grabbed your arm before you slapped him, the man slightly stunned.

“No. I’m tired of your excuses, I’m tired of letting you win. You and Brittany, should have an amazing life together, that is if you can even commit to her like you told me.”

A whisper of defeat left his mouth.

“It’s Blair…”

“The hell with it! You broke my heart Ransom! I knew it was too fucking good to be true. DAMN IT, I LOVED YOU.”

Hysterically laughing, you looked like a mad woman, lowering your voice just a bit.

“You know what makes this hurt 2x worse? I thought you had actually loved me too, because it seemed like it.”

You broke into tears, your heart in a thousand pieces, rushing away to grab your bags, Ransom not even trying to fight, knowing you're too strong this time. He let the best thing that ever happened to him slip away.

Ages ago you could remember the lovely times with the man you once would die for, yet...

Your love was just an illusion.

I wish that you would've treated me bad

The truth is you couldn't have loved me better

Now I'm left feeling twice as sad

I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad

I wish that you would've treated me bad

Truth is you couldn't have loved me better

Now I'm left feeling twice as sad

I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad

a/n: maybe i should stay away from angst bc this sucked.

Updated a/n: this is gonna be a series! If you’d like to be on the taglist lemme know!!

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader

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fenheart87 · 4 years

Text

Name For Your Order?

My work for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Exchange 2021! This goes out to @bevvydraws . Prompt was Coffee shop au! - So a coffee shop au where Luka is a singer who occasionally performs at the cafe, and Marinette is the shy barista who keeps forgetting to ask his name.

It was Tuesday, a bright and sunny Tuesday. Usually, just another day of the week except Marinette had been persuaded to swap her shift so one of her co-workers had the day free, which she did not mind at all, for two reasons. The first being that co-worker always covered when she needed it, and extra hours never hurt, but the bigger reason was one tall, blue-eyed and sweet guitarist that played at their little coffee shop on most Tuesdays. Now if she could only manage to talk to him and get his name, that way she could quit calling him ‘blue eyes’ in her head. Maybe she would ask him when he came to get his free cup of coffee, a perk that the manager gave for him bringing in more business.

Looking at the clock showed that the rush hour would be hitting soon, and Marinette checked all the cups, syrups, and other mixing items to make a list of what needed to be restocked before the rush. They never seemed to be successful in preparing for it but anything to make the miserable time easier was always a plus. Moving to the back she grabbed as many items as she could carry until Nino came in through the employee door and helped to break up the load with an empty box he found. Smiling gratefully, Marinette emptied her arms and grabbed a few things she was unable to before. She opened the door for Nino and helped to refill the items, weaving through the other employees as they were making drinks and serving pastries.

“Welcome to The Busy Bean, what can I make fresh for you?” Marinette greeted, finishing a refill of the large cups.

“I’d like a cappuccino with caramel drizzle please.”

“What size for the cappuccino?”

“Medium, I think small goes too quick and the large gets ignored when I’m playing back to back.” Oh, he was early.

“Sure thing!” Marinette squeaked, almost punching in the wrong order but correcting at the last second. She grabbed a medium-sized cup and slid to the side to write on it while her manager comped the drink for the part-time musician. Passing off the cup for someone else to make it, the petite employee moved back to the register. “Next time I recommend a chocolate swirl. it makes it even better.”

“I’ll have to try that next time. Time for me to get to work, thanks Marinette.” The musician smiled softly, just like always, and then made his way to the little stage area they had.

“Still didn’t get his name huh?” Nino teased, knocking Marinette out of her love-struck staring.

“No, and I don’t want to know from you.” The DJ shrugged with a smile and handed off another drink. It had become a thing between the two childhood friends, the mysterious singer was actually Nino’s roommate that he never really talked about by name. It was surprising but humorous and the DJ had fun, too much in the designer’s opinion, teasing her about her crush and not being able to ask him for his name.

“Okay, dudette, but you do realize I’ve been fighting not to say his name anytime we talk, it’s difficult.”

“Free macaroons and I’ll even throw in an eclair a day for Alya.” The raven-haired girl bargained with a sly smile.

“You drive a hard bargain dudette but you got yourself a deal.”

“Welcome to The Busy Bean, what can I get started for you today?” Marinette hip-checked Nino who snorted good-naturedly and moved back to his place in the hot drink line.

The lunch rush came and went, and the stress was eased by the upbeat pop songs the guitarist had been noodling together for the better part of an hour. Marinette had missed her break but was fine as she could take a longer one now that there were only a few people in the coffee shop. Deciding to whip up a similar drink but with sprinkles and roasted marshmallow, she grabbed two medium cups and made her way to the ‘Blue-Eyed Prince’ as Nino teased.

“Hey stranger, thought you could use a pick me up.”

“Well if you’re talking about the coffee then yes, not that I would say no if you were talking about yourself.”

“I uh, what?” Marinette stuttered and froze with her hand outstretched.

“Sorry, Nino has been teasing me about the coffee girls. I take it, you’re not one?I’ll ask for you to make my drinks from now on, it’s hard to play when I’m being flirted with and some girls can’t take no for an answer.” The guitarist sighed, sipping on his drink. Surprise colored his features for a moment, making the coffee worker giggle.

“I put a spin on it, I hope you like it.”

“Sprinkles,” he smiled crookedly and Marinette felt her breath catch, “I like it. Think we can make this my regular drink?”

“When I’m here yeah, I don’t usually work Tuesdays, but now a co-worker owes me and I’ll see you on Fridays to make your signature drink.”

“Cool, I shouldn’t keep you since you get paid to be here and I’m just here to vibe.“

"I had extra time on my break, at least I’m over here and not being harassed by people trying to get their caffeine fix and bugging me when I’m clearly on break at a table. I need to bring a jacket back to work so I can zip it up and not be bothered.”

“Hey I’m here until closer to six, take mine so you don’t get harassed.” He passed over a well loved leather jacket that had a hint of cologne.

“Oh I couldn’t- I mean that’s so nice but I’m so clumsy and I would spill something on it.”

“Nino talked about a friend that works here, she’s a pretty bomb designer and I’ve seen her work on his favorite jacket that she made him and the stains that Chris has put it through. If you make a mess, I have faith she’ll be able to fix it.”

Marinette squeaked as she turned red, and the musician’s knowing look, causing butterflies to run rampant in her stomach. Accepting the jacket, she hid her face and listened to his smooth chuckle.

“Alright I need to play something chill, it seems like the ladies with the short hair cuts like to their chins? They are quite uh-”

“Demanding? Crazy? Rude? A little too Bourgeois?” The shop employee rattled off after removing her face from the leather cover. “Yeah, it’s about that time because the yoga class and spin classes let out.”

“Any requests?”

“I like Jagged Stone but I don’t think they appreciate it. Maybe something mellow?” Marinette mused before Nino waved with a hand signal. “Ah Nino needs help, he’s hopeless with the swirls. Duty calls.”

“When does your shift end?”

“Supposed to be five-fifteen.”

“I’ll play Jagged for you then.”

“Awesome! See ya ‘round Rockstar!” She chirped, nearly skipping her way back to the counter. With a fist bump to Nino, he rattled off the orders that needed swirls, and the designer set to work with the same determination she had when designing for the rest of her shift.

“One caramel macchiato swirl for Rose!”

“Thanks Marinette! Oh hey, I didn’t know Juleka’s brother played here.”

“Wait, brother?”

“No way dudette, you didn’t know my roomie is Juleka’s older brother? And here I thought you knew your blue-eyed prince.”

“Juleka! Oh my gosh that’s so cute! Isn’t it?! Juleka!” Rose squealed, latching onto her girlfriend’s arm and shaking the taller girl a bit.

“That’s my brother, gross.” Came the dry reply.

“I mean if it bothers you I can back off. I don’t even know his name…” Marinette backtracked, not wanting her friend to feel awkward.

“It’s fine, just no details. I haven’t seen him in his birthday suit since we were young and took baths together.”

“Oh my God! Juleka!” For the second time that day Marinette lit up bright red, this time collapsing onto the counter and shielding herself with her arms.

“It’ll be okay dudette, when you remember to ask his name at least.”

“It’s not my fault! We get to talking and he doesn’t seem to mind my crazy runaway brain and lets me figure out my words but, like, not in a rude way. Then I get distracted by his eyes oh my God those should be illegal. And he’s just so nice and funny and talented. By the way, you didn’t tell me you told him about me fixing your hoodie!”

“Hey he’s my roomie and he asked if I got a new one. I told him the truth because you’re awesome.” The DJ shrugged with a grin.

“That’s Luka’s jacket.” Rose gasped, pointing at the leather jacket she was wearing.

“Yeah he let me borrow it, can you give it back to him for me?” Marinette passed over the jacket to Juleka who took it with an odd look on her face but remained silent.

The lack of music drew their attention to the small stage where Luka waved and then started playing a Jagged song, tossing a wink at the ravenette. Marinette flushed again, ignoring the coos from Rose and playful elbow from Nino.

“Huh. he usually hates playing Jagged’s music…”

“Really? I mentioned I liked his music but I wouldn’t have asked if I had known.”

“Go figure.” With that mysterious comment, Juleka shoved the jacket back at Marinette and pushed her towards her brother who finished up the song.

“Hey there Sprinkles.”

“Hey Rockstar, I think this is yours.” Marinette handed over the leather jacket with a shy grin.

“You know out of all the times I’ve played here the last couple of months, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me by my name.”

“Well, that uh might be because I don’t know it? And Nino teases me all the time calling you my 'blue-eyed prince because I get distracted by your blue eyes, they should be illegal. And you’re so nice when I’m having a bad day or just a busy day, you always smile and listen to me and don’t make me feel stupid for getting words mixed or rambling like I’m doing right now and oh my God!” She wished a hole would appear so she could sink into it.

“Well your eyes are pretty amazing too, they’ve kept me up on more than one night trying to find the music to describe them.” Her eyes met his, a soft smile present on his face, “And since I was too distracted by the pretty coffee girl to give my name, I guess I should fix that. I’m Luka, nice to finally introduce myself.”

“Hi, Luka.” Marinette smiled, the blush dying down to a pinkish color and not a full red.

“So uh would you like something to eat? I’m sure you’re tired of coffee…” Luka packed up his guitar, taking the jacket and putting it over her shoulders.

“Sure but let’s go somewhere else, the best pastries in all of Paris.”

“Wait, if you’re going where I think you’re going you had better bring me back something! I’ve got another hour left!” Nino shouted, amusing the customer he was supposed to be taking the order of.

“Maman won’t mind another mouth to feed if you just want to come over for dinner. I think it’s dumpling night?”

“Marinette you are my best friend! Sorry bro, you’ll understand when you taste the food.” The DJ joked before focusing back on the order he was punching in.

“Did I just get invited to dinner?”

“Yeah but that’s okay, you’ll have to meet my parents at some point. Juleka and Rose are already like their adopted daughters.”

“Oh! Maman Sabine dumplings?! I’m in!” Rose jumped on her toes excitedly, tugging Juleka along to follow the budding couple.

“I’ll text Maman and let her know we need to break out the other chairs and let Papa know we need another batch of macarons and eclairs.”

#lbscexchange2021 #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #fen's plunny corner #lovebugs and snake charmers #bevvydraws #fluff

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch49: An Old Friend

Intro: After five years of more or less domestic bliss, Katie’s fear that their peace will be one day shattered comes to fruition as a man they long thought dead appears at the compound.

Warnings: Bad Langauge. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: And so we begin the Endgame timeline...and as with all the parts, it has it’s own little banner as made by the talented @angrybirdcr who’s made another lovely edit for me here!

Chapter 48 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

May 2023

“Emmy this room is an utter disgrace!” Steve said exasperatedly as he looked around at the various items of clothing scattered around her bedroom. DVDs lay on the floor instead of in the designated rack, the bed was unmade and various school books were tossed onto the rug instead of at her desk.

“Chill Dad.” She mumbled as she sat cross legged, tapping at her tablet, music blaring from her stereo. “Chill?” He shot her a look “Seriously, we spent a fortune doing this room up last month. Get it tidied.” “Yeah, yeah.”

Steve grit his teeth, jaw twitching with annoyance before, after a moment’s deliberation, he crossed the room and turned off her music.

“Hey I was listening to that!”

“Well, now you’re gonna listen to me.” He stood cross armed looking down at her. “I mean it Emily, get this sorted now, or you can forget going to Philadelphia with Brooke.”

“But, it’s all organised, we leave first thing in the morning!” “It can be unorganised.” His threat was simple but it had the desired effect.

“Fine.” She groaned, tossing her tablet to one side. “Thank you.” Steve replied, sarcastically before he left the room, shutting the door behind him. He made his way downstairs to the kitchen where Katie was prepping lunch, Jamie sat in a chair at the table on a booster seat, colouring in an activity book.

“Look, Daddy!” he pointed to his picture. Steve leant over, one arm on the back of the chair and glanced down at the elephant his son had coloured in purple.

“A purple elephant.” He nodded “Creative.”

“Like in Dumbo!”

“Of course.” Steve smiled, Jamie’s Disney film of the moment. It was one Steve could remember seeing at the theatre before he joined the army. It still creeped him out slightly, the scene with all the drunk elephants. So much so he was convinced the animator had been on some kind of mad drug fuelled trip when he drew it. He ruffled his son’s hair and then moved over to where Katie was slicing up a cucumber for the salad, reaching round to steal a piece as he dropped a kiss to her cheek.

“She tidying it?” Katie asked, her eyes not moving from her task.

“Only because I threatened to stop her going to Philly.” he snorted, leaning on the counter, looking at his wife. He reached into the salad bowl to snatch a piece of pepper and Katie slapped his hand. He grinned as she looked at him.

“Bet that went down well.” “Don’t care. Her attitude stinks.”

“She’s a teenage girl, Steve” Katie smiled. “That’s not the point.” “Honey, just shut the door if the mess bothers you that much.”

Steve sighed, and rubbed at his temple. “I’m surprised the door even opens with the amount of crap on the floor.” Katie gave a little chuckle before she looked at him. “Can you get me the dressing out of the fridge?”

He pushed himself off the counter and opened the fridge. “Caesar or Ranch?”

“Caesar.” She nodded after a moment’s deliberation. “Oh, and the cooked chicken please.” Grabbing them, Steve turned back to Katie and passed her the items, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Do you think I was too strict?”

Katie placed the knife down and looked at him. “Stevie, stop second guessing yourself.” She reached up to run a hand down his cheek “You’re a great dad. All I’m saying is it’s not out of the ordinary for her to have an attitude. She’s fifteen. I was a nightmare at that age, as I’m sure Tony will delight in telling you.”

“Speaking of your brother, what time is he expecting us to drop Jamie off?” “Oh he’s coming to pick him up.” Katie said. “They’re in town anyway so said he’ll be here later this afternoon. I just hope Emmy does as you told her.” “Huh?”

“Because if she doesn’t, you’re gonna have to carry through with your threat. And that means you’ve just flushed our night alone down the lav.” Steve let out a groan, he hadn’t thought about that.

A little while later Katie called Emmy down for lunch. She appeared in the kitchen with a scowl and Katie saw Steve bristle slightly so she decided to get in there first and back him up.

“Straighten your face, young lady.” She ordered sternly as Emmy sat down. “Your dad’s right. That room is an absolute dump.” Emmy sighed and reached over for a warm pitta bread, piling her plate with the salad before she took a deep breath.

“Sorry. I’ll tidy it, I promise.” Steve looked at Katie who gave him a wink as they began to eat.

“Emmy I colourded you a picture.” Jamie pointed to the book which was to his right, out of the way of his plate.

Emmy smiled, and looked at it. “Aww dude that’s awesome. Is it to pin up on my board?”

He nodded and she bopped his nose gently, smiling back.

“I staying at Moo’s tonight?” He asked, turning to his mom.

“Yeah.” Katie looked at him as he picked up a piece of the pitta bread she had sliced into smaller strips for him “Is that okay?” He nodded. “Uncle Nee gives me juice pops. The red ones are my bestest.” “I thought you liked the blue ones?” Steve asked, swallowing his food. “Because they’re the same colour as Cap’s Suit?”

“Red ones better.” Jamie nodded. “Like Iron Man.”

Steve looked at Katie who was biting her lip, trying not to laugh at the look of utter indignation on his face.

“This is good, Mom.” Emmy nodded at the food on her plate. “Better than the incinerated breakfast dad gave us.” Steve half-heartedly glared at his daughter. “I burnt one egg.”

“One too many.” She quipped, and Katie grinned, reaching over for the jug of water. Steve beat her to it and poured her a glass, sliding it over to her before he did the same for Emmy, Jamie already had his in a tippee-cup by his plate.

“Thanks.” Katie smiled at him before she turned to Emmy “Hey, did you get your grade back for your English essay last week?”

“Oh, yeah, I got an A.” she shrugged.

“Emmy that’s great.” Steve nodded at her, smiling.

“Yeah well don’t get used to it. I don’t think I’ll get one again. I may have upset my tutor.”

“Why?” Katie frowned “What did you do.”

“Well, he’s assigned us a book that is totes inappropriate.”

“What book?” Katie interrupted to ask

“The Colour Purple. I mean it’s good but…”

“Yeah, that is kinda heavy…” Katie frowned, having read the book herself. “What’s the angle?” “Race, gender, and bigotry in the early twentieth century. ”Emmy shrugged “I would have thought To Kill A Mockingbird would have been better but when I voiced my opinion Mr Tozer didn’t like it.”

“So what did you say to upset him?” Steve arched his brow.

“Exactly that. And then he told me it was his way or the highway. Don’t worry, I refrained from calling him Hitler.”

“I guess we should be pleased then.” Steve snorted. Emmy flashed him a grin and went back to eating.

The family made chatter for the rest of their lunch until Jamie poked at his mom’s arm.

“Yes, Sweetie?” “I done now. Fankoo.” He grinned, his plate completely cleared.

“You’re welcome, honey” Katie ruffled his hair “Cake?” He asked hopefully.

“What do you say?” Steve prompted gently.

“Please.” Jamie nodded.

“Do you think about anything but food?” Emmy looked at the small boy.

“You know he doesn’t.” Katie sighed. “He takes after your father in that respect.” “That’s not all I think about.” Steve grinned, as he raised a suggestive eyebrow at his wife over his glass of water.

“Yeah well, thankfully he is way too young for that.” Katie winked as she stood up to get the fruit cake she had made the day before to cut everyone a slice. As she did, she had to bite back the smirk as Emmy sighed at Steve’s blatant sexual reference.

“Gross.”

****

Emmy did tidy her room, so she was dropped off at the coffee shop early evening with her bag which Steve was sure contained more clothes than she needed for the four nights she was away. He made a comment to that effect and the fifteen year old just rolled her eyes and explained she needed two outfits a day, just in case. Just in case of what, Steve had no idea, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know if truth be told. He made small talk with Jennifer over a coffee for a while, instructed his daughter to behave and loudly told Jennifer that if she was any trouble to pack her home straight away. Brooke rolled her eyes but gave him a hug goodbye anyway as he left. By the time he had gotten home, Jamie had already been picked up leaving the two parents alone. Steve had been planning to take Katie out, but when he suggested it she shook her head and pulled a magnum of Champagne out of the fridge and held it up.

“I got a better idea.” She grinned “Hot tub party for two and take out.” “Champagne, pizza, you in a swimsuit.” Steve grinned, pulling her to him. “Baby, I’m sold.”

Needless to say there wasn’t much relaxing done in the hour they were in the tub, quite the opposite if truth be told. Hands and lips were all over the place, pawing at skin and kisses being exchanged with avaricious force. By the time they’d called for pizza, Katie was feeling thoroughly defiled as she sat on the sofa, wearing one of Steve’s button downs and tore into a large slice of pepperoni as if she hadn’t eaten for a week. Steve grinned, tucking her damp hair behind her ear and dropped a kiss to the side of her head. They settled down to watch a film, but Katie was flat out before it was even ten minutes in and she didn’t even stir bar to murmur something to Steve when he carried her up to their room.

Steve woke the next morning, wrapped around his wife, her warm body pressed to his chest, one arm under her neck, the other draped over her waist. He sighed in contentment, it was bliss, knowing there was nothing to get up for. No constantly hungry three year old to feed, no lunches to make, no school runs, no meetings until later, nothing. Snuggling into her closer, the arm that wasn’t trapped underneath her swept her hair away from her face, before his lips skated over her jaw and down the side of her neck. As her eyelids fluttered his large, gentle hand trailed down the curve of her hip and slid between her legs, caressing the inside of her thigh. Katie took a deep breath, shifting automatically, still half asleep, spreading her legs a little wider. She rolled her head over her shoulder, blinking and she was met with those blue eyes she loved so much, the owner wearing a devilish smirk.

“Morning.” He rasped, his voice low with sleep and desire.

“Good morning.” She grinned, biting her lip as his hand moved back up over her stomach to her breasts underneath the shirt she was wearing and he began to tease her softly, causing her to moan as he rolled a nipple between his fingers, the sensation burning in her stomach. She rolled onto her back and Steve settled between her legs, her arms winding around his neck as he captured her lips with his, soft and slow before he pulled back to peel his shirt off her body, tossing it down the side of the bed. He turned his gaze downwards, eyeing up her blue lacy panties before he groaned and lowered himself over her again, kissing her and sliding his tongue along hers. Katie wrapped her legs around his hips, grinding against him to get any friction that she could. His hands trailed down her sides and under her back, fingers gently grabbing at the waistband of the lace before he broke the kiss and unhooked her legs from around his waist. He gently pulled her underwear down, shimmying under the covers as he removed the garment and then kissed up her right leg, his lips hot as he made his way from her ankle up to her inner thigh, pushing her legs open wider.

His actions were controlled, slow. There was no rush after all. His mouth and tongue gently worked her to distraction, flicking at her clit over and over. She was a writhing mess within minutes, her hand fisted in his hair, the other grasping at the sheets, the noises flowing freely because they didn’t have to be quiet. Her fingers tightened on his scalp and she gave a cry of his name as her hips bucked upwards, her legs tensing slightly before they flattened against the bed, her breathing heavy and ragged. With a smirk at how easy he could undo her, Steve moved back up the bed, one hand pushing his sleep pants down. Without a word he lined himself up with her, letting out a loud groan as she slid a hand between them, stroking him before guiding him inside. He moved slowly, deliberately, until every inch of him was sheathed. Katie’s eyes rolled back as he stretched her, her groan was loud as he laced his fingers into hers. Steve let out a shaky little whimper as he moved his pelvis slowly, pushing back against her hands.

Every thrust was deep, slow, measured, his mouth moving from hers to her jaw, neck, collar bone. The house was quiet, nothing but the sound of soft cries and kisses could be heard as Steve continued his thrusts, whilst his wife purred into his ear, and he let go of her hands to bring one of her legs up round his hip. She let out a cry at the change of angle as he picked up the pace slightly, but not much, Katie’s nails raking down his back as her pleasure rose. The sensation made him shudder and he doubled his efforts, her hands sliding down, grabbing at his flexing ass, urging him on and, as always, he was happy to oblige.

“Shit, Stevie,” the cry of his name turned into a complete babble which died in her throat as she tightened and pulsed around, him, her body shaking with pleasure.

“God, Doll,” Steve was right behind her as he came with a low moan, his hips thrusting until he was completely spent, his head buried in the side of his wife’s neck.

Katie tipped her head back in satisfaction, sighing softly as Steve pushed himself up slightly. He gently ran his nose up her throat, taking her bottom lip between his and he let out a loud, satisfied sigh of his own. He loved his kids, beyond anything but man he enjoyed being able to take his goddamned time making love to his wife without the patter of little feet across the hall meaning they were about to be interrupted. “Baby,” he said softly, his lips gently smoothing the skin underneath her ear “Hmmm?” She asked, her hands creeping into his hair as her head rolled to the side, eyes still closed in pure bliss. “Look at me, kitten.” She obliged, and emerald green met ocean blue as she held her husband’s gaze. He gave her a soft smile, and she reciprocated, the affection on his face blatantly evident. “I love you,” he said, as she reached up and gently brushed the longer strands of his hair back over his forehead, “more than you can ever know”

“Will that still be the case when I’m old, grey and wrinkly but you still look like you’re straight out of GQ magazine?”

Steve frowned as he looked at her, this wasn’t the first time she had mentioned that. He shook his head and sighed softly, unable to do anything but repeat what he told her the last time she’d raised the issue.

“I told you baby girl.” he gave her lips a quick peck, “it’s me and you till the end of the line.”

After a lazy breakfast, Katie headed off to collect Jamie from Tony’s and Steve made his way into Manhattan for the two support groups of the afternoon. The first one was always the busiest and it took a little longer this week as they had a few new faces. This didn’t surprise Steve, people were still five years later coming to terms with opening up about their heartache or problems, but the core of the group were always welcoming. He had an hours break before the second, slightly quieter group so he took a walk. Their air was damp and there was a gloomy fog descending over the city, making it darker than it would normally be for the time of day, but it wasn’t cold. He grabbed a coffee from the shop round the corner and headed back to start the second meeting.

The meetings always followed the same format. There was ten or so minutes of everyone arriving, grabbing refreshments, saying hello and then they would form the usual circle and Steve would start the discussions with a chat about something he’d done or seen that week that was positive before moving to something he’d done or seen that week that wasn’t so positive, and then invite other people to comment and do the same, gently coaxing them into opening up.

“So, I went on a date the other day.” A man named David sighed. “First time in five years. I didn’t know what to talk about.”

“What did you talk about?” Steve pressed gently, patient as ever.

“Same old crap, you know? How things have changed. My job. His job. How much we miss the Mets,” David paused taking a breath, “then things got quiet. He cried as were serving the salads.”

“What about you?” Another man, Ian, asked hopefully.

“I cried,” David trailed off, “just before dessert,” There was a slight pause, “but I’m seeing him again tomorrow, so…”

Steve gave a small smile. “That’s great. You did the hardest part. You took the jump, you didn’t know where you were gonna come down. And that’s it, it’s those little, brave baby steps we gotta take, you know, to try and find purpose.” He paused and looked around the group, biting the inside of his cheek. “I went into the ice in forty-five right after I met the first woman I’d ever loved. Woke up seventy years later and met the love of my life. She gave me hope, she gave me a purpose, a reason to keep going in the crazy new world I’d found myself in.” He paused again and looked around at the attentive faces assembled in a circle. “You gotta move on. The world is in our hands. It’s left to us guys. We gotta do something with it. Otherwise, Thanos should have killed all of us.”

Steve let the meeting roll for a little longer, everyone discussing what he had said before it came to a natural end and, with a glance up, he saw Katie and Jamie pushing open the door, Katie holding a huge box full of brownies.

“Looks like you’re all in luck!” Steve nodded towards his wife as Jamie ran across to his father who smiled and swept him up into arms, planting a kiss onto his head before replacing him on the floor. He looked over at Katie and she smiled back, placing the box of treats down on the table. She often did this, popped into a few of his sessions over the week with some form of snack for them all when she had time, her way of helping out, and Steve loved her for it.

Over the next ten minutes or so, various people drifted over to the side of the room, greeting Katie and grabbing a brownie. She gave David a hug and cheekily told him to behave on his next date as Steve wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her forehead in greeting as they waved the man away.

“How long where you at the door?”

“Long enough.” She told him, knowing instantly why he was asking.

“I meant it.” He turned to look at her. “Every word you know.”

“I know, and for the record you’re the love of my life too.” She grinned “My husband, my baby daddy…”

Steve smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Gross.” Jamie gagged, sticking his fingers in his mouth, an action he had learnt from Emmy.

There was a pause before Steve grabbed Jamie and launched into a tickle attack until the boy was screeching and running from his dad who chased him round the hall. Katie watched her boys as Jamie feinted left and Steve let him get away, before the little boy dived under a table and out the other side of it, cackling in a way so like his father.

“Don’t think that’s gonna save you, pal.” Steve easily vaulted the table, picking Jamie up, throwing him over his shoulder, patting his backside once with a large hand.

“Momma, help!” Jamie’s voice was punctuated with laughter and with a grin Katie strode forward and her hands went straight to Steve’s sides from behind, and she began to tickle him.

“Oh sh-stop it!” Steve cackled, his ridiculously ticklish nature was always his downfall. He let Jamie down as Katie continued her attack and he whipped round, grabbing her and spinning her round. He folded her arms across her chest, pinning her back to his front as he dropped his mouth to her ear.

“You’re gonna pay for that later.” “Promises, promises Captain.”

****

There was a presence to Katie’s right and she felt the soft weight of a hand against her cheek. It was too small to belong to her man, but the perfect size and weight to belong to her boy.

“James,” a soft, deep voice whispered, warning in the tone, “this is the second time I’ve told you and there won’t be a third. Leave your ma alone. She’s sleeping.”

Katie sighed and stretched. “It’s okay, I’m awake”

Jamie giggled and surged forward giving her a peck before falling back onto his father’s pillow, "Morning Momma!”

“Good morning, Sweetie.” She yawned rolling onto her side, dislodging Lucky who had been asleep with his leg resting on the back of her knees. As ever Jamie had his stuffed Cap bear with him, along with God knows how many other toys all which adorned Steve’s side of their enormous bed.

“Morning, Baby.” Steve bent over from behind her, pecking her cheek too.

“Hey.” She smiled, rolling her head to catch his lips, noticing his bare, damp chest from the shower. “What time is it?”

“Little past seven. Somebody-“ Steve glanced at Jamie, “-was awake at half Five.” “Not sleepy daddy.” “Really, I didn’t notice.” Steve replied, sardonically. Katie chuckled as Jamie frowned, the sarcasm utterly lost at him.

“Momma, we hided in the fort.”

Steve and Jamie had made a blanket fort in Jamie’s room last night in which they had hidden in for their bed time stories. Jamie had insisted they left it up, and considering it wasn’t in the way, Katie had been happy to oblige. Steve, who had gotten a lot better with dealing with the mess Jamie left around over the years had resisted the urge to fold away the blankets and his wife had pulled him out of the room when the pair of them had popped in to check on Jamie before he could change his mind.

“Mighty fine Fort it is too.” Steve ruffled his son’s hair.

“What time are your meetings today?” Katie asked, looking at Steve. His groups ran at different times during the week. This way, it made sure that there was a day or night everyone could attend at least one session a week.

“Last one finishes at four today. Why you ask?”

“Well, I thought seeing as we didn’t see Nat at the weekend, we should pop in.” “Auntie Nat-Nat, yay!” Jamie clapped his hands “Maybe she can come see my fort.” “You should tell her about it.” Steve nodded, before his attention turned to Katie. “Might convince her to leave the compound.” “Yeah, maybe.”

“What do you fancy for breakfast?” Steve swiftly changed the subject.

“I can bake some cinnamon rolls if you want?” “You don’t have to do that.” “I know, but they’re already made so just need to go in to the oven and I also I know someone id going to ask for pancakes and he isn’t having them three days on the run.” “Waffles?” Jamie whipped his head round, hopefully.

“No.” Katie shook her head. “Cinnamon rolls or cereal, your choice.”

“Can I have both?”

“You two will eat me out of house and home.” Katie rolled her eyes. “Yes, if you want both you can have both.”

“Cool, man.” Jamie nodded, in a way that was so like Emmy it made Steve turn back to face his wife from where he had ben stood at the dresser pulling out his clothes, a smirk on his face. The pair of them watched as their son announced he was going to get dressed and dropped onto the floor, heading out into the hallway, Lucky following.

Katie watched as Steve pulled on a pair of sweats and she cocked her head to one side.

“Did you seriously call me Jamie’s Ma before?”

Steve grinned. “Sorry.” “Makes me sound like I’m ninety” she snorted.

“Try actually being ninety.” Steve scoffed, and Katie laughed as he started to crawl over her in the bed, pushing her back gently.

“Hate to break it to you, Captain Badass, but you’re actually a hundred and five.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Steve muttered gently, his lips pressing to hers. She happily melted into the kiss her hands straying up and down his bare chest, before she pulled away knowing that if they carried on she’d be wanting a lot more.

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“This.” Katie pouted.

“I only wanted a kiss.” Steve looked at her, eyebrow raised. “You have a dirty mind, Mrs Rogers.” “Years of being with you.” She shrugged and Steve laughed, standing up. As he headed across the room Katie couldn’t resist one last quip. “Nice ass…daddy” Steve turned round, a wicked grin on his face as he held his arms out at either side of him, as he walked backwards for a few steps. “It’s all yours, momma.” He smirked, before turning round and heading out to help Jamie get dressed.

The rest of Katie’s day was pretty much the same as it always was. She dropped Jamie in at the day-care and headed up to her office for her fifteen minute start up meeting with Soray. After going over her diary for the day, she spent most of the morning sifting through the mountain of emails and responding to the ones she needed to. After a quick chat with Emmy at lunchtime, the girl enthusiastically telling her all about how her and Brooked had run up the Rocky steps and were eating a tonne of Philly cheesesteak, Katie headed up to the boardroom for the Monthly Financial Review. Escaping at little after three, she picked Jamie up and headed to the store to grab something she could make at the compound for dinner. Once Steve was home they all jumped in the car to make the hours drive up state owards the compound.

Steve drove easily down the highway, one hand on the steering wheel, the other laying on the arm rest in between the front seats, whilst next to him Katie hummed along to the John Legend playlist that was playing. Steve cruised the Audi onto the bridge which would take them out of Manhattan and frowned gently as he noticed that the cars ahead were all coming to a halt. As Steve slowed the car down, Katie too narrowed her eyes as people started getting out of their cars, heading to the side of the bridge, pointing.

“Wait here.” Steve instructed, climbing out of the car, Captain mode engaged.

“What’s happening?” Jamie asked.

“Daddy’s gone to see.” Katie turned to smile at him before she turned back, watching Steve approach the side of the bridge and speak to the nearest man before looking down. His mouth dropped opened and he turned, jogging back to the car.

“You’re not gonna believe this!” He shook his head, excitement all over his face as Katie climbed out of the car. “Come see.” He opened the back door of the car and unstrapped Jamie from his seat. Picking him up in his arms, Steve made his way to the side of the bridge, wife by his side and he pointed downwards.

Katie felt herself gasp at the sight- a small pod of whales leisurely making their way through the Hudson River.

“Wow.” She whispered.

“What are they?” Jamie asked

“Whales.” Steve replied. “Humpbacks, I think.”

Steve tried to keep the smile on his face genuine, but he hated it when Jamie saw something out of place in the new world that he was born into which would have been perfectly normal in the world that they once knew. Whilst a pod of whales in the Hudson was an astounding sight for sure, and would have been unheard of even before the Snap, the fact that it was Jamie’s first time ever seeing a whale made him slightly sad. They had been a pretty common sight around the ocean waters in and around the bays leading out into the North Atlantic. That was until Thanos had killed half of them.

Jamie giggled and pointed out that the biggest whale was being followed closely by a slightly smaller one, and then an even smaller one after and then a tiny one.

“Daddy, Momma, Emmy and Jamie.” He smiled at Steve who chuckled, smoothing Jamie’s hair back.

“Come on Kiddo, let’s go see Auntie Nat” When they arrived at the Avengers compound, the sun was just beginning to set. Steve drove round to the rear entrance and the gate creaked open as the ANPR scanners recognised the car. He parked the car in their old designated spot before he collected the bag of ingredients from the trunk that Katie had bought to make dinner with. Together the three of them headed inside, FRIDAY welcoming them all as they made their way towards the living area, and they could hear Natasha closing up a meeting.

“Nat,” Rhodey’s voice was almost pleading but Nat cut him off

“Please.” She begged.

Katie had a feeling she knew what she was talking about, or rather who. She glanced at Steve as they rounded the last corner to the large meeting-slash-living room and it was then that Katie could hear Natasha trying to stifle her cries. At that point Jamie ran in and jumped onto his Aunt’s lap hugging her tightly.

“Don’t be sad, Auntie Nat-Nat.” He whispered, and Natasha took a deep breath, leaning her head against her nephew’s with her eyes closed hugging him back.

Steve leaned against the bookshelf for a moment as Katie walked into the room, taking the bag of ingredients off Steve as she took in the sight of Natasha’s dinner of a peanut butter sandwich which rest on top of the table.

“You know, I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem miserable enough.” Steve opened, looking down at her with a smile.

“So I’m gonna do it instead.” Katie smiled, holding up the bag she’d brought, dropping it onto the table. “Chicken stew, dumplings and chocolate cake for after.”

Natasha looked at them, a smile playing on her face as Katie sat down across from her. “You guys here just to feed me?”

“And to see a friend.” Steve shot back.

Natasha leaned back into her chair, Jamie still on her lap. “Clearly, your friend is fine.”

“Bull.” Katie mimicked her stance, eyeing her. Natasha avoided her gaze and the room fell silent.

“You know we saw a pod of whales as we were coming over the bridge.” Steve broke the silence, changing the subject.

“In the Hudson?” Natasha raised her head slightly, sounding impressed.

“There was a Jamie whale and a daddy whale and a momma whale and an Emmy one!” Jamie gushed and Nat smiled.

“I haven’t seen whales in the Hudson ever, even before.”

"Well, there’s fewer ships, cleaner water.” Steve shrugged

Natasha sighed looking up at the ceiling. “You know, if you’re about to tell me to look on the bright side, umm, I’m about to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich.”

“Sammich?” Jamie looked up hopefully and Natasha tore off half of one side before passing it to him.

“Sorry.” Steve sighed pushing himself off from the bookshelf, his jacket slung over his arm. “Force of habit.”

He tossed his keys onto the table, dropping his jacket over the back of a chair before sitting down next to his wife, glancing at Jamie who was now eating a small piece of the sandwich, then at Natasha. The woman looked tired, pale and such a far cry from the stoic, well-groomed Natasha Romanoff he had first known. But then again, they were all a far cry from the people they had once been.

“You know, I keep telling everybody they should move on, and forget what happened.” Steve crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “And some do. But not us.”

“If I move on, who does this?” Natasha asked simply with a shrug.

Katie sighed. “Maybe it doesn’t need to be done.”

“You know, I used to have nothing. And then I got this- this job, this family.” Nat smiled sadly and looked down at Jamie before she looked back up, the tears evident in her eyes. “And I was better because of it. And even though they’re gone, I’m still trying to be better.”

There was a pause as Katie wiped her eyes, a tear having escaped down her cheek and Steve gently placed his hand between her shoulder blades, rubbing softly.

"I think we all need to get a life,” he joked, breaking the sad silence, and Natasha forced a smile nodding to him.

“You did.” At her words, Steve gave a smile. She was right, he had. Whilst he and Katie had been extremely lucky over the last five years, that didn’t stop them thinking about the people that hadn’t, and the friends they had lost.

Katie reached for the bag she had placed on the table. “I’ll go start dinner.” She was mid-way through standing when a small, holographic screen popped up in front of Natasha indicating she had a notification of sorts. She flicked it to the side, bringing the video feed to life behind Steve, who looked over his shoulder as the video began playing.

“Oh, hi, hi! Is anyone home? This is, uh, Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport, in Germany. I was small, then I got real big.”

Katie left the bag where it was and whipped round, to see Scott on the screen, stood in front of his van. Besides her Steve stood from his seat, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“This…this is impossible.” Katie breathed, shaking her head. “He was…”

“Is this an old message?” Steve asked, his voice quiet, not taking his eyes off the footage.

“Ant-Man! I know you remember Ant-Man.”

Natasha’s reaction was much the same as theirs, confused awe as she sat up, breathing deeply. “It’s the front gate.”

“I really need to talk to you guys!” Scott continued to yell his voice becoming desperate.

The three of them remained frozen for a moment, absolutely lost for words, before Jamie broke the silence.

“Who’s that?” He asked, jumping down from Nat’s lap. “An old friend.” Steve swallowed, turning to Natasha who was fishing in a drawer for the key to the main gate which had been padlocked shut for years as no one used it anymore. She found it, tossed it to Steve and he caught it expertly before heading off to go meet Scott.

**** Chapter 50

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #katie stark #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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poisonepel · 4 years

Text

School Uniform Story Notes ✨ (1/2)

this is for the people like me who can never remember which story a certain scene you’re trying to find came from 💢 and for anyone else who just wants to know what happened 😭😭

Part 1: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia Part 2: Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia (coming soon!)

Riddle 🌹 There’s No Drawback to Not Knowing

Ace and Cater discuss which phone cases are in style right now; Riddle doesn’t know anything about the latest trends but he’s fine with that because it makes no difference to him. When Ace tries to explain them, Riddle repeats that it’s not important and snaps at them to go somewhere else. Once they leave, he mutters to himself that he’ll look into them later.

They mention that a paper talking about new discoveries in the history of the Land of Hot Sands was published (which affected everyone’s history tests) 👀 I wonder if that involved Jafar at all

Riddle doesn’t check the results of his exams because he knows he always gets 100%

Cater’s phone case is considered trendy right now lmaoo

Ace mentions wanting a phone case design featuring creatures with “fuzzy heads and legs growing out of their eyes” (the momeraths??)

Ace ♥ Such an Honest Freshman

Ace helps Trey carry back groceries from the store, under the guise of wanting a piece of pie with lots of cherries on it in return. Trey suspects that he wants more than just some cherry pie—Ace ends up spilling that he wanted Trey to tell him which topics would be covered on their history tests.

Ace’s brother is 7 years older than him, and used to take him lots of places together 🥺

Trey usually reads or does homework to pass time at the dorm; he didn’t slack off even as a freshman because he knew Riddle would be coming the year after and he didn’t want Riddle to be angry with his grades 😂

Trey used to make sweets for his little siblings when they pestered him for them!! And he’s been helping around his family’s bakery since he was little

Deuce ♠ One With the Wind

Ace can’t decide which club he wants to join since they all sound tempting. Deuce mentions he joined track and field because there was no Magical Wheel club, which gets him started on a tangent about how much he loves those motorcycles and how he can’t believe Ace has never even touched one.

Deuce tried to open a Magical Wheel Lovers Club but Crowley rejected it

When he was little, Deuce used to get Magical Wheel magazines and admire all the models 😂😂

Magical Wheels are fueled by the drivers’ magic power 👀

Deuce loves the high-speed feeling of “becoming one with the wind” (ie. going really fast on a motorcycle, also sprinting and things for track and field)

Cater ♦ The Portrait of Rosalia

Cater tries to get Kalim and Leona to join a party to keep the lonely portrait Rosalia company. The truth is, he just wanted to put Rosalia in a good mood so she’d share what would be on the next history test with him.

Rosalia hangs in the west school building (the rose in the west wing??), near the staff room and has been there for years; she knows stories about magift tournaments from the past.

Cater implies he knows some secrets about Kalim 🤔

Mentions that Leona comes from a ‘ladies first’ culture

Trey ♣ Open Your Mouth

The Queen has a rule saying that if you eat turkey for dinner, you must brush your teeth two times that night. Ace tries to get away with only brushing once, but Trey catches him and asks both him and Deuce to let him smell their breath to make sure they both brushed at least once already; then he apologizes because he used to do that with his little siblings and it became a habit. He proceeds to give them detailed advice about brushing their teeth.

I didn’t like this one lmao it felt kind of pointless

But anyway Trey knows weirdly thorough tooth-brushing techniques, a lot about teeth in general, and has multiple brushes for focusing on different parts of his mouth 🦷

Leona 🦁 I Grew Up Spoiled

Vil needs Leona to take some pictures with him for the school newspaper. Although reluctant at first, he eventually agrees because Vil won’t stop annoying him about it. Before they go to the shoot, Vil notices one of the buttons on Leona’s vest is coming off and offers him his sewing supplies to fix it. But Leona says if he wants it fixed he should just do it himself (also Leona grew up spoiled and doesn’t know how to sew). Vil gets really salty with his attitude and says he’ll only do it because he needs “his props” to look pristine.

They’re both super catty with each other 😂

At one point Vil said the button wasn’t the right one and asked for a different one; Leona handed him a new one and said “Oh btw this is a magic button, it always comes back even if it comes off.” Vil was like “????” and Leona explained sometimes he’ll leave his clothes that lost a button in his room, and he’ll find it later with this button sewed back on again

Vil said it’s probably Ruggie who quietly sews them back on for him 😭😭 but smh Leona just replied “Oh well same deal, it always comes back”

Jack 🐺 I’ll Expose Your Crimes!

Jack smells something weird in the cafeteria and decides to go investigate. The smell first leads him to the Leech twins; he wrestles Floyd for this suspicious briefcase that they have (turns out there was just a beauty serum inside that they were bringing to a customer). Then Jack realizes the smell was actually coming from Epel; he forcibly pulls a container out from Epel’s jacket pocket and finds... several types of onion product in there (Jack hates onions). Epel reveals he’s been hiding the onions because Vil is forcing him to eat really bland food and the onions help give them flavor.

Jack suspected the smell was a chemical leak in the school and his first thought was “I won’t be able to get in today’s workout!!” sir,,,,,

His sense of smell gets immensely better in his wolf form

After they sorted everything out, Epel invited Jack to sit with him for lunch 🥺

Ruggie 🐆 In Grandma’s Hands

Ruggie comes down to the cafeteria in the middle of the night because Leona wanted a midnight snack. He finds a bunch of vegetables in the kitchen and decides to make some soup with them. Jade appears and informs him that those actually belong to him; to avoid having to owe him any debts, Ruggie offers to teach Jade some ways to cook them, since the reason Jade had left them there in the first place was so that he could ask the ghost chefs for recipe suggestions in the morning.

The awkward laugh they shared when Ruggie realized the vegetables were Jade’s tho 😂😂 I wish the side stories were voiced omg

The one who taught Ruggie all of those recipes was his grandma

Also Ruggie sings while he cooks 👁👁💖

Azul 🐙 Just One Die

Idia brings a game called The Magical Game of Life to one of the board game club meetings; Azul gets very passionate about it despite at first turning his nose up at games that only rely on luck. Eventually he starts practicing how to perfectly throw a die to land on the number he wants so he can cheat the luck factor.

Azul.... honest to god he never slacks off 😭

Jade 🐬 A Mindset I Can’t Understand

Jade is making teas in the middle of the courtyard when Kalim stops by to see what’s going on. Kalim ends up talking about teas from his home, and Jade asks if he could show him how to brew the special tea they have for guests. It’s supposed to be super sweet so Kalim insists on dumping as much sugar as possible into the cup, but Jade really hates sugar.

Kalim got so disgusted when Jade was talking about his raw meat diet in the sea 😂😂

But also Kalim 🙏 He tries so hard to help everyone but he always happens to miss the mark

Floyd 🦈 Talk with Me About Something Fun

Floyd gets bored working on a report so he decides to go bug Riddle, insisting that they do their homework together. He helps Riddle find a book he needs but won’t quit playing around with him over it. In his anger, Riddle brings up how differently Jade is compared to him, and Floyd immediately gets bored and leaves.

The book Riddle needed was called “The History of Magic Carpet Weaving”

Kalim 🦂 Let’s Get Along!

Kalim is shopping at Mr. S’s Mystery Shop for the Scarabia 1st years welcome party. Riddle asks him why he’s the one running errands and not Jamil (the reason was that Jamil was stressed with how Kalim was handling the decorations for the party so sent him away basically 😂). Kalim ends up inviting Riddle to the party; he only agrees after he hears there will be a magic carpet there.

Kalim is so rich it hurts 💀 Riddle called him out for yawning during dorm leader meetings and he said “If I yawned at Scarabia, Jamil would just get my bed ready for me!”

When he was talking about the magic carpet Kalim said “Let’s go to the end of the world together” (Was that the name of the wintry tundra in Aladdin??)

This is the one where Kalim talks about how he only eats Jamil’s food because he used to get poisoned as a child; his dad & Jamil had told him “This is the fate of the oldest son of the Asim family”

Jamil 🐍 I Mean It

At lunch, Kalim and Ruggie go get food for themselves plus Jamil and Leona; while they’re waiting, Leona implies that Jamil might try to hurt Kalim someday, much to Jamil’s offense. Later Ruggie and Jamil mull over having to work with their respective ‘masters.’

Leona’s intelligence is often downplayed bc of how lazy he is but he really is good at figuring things out 👁 This was shown in Cater’s story too.

Ruggie and Jamil having that little squabble about how they think each other’s masters (for lack of a better word) would be more difficult to deal with was kind of cute 😂

#twisted wonderland #rambles #THESE ARE SO SATISFYING OMG #you wouldn't believe how many times I think 'lets read some personal stories :D' but then every one I click sounds so familiar #I know I haven't read them all #I just can't tell which ones I already read #lets just go through all of them again problem solved #this time taking notes 🖊

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esmealux · 3 years

Photo

Bloody Hell

Part: 1 / 2

Setting: After 5a

Word count: 3K

Rating: T

Summary: Lucifer’s first period.

The elevator dings as Lucifer reaches the penthouse. ‘And the Devil’s back! I found your breakfast burritos and now a guy owes me a favour, so all in all, a successful trip,’ he tells her as he takes off his jacket and places it on the bar. With Chloe’s breakfast in hand, he turns towards his sofa to grin at her, only to discover she isn’t lying there, closer to ‘naked’ than ‘dressed’, like she was when he left to fetch her some food.

‘Detective?’ he calls out, walking up the steps to his bedroom. The bed is empty apart from the crumbled black silk sheets and her bra. His heart starts drumming a little faster against his ribcage.

‘Detective, where are you?’ His voice is rough and squeaky, the words almost resonating off the walls in the silent penthouse. Much too silent.

He starts searching the entire place, looking for signs of struggle and clues that’ll show him which one of his wretched siblings has kidnapped her this time. After investigating the living room and balcony thoroughly, turning every piece of furniture, looking behind every curtain, he goes back to his bedroom to check if she’s miraculously popped up. When she (still) isn’t under the bed, he’s inflamed, his annoyance and anxiety building into infernal heat, spreading through his body like a wildfire. ‘Detective, I swear to you, I will punish whoever-’

‘Lucifer, calm down,’ he suddenly hears her say, her voice muffled. The sound has relief washing over him, calming down his blazing body. ‘I’m in here.’

As he realises she’s in the bathroom, he hurriedly strides down the hall, presses his body to the door, and yanks down the handle. It’s locked. Panic still hot in his throat, he clenches his hand around the gold, ready to break in when she snaps at him from behind the door. ‘Jesus, Lucifer, what have I told you about privacy?!’

He wants to comment on her choice of exclamation, but something in her voice stops him. ‘Right. Sorry, Detective.’ He puts a hand on the door, tenderly. ‘I just- Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she assures him, still a little peeved. ‘Could you just do something for me, please?’

‘Anything your heart desires,’ he says with a grin, the last embers of fear now put out by the sound of her slightly annoyed (and thus natural) voice.

‘Well, I really desire that you find my purse and bring it to me. I think I put it on the bar.’

He frowns, thinking. ‘Uhm, no. You didn’t. In fact, it’s not anywhere in the penthouse, I’m afraid.’

‘Wha- You already looked?’ she asks, surprised.

‘Well, technically, yes.’

He hears her mutter something along the lines of ‘what does that even mean?’ before she, quite sceptically, asks, ‘Are you sure? Lucifer, I’m not in the mood for pranks right now.’

When are you ever? he thinks, still disappointed she didn’t appreciate his creativity last time he tried to lighten the mood. But he’s not looking to rouse her now, so he tells her the truth, hoping it will allay her annoyance, inexplicable as he finds it. ‘If you really must know, I spent five full minutes searching the entire place for signs that you’d been hurt by one of my pathetic relatives, so yes, Detective, I am pretty damn sure your little too big and quite mum-ish bag isn’t here,’ he tells her. He hears her grunt a profanity he’s only ever heard her moan ecstatically in the throes of passion; now it’s laced with frustration and despair. Something is going on with her, and he needs to figure out what it is before she ruins more of his favourite words.

‘Why on Earth do you need your rucksack in my bathroom anyway?’

‘It’s not a rucksack,’ she tells him.

‘Ah, nice try! But I will not let you deflect my truly relevant question. What is it you need, Detective?’ He tries again, more inquisitively this time.

No answer.

His brow creases with worry and the slightest hint of an ache settles in his chest. ‘What’s going on?’

Several heart beats pass. He tries to remain patient but after seven seconds, his hands are banging on the door and yanking down the antique French handle aggressively. ‘Detective, let me in please! Did you use the razor Maze made you? I told you not to do that! Are you hurt? Did you trip? Do you have a nosebleed? Dearie me, did you get yourself poisoned again? I- Just please tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, I want to help,’ he says, his voice going softer towards the end. With anyone else, he’s not easily alarmed, but the Devil’s girlfriend does tend to get herself into danger a little more often than the average person.

He hears her sigh, short and sharply. ‘If you want to help me, you need to calm down,’ she tells him in the same slow and placid voice she uses on people who are bold enough to point a gun at her. ‘I’m fine.’

He takes a deep, shaky breath, her words easing his nerves a little.

‘Then why are you acting so… strange? And why in Dad’s name are you hiding in my bathroom? I mean, bloody hell, Detective, I was mere seconds from filing an MPR!’

She snorts, murmuring something about a drama queen. Then silence. A deep breath.

‘Well,’ she finally says, still an annoyed edge to her tone. ‘‘Bloody hell’ is not that far off, actually.’

He knits his brow. ‘Excuse me?’

She sighs deeply behind the door. ‘It’s just, uhm, you know… lady stuff.’

He blinks, dumbfounded.

‘Oh,’ is what he replies.

He would tease her about the euphemism, pretend he doesn’t understand, but he understands. He understands everything. Thinking back to the night before, he remembers her acting a little oddly then as well - giggly and gleeful one moment, fractious and bitter the next. He’d blamed it on her tipsiness, but now that he thinks about it, and does the math, she did take him hostage on a similar emotional rollercoaster ride, one, two, three, circa four weeks ago. And, yes, four weeks before that, too. The first time, he’d thought it was the stress from having her mother stay over for the urchin’s birthday. The second time, he’d indicted the particularly troubling case they’d been working. But it hadn’t (solely) been Penelope Decker nor a frustrating and possibly record-breaking number of dead ends that had made the Detective chaotically jump around the emotional spectrum to the point he’d worried she was suffering from a light personality disorder. No, apparently, it was the tiny rascals known to humans as ‘hormones’ who’d been wreaking havoc in her brain, manipulating her emotions – then and now.

He hasn’t uttered anything apart from the one (cleverly phrased) syllable since the revelation, and she must interpret his silence as lack of comprehension, because she begins to explain the bloody thing: ‘You know, when a woman-’

‘Yes, thank you, Detective, I am familiar with the concept of menstruation. Quite popular method of torture in Hell, actually,’ he informs her, cutting her biology lesson short.

‘Tell me about it.’

‘Well, surprisingly, it’s mostly-’

‘That was a rhetorical- Never mind.’

He hears more than just annoyance in her voice now; she’s in pain. His chest aches again. ‘Is something wrong? I mean, I have met a lot of women whose deepest desires were to be knocked out cold during Aunt Flo’s monthly visit, but at least we know for certain there isn’t a mini-Satan inside you, ravaging your uterus,’ he points out in an attempt to cheer her up. It’s mostly a joke, because it shouldn’t be possible—isn’t possible—and yet a part of him is still exceedingly relieved that she, after three weeks of thoroughly unprotected (and sinfully delectable) sex with him, isn’t carrying, well, the Devil’s spawn.

‘Kinda feels like someone’s ravaging my uterus,’ she says with a groan. His heart starts pounding, hard and deafening. Dark spots appear before his eyes as blood leaves his head.

‘I- that’s not- what?’

‘No, Lucifer. Relax. I’m not pregnant.’ She tries to sound mild and calm, but he can tell she’s aggravated, and horribly pained. ‘It’s just cramps.’

‘Oh, right,’ he mumbles, a full-blown panic attack officially averted. Still, something in her voice makes his teeth grit and his eyes flare red. He wants to punish whatever in her body is putting her through such… torture, wants to torture it back. Or, since he can’t really do that, just have a quick chat with his father and whoever assisted him in designing the inhumanly excruciating menstrual cramps. (And humans think the Devil is the one who’s truly evil.) But he realises a family discussion might not actually help his suffering Detective right now, so instead he wills his voice to sound calm and asks her, ‘Is there anything I can do?’

As he waits, quite impatiently, for her answer, he pulls out his phone and googles ‘what to do when your girlfriend’s surfing the crimson wave.’ He’s about to tap on the top hit when she replies, ‘Uhm, well, yes, there is, actually.’ Her words both surprise and delight him. He loves to feel needed.

‘Lovely! Whatever you need, I’m here to fix it as your very own PA.’ He puts his phone back, letting his hand stay in his pocket, and clarifies, ‘Period Assistant.’ As usual, she rudely ignores his clever play on words.

‘Okay, I just need to know if you have any… stuff? Like, maybe Eve had a stash somewhere?’

‘Stuff?’ he asks, beyond clueless as to what she’s hinting at.

‘Yeah, you know-’ she starts explaining when he interrupts her, suddenly remembering. ‘Well, come to think of it, Eve did indeed have a stash!’

‘She did?’ She sounds relieved, and it makes his heart flutter a little. ‘Do you know where? ‘Cause I searched all your cabinets, but I couldn’t find anything.’

‘Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s in my bookshelf,’ he says, already turning to go find it. ‘Would you prefer marijuana or molly?’

‘For God’s sake, Lucifer!’ she screams behind him, the door between them doing very little to lower the sound. ‘I don’t need freaking party drugs! This,’ she says, breathing angrily. A couple of seconds pass. ‘This is what I need.’

A tissue slides out under the door. With a raised eyebrow, he bends down to pick it up and sees that she’s scribbled some words on it with what appears to be an eyeliner. He doesn’t know what any of them mean. Well, ‘ibuprofen’ and ‘don’t be an ass’ he understands, but the rest are foreign to him.

‘Right, are these strippers’ names, or…? I think I’ve made a deal with an Always once, actual-’

‘They’re feminine hygiene products, Lucifer! I need feminine hygiene products! I want you to go buy me a whole lot I can leave in here, so I’ll never need to have this conversation ever again!’ she shouts, fuming all of a sudden. ‘So go out, and get me some tampons and pads—and that’s pads with wings! ‘Cause I swear to God, Lucifer, if you come back with pads that do not have wings, I might actually cut off your d-’

‘Yes, we get the picture, Detective!’ he cuts her off, chuckling nervously. It’s not that he hasn’t experienced his partner pissed before (he calls it Tuesday as a matter of fact), but she’s never threatened to mutilate him. ‘Whatever you need,’ he appeases her, his voice sweet and velvety. ‘Anything else?’ He reads the list she has given him, carefully paying attention to every request this time. ‘Right, ibuprofen for the- yes, your cramps. I’m afraid I’ve run out, but I’m sure I can get some wherever I’ll find,’—he squints his eyes to focus on the words — ‘Always ultra thin super long pads with flexie-wings and… Tampax pearl compak super. I mean, who the Hell names these things? Not that it matters, of course. If that’s what you need, that’s what you’ll get,’ he assures her.

As he studies her order closely one more time, his stomach growls and he realises that neither of them has eaten anything yet. He immediately offers to bring her breakfast to her; surely, her body needs alle the strength it can get to overcome whatever unpleasant side-effects other than dysmenorrhea his oh, so benevolent father has so generously granted the female population of the Earth.

‘Yes, please,’ she croaks meekly behind the door in response to his offer. ‘That would be nice.’

He goes to retrieve the burritos from atop the piano where he’d dropped them in the haste of his search. Once he’s back with them, he—gently—knocks on the door. After a couple of seconds, he hears the key turn before she opens the door just enough to reach out her arm through the crack. He’s about to give her the branded paper bag, when he thinks twice of it and instead takes her hand in his, entwining their fingers. Softly, he strokes the back of her hand and pulls it lightly, prompting her to come out. When she opens the door a little more, the sight that greets him stings his heart. Exhaustion has coloured the skin beneath her eyes purple and her usually ocean blue eyes a matte grey. Her posture is oddly sunken, like she wants to curl into a ball, and her chest heaves as she breathes heavily. She looks truly miserable, and yet she’s still a sight for sore eyes, as she stands there, wearing one of his white Prada shirts and…

‘Are those… my boxers?’ he asks her with a raised eyebrow and a pleased smile. She looks down to where his eyes have just landed. ‘Well, yeah, I couldn’t- my own underwear…,’ she trails off. ‘I’ve lined them with paper towels, just so I don’t, you know. I hope it’s okay.’ She looks strangely sheepish. He leans over to place a kiss on her forehead. ‘Oh, it’s more than okay. It’s sexy,’ he tells her with a grin. ‘And quite cute, to be frank.’

She chuckles, replacing the ache in his chest with a pleasant, buzzing warmth. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use the word “cute” before,’ she points out, looking up at him through her long eyelashes as she leans her forehead against his. He notices the hint of a smile on her lips, and his own smile grows wider. ‘Well, you’ve never worn my underwear before,’ he reminds her, nuzzling her nose. ‘Mmm, that is true.’ Her voice is nothing but a whisper as she leans just an inch forward to get a kiss from him, which he happily he gives her.

‘Why don’t you draw yourself a nice, hot bath,’ he proposes, booping her nose. Then an image from Jaws invades his mind, and warily, but with a glint in his eyes, he adds, ‘Unless that would make a true bloodbath.’ She pulls away from him, slowly but purposefully. Untangling their hands, she crosses her arms across her chest (he tries not to notice how it makes her cleavage deliciously peek out behind his hardly buttoned shirt). She glares at him with a look which, historically, means they will be communicating exclusively in scoffs, snorts, death stares and well, I am truly sorry for whatever it is I’ve done but can we please forget about it and go back to being a dynamic duo’s the rest of the day. With a short yet undoubtedly disapproving shake of her head, she snatches the breakfast bag from his hand before slamming the door in his face. ‘Detective, I-’ he stammers as the gush of air hits his front, possibly making his yet to be tamed bed hair look even more scandalous.

He hears the rustling and crinkling of paper as she takes out her breakfast. ‘List,’ she demands sharply with her mouth full—and not in the way that had him gripping the sheets till his knuckles turned white last night. By the sound of her voice, he’ll need to do right by her if he wishes to ever experience that again.

‘Yes, darling, I’ll do nothing but my best,’ he promises her, casting a last glance at the list in question before folding it neatly into his pocket. He starts walking down the hall when the sound of his name makes him turn on his heels to face the door. He senses another reprimand and braces himself, softly offering a simple ‘Detective?’ in response.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice is sweet and apologetic, all aggravation suddenly gone.

‘What on-’ he mumbles under his breath, completely bewildered by her emotional U-turn. He’s wise enough not to comment on it, however, smiles instead, glad he can be of use, and playfully, yet still in a tone that assures her he means no harm, says, ‘Well, it’s the least I can do for my menstruating partner.’

‘Please stop saying “menstruating”,’ she tells him between bites, sounding a little brassed off again. He considers asking her why but decides against it, responding with a simple ‘Noted’ instead.

He hears the shower start running and decides to depart, wanting to be back before she’s done. ‘Alright then, off I go on my quest!’ he sings out, hoping it’s loud enough for her to hear over the shower spray, but the water stops and she calls out a ‘what?’. She has probably already stepped into the shower cabin, adorning his bathroom with all her wet and naked glory. Oh, to be a marble tile on the wall, getting an unobstructed view of her exquisite br-

‘Did you say something, honey?’ she calls again when he hasn’t replied. It’s not the first time she uses the term of endearment, but it still makes warmth pool low in his stomach. He’s so smitten—not a cell in his body can deny that anymore. Especially not the part of his body that’s currently straining his tailored slacks.

He clears his throat and shamelessly adjusts himself.

‘Hm? No, I was just announcing my exit. Try not to bleed to death while I’m gone, will you?’

‘I can’t- That’s not possi-’ she stammers behind him as he makes his way to the elevator, grabbing his jacket as he walks past the bar. Before she can finish whatever protest she’s trying to enounce, he’s already in the elevator, sending a text to Linda:

What in the ever-living Hell does ‘pads with wings’ mean?

Read part 2, ‘Granniest Panties’, here

#deckerstar fanfiction #fluff #deckerstar fluff #lucifer x chloe #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #lucifer on netflix #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer's first period #post 5a #T #established #writing

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