#I think I will start drawing him in more off the shoulder jumpers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

petrichorium · 1 year

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“you broke up with nagi?”

you yelp at the sound of a voice behind you as you leave your apartment, dropping your key as you spin around and clutch your purse instinctively.

it’s reo. he’s leaning against the half-wall across from your door, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with some kind of contemplative frown marring his features.

“mikage, fuck, you scared me.” the familiar face has you relaxing. he only continues to stare you down, and you realize that he’s actually looking for a response; you clear your throat and shift a little awkwardly. “uh, yeah. it just wasn’t working out.”

his frown deepens. it’s distinctly ugly, you think—the furrow of his brow, the way his nose crinkles.

it’s now that you take note of his clothes—the jumper he wears is a pretty blue, certainly costing more than six month’s rent, and the jeans are expertly fitted. this is a singular visit, he hasn’t stopped by on the way to his work. you figure he’s taken the day off; perhaps for this specifically, or perhaps to support nagi. it isn’t your business anymore.

nor are you reo’s business anymore.

“what are you doing here?”

you watch his brow furrow further, that contemplative frown returning in full force. his eyes dart to the side, lips pursed, and he crosses his arms again.

for half a moment, you watch him. when he neither moves nor begins to speak again you decide to finish locking up while he ponders whatever it is that’s nagging at him.

you turn, glancing down to scan the concrete floor for your dropped key. the glint catches your eye a few inches away from where it had fallen—you crouch to pick it up, acutely aware of the pencil skirt and heels you’re wearing for the office.

when you rise to your feet you feel reo at your back before it fully registers.

how he spanned the distance so quickly and silently is beyond you, though you’re inclined to blame those professional athlete abilities. it doesn’t much matter either way when you spin around and find that he’s now right before you.

you lurch backward, shoulders slamming into your closed door, staring at him and his proximity with wide eyes.

“mikage…“ you trail off as he tilts his head.

“do you think i hate you?” the words are off—quiet and absent-minded, like he’s talking to himself, not you. it’s only magnified by the way he stares not at your eyes but at your lips.

you swallow thickly. “i don’t really care. nagi liked me, that’s all that mattered.”

“you don’t care…” reo gives a little huff. he pulls away just slightly, eyes flitting sideways as his hand flies up to ruffle his hair.

“reo—“ you start, and then catch yourself, but the damage is done. his eyes widen and his arm drops and he draws closer, closing the distance in a single step. at the same time he reaches out with his hand to brace against the door behind you, trapping you between his arm and the barricade next to you. you forget how big he is until times like this—until he crowds you up with your back to the wall, and every bit of your vision is filled with him, and he’s so close you’re surrounded by the heat of his body and the smell of his nice luxury cologne.

“to be honest i always did hate when you were around.” you feel his laugh fan over your skin, warm and husky. “but when he told me you’d broken it off with him, i was furious.”

“reo,” you say again, and you’re not even certain what it is you’re pleading for anymore.

“all i could think to do was come here to see you, couldn’t tell you why, but now… well.” he’s careful not to touch you, only to hover, and that’s worse somehow—it has your heartbeat quickening, your stomach flipping. it has you turning your head away and inadvertently baring your neck to him, a motion he takes full advantage of as he dips his head to almost-but-not-quite brush lips against your pulsepoint, and your breath hitches, eyes closing. “now i understand it.”

“stop,” your voice is hoarse, almost breaking, “nagi—”

“push me away, then.” it’s low, whispered like a secret, and he still doesn’t touch you but he keeps you pinned here, a butterfly under glass. as if to prove this point he presses closer, one polished leather shoe sliding forward between your legs, his free hand sliding behind your back. “push me off. i’ll leave. or…”

he drags that featherlight touch up your neck, along your jaw; stops just over your lips, eyes heavy-lidded and halfway to closed. you feel the words against you more than you hear them, spoken so quietly—like if he doesn’t say it aloud it isn’t a betrayal of his best friend.

you could kiss me.

and, really, it’s on reo—nagi, you remind yourself, isn’t your responsibility anymore. reo is the one betraying him. when you press forward, no more than a centimeter, it’s that thought which propels you. when you reach out to tug him in with a fist bunching that handsome sweater, you disregard how much you still care about your still-fresh ex.

and when you come to your senses a fraction of a second later it doesn’t matter. reo surges after you, encouraged by the minuscule taste of a kiss that you’d given him. if you’d thought him overwhelming before it’s nothing like now, as his arms close in and he presses you flush between him and your own front door.

his hand slides in behind you and sprawls, hot and heavy, wide at the small of your back; the other finds your cheek, cradles it gently but insistently as he gives you no choice but to tilt your head up towards his for easier access. in the back of your mind you feel like a horrible person for comparing, but it’s difficult not to—reo’s kiss is desperate, fervent, stark contrast to the lazy way nagi always kissed you. it’s messy, with clacking teeth and a questing tongue and the obscenely loud sound of spit-slick lips. your head would have slammed into the solid wood behind you if not for his hand cushioning you, and you can’t help but melt into him, falling limp in his hold.

before long you’re forced to turn your head and break away for air, chest heaving as you catch the breath he’s stolen from your lungs. he has no such need. his mouth doesn’t leave your skin, but in the absence of yours he turns his attention to sucking what will inevitably be a deep, lewd mark just beneath your jaw at the pulsepoint he’d been so interested in before. and it hits you then, exactly why he’s fixated: months ago, it’d been a mark right there that had revealed your relationship with nagi to him.

the revelation snaps you out of whatever spell you’d been under and you yank your hand back from his chest like it’s been burned. it slams into the door handle, still yet to be locked by the key you clutch in your other—which gives you the only thought you can manage with your mind so fogged by the feeling of his lips on your neck. you still fumble a bit, but you turn it, let the door swing back from behind you and feel the swoop in the pit of your stomach that accompanies your body dropping.

now you thank everything for those pro athlete instincts, because just as quickly as your support falls away reo is there to wrap his arm securely around your waist and, before you can even react, turn the pair of you around so that you land on his chest and he takes the brunt of the fall.

“ow— fuck, are you okay?” he’s sprawled out on the floor of your foyer, one arm around your waist as he blinks away the shock. that jumper is ruffled, bunched up the side to give you a little peek at the taut expanse of skin beneath, as he rubs at the back of his head with his free hand. ironically, you think this suits him better than the stiff, polished mannerisms he typically employs. there’s a boyish charm to the wide, dazed look and the little purse of his lips, the way his hair is now mussed. you’re almost inclined to giggle before you remind yourself, quite sternly, that reo’s charisma has always been a little overwhelming even when he isn’t trying. still, you soften, even easing into his hand at your waist.

but then he pauses in his motions, and lifts his head, and his eyes jump to the now-still door before meeting yours—and you fling yourself back, breath hitching as you settle on your haunches as far away from him as you can manage in a single motion.

“was that on purpose?” he asks, leaning forward to sit up and reach out towards you, all wild-eyed and hazy. you scramble back even further.

there’s a glint to those eyes now that they’ve fallen on you, something you don’t dare to name. something that makes you want to slam the door in his face and never return to your own apartment for fear of what you’ve trapped within; something you’ve only ever seen when he’s looked at nagi but only now realize can be turned on someone else, something you hope desperately is a fluke.

(the following day, when you arrive at work to find your desk flooded with hundreds of deep purple roses, you know it was a futile hope.)

prequel

#reo x reader #reo x y/n #reo x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #mine.🌧#char.🌧 reo #OKAY SDFHV OKAY THERE WE GO #if there r mistakes...... shaddup #JHSBDFJHB #i hope this isnt too tonally confusing #reader is Very Ambivalent okay we'll just blame it on that #and pretend it wasnt that i was very ambivalent abt how i wanted this to go LMFAOOOOOO #n e way #enjoy ig

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ultimatesmuts · 7 months

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Hey there! I just wanted to tell you how much I love your work, particularly your Draco Malfoy fluff stories. If you happen to be taking requests, I was wondering if you might consider writing a soft Draco fluff where they're kissing and he playfully nibbles on her lip, causing it to swell. It'd be cute if he teases her by calling her a sweet little puff fish. Thanks!

Hello, and thanks! Sorry this has taken me so long I’ve been super busy with work and life stuff! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I tried my best, I usually don’t write much about lip swelling so I hope this was okay!

Tender Kisses🌸

Description:

Y/N and her boyfriend Draco just recently started dating, and Draco takes her on a date to Hogsmeade to celebrate their one month anniversary, where they enjoy each other’s company and share sweet kisses with one another 🥰

Y/N sat in the Slytherin common room, where Draco asked her to wait for him. She dressed in fleece lined leggings, one of Draco’s Slytherin jumpers, and warm furry boots. They were headed to Hogsmeade after all, and it was January.

Y/N looked up to the top of the stairs and smiled when she saw Draco begin to descend down the stairs towards her, carrying his coat in his arm.

“Hello, beautiful”, he says softly, admiring her adorable little blush she got from his words. “Are you ready?”, he asks, holding out his hand to help her up off of the couch

Y/N nods her head, smiling a small smile up at him as he pulls her up

The two of them start making their way through the snow towards Hogsmeade, now with their coats, hats, gloves, and matching Slytherin scarves keeping them warm as they walk together hand in hand

Draco leads Y/N towards the Three Broomsticks, and holds the door open for her. She blushes and quietly thanks him before stepping inside.

The two of them sigh happily as the warm air inside the building hits their faces, still rosy from the crisp winter air

Draco turns towards Y/N, grinning as he snatches her hat off of her head, making her hair stick up from the static. “Hey!” Y/N giggles, trying to take her hat back, but Draco holds it above his head, making it impossible for her to reach due to their height difference

Draco places a quick peck on the top of her head before leading her to a booth in the corner of the tavern.

Y/N blushes at the sweet gesture and follows him, sitting down in the booth and allowing him to slide in next to her.

Y/N scoots up close to Draco, leaning against him sweetly.

Draco looks down at her and smiles “are you cold, darling?” He asks

“No, I just like being close to you”, Y/N responds, clinging onto him and burying her head into his shoulder to hide her blushing face. Draco chuckles lightly as he takes in her cuteness. He really thinks she’s so sweet and adorable

The waiter comes to take their orders, and Y/N orders a hot chocolate. Draco says he likes her idea and orders one as well. As soon as the waiter brings their drinks, Draco wraps his arm around Y/N, hugging her from the side.

Y/N looks up at him, their faces now just inches apart, and she can’t help but get lost in his enchanting blue-grey eyes.

“Draco” she whispers, feeling heat rise to her cheeks, causing her to bite her lip in anticipation

This causes Draco’s eyes to focus on her lips, his breath catching in his throat as he uses his free hand to gently cup her face, slowly drawing her closer to his own.

Y/N feels an intense tingling sensation in her lips, a burning, longing sensation to feel his lips against hers. She can feel his breath on her lips, and she begins to close her eyes, leaning forward slightly.

When their lips collide, it’s like the world around them stops. No other people, no other sounds, it’s just Y/N and Draco.

Y/N can feel the heat radiating off of Draco’s body, warming her heart even more than usual as they continue kissing.

Draco starts gently moving his lips against hers, savoring her sweetness as she mimics his movements. He feels his heart swell from his love for her, gently smiling into the kiss.

Y/N gently parts her lips, allowing Draco’s tongue to enter her mouth. She lets out a soft sigh as Draco starts kissing her more intensely, pulling her flush against his own body and playfully nibbling on her lip now and then.

He feels his own body heating up, feeling desires to mark her as his. He starts kissing gently on her neck, pulling a very soft moan from her delicate lips, which immediately draws him back to them.

As Y/N’s desire increases, so does Draco’s. Y/N wraps her arms around the back of his neck, pulling herself onto his lap, needing to be as close to him as possible. This makes Draco stifle a moan, as he can feel himself getting worked up from her actions.

Y/N laces her fingers in Draco’s hair, which entices Draco to bite down on Y/N’s lip while his hands grip her waist firmly.

Y/N let’s out a gasp, pulling away for some air and blushing intensely when she realizes the state the both of them are in.

Draco can’t keep his eyes off of her adorable blushing and slightly swollen face. He smiles sweetly, gently brushing her warm cheek with his thumb, before turning his gaze towards her puffy, pink and swollen lips from their kissing.

“Awwwww, you’re so adorable, Y/N. I love you”, Draco says, leaning in for a short and sweet kiss before pulling away and gently running his thumb across her swollen lower lip, admiring her beauty in this moment

“I love you too, Draco”, Y/N says as she looks back up at Draco, blushing and smiling before burying her face in his chest

“Awww darling don’t hide, I wanna see your cute little face with your cute little lips all swollen from kissing me”, Draco lowly says, tilting her head back up towards him, smiling sweetly

Y/N feels her face turn bright red, feeling embarrassed as she bashfully looks up at Draco

Draco chuckles lightly, gently stroking her pink cheeks in adoration. “Don’t worry my love, I think you’re perfect just like this. You’re like my own sweet little puff fish” he says before leaning in and kissing her softly once again, feeling the love between them swell

“Happy one month, darling”, Draco says happily, hugging Y/N tight

“Happy one month, Draco”, Y/N responds, smiling widely and feeling her heart bloom with love

💕💕💕💕💕🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x you #draco fluff #draco malfoy fluff

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queenburd · 4 months

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crossposted to ao3. a followup to this.

|.|.|.|

Eventually, though, it has to come to an end.

Restlessness finds him, makes his joints achy from keeping still for so long. His head starts to pound. The hum of the lights starts to overwhelm. It’s time to go.

Stanley tugs gently at the narrator’s sweater to try to gain his attention. There’s no real response. He bats a bit at his friend’s chest, to little avail. The narrator’s eyes stay affixed to the lights above them. Is he even blinking?

Grimacing, Stanley clambers onto his hands and knees, and lifts his body to hover over the fellow’s, blocking his view and meeting his eye. This, at least, gets a reaction, a sudden rapid blinking as his gaze focuses.

“Oh—hello, Stanley,” he says rather quickly. His eyes keep flickering from Stanley’s face above him to the peripherals, trying to find the lights again, before they flick back to meet his gaze. “Feeling more rested, are we?”

Stanley nods. It’s time to go.

“Oh, already? Alright, give me a moment.”

Seconds tick by, and nothing happens. They are still in this room.

Stanley sighs. He clambers off the narrator to sit up properly, and thinks. Eventually, he comes to a decision and gets to his feet.

He stands over the narrator again, cutting into his view, and offers his hands. Two warm firm hands take his own without fuss, and he pulls his friend to his feet. The narrator’s gaze is still focused upward when Stanley takes his hand and leads him across the platform. A free hand finds the rail. His head turns to continue looking towards the lights when he is ushered carefully down the stairs, out the doorway into the hall.

Once there, Stanley holds him gently by the shoulders and presses his back to the wall beside the doorframe. From this angle, there is no way to see the stars.

The narrator’s face shifts slowly. There had been a longing in his gaze, some kind of need, that had lived there as long as his attention had been captured. Now, without the siren song, he looks a little lost.

“Thank you, Stanley,” he finally says, not meeting Stanley’s eyes. “I’ll, I’ll reset in a moment. I just need a… a moment…”

And then his eyebrows draw together, his mouth twists hard, and the narrator begins to cry.

Some kind of instinct kicks on in Stanley’s head. He lets the fellow slide down the wall to sit on the concrete, and sits beside him, wrapping an arm around shaking shoulders and pulling the narrator’s face to let him sob into the curve of his neck.

“I don’t—I don’t know why I’m—“ his friend chokes out between gasps for air. Stanley rocks him, feeling his fingers curl into his shirt.

It’s the loss, he thinks. It’s the first time the narrator is experiencing the dramatic shift of emotion in a model. Most people would be overwhelmed. It’s a shock to the system, and the system responds by crying. It’s okay. Just cry.

“But—but I—I don’t want to—“

Body isn’t giving him a choice. Don’t give it more stress by being upset you can’t control its responses. Just ride it out.

There’s a harsh gasp, and the narrator shakes even harder, clinging desperately to him. Stanley presses his cheek to his hair and cards a hand through it, radiating all the comfort he could ever offer. While he doesn’t in any way enjoy the fellow’s distress, it is distinctly nice that he can finally provide the care and support he’s been offered for so many years.

The crying slows, after a bit. The narrator wears himself out, sniffling against Stanley’s chest. “This is ridiculous,” he finally says weakly, exasperated. “Honestly, what an unwarranted reaction this body decided to have.”

Stanley doesn’t have anything to say to that. He just squeezes him.

“Okay. I’m going to properly reset now.” And he does at least sound a bit more put together, more like himself. “Thank you. For getting us out here so I could think.”

And between blinks, the game resets. When Stanley exits his office, he is not greeted by a graying gentleman in a comfortable jumper.

“I’m sorry, Stanley, but I was feeling rather overwhelmed after that last run. I think I need to put the model away, just for a bit. Is that alright?”

The voice sounds ashamed, and there’s no denying that there’s a sense of loss at the fact they have to go back to the usual routine. But honestly, Stanley can’t find it in himself to hold it against him. He’s never really experienced emotions in a form so small, comparatively.

So Stanley offers a thumbs up and a smile.

“Oh, oh good. I was having a good deal of fun with it, just to be clear, but—if you’re alright with a return to form for a bit, then we’ll get back to it at a later time.”

He nods.

(And it’s fine. Really, it is. After all, even like this, his narrator still feels present. His voice is still a comforting weight around his shoulders. It still feels like an embrace.

He’ll always be happy to meet him in the middle. Always.)

#the stanley parable #tsp #tspud #tsp stanley #tsp narrator #stannarrator #the sparrow parable #may writes

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iwritemilfs · 4 months

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My dudes this is so fucking unrelated to anything and everything BUT we just got our first sorta bts pic from the new season of the newsreader, and bc I can't just enjoy things for what they are, I WANNA HAVE A CHAT ABOUT HELEN’S WARDROBE JOURNEY.

First of all imma say that yes, the seasons have had different costume designers, so styling will inevitably vary some. Its also set over a period of time, from the mid to late 80s, so like I UNDERSTAND THAT FASHION WILL CHANGE but I think Helen’s styling choices have more to do with her character development. Hear me out.

In season one we’re introduced to Helen, she’s a news anchor (and I think it’s important to note that she’s the first female newsreader at news at six). She’s on the desk alongside someone who has DECADES of experience, and who’s very much a household name. She honestly sort of plays second fiddle to him.

So let's have a conversation about how (I think) her (mainly on air) styling follows her journey and her character development.

In season 1, her outfits are generally very traditionally feminine. Blouses, bows, lighter fabrics. And her colours are quite muted, she wears a lot of dusty tones. Her hair is large and wide, which gives her a softer look. Overall, her styling is quite “soft”. Even in more structured garments, the fabrics generally remain light, or give off a more cozy vibe. Helen’s such a powerhouse and a force to be reckoned with, but her clothing and styling detracts from that, it allows people to see her as less of a “threat”, and Geoff’s in the spotlight.

There is one instance very early on where she and Geoff are trying to film a promo, where he consistently messes up and she actually corrects him. Notice her outfit; it screams 'authority'. Geoff on the other hand, even though he's in a suit, looks almost disheveled and even small next to her.

It's only later on in the season that her silhouette begins to change slightly, the shoulders broaden, the neckline lowers. The colours are also darker. But yet, even though this first outfit is technically more structured compared to what she's worn earlier, there are ruffles on her shirt, and the fabrics almost read like taffeta - giving almost a prom vibe.

See that compared to an outfit she wears later on in the season when she's on the desk with Rob rather than Geoff. The silhouette is the same, the colours are similar, but she has a much more commanding presence. She's starting to take charge. The fabric looks more expensive, the shoulders are broader etc.

In the final episode of season one, the styling has changed ENTIRELY. and this ensemble is closer to what we'll see in season 2.

In season 2, Geoff is no longer with the network and Dale has taken over his position. Helen is now the one with more experience and the bigger name. Helen is the harsh and the blunt one, whereas Dale often comes across as more “human” and personal in his approach.

Helen’s outfits are now a lot more structured, featuring bolder colours and more expensive looking, heavier fabrics. Her shoulders are also often much sharper. She's essentially taking up more space with her appearance, and drawing more attention. Her hair is still big, but it doesn't feature as much volume at the sides. This gives her a sharper look. Also take note of how Dale is matching her, their colour palettes go together. This contrasts Helen and Geoff's time together on the desk, as their palettes clashed more. Helen and Dale are harmonious, whereas Helen and Geoff clashed in both personalities and fashion - Helen had to downplay herself. I wanna note that Helen is still seen wearing blouses on a few occasions on the desk - but again, the colours and prints are much bolder compared to the striped blouse in season 1.

Touching quickly on her casual outfits; in season 1, Helen is almost always seen in jeans or casual slacks, along with extremely simple singlets or jumpers. She rarely, if ever steps away from earth and neutral tones, and she's practically always in a pair of white runners. In season 2, even her casual outfits are changing and becoming bolder; at least in the first half. Here we see her sport blouses and shirts that have more colour; oranges, blues etc. still muted compared to her on air outfits, but bold compared to her season 1 casual fits. She also more often than not opts for more dressy trousers and she's almost always seen in a pair of stilettos. Towards the end of the season, however, we see the colour palette become more muted and neutral again. Personally, I see this working almost in tandem with how she’s losing Dale.

Then; episode five bb. This silhouette and outfit does in a way mirror her final season 1 outfit, but it's far more exaggerated. It's a wine red ensemble - a much darker shade of red than what she's previously sported, and the shape offers a somewhat exaggerated hourglass look - it's seductive.*This*, is her "revenge dress."

Now, let's get back to the important stuff. Towards the end of season 2, Helen's approached by a new network. She's offered a far better position, and she will be working in the states. Around this time is when we see her professional style shift somewhat again. It becomes far more sleek, with blazers that offer a much more traditionally masculine silhouette. They don't really come in at the waist, they're longer, and the shoulders are a much more prominent feature - yet they're not too big, she doesn't disappear in the garment. She's still in her stilettos - keep in mind that Helen's already relatively tall for a woman. She's essentially starting back at zero, in a male dominated field where she's already experienced tremendous amounts of hardship due to her gender. I imagine Helen's come a long way from when she first got a job in a newsroom. She's not gonna let people take advantage of her in one way or another. So she'll dress in a way that commands respect, in a way where people can't objectify or reduce her to a body or a pretty face.

From the one season 3 bts pic I've seen, I'm assuming this (said above) might be a continuing trend. Also clock the shorter hair, could be the fact that we're approaching a new decade, or could be related to what I mentioned above.

ALSO WANNA SAY THAT THESE ARE JUST MY THOUGHTS N OBSERVATIONS. I MIGHT BE WAY OFF, I MIGHT BE TALKING SHIT, IDEK

#;;ooc #feel free to ignore this bc it’s literally just me ranting about costuming for way too long #BUT HERE WE ARE

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lupinly · 7 months

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sirius painting remus' scars

[ sirius black x remus lupin, 862 words ]

sirius admired remus head to toe. he was utterly infatuated with the boy who absolutely hated himself. to sirius, remus was the most ethereal being that he ever laid his eyes on. for remus, he was a coldblooded monster who was no better than everyone else.

remus cursed as he looked himself in the mirror, trying to wrap the idea around in his head of how he did this all. the amount of scars that formed on the boy’s skin were ungodly. turning around, he saw scars that ranged from new to old settling down for years to come. sirius stood in the doorway and watched remus make a fool of himself before making his presence known.

“moony? alright there?” sirius questioned, motioning towards remus who was in his own world.

startled, remus quickly put his jacket on. “yeah, ‘m alright.”

“are you still feeling down from the moon? we don’t have to meet james if you’re not up for it. matter of fact, how about it be the both of us this evening.” sirius hooked his arm around remus’ shoulder, walking side by side.

remus knew his friend wasn’t stupid. sirius always knew when his moony needed a good cheering up, and this was one of those moments.

it started with ‘breaking’ into the kitchen after the elves had left. sirius had so much he wanted to do in order to cheer his best friend up. he thought getting all of remus’ snacks would be the opener for tonight’s events.

endless ideas circled around in sirius’ head. what could make his moony feel better? he knew how remus would sometimes draw over the smallest of scars on his hands so he wouldn’t see them. it was like a bulb flickered on in his head. sirius wanted to give remus the gift of not having to worry about the look of his skin, just for one night.

“it’s almost midnight, pads, what else do you have planned out?” remus yawned.

“one more thing, and you don’t have to agree.” the words intrigued him. "lily got these from her holiday and i just so happened to borrow some watercolor and brushes.” sirius held the metal box that contained an assortment of watercolors and a tin that had a couple brushes.

“so.. you want me to paint?” remus looked at him confused. “sirius, we're going to make a mess and we both know i'm going to clean it up while you watch.” he complained.

sirius shook his head. “think of it as if we were the canvas, our skin. i want you to see the way i see you, vise versa.”

“okay,” remus managed to get out.

on the inside, remus had the annoying feeling of butterflies swarming around in his stomach. on the outside, he was scared. of course, sirius had seen his scars before, everyone had, but this was more than just seeing them.

remus watched as the boy transformed their shared dorm into a mini art studio of sorts. a white sheet laid on the middle of the floor with the color palettes scattered around it.

remus shrugged off his jacket and laid it aside. he watched sirius rummage through his trunk for god knows what. “change into something other than your uniform, wouldn’t want to go to classes with green paint on your jumper.” sirius chuckled, his voice muffled.

semus sat on the floor, pulling his favorite blanket down with him. while he waited for sirius, he tested out the colors on his hand that he liked the most.

“okay.” sirius said. “do you want me to go first?” he asked. remus nodded.

remus painted with delicacy. he chose different colors that he personally thought suited sirius’ skin or furthermore, what he thought sirius’ favorite colors were. he went with a combination of both.

sirius was in awe from the work that remus had done. he had gorgeous marks of earthy tones going up and down his arms, marks of blue and white trailing up his back, and lastly, a small sun that was accompanied by a full moon.

“wow. remus- this is incredible. i knew you were talented but this,” sirius looked in the mirror. “you did amazing.”

a smile grew on remus’ face. “you really think so?”

“are you kidding me? hell yeah.” sirius reassured him.

It was now sirius’ turn to paint. remus had done so well on him that he was nowhere near as confident in his drawing skills as he once was.

sirius dipped the brush into the tin and onto the color palette. unsure of the colors he wanted to choose, he decided to ask the boy himself what he wanted to be painted on him. “flowers. I think that would be nice.”

he started on remus’ back. it held the largest scars, the ones remus was terrified of. sirius chose a variety of colors and started to plan out his creation. after drying, he began working down remus’ body, not missing a single speck that the boy hated on his skin.

“moony?” sirius asked softly.

“yeah?”

“i think you look beautiful with or without your scars.”

i saw a quote of "no thoughts, just sirius painting remus' scars" from another tumblr page that i cant find anymore but!! first little fic xx

++ i normally don't write character x character but the quote was so cute i had to bring it to life

[ LUPINLY]

#marauders #remus lupin #remus loves sirius #sirius black #sirius x remus #sirius black x remus lupin #harry potter #lupinly

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milflewis · 11 months

Note

schumilton + 'im not letting you go:

bc you’ve been giving out that i apparently only write you angsty schumilton

“Have you seen my —“ Mick laughs, cutting himself off as Lewis lifts up an arm, Mick’s jumper in his hand.

Lewis smiles back at him, something soft at the edges, face shadowed by the sun that is only starting to rise, barely peeking through the nearly drawn curtains.

Mick drops his shoes and walks over to the bed. Lewis doesn’t say anything, drawing back his hand so Mick has to climb onto the sheets to follow it.

“Hi,” Mick says, swinging a leg over Lewis’s thighs, hand low on his stomach. His skin is still sleep warm and smooth. Mick presses down gently on his palm, feeling the muscle and tissue beneath him.

Lewis drapes the jumper over Mick’s back, the sleeves dangling down on either side of his neck, and runs a hand through his hair, fingers digging into the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“Can I,” Lewis asks, eyes flickering down to Mick’s mouth and back up again. Asking is a thing for Lewis, Mick realised last night, a little surprised but maybe he shouldn’t have been, considering everything.

Mick says yes and then Lewis is kissing him, breath morning stale and hot. His other hand comes up to hold Mick’s chin, fingers splayed across his cheek. They don’t shake.

He licks into Mick’s mouth slow and deliberate, Mick’s head spinning, before pulling away. His eyes are closed, lashes long and dark.

Mick watches him frown a little before smiling, ducking in to press a lingering kiss into the corner of Mick’s mouth. Mick’s stomach aches dully like it always does when he eats too many sweets way too fast. When he opens his eyes, he doesn’t seem startled at Mick already looking back at him.

Lewis hums, “Thank you,” thumb lightly rubbing the length of Mick’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Mick says, like an idiot, clearing his throat. “Yes.”

Lewis’s mouth ticks up into a smile, the lines in his cheeks deepening. He tugs at the sleeves of Mick’s jumper, crossing them over each other and uncrossing them.

“I like this colour. It suits you.”

Mick already knows that. He doesn’t ask Lewis if he remembers looking at Mick at the end of the 2023 season celebration, eyes bright, shirt unbuttoned save for one, because he wants Mick to die, and spreading his hands over Mick’s shoulders, warm and heavy, saying you should wear this shade of blue more often, Schumacher. Brings out your eyes. Those killer baby blues.

“I’ve been told,” Mick says and Lewis does this half shrug thing that he does, scrunching up his face.

“A tenner that it wasn’t Sebastian that told you,” Lewis says, and Mick laughs, climbing off him, slightly awkwardly.

When he pulls the jumper over his head, the room looks softer, washed out, all smudged lines and grey corners. Lewis has his arms folded behind his head, jesus, and the sheets just barely cover him up to his hips.

There is something strange in his face that Mick saw last night right before Lewis kissed him, and again, this morning. For all that things are easy between them, easier than Mick ever thought possible, easier than with most, he still doesn’t always know how to talk to Lewis.

Sebastian would know, Mick thinks and the thought is only a touch bitter. Personal growth.

“What time is your flight?” Mick asks, leaning against the back of a chair as he tugs on one shoe, not bothering to untie it.

“Later. I’m flying back to Monaco with Valtteri and Tiffany.”

Mick nods. “I have an early one.”

Lewis looks at the window and back at the lightening shadows in the room and then at Mick. “Yeah,” he says, eyebrows raised. “I know.”

“Right.” Mick swallows. He already told Lewis he had to leave because of an early flight when he got out of bed in the first place. He knows.

His skin goosebumps and prickles under his jumper. He rolls his shoulders. Lewis is still smiling with his eyes, face doing something very set and very careful.

Are you, Mick thinks, suddenly, mouth gone dry. He is realising that he might’ve gotten something very very wrong.

“You seeing Seb over the summer break?” Mick asks, slipping his hands into his jean pockets before taking them out again.

“We were talking about it, yeah.” The sun is up higher, the grey of the sun melting into orange. There is a cut of light across Lewis’s ribs. “He says he wants to show me what he’s done with his greenhouse.”

“That’s cool.” Mick plants his feet flat on the carpet, curling his toes in his shoes. Just take the corner. Don’t brake too early. “I’ll be in Switzerland too. Because I live there. As well. You know. If you wanted to catch up.”

Lewis blinks at him.

“Grab breakfast,” Mick continues. “Talk.”

He has never seen Lewis nervous is the thing. Not really. Not where it sinks into you and shakes everything you’re doing. That’s why he didn’t recognise it on him.

He had thought they both understood what last night meant, what it would mean going forward. He thinks of Lewis waiting until Mick says yes to something every time, even as Mick knows Lewis isn’t a fan of talking, and watches Lewis’s face crack open.

I’m not letting you go, Mick thinks. I am my father’s son, for better and for worse, and I have you now.

You have me, Mick thinks.

“Talk,” Lewis says, wryly. It’s been years and there’s still something so satisfying to surprising him.

“Yes.” Mick shifts on his feet. “I wanted to get breakfast today but. Early flight.” He shrugs.

Lewis laughs, the sound shaking loose from him. He throws one arm over his face, grinning. “Early flight,” he repeats. It’s a soft sound. Mick would like to hear it again.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lewis shakes his head, lowering his arm, eyes warm. This is the Lewis he knows. This is the one he stands next to in the garage and makes laugh. This is the one who sends Mick pictures of Roscoe, even as he’s being atted in the drivers group chat. This is the Lewis he kissed last night. “Get. Go. You’ll miss it.”

Mick waves a hand, picking up his coat from the floor. “We’ll see each other? In Switzerland? Over the break?”

“Yeah,” Lewis props himself up in his elbows as Mick walks backwards towards the door. Mick wants to lick his shoulders. “Call me when you land.”

Mick grins, giving him a sloppy salute and then, blowing an air kiss, something in his stomach squirming as he sees Lewis flop back into the bed, smiling up at the ceiling.

#soft soft soft #schumilton #little fics #kyle tag #niamh.asks

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writingfanficsfan · 7 months

Text

Okay, this is something I'm experimenting with. I saw the post by @buckyysdoll about Aaron Hotchner and those wonderful photos and thought 'what if Spencer asked 'can I sit on your lap' so now I'm trying to write it. (I hope you don't mind, Buckyysdoll.)

As always, I write very slow so this will take a while and I don't have any idea of where this will go (will it be sexy? will it be sweet? will it be soft? will it be all of the above?) but I like the start I made tonight.

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

That’s not fair. How am I supposed to come to work now and act normal? It’s already hard enough to seem normal on a daily basis and now- now I’m looking at Hotch, my boss. My Boss!! He’s my boss and all I can think about is how good he looks like that. That’s not normal, right?! Looking at my boss and thinking about sitting on his lap. That’s not normal!

Spencer bites his lip, closing his eyes for a second but instantly looking back at Hotch. He’s still sitting there, eyes closed, breathing level, arms above his head, reclined in his seat. It’s clear he’s tired, the bags underneath his eyes make Spencer’s heart twitch. But the stack of files next to Hotch instantly explains why he’s still here instead of home.

It never ends, does it? You do so much for us. How many hours do you spend here, after we’re gone, doing all the paperwork, making sure all the i’s are dotted and all the t’s are crossed? I should go and let you rest. You’ve earned it, maybe even more than the rest of us.

Spencer fidgets with the hem of his jumper. He knows he should leave and go home but he can’t move his legs. He can’t stop looking at Hotch, resting in his office chair. It’s been a while since he’s seen him relaxed. For once, there isn’t a frown between his eyes, and the lines around his mouth less deep.

You look so beautiful. So relaxed and at peace. What would it feel like to sit on your lap? I’ve never thought about it before but now I can’t think of anything else. Would you let me? What would you do if I stepped towards you, slipped on your lap, and let my head rest on your shoulders?

Spencer blinks his eyes, heart skipping a beat when Hotch shifts in his chair but doesn’t wake up. Somehow he’s taken a couple of steps forward, closer to Hotch and farther from the door and that’s not good. He knows, he knows it’s not a good situation to be in. It’s creepy. He’s being creepy, slipping into Hotch’s office, watching him rest, thinking about being close. Spencer’s eyes go over Hotch’s face, down to his neck, the red tie loosened.

I could take that tie off, open the button on his collar. What would it be like? Touching Hotch’s skin, smelling his scent so close. Would he let me straddle him? Would he put his arms around him, keep me in place, whisper something into my ear? It’s been such a long time since someone touched me like that. Held me, and made me feel small and safe. Hotch can do that. Hotch can make me feel small, but not in a bad way. Small as in protected and cared for.

Spencer’s stomach does a flip at those thoughts, rubbing his arms before he forces himself to stop. He needs to leave. He can’t stay here. Can’t stand here at the front of Hotch’s desk, looking down at him like some creeper. Hotch shifts again and Spencer holds his breath. He could have a million reasons to be here but right now his mind is drawing a blank. If Hotch opens his eyes now and asks what he’s doing here, Spencer won’t be able to make up an excuse. His thoughts are only on Hotch, on how beautiful he looks like this. Spencer’s eyes go over Hotch’s face again, focusing then on Hotch’s arms supporting his head. Hotch is lean but strong. Stronger than Spencer and Spencer swallows, fire starting to burn low in his stomach.

It would feel so good, to have your arms around me. Making me feel safe and protected. I know the world can be horrible, we see it every day, but it wouldn’t feel horrible if you wrapped your arms around me. I just- I just want to put my head on your shoulder, breathe in your scent. Would you let me do that? Would you let me lick your neck? Would you lick mine?

Spencer sways on his feet, putting a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t make a sound. There’s a fraction of a moment where Hotch frowns, his body tensing up and Spencer just wants to round the desk and run his fingers through Hotch’s hair to soothe him. He deserves a break. The plane crash case had been long days, than the whole thing in Briscoe County. Spencer still feels the effects of that case, being shot at, and then almost being killed at the hospital by Baylor. It had been a lot, for the whole team and Spencer knows it’s harder for Hotch now because Blake left. No one blames her, but it does mean they are a man down.

Spencer rubs his neck, feeling the scar from the surgery. His eyes stay on Hotch’s torso, thinking about all the scars there.

I want to touch every single one. I want to kiss every single one. Make you feel better. I know you’d never want someone like me, but I think I could make you feel good. I would learn, for you. Can I sit on your lap? I know it’s weird to ask. You’re my boss. But I- I don’t sleep so good at night. I always feel cold for some reason. My neck is hurting again and I’m worried about Penelope. She saved my life but she shot someone to do it. That’s messing with her head, I can tell.

Can I sit on your lap? Can I have your arms around me? Just for a moment. Can I just- just touch your hair? It looks soft. Will you pet my hair too? I would do anything you ask, just for a moment of peace. Just me and you. I love this job, but it’s difficult some days. So, just for a moment. Would you let me rest just for a moment? I wonder how you would react if I called you Sir. Can I touch your hair? Can I touch your lips? I wish you would smile more, you look younger, lighter, when you smile. I love your laugh. I can call you Sir, if you like that.

“Can I sit on your lap, Sir?”

“What?”

“What?” Spencer says, blinking his eyes and too slowly realizing what he’s done. He snaps his mouth shut, seeing Hotch sit up and open his eyes, instantly awake and alert. Their eyes meet and Spencer knows Hotch heard him. Heard him ask that insane question. it feels like the whole world has stopped moving, as if even the dusk particulates in the air have slowed down. Spencer looks at Hotch, Hotch looks at Spencer, the moment frozen in time.

It’s too late when he turns around and tries to reach the door because Hotch is suddenly there, blocking his way out. Spencer can feel his neck and face flame up in embarrassment, the tips of his ears feeling on fire. In the back of his mind, he registers that he’s standing too close to Hotch. He only needs to reach out a centimeter to touch him. He balls his hands into fists, taking in a sharp breath when he smells Hotch’s cologne. It’s been a long day but he can still smell it, or maybe his mind is just making it up. Either way, it makes him let out a sound, soft but embarrassing. A whimper of need that terrifies him.

“Reid.”

It’s too much and he digs his nails into his palms, trying to snap out of it. His mind is working overtime, all his senses are in overdrive and he panics. He panics and the words tumble out, barely making sense to his own ears. What the hell is he doing? What is he saying? He’s making it worse, it has to be. Oh god, he’s going to get fired. He’s going to get fired and then everyone will know that he wanted to sit on his boss’ lap. He should have gone home. Should have just gone home to his apartment with all the books and the blankets. And yes, those blankets do nothing to help him warm up but at least those are reasonable and safe. At least blankets won’t fire him. At least blankets won’t think he’s a creep!

“Reid! Slow down!”

He can’t stop talking. He can’t look at Hotch so he looks at Hotch’s shoes, black and gleaming, perfect as everything is with Hotch. He’s nothing like Spencer when it comes to clothes. He’s always perfect, always immaculate. He always wears a tie and a suit and matching socks. Spencer hardly ever finds his socks, let alone matching ones. He laughs out loud, realizing how stupid it was to even think about sitting in Hotch’s lap. Hotch is on another level. He wears matching socks!

“Reid stop!”

Spencer snaps his mouth shut when Hotch shakes him by the shoulders. As fast as Hotch grabs him, as fast does he lets him go and Spencer tries to reach the door again. His fingertips can only brush the doorknob before Hotch blocks him and Spencer jumps backward, heart beating too fast to be normal.

Nothing is normal about tonight. Nothing is normal about this. I’m not normal. It’s not normal to want to sit on your boss’ lap. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have come here, should have just gone home. I can’t believe I said that out loud. Now Hotch knows!

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I wouldn’t have- I would never-” Spencer trembles, vision going blurry as tears start to form. He takes in a gulp of air, mouth suddenly dry, his head pounding and neck stinging. His voice is weak as he continues talking, whispering in the space between them.

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t fire me. I’m just tired and cold and I- I don’t know why I came here. Don’t know why I didn’t leave. I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again, Sir. Please, please-”

“Spencer.”

Spencer bites his lip hard, meeting Hotch’s eyes, tears spilling as he sees the gentle expression on Hotch’s face. Why is that worse than Hotch yelling at him?

Hotch takes a step forward and Spencer wraps his arms around himself, trembling like a leaf in the cold Autumn wind. He takes a step back, feeling lightheaded and unsteady on his feet but than Hotch grabs him by the arm, placing his other hand on Spencer’s chest.

“Careful. Let’s sit down on the couch.”

“H-” He can’t even say Hotch’s name, shame and embarrassment closing off the connection from his brain to his mouth. But maybe that connection was already closed off. Why would he have said those words out loud otherwise?

“Can I sit on your lap, Sir?”

God, what has he done?

#my writing #criminal minds #hotchreid #what am i doing?#i have no idea #but it's fun

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shegavemeroses · 2 years

Text

& suddenly i’m covered in the colors of you

Nick and Charlie attend a painting class together

“When is everyone else getting here?” Nick asked as he pulled into the parking space.

“Ooo,” Charlie said with a wince. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Forgot to tell me what?”

“We’ve been ditched.”

“How dare they!” Nick said with mock outrage.

Charlie laughed. “Tao is dragging Elle - her words not mine - to some film festival screening thing, Darcy got grounded, and Tara is drowning in homework.”

“Wow. So it’s just us then, huh?”

“Looks like it.” Charlie took his hand.

“I rather like that.”

“Me, too.” Charlie’s grin grew wider. Then he looked at the clock on the dashboard. “But it starts in two minutes, so…”

continue reading: ao3 // under the cut

“Right with you.” Nick let go of him and grabbed the keys out of the ignition as both boys climbed out of the car. Charlie grabbed his hand again as they practically ran into the building.

“Good morning! Are you two here for the Teen Scene painting event?” a man at the front desk asked them.

“Uh, yeah. We’re not late, are we?” Charlie asked, looking down the otherwise empty corridor.

“I don’t think they’ve started yet,” the man said with a laugh. “It’ll be down the hall, then take a right. I’m sure you’ll hear everyone else to tell you which room it’s in.”

“Thank you!” Nick called as Charlie pulled him down the corridor.

“Char, slow down!”

“I don’t want to miss the start!” They rounded the corner, and quickly found the right room, identified by the chatter coming out of it.

“See? We’re fine,” Nick said, following him through the door.

“Yeah, cause we ran here,” Charlie protested, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He squeezed Charlie’s hand before letting go, and they walked to a table near the front of the room. A girl a few years older than them sat at the table, rearranging paintbrushes in cups in front of her.

“Hi! We’re here for the painting class,” Nick greeted her while Charlie looked around the room.

“Wonderful! We’re just about to get started,” she said, handing each of them a paint pallet and cup of brushes. At her words, Charlie turned back to Nick with his eyebrows raised high. Nick lightly shoved his shoulder without looking at him. “Go ahead and fill out a name tag, then pick an easel.” She slid them both a blank name tag and a marker, then pointed to the last two easels open at the back of the room.

They both quickly scribbled their names and pronouns on the stickers, then attached them to their jumpers. With quick thanks, they took the painting supplies and scurried to the back of the room, each taking a stool in front of one easel and setting out their new supplies on the small table between them.

“You know your name tag isn’t on straight,” Charlie said, pointing to the lopsided badge on Nick’s chest.

“Well…” Nick started with a smirk.

“Don’t say it,” Charlie cut him off, already laughing.

“If you insist.”

Charlie opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it when the instructor started the lesson. He settled for lighting kicking Nick’s foot with his own, drawing a smile from him.

The instructor spoke for a while, outlining the project she had planned for the group to do. The aim was a stylized portrait; her examples of different people and animals were on the board. Each one was colorful and vibrant. After she demonstrated the techniques she had used, and let everyone practice them on small sketch pads, she set them loose to freestyle while she walked around, assisting as needed.

Nick turned to talk with Charlie again, but he was already deep in concentration in his portrait, working to blend together some yellows and oranges. Nick watched him for a few more moments, then turned to stare at the blank canvas in front of him. He stared at the canvas, studying the texture of it. Then he looked to his paints, his brush hesitating over them. Then back to his canvas, then around the room for inspiration. Charlie looked over when he heard him sigh.

“Nick. What’s wrong?” he asked, setting his paintbrush in the cup of water.

“I don’t know what to paint.” He looked down, staring at the paintbrush in his hand.

“Well, it’s supposed to be a portrait. And art is best when it’s something you love. So, think of what you love. Or who.”

“Very wise,” Nick said with a smile.

“I try. But please, don’t make me look at Avengers fan art.”

Nick opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Charlie laughed. “I will paint whatever I want, thank you very much!” Nick said, jabbing his paintbrush in Charlie’s direction.

“Then do it,” Charlie said, picking up his own brush again.

Nick rolled his eyes, then turned back to his canvas. He peaked over at Charlie and saw he was already back at work, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Nick leaned back to look at his canvas, but couldn’t really see anything yet. He dipped his paintbrush in the green paint and made a series of short, absentminded strokes near the top of the canvas, waiting for inspiration to strike. Once it did, the next hour passed quickly.

“We have about fifteen minutes left, group! As you add the finishing touches, please head over to the sinks to wash out your brushes. You can bring your paints back up to the front,” the instructor said. Nick jumped at her voice; he hadn’t realized the time had passed so quickly. He added a few more strokes of blue, then put his brush in the water cup.

“Charlie?” he said, looking over at him. The boy in question was still carefully painting, his nose inches from the canvas. “If you get paint on your nose I will not help you get it off.” He walked to Charlie and rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Ah!” Charlie yelped, dropping his paintbrush on the ground.

“Sorry! I tried to get your attention.” Nick knelt with a paper towel to wipe the paint off the floor. “Clearly did not work.” He handed the paintbrush to Charlie, who began wiping the excess paint off with another paper towel.

“Don’t worry about it,” Charlie said with a laugh as Nick stood up. “Well, do you like it?”

Nick looked at the painting Charlie had made. “Well, remember how I said you were good at everything?”

“Yeah?” Charlie’s face brightened.

“I think I wanna take that back now.”

“How dare you!”

“Well…”

“I am hurt!” Charlie crossed his arms.

“Okay, fine. What’s it supposed to be?”

“It’s Nellie!”

“I… since when does my dog have five legs?”

“That’s her tail!”

Nick stammered. “The uh… the colors are very nice.

“Shut up. What’s your masterpiece?” They turned, and Charlie looked at the canvas Nick had worked on. “My hair isn’t actually that messy, right?” He paused, tugging at one of his unruly curls. “Is it?”

Nick laughed, running his fingers through Charlie’s hair. “Well, you said to paint something I loved…”

“I didn’t tell you to get sappy on me,” Charlie said, blushing.

“At least you can tell what mine is,” Nick said with a shrug.

“Hey!” He shoved the brushes at Nick, but he was laughing. “Go wash these out, rugby lad. I’ll bring our paints up.”

“Whatever you say, gay nerd.”

Charlie lightly shoulder bumped him as Nick passed him on the way to the sink, then began gathering up the paints. He took them back to the front of the room, then met Nick back by their paintings. They filled out identification cards to go with their paintings, then turned to leave.

“So before we can take them home, there’s gonna be a gallery show next week,” Charlie began as they walked down the corridor.

“Oh, really?” Nick asked.

“And um…”

“Charlie, are you trying to ask me on a date?”

He laughed. “Maybe?”

“You know the answer is always yes. We have to get everyone else to come. They all deserve to see that picture of Nellie.”

“You are so mean!” Charlie exclaimed.

Once they were outside, Nick pulled him off to the side of the building where they leaned against the wall. “I really do love it,” Nick admitted, brushing Charlie’s hair off his face.

“I really love you,” Charlie said, leaning into Nick’s touch.

“Now who’s being sappy?” Before Charlie could protest that statement, he leaned in to kiss him. “I love you, too,” he said between kisses.

#heartstopper #heartstoppercentral #charlie spring #nick nelson #charlie x nick #nick x charlie #thingschanged #shegavemewords #shegavememoods

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ferrunough · 9 months

Note

✈ - an eye-opening memory

[At the main list of files, you open a different folder and click through a few subfolders until you decide on “i didn’t fuck up (sub)”.]

[Threat of injury, actual injury, violence, blood, and swearing are included.]

They’re walking through Spikemuth’s streets at night. Their left hand is carrying a bag of kibble, their right in their trouser pocket.

“… ow’d I mess up tha bad… four undred, seven tweny five, this i four fifty… eigh and seven… shit, an the li’ls.” (How’d I mess up that bad… four hundred, seven twenty five, this is four fifty… eight and seven… shit, and the littles.)

They look to their pocket and sigh deeply. “Gon be stealin li’l bits o y food gen, sorry. I’ll ge y sumthin good… thhhhhh… tu weeks, opefully.” (Going to be stealing little bits of your food again. I’ll get you something good… *thinking sound*… two weeks, hopefully.)

They reach a Kantonian takeaway restaurant with all visible lights off. They move their hand to another pocket and grab a key to unlock the door. Once inside and having locked the door, they visibly relax. “I’ll fix y a bowl n go to bed, yeah?” (I’ll fix you a bowl and go to bed, yeah?)

They go behind the counter and make their way toward a set of stairs tucked away from the restaurant’s workings. A click followed by buzzing is audible but they pay it no mind. As they venture up the first few steps, they’re yanked down and into the wall opposite the stairwell. The food bag’s been ripped open and the heal ball previously in their pocket rolls across the floor. They pull themselves up as quick as they can, one hand cupping the back of their head as the other holds a key under their index finger and points it to their assailant. They take rushed yet shaky steps back till they reenter the front of the building. The R emblazoned on the man’s jumper draws nearer until pov can try slash at them, successfully catching their cheek but earning a backhand and punch to the face in turn. As they recover and rub their nose with the back of their attacking hand, they yell at the grunt.

“D y ijits ner tok t yother?! I’ve bin ere a fockin’ month aready, paid tu diffren gruns, an y still fockin’—!” (Do you idiots never talk to each other?! I’ve been here a fucking month already, paid two different grunts, and you still fucking—!)

The man kicks their chest faster than they can react. Then watches them slide down the window onto the floor. Then smiles.

“Right, the tenant. There’s been a change in the agreement — to keep it mutually beneficial, ‘course. Rent’s been doubled and you’re to pay me directly. Starting tonight. Or else.”

He kneels over them and reaches for his pocket.

A red flash from the corridor blinds the whole screen. When it fades, the man stands up and approaches the source. From the pov’s angle the grunt is obscured by the shop’s counter as a faint blue light from within the shop grows brighter.

A guttural roar emerges from the darkness as the man is thrown over the counter, landing in front of No Name on the edge of a chair. He limply slides off it, thudding onto the floor, his head close to their feet. He gets a second to feel his pain before his attacker jumps on top of him from behind the counter. A toxtricity, it’s indigo and blue skin more saturated than others of its kind. It’s hands pressing down on his shoulders, it’s feet between his legs, it’s face hovers above the grunt’s head.

For a second, the toxtricity’s eyes meet No Name’s with slight apprehension. No Name starts to laugh.

“Atta lad, Ramohm. Than y.” (Atta lad, Ramohm. Thank you.)

Ramohm smiles as his tongue lolls out, allowing his saliva to drip onto the man’s face. The man winces and writhes, his voice unable to do more than groan. No Name pushes themselves up. Ramohm leans back so they can lean over him instead.

“Wouldn le tha stay on y too long, mate. Poten stuv.” (Wouldn’t let that stay on you for too long, mate. Potent stuff.)

They wipe it away with their thumb, the key still in their hand gliding across the man’s face in the process, leaving a smudge of blood in the saliva’s place. The angle their hand is at, their fingers are all scarred with injuries that travel along the whole underside of their hand.

“Muechully beneficial… we’re gun need sum thins, ain we, Ramohm?” (Mutually beneficial… We’re going to need some things, aren’t we, Ramohm?)

Ramohm looks back up to them with a smile and licks his lips.

[The file ends there.]

#memory file ask game #pkmn irl #pokemon irl #pokeblog #cw violence #cw injury #cw swearing #ramohm the toxtricity #\\raise your hands if this fits any expectations you had of them because I am curious

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constellaris-a · 2 years

Text

⤪ @yukitscne ⊳ oh. she likey-- ⤨

--- It's not an urge he's able to resist.

About a week ago was when he'd altered his human form to be one more mature; though he still retained the look of someone who was approachable and friendly, the cutesy feel just didn't feel right anymore. Though Nethalia had commented on his new look, it wasn't really something he'd been able to explain - despite going through this every year.

A couple of days ago the indecent thoughts had begun to fill his head. Despite the new appearance, he still felt he had a reputation to uphold as the sweet, innocent kitsune. He did not reveal these to Nethalia, although she'd probably be keen to hear them. He wished such thoughts of the one whose roommate he had become would leave him alone, and he was not sure why they were filling his head - despite going through this every year.

To the present day, and finally it made sense, taking form in a material feeling that needed to be satisfied. And dear Nethalia, who had been trying on one of Yuki's large "one size fits all" jumpers and little else was as of yet, as far as he knew, unaware of what was coming to her.

If she's paying attention to anything other than her reflection, Nethalia could surely see Yuki coming from behind; what she perhaps couldn't have seen, though, was the kitsune moving her with perhaps too much ease and pinning her against the nearest wall.

'You were going through my clothes,' he observed in a gentle voice which did not betray the urge that was overwhelming him. 'It looks good on you.' Yuki pressed a kiss to her lips before continuing, 'But I think you'd look better without it.'

⊳ can be continued / reblogged

It was rare anyone truly caught her by surprise, let alone someone she thought she’d figured out already. Welcoming him into her life had been an easy choice, yes, even starting their more physical relationship was something that just seemed to come naturally, but she’d found herself growing ... Uncertain.

Was she doing the right thing in the end ?

Such thoughts had been running through her mind for some days, but in trying to chase away her doubts Nethalia had found herself searching out a sense of comfort - and that was how she’d gone out of her way to retrieve one of his jumpers. It was comfortable, warm ... And smelled of him.

Lost in her own thoughts she’d not noticed his approach until she was guided away from the mirror, cheeks warming before his eyes as back found the wall.

Arms came to slowly drape about the kitsune’s shoulders, drawing him closer as lips claimed her own, albeit briefly, a soft huff escaping the demoness’ nose in response to his comment.

“ Mm ... You could always take it off me if you wanted ... ” Nethalia mumbled, making a point to press a kiss against his jaw. “ If it’s you ... I won’t mind at all ... ”

#⋞ nethalia ⊳ in character ⋟#yukitscne #⋞ whispering winds ⊳ asks ⋟#suggestive cw #neth: *surprised pikachu face*

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jaytmann2 · 3 days

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How I discovered sex true story part 55.

Friday afternoon rolled around really quickly. I took a change of cloths with me so he and I left for his place right after school. We got to his house, his mum was home. Debbie loved me and was happy to have me over for the night. We got to his room and I pulled out my t-shirt, black Addidas jumper, my trusty old light grey Levi jeans and a pair of light grey tight boxer briefs and some stuff to sleep in. Normally I'd go get changed in his bathroom while he would get changed in his room but today he started to strip his jumper and t-shirt off in front of me, this was the first time I'd seen him shirtless! He looked really hot, his hairless chest was like mine, a little toned, slim but not muscley, very boyish. He looked at me and he could see that I liked what I saw. I could tell what he was up to, I wasn't sure if I wanted to cross that bridge but I'd gotten changed in front of other friends so I took my jumper and shirt off. Danny looked me over and just said "YUM"

He then took his socks and shoes off so I did too, he undid his jeans and took them off and stood there in just a pair of Black mens bikini style undies and he obviously filled the front of them out nicely, his butt was not as round as mine but fuck dam he had a nice arse!. I undid my jeans and took them off and stood there in my pale blue tight boxer briefs, his eyes drew wide so I did a twirl and asked "what do you think?" Danny said "oh baby Danny like" and we laughed. Danny asked what I thought and I just said "you're too hot for words" Danny's face was too sexy for me to comprehend and his body was just as good. I was just thinking about the only thing I hadn't seen...........his cock! My own cock was starting to swell in my underwear. He said "so do I get to see it?"so I said "you first" I honestly didn't think he would.

But to my surprise he pulled his underwear down. He looked half hard, his cock was cut like mine, it looked so nice, good size, good thickness, straight and smooth like mine, he had a small patched of very neatly trimmed pubes and nice size tight hairless balls. I then pulled my cock out, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor! My quickly stiffening cock stood proud in front of my just visible patch of blonde pubes, my hairless balls sitting tight like his, he then motioned me to turn around so I did, I waited till my butt was facing him before I pulled my underwear down further to show him my naked round bubble butt. To turned my head toward him to see him bite his bottom lip! That's all I needed, I bent over to remove my underwear giving him a good view of my hairless crack and pink hungry little hole.

I looked down at his cock, it was now fully erect and it had to be 7inchs or more. He asked " how big is yours?"I shrugged my shoulders because it had been well over a year since I last measured it, he walked over to his desk and opened the draw and pulled a wooden ruler out he put the ruler under his cock at the base of his balls and we both looked at the tip of his head and it was just over 7.5inches.........I said "oh nice" we knew my cock was bigger and a bit thicker then his, I knew my cock had gotten bigger since my 13th birthday! He took the ruler from under his cock and I put my hand out to take the ruler but he dodged my hand and proceeded to put the ruler under my cock at the base of my balls and with his other hand got 3 fingers and pinched my shaft gently against the ruler! The cheeky boy found a sly way to touch my penis. I just smiled as we both looked at the end of my cock head against his ruler! My cock sat a bit over 8 and 3/4inchs long! We both didn't know exactly how much more then 8 and 3/4's because we didn't understand that type of measurements. Danny looked suitably impressed and I was surprised it had got that big. Danny moved the ruler on top of my cock to measure against my pelvic mound at it said over 9inchs. I said "please feel free to let go of my cock any time you want to" and laughed, he said "what if I don't want to?" I just shrugged and hinted that we better get dressed. Shortly after his mum knocked on his door asking what we were doing? His mum always hovered around. I put clean socks on and start putting my grey jeans on pulling them up making sure Danny knew I was going commando! I did my jeans up and put my shoes on and my t-shirt and jumper on. Danny had put some cute red underwear on, socks, I pair of Black jeans on, a t-shirt and zip up hoodie on and we walked out. We got a list of chores his mum demanded he do so I helped get them done. We then went outside and sat on the driveway and talked.

Danny asked what I thought about friends who fooled around in secret so I told him about Ricky and Becca. He asked if it worked and I said "It did till I had to move up here" I asked if he had done anything? Danny explained that he and one of his dad's friends son were having sex when his mum caught them and his mum and dad completely freaked out and now they are making him see a counsellor to remove his gay ideas. Sure enough I then realised how much Debbie watches us whenever I'm over.

Danny came out and straight up asked me if we could try fooling around to see if it would work. I just said "I'll think about it" his mum asked us to put the bins out so we walked into the carport to where the bins were and it was out of sight of any windows and as we both grabbed one of the bins each, I leaned over and kissed him on the lips, he kissed me back and we kissed softly for just a little while and took the bins out so his mum would not get suss.

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hannahssimblr · 4 months

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“You need to cook them more, I’m not eating that.” I’m backseat driving as Jen tries to fry sausages on the disposable barbecue she brought along. I tried to point out that she needs to wait until the charcoal turns white before she starts adding in the meat, but for some reason she thought I was making it all up to wind her up. “I think you should take them off and start again.”

“And I think you should shut your face,” She flips over an anaemic sausage to discover that it is tragically raw on the other side too.

“I brought snacks,” I point out, “We can just give up on this whole charade and eat crisps instead.”

“I’m not a quitter, I’m a fighter, and I’ll defeat these bloody fucking sausages if it’s the last thing I do.”

I bend to murmur in her ear, “You should have let Shane do it, he knows all of this boy scout kinda stuff.”

We both look around to see him and Joe giggling and red eyed in a cloud of dank smoke.

I sigh, “Alright, let’s figure this out, you know, we’re both smart people and I think that we can-”

Clóda is calling for me again. She’s been doing this every five minutes or so in a vye for my attention. So far it's been because she wants me to listen to part of a song on her iPod or show me some picture she took on her camera, but I know it’s that she’s feeling left out. I’ve been realising over the course of the evening that she’s not all that good at conversing with any of the others, and I feel sorry for her. Still, Jen's shoulders stiffen every time Clóda interrupts us and I am torn between them.

I turn around, “Yeah?”

“Do you have a jumper I could wear? I’m getting cold.”

“You really didn’t bring a jumper?”

“No, because I thought I could have yours.”

“But I only have the one that’s on me… the fire’s not keeping you warm, huh?”

“Not really,” she pouts and I understand what she is asking for. I scoot down next to her and put my arms around her, and though she doesn't really feel cold I'm sure that is not really the point.

Jen snickers, “Oh don’t mind me. Just slaving away over a hot barbeque… all on my own now, trying to get five hungry teenagers fed…”

“Calm down, Jen, you can figure it out.”

“You’re the last one getting a sausage.”

I laugh to myself, “You know, actually, that just reminded me of that time that we-”

Clóda interrupts me by launching herself at my mouth and kissing me. I draw back in surprise, “what was that for?”

“You’re just so cute,” she says, “ I couldn’t resist.”

“Oh, okay, well you’re cute too, “ I kiss her back, then again and again while Jen makes puking noises until Joe joins in and they heckle us in the background about getting a room.

I move my mouth to her ear, “Let’s go somewhere,” and she giggles with delight. I like that; how much she likes me. I take her hand and we head towards the dunes, where the full moon has risen high over the beach.

“Where you off to?” Jen says.

“For a walk.”

“Well I’m not saving you any food if you take too long to come back.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back in less than three hours, before the sausages are finally done.”

She laughs and sticks out her tongue at me so I give her the finger as I turn away to take Clóda onto the beach side.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy #Cloda haters assemble #didn't bring a jumper?#to a campsite by the beach?#okay sweetheart #I love Jude's expression in the last pic though he's so cheeky #that's the face of a boy who knows he's about to get laid

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luveline · 3 years

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in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

#fred wealsey fic #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #harry potter imagine #fred Weasley imagine #fred Weasley x reader #reader insert #reader has acne #reader is an unreliable narrator #reader x fred Weasley #fred Weasley fanfic #fred Weasley fluff #hurt/comfort #Fred weasley x reader

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raggaraddy · 3 years

Text

Bound.

My Cruel Kidnapper: Chapter two.

Yandere! Jungkook

A/N: This is a detailed dark and violent non-con story. Please do not read if you are sensitive to any of the below warnings.

If you are new to this story, please go to the cover page for the chapter list and the story disclaimer.

Enjoy. 💜💜💜

Trigger warnings: Abduction, imprisonment, non-con, restraints, slapping, violence, abuse, yandere themes. 18+ readers only.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Your mind wakes up before your eyes open. You have no idea where you are. It was dark then and waking it's dark again. You're on the ground leaning against a wall. Your head is sore and groggy, you're stiff and numb. It's taking you a moment to try to catch up with everything.

'A chill sweeps through you, making you shake. Your jumper, jacket, and shoes have all been removed, leaving you only in a singlet and jeans. Moving heavily, you try to get yourself up, only to find your hands are bound together. The fogged memory of what happened starting to clear, remembering the car and man, and more and more panic sets in.

Looking through the dark, you search for your belongings. You need your backpack. Your phone was in it. You need your phone so you can call the police. Call for help. But you can't see a damn thing.

Your heart is beating rapidly, the pulse of it throbbing all the way up to your brain. You're scared. Unable to make sense of anything. Where you are. Or why you're here.

Dragging yourself onto your feet, you have to press your arm and shoulder against the wall to manage. Using your outstretched hands you guide a blind search for an exit- for anything really. But you can barely make out the outline of your own hands. Stepping forward, you immediately hit a wall. Reaching up and along, it's entirely flat. Spinning around, you move in the other direction only to be stopped by another wall.

You're in a closet.

Wildly turning in all directions, you quickly find the four walls to this tiny space. You run your hands left to right, praying to find an exit. Your fingers smacking into a hard smooth object that feels like a handle. Yanking on it furiously, you try to force it to open but it's locked.

"Help!" You yell, your voice coming out dry. Not taking a second to think, you're too panicked to care who you might be drawing attention from. "Help! Help!" You wail again beginning to hyperventilate. Screaming the same pleas over and over until you feel dizzy.

Pausing to catch your breath, you inhale, filling your lungs to the peak. Before you can release the pent-up breath in a tremendous cry for help, you're interrupted. The door flies open, light pouring in and momentarily blinding you, only able to see white spots. Raising your hands in protection.

"Good, you're up. I was getting bored." It's a raspy male voice. One you don't recognize.

Your arms are jerked down and away from your face as you're yanked out of the closet. Off-balance for a second, you quickly regain solid footing. Tearing your arms back into your body and stepping to the side, you prepare to run. There are still spots in your vision, but you can see another door on the left. However, before you even turn, you're stopped. He grabs hold of the chain holding your hands together. He's blurry, but you can see him well enough to watch him draw his hand back. It flies at you smacking your right cheek. The sound echoing in your ear. The force of it making your head snap sidewards, driving you to the floor. You don't fall flat though. His grip on the chain keeps your arms upright, your shoulders and wrists jarring as your weight is caught on them.

It's too much suddenly. You're stunned. Weakly moaning at the pain pricking at your cheek and lip. Your ear ringing. Head pounding.

He tugs you upwards, grabbing under your arm to bring you onto your feet. A painful grip wrapped around your bicep, digging into the flesh.

"No! I did not go through all of this for you to-" He stops short, exhaling sharply. There's so much anger in his voice. "You never pull away from me. I'm not going to hurt you." He snaps.

Tears have begun to silently run down your face. You're so scared and confused. And hurt. You don't understand what's going on.

With a jolt, he pulls you. Dragging you behind him as he walks out of the room coming into a wide-open entrance. The front door is right there. Only a few feet away. The taste of blood on your stinging lip stops you from trying to pull from him again though.

Stopping the two of you at the base of a wide wooden staircase, he lets the cuffs go. Stepping to the side of you, he motions his hand, gesturing for you to go up them. Watching him nervously, biting the inside of your lip, you take the first hesitant step. And another. You have no idea what to do. You don't know what's up there and you don't want to go. You want to leave. But you're scared of being hit again if you try to run for the door. He's between you and it, and he is so focused on you staring at you with such a creepy intensity, that you're sure you'd never be able to push past him.

Climbing another step, it feels like you're out of his range. You make a fast decision. You can't go down, but maybe you can find safety upstairs. You take off, bounding up the stairs. Your legs stretching to take two at a time. Behind you, you can feel him wildly swing through the air, just missing you. You push yourself as hard as you can to reach the top, hearing him chasing just behind you. Slamming your body into the first door you reach, you yank down the handle and all but throw yourself through the doorway. With quick skittish movements, you skirt the door's edge, getting to the other side, and bang it closed. Bracing your arms against it, you strengthen your blockade by digging your feet into the floor.

A twist-lock catches your eye. Bringing your joint hands to it you snap it shut with not a moment to spare. The handle jerks down, the door shaking without opening. You press your back and all of your weight against the wood, not certain of the lock's strength. The door jutters as he bangs against it again and again. But it holds firm.

After a few seconds, it quietens. He can't get in.

Your body trembling, knees weak, you step forward letting go of the door. Feeling safe for the minute. You just have to work a way out of here.

Looking around, you're in a starkly furnished bedroom. There's a chest of draws, side tables, a walk-in wardrobe, and a four-poster bed. Also, an open bathroom door in the back corner. But you don't see any windows. Or any other exit.

Behind you, there is a click of the lock. You spin around and the small scrap of hope you felt dies, the handle turning, the door opening. Your stomach drops, your eyes going wide as you watch him come through the door.

For the first time, you're able to see him clearly.

He's young. Mid-'20s. Dark brown, medium-length scruffy hair that's pushed in all directions. He's tall, with a broad chest. All his features are tight and focused. He looks furious. Especially his eyes. They're dark and dangerous and fixed on you.

Stepping into the room, he closes the door on his back and instinctively you step back.

"I told you not to pull away from me!" He growls. The spine-chilling ferocity in his voice makes you waver.

You stumble back a few feet as he charges you, your unsteady footing and weak legs tripping you up and you fall onto you ass.

Keeping your eyes on him, you can hardly blink as he closes the distance. His hand mangles in your hair and forces you upwards. Forcing you to scramble to your feet. You yelp in pain, clenching your hands to your hair. Bending down slightly, he holds you in place, while tearing your hair too high for you to be able to stand flat-footed.

"Stop! You're hurting me." You scream.

"I told you I'm not going to hurt you." He snarls. "I didn't bring you here to hurt you, Y/n."

Oh my god. He knows your name.

He shoves you. Your legs hit the bed and you fall down onto it. You fight to sit up, but his deep-rooted grip in your hair doesn't let up. He pulls the weight of your body through your head, drawing you to the top of the bed. His knee drops beside you, pinching the skin of your upper thigh into the mattress. Forcing you onto your back he straddles your chest, finally letting go of your sore head of hair.

The weight of him is crushing you. Fiercely you're kicking your legs, wriggling and struggling but he's completely pinning you down. Above your head, you can feel him undoing one of the cuffs, his unrelenting grip on your wrist stopping you from pulling it free. He threads your hand through the bed frame and snaps the cuff back in place. Trapping you to the bed.

"Stop. Please stop!" you cry. You're panicked and once again you're stuck. His heft presses down on your lungs as he shuffles lower on your body. Shifting until he is sat over your waist.

"It's okay. You'll enjoy this, babe." He answers, his voice sounding enthusiastic but distant. Reaching into his front-side pocket, he pulls out a pocket knife and flicks it open.

Your whole body is aching from fear. You're on the verge of throwing up.

Taking the knife he slowly works at your singlet, slicing it down the middle. He snaps the straps on it and your bra, flicking his hand up with each cut. With a smooth motion, he pulls the shirt from under you, leaving you in only your bra. He closes the knife. Tossing it to the side of the bed. You squirm under him, his eyes looking down your body with a smile.

You want to scream. You want to tell him to get the fuck away from you. But you're terror-stricken and the most you can do is cry. He reaches under you, purposely pressing as much of his body onto you as possible.

Hating the touch of him, hating the feel of him, you sob the whole while praying for him to have a moral epiphany.

He unclasps your bra and pulls it away from you, leaving your stomach and breasts exposed.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you bury your head to the side. You feel so sick and violated in this state. You can't believe this is happening. You don't understand why he won't stop.

Trailing his hands up your sides, your skin flinches with his clammy touch. He reaches your chest and grasps a breast in each hand. He firmly and painfully squeezes, it feeling bruised under his fingertips. Biting the inside of your lip, you wince trying your best to stop yourself from sobbing and screaming profanities at him. Sealing your eyes tight you lower your head deeper into your shoulder.

"Look at me." He demands. His hand clamps your cheeks, making your head face him and your eyes start open. "That's better" He snarks. Letting you go, his touch instead begins moving lower. Eagerly and hastily undoing the button and fly from your jeans. "I know you want this as much as I do babe." He smirks, breathing heavier.

"No, no, no. Don't!" You chant, wanting so painfully for him to get the fuck away from you.

He folds over the hem of your pants from your hips and peels them down your legs, moving lower on you as he does. You try to pull your legs away, try to cover yourself or defend yourself somehow, but your legs are stuck in the fabric. As soon as he free you from them though, you swing your legs and madly kick at anything as hard as you can. Your right foot makes contact, booting him in the jaw, knocking him off the bed onto the floor.

There is a moment of silence where you're praying you've knocked him out. Hoping to give yourself a moment to figure out how to get free.

Craning your neck up, looking down your body, you see him lift himself up using the bed frame.

Fuck.

This is bad.

Rubbing his jaw with one hand, he climbs back onto the bed. A frenzied look in his eyes telling you you're going to pay for that.

"You fucking bitch!" He roars, jumping on top of you again. Mounting your waist. His palm swings down and swats your already raw cheek. You scream on impact. It's not as hard as before, but it hurts more. He smacks again and again. Your body is gulping down air as you whimper.

"Are you going to apologize?!" He demands with a final punctuation slap.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You yell breathlessly.

"Good! Now stop acting like such a bitch! I know your gonna enjoy this."

What the fuck is he talking about? What is wrong with him?

He leans to the side of the bed and brings back the knife. Tilting his hips back, he moves down just enough to expose your underwear. He cuts them, tearing them off you in the same motion.

You can't believe this. You can't believe he is about to do this to you.

As you lay naked below him sobbing, he still looks so angry and frustrated at you. His eyes raking down your bare body. He pulls off his long-sleeved shirt and throws it away, followed by his jeans and boxers. Rolling to the side of the bed to get fully undressed. The whole while you squeeze your eyes shut. Praying for him to have a moral epiphany.

Getting back into the same place over your lap, you grit your teeth, this time you can feel his bare skin pressed against yours. His hands starting their rough groping of your chest again. Kneading them just as hard as before. His hands running up and down your body pawing and gripping your stomach, arms, neck, and breasts.

Suddenly, he slaps your face again. Not hard but enough to shock you. "I won't tell you again. Look at me." He growls through bared teeth.

Clumsily he shifts and moves, forcing your legs open, kneeling between them.

As you watch him you're able to see more than before. You can see why every hit hurts so much. He's completely muscled and built. His shoulders and arms are thick. One of them is covered in tattoos. And he has scars and cuts scattered over his torso. Everything about his physical appearance is strong and intimidating. And he's attractive. That's the worst of it. He looks like he could have any girl he wanted. You can't understand why then he is resorting to such violent and feral means. He could have been friendly. He could have asked you out. You probably would have been flattered and said yes. But instead, he chose to be forceful and not give you a choice.

What kind of monster does that?

He sticks his hands under your ass and lifts you up. Holding under your knees to make them bend. You shake your head, a morbid realization filling you as I see how he's smiling down at you. He isn't going to stop. And you have no way to stop him.

Your eyes meet. Yours filled with begging and pain, his with an unsympathetic excitement. He lines up with you, slowly starting to enter you. The further he goes, the more he stretches and hurts you.

"Stop!" You scream an ear-piercing plea. "Stop, it's hurting! Please!" He pauses, looking taken back for just a moment, nearly looking hesitant. But it passes so quickly that you can't be sure it was there.

His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he starts moving into you again. You buck your hips, screaming out a cry, trying to dip away from him, trying to get him to stop. But he doesn't slow, only pushing into you. The same painful sensation over again.

He keeps his steady pace, sinking deeper and deeper inside you. Leaning over, pushing down into you, spreading your legs wider until his crotch is pressed flat.

It hurts too much. It's too far inside you. It's too wide. It's too much to handle.

He holds still, smiling. Looking into your tear-filled eyes, as you gasp and pant struggling to even breathe through the invasion and pain.

"Just relax, babe. You'll enjoy this."

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere bangtan #bts reactions #bangtan reactions #jungkook #bts requests #bts fan fiction #bangtan fanfic #bts jungkook #bts smut reactions #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook #my cruel kidnapper

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if-found-return-to-sender · 3 years

Text

Star Gazing ~ Bill Weasley

The Burrow was busy with the number of people that were inside it.

The nine Weasleys and many members of the Order of Phonix were packed inside of the many tight spaces of the cozy family home. Another moment in there I might have had a small anxiety attack.

I made my way outside and laid out in the grass in front of the home. I sat looking up at the sky just watching the stars and moon slowly pass by in front of me.

I heard footsteps approach me to where I was sitting.

I looked up to see who came out to talk to me.

"Can I sit with you?" he asked.

It was Bill the oldest out of all the Weasley siblings. Seven years older than me.

I nodded.

He then sat next to me. I could feel the warmth radiating off of him from the close proximity that we were in.

I then realized just how cold it was outside and just how thin my jumper was. I pulled my knees up to my chest to try and keep the heat close to my body.

We sat in silence for a while before one of us spoke up in the dead of night.

"Why are you out here in the cold? You certainly didn't think this through did you," he spoke up, I could feel him looking up at my face as he said this. I kept looking up at the sky while replying to him.

"My dad told me that when my mom was stressed that she would go stargazing no matter where she was. I'm not stressed but I just needed to get out of that house for a little bit. Your twin brothers were starting to drive me crazy."

We both chuckled lightly at my last remark knowing I'm right.

"I did not realize just how cold it was out here. Compared to the heat inside of the house it's nice and refreshing out here. Now I'm just trying to keep the warmth in so I don't get any colder."

I had not noticed that he had taken off his jacket and was beginning to put it around my shoulders. My cheeks turned a light pink from his gesture.

I scooted closer to the redhead as he did this to also try and keep him warm as well in the process.

In my life, I have always had a thing for the older Weasley. I met him before my first year at Hogwarts. Even though there are a couple of years between us that hasn't stopped me from hoping or crushing on the older man. However, I don't think he would go for me especially since the age so my crush was just something of my dreams.

He then asked, "do you even know any constellations or are you just out here staring at them?"

"I'll have you know that sometimes just staring at the beautiful night sky is enough for me. But yes I do know some of them thank you very much!"

"And which ones of those would that be?"

I pointed slightly up and to the right, "that one is my favorite it's called Andromeda."

Bill looked at me confused. I know it's because he can't see the stars connect as I can.

So I take out my wand and then grab his hand as I use magic to lightly draw the outline of the constellation so that he could see what I saw.

"And that one there is Hercules, and then the most iconic Lupus, its Latin meaning is the wolf. Makes a lot of sense right. Andromeda is my favorite because one it's a beautiful outline and name for a constellation, and two the Latin meaning is a proper princess."

As I was babbling on I noticed that I still held his hand with mine. At the realization, I quickly pulled my hand away from his hoping he didn't think I was too obsessed with the stars in the sky.

He looked at me with curiosity, "what is the real reason you love the night sky so much?"

I looked up at him and sighed deeply.

"When my dad would go out during the full moon I would sit and wait up for him by looking up at the night sky waiting for the night to be over so that I can see my dad again. And as time went on I just started learning more and more about the night sky I was staring up at. It made the time pass so much quicker than just staring at it. I then learned how to turn into my animagus so that I could go out at night with my dad to help keep him safe. So then I taught my dad about the night sky so that we had something to do together. That's why I learned how to read the night sky."

I smiled at the end of my big schpeel feeling somewhat happy about my reasoning. Still looking at the sky above me.

I briefly looked at the man sitting next to me. To see him staring right back at me.

While looking at him I asked him if I had anything on my face.

He just chuckled at me and my response.

"What? I'm being serious if I have something on my face please tell me. I don't want to walk around all the cute boys in there if there is something on my face."

When I said my last sentence his face fell a little from the small smile he held. The moment this happened I felt bad for what I said to the ginger. I think that this man has some feelings towards me.

"What's got you so down? Was it something I said, I'm sorry if it was for whatever I said," I quickly said this in a panic to try and go back to the peacefulness we were once sitting in.

"No, it was nothing you said I just remembered something from a while ago."

"Well, what is it maybe a second opinion can help take it off your mind."

"It's nothing for you to worry about."

And with that, he got up and began to walk back to the house.

I got up and chased after him, grabbing his wrist when I reached him. "Hey, if it was something I said I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push anything too far."

He just looked at me while contemplating something around in his own head before saying, " You have nothing on your face, and none of those boys would notice if you did in the first place."

I was taken aback by the hushed tone he used to say while looking into my eyes.

Smirking I said, "are you jealous of those boys in there because I want to look 'okay' for them?" My heart pounding out of my chest as I asked him this question.

He looked away while his face flushed a crimson color that looked pink in the moonlight outside his family home. I put one hand on his chest while my other hand raised his head to look at me. With the hand I had on his chest I could feel his heart pounding against his body.

I smiled lightly at him as he tried to avert my gaze.

Looking him in the eyes I said, "they are boys compared to you, I like to flirt with them, yes. But I'm not looking to be in a relationship with a boy. I'm looking for a man."

And with that being said I quickly walked over to the house knowing that Bill would be right behind me. So I started to run getting to the door and opening it right as he picked me up making me laugh. Everyone inside the house heard the loud bang of the door and my loud annoying laugh.

We walked in laughing at one another.

I walked straight past everyone to the bathroom on the next floor up while Bill walked into the family room too where the adults were settled in the late evening.

When I walked into the bathroom I looked into the mirror with a smile on my face noticing the jacket still wrapped around my shoulders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What has got you in such a good mood?" asked my Mom.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I replied back to her.

"You know we knew it was only a matter of time before you and her finally realized just how much you like each other. I don't know how much longer we could handle the mindless flirting between the two of you," George piped in.

"Yeah, I was getting ready to lock the two of you in a room and not letting you out until you realized your feelings," Fred agreed with his twin brother.

"What were you talking about out there in the yard?" her father Remus asked me.

"We were talking about the stars. She's very passionate about them. I could listen to her ramble on all day about anything she's passionate about. The amount of excitement that she gets from those topics," my cheeks heated up at the confession I had made in front of everyone.

I turned around to look at the room of people around me. Many of them had smiles across their faces including Y/n's father.

"What I didn't say anything I didn't mean?"

I bid them all a good night as I needed to clear my head from the night activities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I walked back down the stairs from the bathroom I walked past Bill. Before I made it totally past him he grabbed my hand and whispered for me to meet him in his room later tonight.

I nodded at him as an understanding.

Walking back into the family room I was faced with lingering smiles from everyone. A weird sight in my opinion.

Then of course one of the twins had to say something.

"Have you got yourself a crush Y/n?" Fred asked. Molly gave him a swift hit to the back of the head from his remark.

"Yeah, Y/n you can trust us if you do. We promise not to tell a soul," George added in. Ducking from his mother's hand.

I giggled at them before I replied, "I can't tell you anything personal without everyone else knowing. Merlin knows you two can't keep your traps shut. And besides, even if I did have a crush it does contain either you or your opinions so bud out."

After saying that I smack both of them on the forehead knocking them both slightly backward.

I bid good night to my father and the rest of the room before making my way up to Ginny's room to change into my pajamas. Walking in both Hermione and Ginny are sitting and waiting for me expectantly on Ginny's bed.

"What?" I ask as the two of them stare at me waiting for some kind of story.

"Well, are you going to tell us what happened between you and my brother or what?" Ginny pipes up.

I roll my eyes as I begin to change.

"All we did was talk about the stars, and why I know so much about them. And more like I talked and he listened. That is about all we did." I replied to Ginny's question.

Hermione spoke up this time, "well we saw how close the two of you got out in the yard and we even saw him pick you up and spin you around in his arms."

I just smiled at the memory that happened not too long ago.

"Yes that did happen however, nothing else happened between the two of us just so you know. Trust me if anything happened you two would be the first to know about it," I replied to them, "he also told me to meet him in his room tonight, and I have no idea what he has in mind."

The two younger girls squealed in excitement at my response.

"Thank Merlin! I have telling him to make a move all weekend," Ginny said happily.

"You know you sound too excited about this, considering that he is your brother," I responded to her statement.

"I have made peace with the fact that my brothers will eventually all be with someone they love, and the fact that you were friends with the twins and then met Bill is another plus. Almost all the girls that have tried to be my friend at Hogwarts, do so because they want to get with one of my brothers. You were friends with the twins before you even met Bill, and your friendships with us didn't change once your crush developed," the redhead stated.

I smiled to myself as I finished changing, "thanks Gin, happy to hear that."

Turning around and sitting on the bed across from them they continued to smile. I asked them what was so funny as they slowly started to giggle in my presence.

"Well, are you going to go see him or what?" Hermione whispered from her spot on Ginny's bed.

"Not yet, I have to wait until I hear the twins get into their room. I would not want to get caught sneaking off to see Bill by those two. I would never hear the end of that story. And the entire house would know something else before either of us has had a discussion," I laughed at the girls.

"Besides nothing is probably going to happen between the two of us but a discussion, the one we had outside was cut short by something I said that upset Bill," I continued.

"What did you say to him?" the brunette asked me.

"Bill kept looking at my face and I asked him if I had anything on my face, and then I said that if I had anything on my face that he should tell me because I wouldn't want to come inside looking weird in front of all the boys in the house. He got jealous of me saying that and that is what caused our conversation to be cut short," I answered.

"Well, at least you're not oblivious to the fact that he was jealous and that you didn't just chalk it up to some weird behavior. Like Hermione over here," the redhead piped up.

"Yeah Hermione, what is going on with your crush on Ron? Any progress?" I asked her.

"No," she replied.

"No, what?" I said.

"No there is no progress, and to be honest I don't think there ever will be any progress on it. Ron is too oblivious to anything I try to do to hint at the fact that I like him," she babbled.

"We could help you with that you know," I responded to her flustered state.

"Please, I could use all the help I could get. I am running out of ideas over here," she pleaded.

The three of us let out a laugh at her desperation to get the man she wanted. "We'll talk about that tomorrow," I said to her.

As we were talking I heard the two loudest Weasleys make their way to their room in the middle of the house. This is my queue to make my way to Bill's room on the floor below.

"Well ladies it was great talking to you, but as the twins have now retired to their rooms that is my queue to dash to another redhead's bedroom before I am caught by them," I whisper to the two girls.

They whisper to me good luck before I make my way out into the hallway of the now quiet home.

I slowly walk down the stairs to the room almost right below Ginny's. Knocking on the door lightly as to not make too much noise. I hear a small come in before I open the door to the cozy bedroom.

As I open the door I see Bill sitting on his bed almost looking relieved that I had decided to come after all. Before the door was all the way closed he asked me a question.

"What took you so long? I had thought that you decided not to come."

"Sorry, I wanted to wait until I heard the twins make their way up to their room. There was no way I was risking getting caught by them coming down here," I replied to him.

He looked at me with an understanding face. "Mind if I sit?" I ask.

"No, go right ahead," pointing at the spot beside him.

I sat down next to him criss-cross on his bed, and he turned to face me from the position he was previously in.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh, um..."

"Now the cats got your tongue. That's not like the Bill Weasley I know. What's got you all flustered?"

"You."

The answer was blunt and was something I was not expecting at all to fall from his lips in front of me. "What about me has got you all flustered?" I asked, trying to edge him on to finally say what I want to hear.

I could tell he was having a mental argument with himself as to how he was going to answer my question.

"You are the reason I am so flustered. The reason why I can't think straight sometimes when you are in the same room," he confessed to me.

"Well if you can't think straight then I think I should leave so that you can come up with a straight answer as to why you wanted to meet with me right now," I giggled. He chuckled along with me.

"No, I can think straight right now it's just that I am trying to just get everything off my chest so that I don't leave anything unsaid at this moment." He pondered for a moment before continuing, "the only way I can say this is in the bluntest way possible... I like you. I have for many years, and with the recent events happening around us I don't know if I could go through any more of it without you knowing how I feel for you."

I just looked at him. Not saying anything to him.

He looked at me a little scared at what I was going to say next.

"I like you too. I have been waiting for you to say it for months," I said to him as I smiled.

"You knew, and didn't want to say anything to me," he replied.

"I just wanted to see you make the first move. Besides you have been the worst at hiding your feelings for me, everyone knows by the way. That's why I waited for the twins to be....."

He cut me off with a kiss.

It was one full of passion, care, and love.

He tasted like Fire Whiskey and coffee.

Just like I expected.

This was one of the best kisses I have ever had in my entire life.

When we pulled apart with our foreheads still touching, my eyes still closed.

Scarred that if I opened them too quickly this would all be just a dream, and I would end up back at square one.

"Is that a big enough move for you?" he whispered.

I slowly opened my eyes to see the beautiful man sitting in front of me. I looked him over as if it were the first time I ever saw him, but also as if I were to look away he would disappear from my reach.

"No, that's about just right." I smiled, leaning in for another kiss with the long-haired ginger. He was quick to give in to my intentions by also leaning in to meet me in the middle.

As we pulled apart this time we looked deep into each other's eyes as if we were the last two people on Earth.

"Your eyes look like they have stars in them," he said to me.

"Well, don't you know the way into my heart William," I responded.

He chuckled at my remark and the use of his real name, "you know I have never liked when anyone uses my real name, but when you say it. It makes my heart flutter just a little."

I smiled at his response, and back a little to look at his entire face. "I hope you know that just because you whisper sweet nothings to me does not mean that you now get to get in my pants right?"

His face flushes red at my sly remark, "Of Couse I do! Do you really think my mother would raise me to be that kind of man?"

"No, but I was just putting down the ground rules. Especially if we are going to be in a relationship of any sort," I respond to his question.

"So, you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Well yeah, if I didn't then I wouldn't have kissed you in the first place."

"I know that I don't need to ask in order to know your response, but I still need to ask. Would you, Y/n Lupin, like to be my girlfriend?"

"That was a very weird way of putting it, but yes, yes I would love to be your girlfriend," I responded as I tackled him into a hug. The both of us falling back onto his bed in the process.

I fell asleep in Bill's arms as he slowly combed through my hair. I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in. Looking up to see Bill looking down at me.

"You know it's weird to watch someone sleep you know," I told him still half asleep.

The laugh he let out was deeper than his normal voice, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

"However, I do like the sound of your morning voice. It's much sexier than your normal voice," I said to him.

"Thank you for that information. I'll take it into consideration from now on," he replied back in the same voice I was just talking about.

"You know instead of telling everyone that we are together now, we should let one of them come and wake us up. And when whoever comes in here sees both of us in here then everyone will be in here. It just makes it so much easier than telling all of them one by one," I look up to him to see what he thinks of my original idea.

He nods, "Sounds like a good plan, I could use a couple more minutes of sleep anyways."

"Me too," I say as I cuddle back into his chest to get just a little more sleep.

The next thing I hear is quiet talking from the doorway of Bill's room.

"Fred, you owe me 5 sikkels. I told you they would do something tonight," I heard George say from his place in the doorway.

"Would you all hush you're probably waking them up with all the talking your doing," Molly rushes out as I start to stir to show that I am waking up.

"I can't believe it. Bill hasn't had a girlfriend since he broke up with Fleur. It makes sense though. He was very bad at hiding his feelings from almost everyone including Y/n. And I think that he was the only one that was oblivious to what he was doing," Ginny says.

"If you guys are done with your staring and gawking, I would like to know what went down with the two of them last night as she is my daughter," my father, Remus, says to everyone.

Before my dad takes a step into the room Bill speaks up from next to me.

"The only thing that happened last night was the start of a relationship. We kissed each other, that was it. And yes she made it very clear last night that I was very bad at hiding my feelings from her and the rest of you. So, please if you will leave so that you do not wake her up. We will be down for breakfast in a little bit."

They all look shocked at the words coming out of his mouth as they thought that I would be the first to wake up out of us two. But they listened to him, and slowly but surely made their way out of the door frame to the room. Molly being the last one out.

"I am so happy for you two. It's about time you finally got with... your words not mine, the girl of your dreams," Molly says from the doorway.

"Thank you, Molly," I say back to her while rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"You're welcome dear, I'll see you two downstairs for breakfast," she replies before shutting the door behind her.

"Sooo, the girl of your dreams huh," I tease the man laying next to me.

"Yeah, that you are," he replies.

My face turns red from his remark.

I sit up, bringing him with me. I kiss his cheek before slowly getting out of the bed trying to mentally prepare myself for the mass amount of questions we were going to receive once we reached the kitchen for breakfast. Bill comes up behind me and kisses me on the cheek asking what I was thinking about.

I said, "I am thinking about what the first thing the twins are going to say upon seeing us walk into the room with one another. And the possibilities are endless is what I am thinking."

We both laugh at the thought of what could be sturring around the minds of the Weasley twins at this very moment.

"Well, why don't we go down and see what they have to say. Because my money is on the fact that you probably have a better come back to what they have to say," Bill says to me.

"I know I liked you for a reason," I said back to him, "are you ready to face the music?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he says as he grabs my hand.

"Alright," I say before giving him one more kiss, "Let's go."

#bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #harry potter #gryffindor

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