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ellivenollivander · 10 months

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Days Go By Fast

Anyone remember when @applinsandoranges played that lyric prompt game like, a month ago? Yeah, well this is the fic I wrote for the prompt I received. Which was: "Sit back and witness sheer chaos" Summary: "It's not every day that your young man turns eleven, now is it?" In which the Weasley's eldest son turns 11, and MC wants to throw a big party for him, and then stresses out about it. Her husband comes to the rescue. Pairing: Garreth Weasley x F!MC Rating: SFW! Fluff! Silly Fun Family Fluff! A/N: I saw the word chaos, and my brain immediately went to WEASLEY CHILDREN. Also, I named all of the children. It was just easier to write that way.

“Mind his head now, there you go, love.” Garreth's girls seemed to never get enough of holding their new baby brother, he and his wife had assumed it was something akin to a honeymoon phase. Though here they were, six weeks later still bouncing on their toes, begging to hold him whenever he was brought within three feet of their presence.

Lionel now safely resting in his sister's arms, Garreth turned to his eldest son, ruffling his hair “You wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on them would you, Finn? It would be just for a moment. While I go check to see if your mother has blown up the kitchen in her panic.”

Finn smiled, his hand running gently over the baby's head before rolling his eyes in a way that looked much like his mother.

“Please go, I’ll make sure they don’t drop ‘em.”

Garreth tried his best not to turn his elder children into bonus parents for his younger ones, something he had grown up with in his large family. However, he felt a swell of pride each time Finn stepped in to help of his own accord, with a smile.

He knocked his knuckles against his son's chin with a grin, before taking his leave. Heading towards the kitchen where he knew his wife was flitting around in a panic, preparing for today. He chose to ignore the bickering of his daughter's flabbergasted defenses at Finn having the gall to suggest they’d drop their brother.

MC was indeed in a state. The hair she had spent nearly half an hour tying up in the mirror this morning was hanging in frizzy tendrils around her face, now held up only by her wand. The wrap she normally carried Lionel around the house in was now drooping loosely around her abdomen, and she was absolutely covered in various baking ingredients. “I told you I’d take care of the cake, MC.” Garreths voice was light with laughter and bewildered amusement at his beloved wife. Who was desperate to make Finn's eleventh birthday party a memorable one. Of course, their son had received his owl with his Hogwarts acceptance letter last week, on his actual birthday. Face crimson red with delight, and loud cheering around the kitchen table when he had received his first proper bit of post just for him.

Garreth had managed to convince his wife to push his birthday party back a week. A compromise to what he had been really pushing for, which was no party at all. Knowing his kind and responsible son would be just as happy with his favorite dinner and a cake.

Garreth had been worried about the toll the stress of planning and hosting a large party would take on his wife, so soon after giving birth to their littlest boy. He wanted her to rest, soak up as much time as she could with their newest addition whilst she was still on maternity leave from the ministry.

Though, of course, his wife was hearing none of it. Her desire to celebrate their eldests first big milestone in the magical world, turning eleven, going to Hogwarts was passionate enough to squash any of Garreth’s defenses.

He had tried his best to shoulder as much of the responsibility for the party as his wife would allow, which wasn’t nearly as much as he had hoped.

“Is that egg?” Garreth had rounded on his wife, tugging the bowl from her hands and swiping a finger across the goo on her cheek. She slapped him away, a blush on her cheeks.

“I can bake a cake for my son, Gar.”

“As can I, and I can do it without frightening the children. Delia said you were cursing at my moms cookbook. Now, what did it ever do to you?” He set the bowl on the counter, pressing a small kiss to her temple, seemingly the only place she hadn’t managed to muck up with her attempts at baking. Just as MC was defending her tirade against her mother-in-law's cookbook, there was a knock at the door and Garreth winced at the panic filling his wife's eyes, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

“Don’t freak out, love. It’s just Lee and his own posse.”

Her panicked look didn’t fade, and anger flashed alongside it.

“I asked them to come early, to help out, don’t bother fighting me on it. It’s already done. You just have to deal.” He booped her nose with his finger, a grin on his face that he knew made his wife soften to him. She narrowed her eyes, before bolting out of the room and up the stairs to clean herself up, cursing as she went and her husband's laugh following her along the way.

“Delia, you should know better than to open the door by yourself.” The sound of the front door clicking shut accompanied his best friend's stern tone. “I knew it was you, Uncle Lee!”

Garreth continued grinning as he cleaned up the mess MC left behind, listening to his best friend chastise his youngest daughter. The thrilled shrieks of the rest of his children soon followed at the arrival of their Aunt and Uncle and their children. “Oh? You knew it was me did you? Can you see through doors now? Don’t yell, your baby brother's little ears are sensitive, you hellions.” Garreth had just finished scourgifying the last of the batter, before pausing his work to join them back in the living room to greet his best friend and his family. “Oh please, the little brute won’t even sleep unless his siblings are making a ruckus. Poor lad has never known a moment of silence.”

Garreth couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter at the sight of this family in his living room. Leander had Delia wrapped against his chest, his fingers tickling her sides. Poppy was crouched beside Tilly, cooing at the baby still in her arms, and Lea was tucked into the corner with the Prewetts two children, Ruth and Oliver. Speaking in hushed tones and soft giggles, while Finn was desperately trying to breach their small circle, being held back by Lea’s hand on his forehead.

The only thing missing from the picture was his darling wife, who had just reappeared down the stairs, looking as refreshed as a new mother of five could. She pinched Garreth’s side as she passed him, effectively ruining the moment of pride and love he was feeling, replacing it again with his usual playful attitude, making him swipe at her backside.

MC glared back at him, but he could see the smile tugging at her lips, though it wasn’t long before a familiar look of stress and worry etched itself back into her features.

“You guys really didn’t have to come, you know. I had it handled.” She shot daggers in Garreth’s direction as she spoke over the dull roar of the children and their noise. Poppy stood up, shaking her head with a smile.

“Oh please, MC. I couldn’t imagine pulling off this party with five children at home let alone being six weeks postpartum.” She laid a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder. “We would have come early anyhow, even if your husband hadn’t asked us too, so don’t be too hard on him. He just wants to make this a great day. For Finn.”

Both women turned to watch the boy in question, who was now trying to put his sister in a headlock in his attempts to catch sight of what the Prewetts had brought him for a gift.

“Please stop torturing him, you three. Come on. Let’s go outside.”

-*-

Soon enough, Garreths cake was cooling on the counter and everyone had been delegated a task to ensure everything got done in time for the rest of the plethora of guests that MC had invited to arrive.

Much to her dismay, Garreth had sat MC down in the soft sunshine to nurse Lionel, alone whilst everyone else finished preparing for the party for her eldest baby boy.

Garreths parents arrived next, an hour before the party was properly due to start and they immediately had been set to work in helping with the preparations.

His mother started assisting Poppy in getting refreshments on tables in the garden. MC couldn’t help but smile watching Lea carefully carrying a pitcher of juice across the uneven grass. Her little face full of concentration, determined not to spill.

Garreth had put his father and Leander to work in helping him raise a colorful tent around the tables, wands raised while Oliver and Finn looked on in wonder. Their little minds still enamored by magic in its simplest of forms.

Soon enough, guests started trickling in. Garreths siblings, their children, which really nearly filled their small garden on their own. Followed by neighbors and friends. All laden with gifts and good cheer for Finn, who had turned into the most gracious of hosts. Thanking each and every person that showed up with a big grin and red cheeks.

Eventually, Garreths mother had even taken Lionel from her arms, and MC was left to do nothing but wander around the party. Keeping an eye on her children, on the tables seeming to never empty with Garreth and his mother circling them every so often, waving their wands when a dish seemed to dwindle in size.

She watched as Lionel was passed to Poppy. A pout forming on her face and Leander shaking his head in exasperation before she could even speak her desire.

MC caught sight of her other four offspring, each and every one having the time of their lives, and the evidence of her own baby fever.

Garreths sister had charmed an old garden statue of a giant purple toad to spew water from its mouth, delighting all of the children present as they played in its spray. A welcome relief to the summer sun beating down on the party and its guests.

She was so caught up in watching them, she didn’t notice her husband sidle up next to her with a butterbeer in hand and an arm around her waist.

He kissed her cheek, pulling a leaf from her hair as he did so. Letting out a happy sigh as he joined her in surveying the party she had spent weeks stressing out over.

“We pulled it off, love. Everyone’s having a great time. Especially Finn.”

The proud parents found their eldest son, trying to shove his cousins’ face into the frog's mouth. They laughed in exasperation when his grandfather pulled him back by the collar of his now very wet shirt. With the party now in a full, successful swing, Garreth reminds her to just try and enjoy the moment. To celebrate their little boy.

“I can’t believe he’s eleven, Gar. I feel like I blinked and he went from being an infant and now he’s off to Hogwarts in a months’ time.” She tries to swallow the lump in her throat at the thought. Her chest tightening in anxiety about the boy who made her a mother being so far away from her.

“I know.” His jaw was tight when she glanced at him, and her eyes threatened to fill with tears knowing he was feeling much similarly. He managed to pull his eyes off his son to his wife, and then they went wide. “Don’t you dare cry, or I’m going to cry and then Finn will never let us throw him a party like this again.”

MC laughed, fanning her heated face with her hand, trying to stop herself from blubbering like an idiot. Garreth pulled her tightly against his side once again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“We just have to relax, sit back and enjoy the sheer chaos that is our family.”

MC wrapped her arms around her Garreth's waist, and hummed happily in agreement, slowly letting all of the stress of the last few weeks go, letting herself soak up the sunshine and all of the love being poured out for her son.

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x f!mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #leander prewett #poppy sweeting #various weasleys #I HAD FUN writing this once i got into the swing of it #domestic family fluff is my niche me thinks #ENJOY mwah #love you all #WEASLEY WEDNESDAY

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ahomeforwisters · 4 months

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ava gift exchange 2023! 🎄🥳

it's here! happy holidays, lulw (@tdlad), hope you're having a good one! this isn't a piece of visual art since i don’t have the tools to create one, so you get a dr. seuss-inspired fic + a part of a fic i might finish later!

due to irl events, i had to rush these a bit, but i hope you enjoy it either way :) have a wonderful winter (or summer, depending on where you are) week, and happy (early) new year! *gives gingerbread cookie*

(prompt: i tried to combine elements from all three, but i focused on “the dark lord with red coat (that tdl in my posts)” specifically—your art is just gorgeous, btw!)

word count: ~1400 for the first one/the dr. suess-y one, ~1320 (and counting?) for the second one/the unfinished one

(and special thanks to @avagiftexchange for hosting this!)

Fic 1: How the Grinch Dark Lord Stole Christmas (or: dark's christmas cake romp)

Every stick in Stick City, near the end of the year, Every stick in Stick City brimmed with holiday cheer…

But! The Dark Lord, who’s not far from here, Who lived in the wintry woods quite near— The Dark Lord held Christmas even more dear!

~-~

The Dark Lord loved Christmas, this is no bluff, And you’d best believe it, he just can’t get enough! Was it because he enjoyed the sound of children laughing clear, Or did he simply have a particular liking for reindeer? Well I’ll tell you his secret, his reason for this: He really, really liked log cakes, they fill him with bliss.

“Christmas awaits, on the very next day, Christmas really is just a day away!”

But, From his perch in the woods, Watching the stars from where he stood, With hungry eyes and vibrant ardor, With the growing desire for Christmas he harbors, (and a craving for frosting he just can’t ignore), The Dark Lord knew: he needed more!

He needed more of all that Christmas had in store! And he will get more, he swore, He’ll claim even more of Christmas, ‘twas his right as a Lord!

But—how? Christmas is already drawing so near, Soon enough, Christmas will practically already be here! He needed more time, and he needed… a plan! A plan to put Christmas in the palm of his hand.

So The Dark Lord schemed, And he schemed, and he schemed, And he conjured a scheme, A terrible scheme!

“A-ha! I’ve got a brilliant idea!”

Dark cackled, a sound from deep in his throat, As he pulled from his closet his most dapper red coat. “They’ll never see me coming, even from the skies, “So long as I craft myself a most clever disguise!”

So he lined his coat with cotton, like Santa’s coat proper, Just as into the room, his friend Chosen entered— “Look, dearest Chosen, I’ve come up with a plan, “A plan to seize Christmas in the palm of my hand!”

Dear Chosen deadpanned, “Why are you talking like that,” And right after, he inquired, what about your silly Santa’s hat?

“No I didn’t—”

“Right here! I believe my night cap is sufficient,” Dark proclaimed, wearing the hat over his ears. “Now I only need a reindeer…”

But around this area, their part of the woods here, This much Dark knew: you wouldn’t find any deer! But was Dark deterred…? No! He said, “If I can’t find a deer, I’ll just make one instead!”

“...What do you think you’re doing with that big red nose.”

…And Dark ended up sticking the nose and antlers on his one last Virabot instead!

And so, with his little red cap on his hollow red head, And his feet firmly planted in his makeshift sled— He took with him a burlap sack, Which he then hoisted upon his back— He yelled, “Onward!” just before he took flight, Off to steal Christmas, he disappeared into the night!

~-~

Back on the ground, Chosen gazed down at the cardboard box—sorry, at the sled—Dark left behind. He stared at the confused Virabot, wearing an antler headband and sporting a red clown nose glued to its face, and sighed. “This is so stupid…”

~-~

A jaunty holiday tune played from an open Chrome window, But not a sound could be heard coming from inside their homes. He was here at last, and at the perfect time, too— They must all be in their beds, dreaming away without a clue! “Now to enact my plan…”

So he climbed down the chimney, one crafted from brick, It wasn’t too tight a fit, for he was literally a stick. Though he did get stuck once, or twice, maybe thrice— And he cursed his head, loudly, for it was massive in size. “Ow—seriously, who makes chimneys this small—”

“Second, is that you?”

Just as Dark managed to extricate himself, finally, Free from the clutches of that dastardly chimney— He came face-to-face with his first obstacle: Little Cindy-Blue Who, carrying fruits in a bowl.

“Wha… Little Cindy-Blue who?”

That’s right! Little Cindy-Blue Who, probably much older than two, Who… was actually awake at this time? But it’s two (a.m.)!

“Oh, no, we don’t actually sleep. Like at all. Except Second, sometimes, but he’s off doing his own thing right now. But uhh, anyways, hi, Dark Lord! What—what’s up? And why are you dressed like…”

And oh, there was a cautious glint in his eyes— He was nervous! But there was no need for such fright, Not if Dark wanted his plan to go without a hitch. So Dark would assure him, and explain his impromptu visit:

“You see, sweet youth—you see, the job of Santy, “Is to stock up your stockings, and fill them aplenty! “So that’s what I’m here for—but not you, my dear, “For this gift’s a surprise, so I can’t have you near.”

And the lie rolled cleanly off The Dark Lord’s tongue, For he was clever, and sure to fool the young. And surely enough, Cindy-Blue Who was nodding, Raring and ready to hurry back to bed a-plodding. You’re right, Santa Dark, he joyfully exclaimed, I’ll head right back to bed now! With a turn and a wave.

“What? But I didn’t say anythi—”

And so, with his burlap sack swinging, And with Cindy-Blue assuaged, standing there beaming— “Hey, don’t—get back here…!” The Dark Lord marched onward, his first obstacle cleared!

…only to find four more, all waiting at the door!

(…crap)

Ahem—what a surprise! The Dark Lord gasped, He can’t believe his eyes, ‘twas something he almost couldn’t grasp— What a sight, that they’d all come to greet him so, How happy they must be, to all rush out and greet him so!

“Hey uhh… what’s he saying?”

‘What’s he saying?’ They’re asking what game he’s playing! They ask why he’s here, and on what he was preying. But! faced with a barrier of four— Now five, as Cindy-Blue Who, panting, adds one more… They all block his path to the far kitchen door, But has this ever stopped The Dark Lord before? No!

“Hey wait, where are you going?” Cindy-Blue called when Dark showed no signs of slowing.

“Why’d you come here all of a sudden?” Said the yellow, placing a hand on his chin.

“The Cindy-blue-what now?” Slowly asked the red fellow.

“And what’s with the getup?” Queried Green, looking him from the toes up.

“Oh, Chosen told me he and Dark recently discovered these popular picture books. And ever since then, Dark’s been narrating everything he does in rhyme.”

“Ah, is that why he’s talking like that?” Yellow asked, eyeing his little Santa’s hat.

“That’s actually kind of impressive,” Remarked Green, who’s usually quite quick to forgive.

“Ooh, try rhyming something with orange!” Red said as Cindy-Blue stood next to Orange.

“Please stop calling me that, I don’t even know what it means,” Groaned Cindy-Blue Who, beside a laughing Green.

“Hey guys, Chosen texted me again just now—apparently Dark is here trying to ‘steal Christmas’ from us—which really just means he wants our log cakes.”

(goddammit Chosen you traitor)

“Wait, that’s it? That’s what that devious plan he was cackling about is?”

“I mean, Blue could always just make another cake. You could’ve just asked if you wanted one.”

“Yeah, and you’re… kind of really bad at sneaking? We could hear you narrating really loudly as soon as you got here.”

“And cursing out Orange’s chimney, too. Geez, that was vulgar…”

“Well,” with a flourish, the orange stick gestures, Towards the kitchen, where Dark had been hoping to plunder. “We’ve got some cake, if you want it. Next time just let us know you’re coming before you tear a portal through our wifi. And maybe keep your visits during the daytime, or at least don’t come crawling down my chimney past midnight…”

What was this? Could it be—no, it simply couldn’t be… But it was! “They’ll stand here and hand Christmas—to me?” For ‘twas the season of giving, of gifts freely given, Of gingerbread, batter, and cakes in the kitchen.

And there Dark stood and pondered, and pondered, and pondered, ‘Til a bright thought struck him! One that filled him with wonder: Could it be, then, that Christmas was not for the taking, But for shared cheer and laughs and all that in the making?

“Oh, for Adobe’s—just sit down and have some log cake.” And, well— ‘Twas simply an offer Dark cannot forsake.

- the end -

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Fic 2: i don't actually have a name for it yet, but i think i'll call it thaw for now

Christmas. ‘Twas a time of joyous laughter and warm embraces, of fireside affections and wintry escapades. ‘Twas the season of giving, be it presents or sweets or even the simplest of smiles—‘twas a time when even the little things, when given to another, are made infinitely precious.

Christmas. ‘Twas an absolutely perplexing holiday, for a stick such as The Dark Lord—and ‘twas a completely pointless one, too, as far as Dark was concerned.

Yet, when a pair of glittery red envelopes arrived at the doorstep of his and Chosen’s cabin in the woods—and when he opened one of them up to find an invitation inside, filigreed in gold and writ upon with a blue gel pen (in rather shaky handwriting, he noticed)—he didn’t immediately turn it to ash. He regarded it for longer than he normally would’ve, longer than he should’ve, turning it this way and that under the light—‘You’re invited!’, it winked up at him. If he didn’t know better just how sappy the animator’s favorite and his friends can be, he would’ve thought this was some kind of taunt.

(“You’re invited!”? who in their right minds would want to invite The Dark Lord, the outernet’s worst cyber-criminal, to something as mundane—as warm alien pointless—as a holiday gathering?)

While he was still winning gots nose at the gaudy invitation, the only other stick around for miles appeared in his periphery—Chosen picked up an envelope, too, when he saw what Dark was studying at the doorway. Dark almost hadn’t noticed when his fr… when his roommate had snuck up behind him, his pronounced footfalls doing little to breach the chasm between them; it was all he could do to stop himself from launching a fireball at Chosen as soon as the latter reached past him (he hadn’t forgotten how well that’d gone for him the last time…)

Clumsily, fumbling with it once or twice, Chosen peeled at the envelope. His invitation was inked in orange instead of blue, littered with tiny scribbled drawings, and written in much neater script, too. Dark couldn’t catch the rest; Chosen always stood with his feet angled toward him these days, so his invitation turned away from view. That, and he’d moved a few paces away from the doorway—and Dark wasn’t interested anyway, he wasn’t. Pointless, he told himself again, it was such a pointless gesture. It was something he didn’t need—The Dark Lord had better things to do, had more important things to do, than to entertain something as small and banal as a Christmas party—it was a pointless affair, that was all it was.

(and yet.)

And yet. Dark wouldn’t be able to say what possessed him to do it; if it was sheer curiosity, a part of him balking at his own degrading wonder—or if it was when Chosen’s fingers tightened their hold on his invitation, carving minute creases into the paper,

and when the other stick’s eyes crinkled, just barely, in tender longing silent laughter only Dark would recognize—when those eyes finally met his, carrying a question and a spark Dark hadn’t seen in so long—he couldn’t find it within him to say no.

(it was Chosen’s idea, he would say later—it was all his roommate’s fault, the first and last person to extend their hand to him, that he was crashing their little party. he hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t needed it—he didn’t need this, he didn’t.)

~-~

If he was being honest—Dark really didn’t have anything better to do than to attend the party.

Ever since he was blasted to kingdom come by the animator’s favorite, ever since a battered Chosen had found him at the foot of a volcano and hauled his near-corpse all the way back to their cabin—in the months since, he’d seldom left their secluded area in the woods to do anything more than take a short walk. His shoulder still smarted from the hole that’d been blown through it, his skin etched with throbbing green scars all over—he couldn’t travel far beyond the bounds of the woods without wilting, robbed of breath. Needless to say, his heydays of ash and destruction were far behind him.

(and even if all his progress hadn’t been deleted, rendered void when Chosen destroyed the rest of his virabots following the “incident”—these days, looking at the place where he’d once stood tapping away at his computer, believing himself the inheritor of a grander purpose than the one dealt to him by the animator—it left an sour taste in his mouth.)

In his current condition, even petty theft seemed beyond his capabilities. Which was going to be a problem, he realized, when he turned to the back of the invitation and saw the damning first rule of the party written in a bold green: “Come in a costume! No costume, NO ENTRY.”

Well, in the state he was in, he wasn’t going to be pulling any heists anytime soon, not even on cheap outfitters—and he doubted any store would simply let a notorious cyber-criminal waltz into their establishment, even just to look around. That left him with only two options: either go through his own closets, or brave Chosen’s minefield of a room to rifle through his. It wasn’t a hard decision to make.

With practiced ease (and only slightly impeded by his still-healing injuries), Dark picked his way past piles of lightly-charred sweaters, discarded bandages, random knick knacks collecting dust over the years, a self-sustaining tornado of trash—all the way across his roommate’s bedroom to reach the far end where the closets were. While Dark considered his fashion sense to be impeccable, none of his clothes really screamed “festive.” It was all something along the lines of “looks like he could kill you” or “warning: would actually kill you.” Chosen’s taste in clothes, on the other hand, was more… eclectic. There was more variety; he’d probably have a better chance finding something acceptable to wear here than in his own wardrobe.

Dark threw open the leftmost closet, a mahogany behemoth with the price sticker still slapped on the left door, and oh, that was—what even was that? No, those pants were too long, and the pair beside them the wrong shade of green—and oh, that’s garish, why did he even think to nab this? What is this even supposed to be, a mop? Or some kind of shawl? That color is way too bright to ever belong on a shirt, that shirt is a visual safety hazard. And what—why aren’t these socks the same, where’s the other one in the pair? None of these socks are the same—is that a pair of googly eyes—

Dark shut the closet door. He should’ve expected this, really; he’d witnessed the affront to fashion that was Chosen’s wardrobe thousands of times before, whenever they had to disguise themselves to go into the city. The two other closets wouldn’t be much better, he knew, but just as he was turning to head back toward the door—had that box always been there?

Tucked away into the corner of the room was a small cardboard box, a little tattered and stained in several spots from years of disuse but otherwise appearing untouched by the surrounding mess. As an expert at navigating Chosen’s room, Dark knew for certain it hadn’t been there the last time he was here (just over three months ago. he’d been scrounging for one of the aprons he’d left in Chosen’s room; it feels like it’s been forever since then.)

It took only a short hop for Dark to reach it. The next second, he was kneeling down in front of it, carefully lifting the top flaps—and sure, maybe a part of him was prodding at him, telling him whatever was in there was probably stashed away in the corner for a reason, reminding him that things are different now, the space between you and him, it’s different now—but that hadn’t ever stopped Dark before

(aaand that's all i have for this second one for now. i'll probs post the rest on ao3 or something if i finish this, but i'll def let you know!)

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but yeah, anywho, that's all—have a wonderful holiday season! :)

#ava gift exchange #ava gift exchange 2023 #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #alan becker #ava tco #ava tdl #avm tsc #avm green #avm blue #avm red #avm yellow #for the first fic i just wanted to write dark being a goof #while the second was more character-studyish #anywho #it's here! gift exchange! :D

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sugawara-sweetheart · 3 years

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darling nymphet (m)

❥dilf!suguru getou x fem!reader

❥warnings: age gap, non-jujutsu world!au, masturbation, voyeurism, cunnilingus, overstim, vaginal penetration, facial, mild cum play, spitting, clit-slapping, praise kink

❥word count: 4.5k

this is for @kaijime‘s dilf collab. im so sorry this is so horribly late but i really hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for letting me join your collab, I'm honoured to have been a part of it <33 and for my regular readings, im so sorry this is the first time im posting a fic in ages too.

it sounds like a cliche but the men your age just weren’t good enough.

childish. immature. not to mention weak dick game, thinking it’s sufficient to just give you a few thrusts before spilling their cum into a condom they initially claimed ‘wouldn’t be big enough’, your clit painfully ignored whilst they have the audacity to ask you ‘did you cum?’

it’s almost embarrassing- and pathetic enough that you swear yourself to be celibate one night over a bottle of wine. too many disgusting men not simply worth your time, it’d be better to abstain from men till someone actually worth dropping your panties for comes along. not that you have to wait long- because the next morning you wake to seeing a removal van outside your home. the doors are open, furniture being carried out by the men and your stomach’s in knots as you peer carefully from the crack in your curtains, intrigued and hopeful for a glimpse of your new neighbours. the last thing you need are troublesome people- the type that’d park badly and leave you with no space for your own car or the type that host parties too often and keep the whole street awake. but the last thing you expect is for him to come strolling out of the house, smiling as he thanks the movers for bringing in the last couch.

tall. muscular. handsome. this man is perfectly sculpted, enough to make you gasp as you press against the window, salivating already. his creamy skin glows in the morning sunlight, long dark hair falling in his narrow eyes as he gazes around the street. bulging muscles ripple in his navy t-shirt with every movement and it’s not a lie to say a small moan falls from your lips just at the mere sight of him. there’s no denying he’s older- much older than you’d ever considered, with lines tracing around his sharp eyes but fuck, you’d never seen a man like him before.

the cogs in your mind are already turning when you see a flash across the garden and you freeze, your mouth dropping open. there’s a small child- a little boy probably no older than ten running to your new neighbour, blue tresses wild over his grinning face. you’re stunned as he hugs the man, the man laughing and you’re speechless as it dawns upon you- he’s a father. you’d never been with a man like that before- responsible, caring, a proper adult.

you’re supposed to be deterred. you’re just a mere adult of twenty-something, young, childish, immature still- this sort of older man is not for you. but for some reason, it makes your heart thump faster. your stomach flutters with the thrill of just imagining it- a hot, older man, a man old enough to be your father, fucking you, his dick buried in your clenching cunt, his fingers shoved in your mouth, soft voice murmuring filth in your ear, his hot breath tickling your cheek as your pussy dribbles all over his throbbing cock.

you inhale sharply, mind hazy and dizzy from the new excitement. there’s no guarantee a man of his age and his lifestyle would even be interested in the likes of you- but you’re not the type to shy away from a challenge.

the hours spent in the kitchen poring over a recipe book and the splatters of dough all over the countertop is worth it when you’re finally taking a tray of golden choc-chip cookies out of the oven, the sweet scent filling your home. a smile stretches across your face as you fill a pretty plate with them, taking one final glance in the mirror before you leave your home. it’s uncomfortable, the underwire of the push-up bra squeezing against your rib cage but it’s worth it to perfect the look; the look of the perfect girl-next-door, hot neighbour cliche with your shorts and slippers, hair messy but makeup perfected.

two knocks on the door and it swings open a moment later, the handsome face of your new neighbour greeting you. but he’s better up close, your lips pressing shut to suppress the whine that threatens to escape. so fucking hot. he’s like a Greek god, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles at you, head tilting. your knees feel weak as his onyx eyes slowly trace along the length of your body.

“hi.” a sweet voice. it’s young and girlish as you put it on, fluttering your lashes with a saccharine smile painted on your face, but you don’t miss the way his thin brows raise momentarily. “i just saw you moved in- i’m your neighbour, y/n. it’s lovely to meet you- i brought cookies!” he chuckles, leaning his body against the doorframe and you’re practically drooling as you notice how the veins along his arm ripples. no ring on the left hand. it’s hard to control the smirk.

“that’s so sweet of you, y/n.” a honeyed voice meets your ears and you inhale sharply as your name rolls from his lips. so perfect. you wish you could hear him moaning it. “i’m suguru. thank you for the cookies- why don’t you come in? my son will love you for them.”

easy so far.

you giggle, thanking him as you step into his house, your body grazing his as he moves to close the door behind you. rich yet subtle cologne fills your nose and you can’t help but imagine how much stronger his scent would be when you’re burying your face into his neck, biting into his shoulder and moaning into his sweaty skin as he pounds into you.

can he sense the sin pulsating through you? there’s a smirk tugging at his lips, eyelids hooded when he gently presses his hand to the small of your back. “just straight ahead to the kitchen.” you can feel his eyes on you as you walk, swaying your hips enough you’re sure there’s no way he’ll be able to forget about you.

“mahito, we have a guest.” the small boy sat at the kitchen table tears his eyes away from his ipad at the sound of his father’s voice, his piercing eyes flashing to you. a smile brightens his face when he sees the plate of cookies in your hand, rushing to you immediately. “this is y/n, she’s our neighbour. say hello.” he does as his father says and you flash him a kind smile as you offer him the plate, thankful he’s quick to grab a couple before he rushes out of the room with his ipad.

“he’s not great with people so don’t mind him.” getou’s laugh is sweet, filling the room as your stomach flutters, your own laugh joining his. “but thank you for this.” you watch his hand reach out for a cookie, veins rippling. his eyes are locked with yours as he brings it to his lips, biting into it slow. a small groan falls from his lips as he chews and you can’t tug your eyes away, swallowing hard as your legs press together.

“they’re delicious.” he murmurs, pink tongue swiping across his lips, leaving them glistening. you want nothing more than for him to use it on you, to bury his face between your legs, to leave your thighs shaking around him, toes curling.

“i’m glad you like them. i’ll be sure to make them often now.” you smile as you step forward. your chest is inches away from his but he doesn’t make to move away. “you have a crumb.” you reach a hand out slowly, swiping your thumb across the corner of his smirking lip, his skin soft against yours.

“thank you, sweetheart.” you’re stunned when his tongue darts out, the wet tip swiping along your thumb to collect the crumb. a gasp escapes you, heat rising to your cheeks but getou just smiles as he taps your cheeks gently. “you’re a doll.”

you can feel your skin burnt, alight with the fiery tingles of lust running through you. your heart hammers, knees feeling weak as you inhale sharply, getou’s narrowed eyes falling to the curves of your quivering lips.

“dad! i want more cookies!” the loud, obnoxious, childish voice snaps you out of your rose-tinted haze as you and getou spring apart, his child running into the kitchen. there’s a slight wariness as his eyes flicker to you but you’re too busy gripping the edge of the countertop to steady yourself, thighs pressing together to care.

“no more.” getou smiles. “you’ll ruin your dinner. would you care to stay for some?” he turns to you, eyes slowly raking down the length of your body and you’re half-tempted to say yes, but that’d spoil the fun. there’s a better appeal in playing the long game so you stretch a smile across your face, waving a hand dismissively.

“no, i should let you settle in. but welcome to the neighbourhood- you’ll like it here.”

his eyes burn into you as he walks you to the walk, not even bothering to hide his shameless smirk.

“thank you, darling. i’m sure i will.”

you live to make sure your words come true.

it starts off slow.

a week or two of watching closely by the curtains lets you know the time getou returns home after dropping his kid off to school, giving you the perfect opportunity to sit at your porch, sipping your morning coffee in nothing but a skimpy little tank top and sleeping shorts. it’s worth the biting morning cold to see how getou stops in his tracks, brows raising as he takes in how the thin strap slides down your shoulder, his eyes raking over your smooth collarbone and what’s exposed of your chest, the nipples protuding through the thin fabric, the soft skin of your thighs.

“morning.” it’s such a thrill to see how the older man swallows as his eyes fall onto your lips, wet with the traces of coffee. sometimes you’ll go even further- bending over to pick up the stray weeds to have your shorts hug the curve of your ass or leaning over for your chest to almost spill out of your flimsy top as you water the plants.

“it is now, sweetheart.” you don’t miss the deep mumble falling from getou’s lips as he strolls back into his house, footsteps slow and eyes lingering. sometimes he’ll stop and chat, letting you push your tits together as you lean against the shared fence, thighs pressing together every time his sharp eyes dips away from your eyes to your body.

any chance you get to speak to the older man you take- the wrong post, some baked treats, you need to borrow some milk, a stiff jar you can’t open? you’re skipping into his house, whining that you need his help so bad, pouting your red lips and jumping with joy when he easily clicks it open. a smirk tugs at his lips whenever you thank him so earnestly, stroking your hand over his thick bicep.

“aren’t you such a sweet little doll?” he always smiles back, earning a coy giggle to fall from your lips.

but the best chance you possibly have is your large bedroom window facing the master bedroom of getou’s. it still takes you by surprise how often you’ve seen the older man stroll out of his bathroom in just a towel wrapped around his lower half but you love it every time- the curve of his bulge pressing against the white, his long wet hair pushed back, skin damp with droplets running down his chest and glistening abs, his handsome face looking somewhat older in the dim lighting of his bedroom. it drives you insane, you’re salivating as you watch him hungrily till the curtains close. but you can easily still see the silhouette of his body through the sheerness of the curtains- the curves and chisels of his body as the towel falls, leaving little but enough to your imagination. it’s enough to make the ache too unbearable that you can’t resist laying down across your bed, one hand reaching between your legs and the other groping your chest, fingers buried in your throbbing cunt, wishing it was his instead, that the heat dancing across your skin is the blaze his lips leave behind, that your heavy pants are joined by his.

you don’t know what pushes you this far.

the haze of lust engulfs you too far one night. some liquid courage and you’re tipsy enough to ignore the thoughts of self-restrain when you stalk into your bedroom. the silk robe around your body sends shivers running down your spine as you sit at the end of your bed, staring out at the window across. you can see getou clearly, still in just his bath towel, pushing his wet hair back as he stands in front of his wardrobe mirror. it takes him a moment before his eyes flicker towards the window but the moment he does is perfect- his eyes widen momentarily as he stares at you before a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. one hand raised slowly, he waves at you- but he freezes the moment the robe slips from your body.

you whine to yourself as you stroke a hand up along your thigh, spreading your legs slowly, the hands reaching up up along your stomach, towards your chest. the thin lace of your bra barely hold your tits and your legs tremble as you grope them, feeling your nipples harden through the thin fabric. but getou doesn’t look away, not even when you spread your legs completely and let your fingers trail over your clothed clit. he’s pinned in place, watching you with his lips upturned, head tilted as he watches you rub your fingers against your cunt, how your legs tremble with pleasure, how your lips fall apart with sweet moans. your eyes flutter shut as you feel the coil tighten in your stomach- he’d be so good pounding you into the mattress, calling you his sweet little girl, instructing you to touch yourself as you fall apart on his cock, reminding you only he can make you feel this good, that no guy your own age can ever make you moan this loud.

your release is warm, body shaking as your hot moans fill the room. your wet pussy clenches around nothing as your eyes slowly open, locking with getou’s narrowed slits piercing into you. nothing but the permanent smug smirk gracing his face lingers before the curtains close and you’re left with a thudding heart.

you’re sure your life is over. that he’ll report you, or move out, or tell all the other neighbours in the facebook group or just get a documentary channel involved- but you want nothing more than to avoid getou for the rest of your life. it’s humiliating how you somehow thought that was the right way to seduce a man only it horribly failed and now you were left trying to avoid him at all costs. almost a week had passed and you’d always wait till his car was no longer in his drive to leave the house. the frequent flirtatious chats over the garden fence was done, no morning coffee on the porch and no little trips into his home. you were sure you’d gotten so close to him that you’d even heard his son mahito’s voice carrying over the back garden as he was playing out, asking about you. but you doubt getou even cared- after all, his bedroom curtains had been firmly drawn shut since, leaving you with a scorned ego.

you’re surprised one evening to hear the door knock, confused as to who’d be coming over without notice- after all, your friends were all busy and you hadn’t made any plans. but you’re stunned when you open the door and see none other than getou stood on the doorstep.

he looks like he’d just come home from work, dark hair tied back in a bun with that signature lock of hair falling into his eye, eyes darkened, white crisp shirt unbuttoned at the top. you freeze as you stare at him, cursing his smirk that has you like a deer caught in headlights, your legs feeling weak as you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

“why’s my little sweetheart looking so flustered? you weren’t so shy back then.” you can’t force any words out. not in reply to his honeyed voice as he steps into your home, the door closing shut behind him. “my kid’s away this weekend. so i guess i’ve got plenty of time for you, darling.” you swallow as he reaches out, fingers closing around your chin tenderly. he brushes the coarse pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, making you inhale sharply. “i haven’t forgotten your little show- instead i’ve been waiting. so tell me, how badly do you want me to stuff your pretty, little cunt and fuck you dumb?”

it’s jarring, how such an angelic face spew such filth with a handsome smirk and a sweet voice. but you’re drunk on suguru getou, a whine falling from your lips as you cling to his shirt, desperate for him as you press your legs together to try and soothe that throbbing ache between your legs.

“s-suguru, please. i need you so bad. want you to ruin me. please.” he chuckles at your words, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts your head upwards.

“such a sweet, polite little thing you are. but it’s daddy for you.”

“daddy.”

it’s pure sin falling from your lips, getou moaning softly as his lips connect with yours. he’s hungry, tasting of sweet peppermint and making fire run through your veins as you cling to him, letting him tighten his fingers in your hair, tilt back your head, deepening the wet desperate kiss. you tug at his shirt, pulling him into the living room with your lips still pressed against his, whining when his tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you can’t resist bucking your hips up into his, wrapping your legs around him when he pushes you onto the couch.

“please, daddy.” you’re breathless, eyes fluttering shut as getou peppers hot kisses leaving a blaze dancing on your skin along the column of your throat. “fuck me already.” he chuckles against your skin, gripping your chin as his dark eyes lock with yours, lust burning in them.

“oh don’t worry- i will. i’ll fuck you so good you’ll be screaming my name when you cream all over my cock. you’ve never fucked someone this old, have you?” your cheeks burn as you shake your head, making him laugh as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your skin between the open-mouthed kisses he presses. “good. i’ll fuck you so good you’ll never want anyone else’s dick again.”

there’s no time wasted in pulling off the clothes and you don’t even register that you’re braless and in a boring pair of panties until getou pulls back to pull off his own shirt. your cheeks burn with embarrassment as he gazes at you but much to your surprise, there’s a certain thrill when he cocks his head and smirks at you.

“no pretty lingerie today? does that mean that was all just for me the other night?” you scowl as you’re about to scoff at him but you’re cut off by his fingers reaching out to grope your chest, squeezing the flesh as you squirm. “i’m honoured- daddy appreciated your little show a lot, sweetheart.”

you groan his name as he wraps his lips around the pebbled buds, sucking and licking to make warmth run through you before he sinks to knees. “i wanted to see that cute little pussy of yours so bad.” you inhale sharply as he spreads your legs, placing each thigh across his shoulders and rubbing his thumb against the soft skin. “i wanted to see how wet and tight this little cunt can get.” you whine as he kisses your clothed clit through the fabric before he hooks a finger into the waistband, tugging down your panties. eyes locked with yours. it’s pure sin, how his face dips between your legs, wet tongue sliding out along your folds. it’s pure ecstasy.

your head falls back with a lewd moan as getou eats you out, his tongue sliding along your damp folds, swirling and sucking your clit as your thighs tighten around his head. your fingers thread through his hair, tightening around the locks, making him groan into your cunt as he tonguefucks your hole, the coil in your stomach tightening.

“oh, god-” your moans fill the room, hips bucking up into his face as you grind against him, toes curling with the pleasure flooding through it. but the pleasure fades as soon as he pulls away, slapping his fingers against your clit harshly. you squeal at the sensitivity, panting as your hole flutters around nothing. “why did you stop?”

“my name.” his hand slides along the length of your body, groping your tit momentarily before he reaches your throat, squeezing around it softly but hard enough to make you whimper. “you’re only moaning my name, understand?”

“yes, daddy.” getou doesn’t rip his eyes away from you before he sinks back to your pussy, lapping at your wetness as warm pleasure runs through you once more. you whine loudly, panting ‘daddy’ over and over as you tug at his hair, grinding against his face as his fingers prod your hole. the slight stretch of his long fingers curling between your warm walls burns but it’s washed away with the sheer pleasure pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

your orgasm is heavy as it rushes through you, prolonged as getou sucks your clit hard, his fingers pumping in and out of your gushing cunt. you moan as your back arches with pleasure, legs trembling on either side of his face till it starts to sting with overstimulation.

“daddy-” a whimper falls from your lips as you try to push getou’s head away, your cunt throbbing till he finally pulls away, not without delivering a few slaps to your cunt that has you jerking and crying out with tears stinging your eyes.

“pretty girl.” getou looks like pure sin, eyes darkened and a mixture of your release and saliva smeared across his chin. “such a good girl for your daddy.” he presses his lips to yours, tongue sliding into your mouth and you moan at the taste of yourself, clinging to him as he tugs down his boxers. his hard cock springs against his stomach and your walls clench just at the sight of it. he’s not the biggest you’ve ever had but he’s thick and it’s pretty, the head flushed pink, leaking a trail of silvery precum down the veiny length.

“how much do you want me, sweetheart?” you whine as he taps the cockhead against your clit, the pressure making you squirm whilst his eyes burn into you.

“please.” he scoffs at your pathetic whisper, smirking as he slides his dick along your cunt, edging towards your entrance, leaving you whimpering with anticipation.

“please, suguru- i need you so bad. i want you so bad. want you to stuff me full of your cock and fuck me so hard- please!” tears spill from your eyes and your nails pierce crescents into the skin of his shoulders, causing him to groan softly as he finally rests his cock against your entrance.

“you sound so pretty whining for me. what a good little girl you are.”

you watch with widened eyes, heart thumping as he puckers his lips and spits directly onto your fluttering cunt, the lewdness of it causing your pussy to clench around nothing before he slowly slides his cock in. the stretch burns, his thick cock stretching out your little pussy as you squeal, head falling back against your couch cushions as getou presses a thumb to your swollen clit, rubbing slowly.

“that’s it, you look so pretty taking daddy’s cock like a good girl. can you take it all?” you nod, biting your bottom lip so hard to suppress the moans you’re sure it’ll draw blood as he watches his cock sink deeper into your wet pussy. “not even moaning for me? does that just mean i’ll have to make you scream?” you can’t hold back the loud gasp that escapes you when he pulls out almost completely, cock coated in a glistening sheen of slick, before slamming back into you, your back arching as you push your chest flesh against his.

“su- daddy!”

“that’s better- want you to hear you moaning for me all pretty as i fuck this cute little cunt of yours.” getou’s ruthless as he fucks you- he thrusts into you, fast and hard with your spongy walls tightening around him, feeling every ridge and vein flooding you with pleasure. his lips mouth kisses along your throat, thumb swirling your clit as your legs wrap around him, pulling him in closer as your hips buck up into his. “you’re so wet.” he groans, the lewd sounds of your slick squelching and the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling your living room as his teeth scrape along your collarbones. “who’s fucking you this good, sweetheart? who’s making you feel this good?”

“y-you! you, daddy!” tears swim in your eyes and your body trembles as he pounds into you, his cock filling up your pussy completely, slamming into you and leaving your mind dizzy with the sheer pleasure.

“that;’s right.” getou grunts, teeth catching your ear lobe and sucking on the flesh as you whine. “nobody else can fuck you this good. i bet the boys your age can’t fuck you nearly half as good- not like me. your pussy loves me, sucking my cock back in. i own this cute little cunny, don’t i?” you can barely talk as you feel the coil tightening in your stomach, your orgasm pushing closer as you can only nod, moans falling freely from your lips. “do you want to cum, baby?” you nod desperately, eyes rolling to the back of your head as getou swirls your clit harder, his hips snapping against yours as you’re pushed closer and closer to the edge.

your orgasm is heavenly. euphoria rushes through you as you’re seeing white, your walls tightening around getou as he groans into the crook of your shoulder, his cock throbbing. he fucks you through your high, grunting with each thrust till he slips out, leaving your abused cunt fluttering. you’re barely registering anything, too fucked out till the white hot ropes of cum splatter over your face and chest.

getou pants as he almost falls over you, holding himself up by his forearms. his face is damp with sweat, his smirk still tugging at his lips as he slides a thumb across your cheek, collecting the white cum onto his fingertip. as he holds it to your lips, you don’t hesitate to slide out your tongue, moaning softly as you lick his thumb clean.

“such a good girl for me. how about next weekend i introduce you to one of my old mates, huh?”

suguru getou was already your rose-coloured nymphet dream. there was no way you could resist turning down a second.

#suguru getou imagines #suguru getou x reader #suguru getou fic #suguru getou x y/n #suguru getou #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #cw age gap

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celestialrry · 3 years

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nerves

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HELLLLO IM WRITING THIS INTRO AND POSTING THIS WHILE FALLING ASLEEP SO ILL POST ALL THE DETAILS ADN ADD THIS TO MU MASTERLIST LATER I LOVE TOU ALL THANK YOU FOR FOLOWING AND REBLOGGIN KISSES FOT YOU ALL (this is like right after release of hs1 harry I think hope you enjoy mwah)

summary: Actress!Y/N goes onto a talk show, and the host has a surprise for her.

warnings: cursing, kinda sorta an anxiety attack?

Y/N was nervous.

This would only be the 5th talk show she’s ever gone on alone after being in the spotlight for a few years when her acting career took off. She started off with indie films and soon made her way to the red carpet, working with esteemed actors and actress’s she could only ever dream of meeting. It was pure bliss.

Of course, fame came with other struggles like hate from the media and random people on twitter, but at the end of the day she was so grateful she had the opportunity to be in the business. She loved getting into a character, finding out what makes them click, and fully emerging herself in whatever film she’s in. At the moment, she was promoting her new film, and being the lead, she had gone on a few talk show’s by herself, but they never failed to make her sick to her stomach. Having no one to turn to when it gets awkward, even not having body heat by her side in front of a live audience and a professional host made her body rack with goosebumps.

“Miss L/N?”

Her head turned towards the door of the dressing room she had been sitting in for 15 minutes alone, trying to get her nerves down. “Yes?’ She responded flashing a forced smile to the assistant standing in the door way. “They’re ready for you.” She nodded her head and stood up, brushing the non-existent dust off her long dress and tumbled a bit on her heels to follow the assistant that was already walking towards the side stage.

They instructed her to wait until her name was called, then walk onto stage and take a seat and have the show progress. So Y/N stood there, biting her bottom lip that was coated with clear gloss and her arms crossed around her waist, her heel covered toe tapping the floor in anticipation.

“Now welcome our very special, and gorgeous guest, Y/N L/N!” She heard Jimmy Kimmel announce and took a short breath before stepping through the automatically opening curtains. She smiled and waved at the people sitting in the audience, happy to see people supporting her, and greeted Jimmy before taking a seat on the loveseat closest to his desk.

“Y/N! Welcome, how are you feeling tonight?” He flashed a comforting smile at her.

She chuckled a bit due to her inability to not laugh in uncomfortable situations. “I’ll be honest with you Jimmy,” She said, adjusting herself in the seat. “M’ pretty nervous.”

“Nervous?” He asked. “Now, why would 2 time Emmy Nominee Miss Y/N L/N be nervous?” Jimmy teased.

Her eyes fell to the floor and her cheeks heated up before looking back at him. “Because,” She dragged out. “It’s always nerve-racking being on live TV.”

He just nodded and made a joke about feeling the same even though he does this every week.

“How are you feeling tonight?” She asked.

He smiled before resting his arms on his desk. “I’m feeling good, I have a surprise for you later, but I’m supposed to ask the questions now, will you let me?”

“Of course I will.” She smiled back.

Y/N met Jimmy the first year she really became “famous” and he had always been her favorite late-night talk show host just because he was never invasive or creepy. Her standards for hosts were quite low at this point. They continued on, promoting her new movie and such before he settled back in his seat.

“So.” He said.

“So.” She said back, raising a brow.

“I hate to ask you this, but I honestly am curious myself,” He began, and her anxiety creeped up just a bit. “Now, we dug through your old interviews, and it seems in every single one, when asked if you had a celebrity crush, your answer was Harry Styles?”

She simply nodded, her cheeks heating up again, and a small smile creeping onto her face at his name.

“I see that smile, Y/N.” Jimmy said, and she let out a laugh, her smile now wide.

“So, do you mind telling us why you like him so much, or should I say love him so much?” His brow raised.

Y/N laughed a bit more, just at her nerves, and took a breath. “Um, he’s always been such an inspiration for me to actually chase my career, I mean I knew him from when he was on X-Factor to be honest. Binged that show all the time when I was in middle school and to see a boy just 2 years older than me just go straight into being in one of the biggest boy-bands in the world was insane. He’s just so passionate about what he does and I admire him for that. Uh- from what I can tell he’s just very charming, sweet, funny, caring, and…” She trailed off her rant, biting her bottom lip just a tad.

“And?”

“He’s incredibly attractive.” She finished a smile on her face as she glanced at the floor again.

“Understandable. I think he’s a good looking man myself, met him a few times and got flustered,” Jimmy jokes before looking at Y/N. “What if I told you he was the surprise I had for you?”

Her brows furrow as she looks at the man sitting across from her. “What? Do you mean like a video-” She feels a tap on her shoulder.

Y/N turns around, still massively confused, and then she sees him.

Harry standing in a simple black suit and white button up, only a few of the buttons actually buttoned and her jaw drops. “Hello.” He says, smiling at her.

Her eyes are wide and she looks like a dear in headlights before her face falls into her hands, elbows resting on her knees, her breath erratic. “No, this isn’t- no. He’s not here.” She says into her hands and the crowd laughs. Everyone laughs.

“M’a bit offended you think I’m not really here, love.” Harry grins, and she pulls her face out of her shaking hands to see him.

She opens her mouth to say something and nothing comes out.

Harry Styles, her celebrity crush since the ripe age of 14, a crush thats lasted 8 years being 22 now, and she’s only seen him on screens her entire life. “Fuck.” Was all she can say. He laughs a bit at her starstruck appearance and turns to Jimmy. “She’s not normally like this, right?”

“Right.” The host jokes, looking back at the girl on the couch, and his smile diminishes a bit. Her eyes are watering and she’s trying to keep her composure but her bottom lip is trembling and Jimmy’s now worried he’s about to have a sobbing woman on live TV.

“You okay Y/N?” Jimmy asks and her head quickly turns to him and then back to Harry. “I-fuck, I’m sorry.” She tries to laugh it off. Tries not to think about how the man she’s loved even before she knew what love truly was, was standing in front of her right now.

“Don’t be sorry.” Harry says, slightly frowning but trying to keep a happy face. He’s standing in front of a girl he’s adored ever since he watched her first movie, for Christs sake, and she’s silently about to break down in front of him, because of him.

Before he can even properly introduce himself, she’s standing on her heels, wobbling a bit, and looking up at him. “Can I hug you?” She mouths, not wanting her question to be picked up on the mic on the back of her dress and before her mouth even closes he’s stepping towards her, big arms wrapping around her waist. Her arms find their way around his chest and her head is resting on his shoulder and her eyes are squeezed shut and she’s mouthing “Oh my fucking god. Oh my god.” Without realizing she’s facing the audience who laugh at her inability to not fangirl. His head dips as he hugs her, reveling in her touch, and then she’s pulling away, remembering they’re on live TV and she can give him a proper hug backstage after this is over when they don’t have to worry about appearances.

She’s still reeling when his hands slide off her waist and he sticks his hand out and says “It’s so nice to meet you.” She takes his calloused hand in hers and says “Same to you.” Blinking away unshed tears.

“Shall we sit then?” He asks and she looks at Jimmy admiring the moment before back at Harry. “You’re staying?” She blurts out before shutting her mouth abruptly.

“If you want me too.” He grins that grin she’s always been infatuated by and she nods, maybe too quickly. “Of course I do- yes,” She coughs. “Yeah, uh, please, let’s.”

They both plant themselves on the loveseat, Y/N taking the spot in which she was before and Harry sitting on the other end, keeping a distance between the two. She recomposes herself and sits up. Harry looks at her for a moment before looking back at Jimmy.

“How are y’Jimmy?” He asks.

“I’m doing well, proud of myself for inviting you, you’re the one person I’ve seen make Y/N go absolutely speechless here,” Jimmy jokes and Y/N groans and smiles, leaning her top half on the arm of the chair, her face in her hands before sitting back up. “How about you, Harry?”

“M’doing well, was very excited to see Y/N here and I’d hopefully say it’s the same for her.” He smiles looking at her, dimples flashing.

“Yeah!” Her voice squeaks. “You’re right. It’s the same for me. I-” She cut’s herself off from saying she’s shitting her pants at the moment. Figuratively, of course, but it’s not very appropriate. She still can’t believe this. Twitter is going to have a field day talking about how flustered Y/N was at this moment.

“Have something you want to say, Y/N? To Harry, more specifically?” Jimmy asks.

“Um,” She begins, locking eyes with Harry. “Did you hear, what I said, um, before you walked out here?”

The green eyed man nods.

Her hands start shaking again and she awkwardly laughs. “I’m sorry you heard that.” She apologizes.

“Why are you apologizing?” Harry asks her, tilting his head and Y/N was going to pass out. “I’m glad you think all those things about me, plus, it’s a nice ego booster to hear that you think I’m ‘incredibly attractive’.” He chuckles a bit, but truthfully he was happy his celebrity crush feels the same way about him.

She just laughs back and mumbles a “Thanks.” Before Jimmy starts up a conversation about whatever was going on at the moment.

Jimmy and Harry start talking about something and Y/N nods her head and laughs when it’s appropriate but she couldn’t process anything. Her hands were interlocked, shaking in her lap, and all she could feel was Harry. Harry sitting next to her, Harry breathing next to her, Harry waving his hands around while he spoke in front of her. It was all too much.

Suddenly his knee lightly knocked against her own. She abruptly turned to look at him, but he was still looking at Jimmy. So she assumed it was a mistake, until it happened again, and this time when her eyes looked to him, his met her’s and he gently and subtly moved closer to their thighs were touching. Y/N let the leg that was crossed over her other relax and fall to the couch, only her ankles crossed, and she swore she could hear his breath stop for a moment, but it was too quiet to be sure.

A few moments after they both had gained the courage to barely revel in each others touch, Jimmy was ending the show. Y/N doesn’t remember what she said or did before the camera cut off, she vaguely remembers waving to the audience but she’s not completely sure.

And then it’s over- just like that.

“This was so fun Jimmy, thank you for inviting me on.” Harry said, standing up (reluctantly) and going to give Jimmy a hug. Y/N on the other hand was watching the interaction and it all hit her like a wave again. Harry fucking Styles was standing in front of her. The men both turn to her as she stands up and she gives a weak smile and mumbles “I forgot I needed to text my assistant, m’sorry I’ll be back.” before speed walking behind the curtain and booking it to her dressing room. She quickly flips the “Do Not Disturb” side of the sign on the door to show and closes the door behind her, her breathing accelerating.

She barely makes it to the couch before bursting out in tears.

Y/N couldn’t really put a finger on whether or not they were tears of joy, sadness, embarrassment, or a combination of all 3. She’s pretty sure it’s the latter though. She slips her heels off and lies on the couch, her hands over her face with not so silent cries as she tries to calm herself.

Meanwhile, both Harry and Jimmy sensed that Y/N wasn’t just going to text her assistant. “Do you think- do you think I said something maybe?” Harry quietly asks the late night host as they walk behind the curtain and into a quieter hallway backstage. Jimmy simply shakes his head before locking eyes with Harry. “Have you seen any of the videos where she talks about you, Harry?”

He shakes his head no and the older man pulls out his phone, doing a quick scroll of his email before finding video file and opening it. “A couple of interns here made this combination of all the times she talked about you in her interviews.”We were gonna play it as you were coming out but her manager said it would be too embarrassing.” Was the only preface Jimmy gave before clicking play.

Y/N stood in an elegant emerald colored gown just off the red carpet, all done up for her first big movie premiere. An interviewer stands in front of her, holding a mic that the woman was moving between herself and Y/N. “So Miss L/N, we need some juicy secrets from the “It-Girl” herself. Who’s your celebrity crush?” Y/N looks at the floor, a shy smile on her face as the quietly says “Harry Styles.” The interviewer’s eyes widen and she chuckles a bit. “I feel you honey, what do you like most about him?” Y/N purses her lips slightly before speaking again. “Um, everything? I think he has a really good heart.” The interviewer makes a joke about how she likes his eyes instead and Y/N laughs, but anyone could tell it was forced.

The screen begins to play another clip.

Y/N is sitting on a couch with her co-stars of a movie she did a year ago, dressed in a classy blush colored suit, and they’re all playing a game with some other talk show host. “Let’s see who knows Y/N the best now, shall we?” The host asks, and looks down at the cards in his hand. “Who is her celebrity crush?” And almost immediately all of her friends were jotting down their answers on a white board. “That was fast,” The host laughs, as does everyone else. “Okay everyone, flip it around.” ‘Harry Styles’ was written on every single board. “Oh my god.” She smiles wide out of embarrassment and puts her face in her hands.

It reminds Harry of what she did when she first saw him.

“Y/N! Looks like you’re absolutely smitten with Harry Styles, aren’t you?” The host asks, and before she could even open her mouth, a co-star of hers was already speaking. “She’d play his songs in her trailer in the morning, full volume, and sing them as loud as she could. It was a good way to wake us all up.” He jokes, and everyone laughs at that. “Whenever he’d post a photo on instagram, or tweet something, I’d see tears in her eyes.” Another co-star speaks up. The audience laughs again and she looks to them. ‘I’m serious! Y/N absolutely adores him.” By this time Y/N’s face was out of her hands and she was sinking into the couch. “Are you embarrassed, Y/N/?” The host jokes “Of course not, well I didn’t want to get absolutely exposed, but I’m not embarrassed to be a fan, could never be embarrassed to be a fan of him, he’s… he’s amazing.”

The phone then fades into yet another clip.

This time, Y/N is sitting in a stool, doing the Wired Autocomplete Interview, and she tears off the second paper of the question, “Is Y/N L/N…” . “Is Y/N L/N,” she reads and the paper catches after the word “dating” is revealed. She looks up at the screen, a twinkle in her eyes as she shoots a close-mouthed smile at the camera. She turns back to the board and rips the paper off, struggling a bit and laughing, until it’s revealed. “Is Y/n L/N dating… Harry Styles” She bursts out laughing, her free hand clutching her stomach.

Harry frowns a but at this, and he didn’t feel like thinking more about why.

“Um,” She begins, “Sorry, I just- do I really talk about him, that much? S’a bit concerning.” She mumbles to herself. “Yeah, no, I’m not dating Harry Styles, he would never. Though, I like how people think it could be a possibility, thats quite funny. I’ll take the… hidden compliment, is that even the right phrase?”

The screen goes to another clip but Jimmy pauses it there and turns off his phone, turning to Harry. “You didn’t do anything Harry, it’s just you being here, she’s probably overwhelmed and-“

“Mr. Kimmel? Jones needs you.” Someone calls out to him down the hall and Jimmy slips his phone in this pocket and sighs. “Sorry, gotta handle this, thank you, for coming.”

“It’s okay,” Harry assures him, “Thanks for having me.” And at that Jimmy rushes down the hall in search of Jones, and Harry stands in the same spot

Harry knows how much he means to his fans, he’s seen them sob at concerts, break down at meet and greets, and when they tell him how much they love him when they run into him on the street. He knows this. But this felt different, for some reason. Maybe it was the burning feeling in his chest when she laughed off how he would never be with her, for what particular reason he has no clue (or just doesn’t want to address it), or how he couldn’t help but pop a dimple when he heard she loves his music. He wasn’t sure.

What he was sure of though, is that he needed to speak to her again, hug her for longer, actually get to know Y/N. So he walked into the main back room, walking down different halls until he came across the one that read “Dressing Room #4” and Y/N’s name scribbled in messy handwriting on the white board underneath. He knocked a little rhythm, and waited.

Y/N was still crying, to put it lightly. Maybe hyperventilating was the right word, because she was breathing quite fast, and there was a steady stream of tears flowing down her cheeks. She heard the knocks and attempted to calm herself down a bit, yelling out a “One second!” Before wiping under her eyes and walking to open the door. “Eliana,” She began, ready to wave her assistant way (not that she didn’t adore her, but Y/N needed to be alone before talking about everything), “Can you come back in like 15 minutes, I’m sorry I just need to-”

Her mouth closed when she saw Harry outside of her door, his small smile quickly fading into a frown as he took in her state. “Y/N I wanted to- are you okay?” He asked, stepping a bit closer, trying not to push any boundaries. When she didn’t respond and he saw her bottom lip quiver a bit, his chest clenched. “Can I come in? Can we talk?” He gently asked, eyes running over her puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, and disheveled appearance.

She nodded and he walked in, and she gently shut the door behind him. He turned around to look at her and when his eyes met her’s, she couldn’t take it anymore. She let out a gut-wrenching sob and her face fell in her hands as she shook her head. “I-I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” She choked out and he stepped towards her, his hand coming to rest on her elbow. “Y/N, please, don’t apologize.” And without thinking he took the last step towards her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her firmly, one of his hands cradling the back of her head. Her hands fell from her face and she held him back, arms wrapping tightly around his torso yet again.

As she cried into his chest, he mumbled a soft, “Breathe for me, love.”, and she tried to get her breathing to match his own deep breathes. “I’m sorry,” Y/N says for the millionth time. “I told you to stop apologizing, Y/N, you haven’t done anything wrong.” He frowns to himself, that burning feeling in his chest again. She reluctantly pulls away, and his hands remain on her arms as her own come up to wipe the tears flowing out of her eyes.

“You didn’t sign up to be here and have to deal with a crying fan, Harry.” Y/N sighs, finally looking up at him.

“Hey, I came because I wanted to see you, I’ve seen your movies and I think everything you’re absolutely incredible at what you do, and when Jimmy called asking if I could come to surprise you I jumped at the chance to finally meet you. I know what I signed up for.” He says, his thumbs rubbing the skin of her arms gently.

At his words she let out another sob, her shaking hands coming up to cover her face for a moment yet again. Harry’s eyes widened, he was telling the honest truth, and he didn’t think he said anything wrong. Y/N however, was seeing in person, how king he truly was, and it was just another reality check that the Harry she’s loved for so long really is the same in real life; it was too much to handle. “Thank you,” She sniffles, looking up at him again, meeting his piercing green eyes. “I just, I’ve adored you for years, still do, and I never thought I’d meet you, even after I started getting ‘known’, I always thought you were like, too perfect to be real, and now you’re here and you’re real, and y’know when you meet a celebrity who seems so sweet in interviews and all that but they turn out to be an absolute prick? It’s not like that, you’re the same person I’ve loved over a screen, I- you’ve been my inspiration for fucking years and I don’t know. It’s just a lot.”

Now her hands were on his arms and they stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

“M’not perfect, Y/N.” Harry says softly. Y/n chuckles a bit, glancing to the side before meeting his eyes yet again. “I know, I know the ‘nobody’s perfect’ crap, but if you’re insistent on it, then I think you’re the closest thing there is to perfect, Harry.”

His cheeks turn pink at her confession, and a small smile weaves its way onto his face. “Thank you,” He finally says, before bringing her into another hug, this time her arms wrapped around his neck, and he bends down a bit to hold her tighter. “For everything you said, seriously, you’ve got no idea how much it means t’me.” He admits, still reveling in her touch. She slowly pulls away, noting in her head that he never seems to be the one to let go first. “Of course, wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” She smiles weakly, still drained from all the emotions flowing through her. He just smiles at that, before his hand drags down her arm and he hold her hand, wordlessly pulling her over to sit on the couch.

He doesn’t let go of her hand as they sit quite close facing each other. “Do y’wanna hear a secret? It might make you feel better.” He suggests, cursing himself for being willing to do anything to see her smile fully. “I wish I could lie and say that it’s something I wouldn’t know, but I think I know a bit too much about you.” She says, letting out a small laugh, and he does too. “I promise you don’t know this.” He mumbles.

“Okay, go for it.” She says, holding his hand a bit tighter.

“Well, after you bolted here, Jimmy showed me a few of your interviews, and I wanted to tell you that you’re my celebrity crush too.”

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen, a face that looks eerily similar to when she saw him for the first time just an hour prior. “You saw my interviews?” She gasps, her voice cracking at the embarrassment of him seeing her shamelessly confessing her love for him about a million times. It was safe to say she didn’t hear the rest of his confession.

“That’s what you’re focusing on here?” Harry laughs and raises a brow at Y/N.

“What else is there to focus on,” She groans, taking her hand out of his and burying her face into her hands yet again. “I can’t believe Jimmy showed you that, I’m never coming on this show again.”

Harry grins, a dimple popping as he gently wraps his arms around her wrists, pulling her hands off her face. “Did y’hear what I said after that?” He asks softly, his eyes bring into her own. She shakes her head “no” in response and he takes a quick breath before telling her yet again.

“I said, you’re my celebrity crush too. I’ve watched everything you’ve been in and I think y’are absolutely amazing, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t think you’re beautiful, inside and out.”

Y/N’s jaw drops for the thousandth time that night.

“You’re fucking with me.” She deadpans, her face blank and mind swimming with emotions.

He frowns and squeezes her hands. “M’not, swear to you.”

She shakes her head in denial. There’s no way she was Harry Style’s celebrity crush. Not in a million years would she ever think those words would be spoken, much less even thought of.

“You don’t believe me?” Harry asks, his head tilting a bit to the side.

“I believe tha you’re just too nice and you feel bad for me, so that’s why you’re telling me this.” Y/N admits to him, a sad smile on her face.

“Really?” He asks, letting go of her hands and bringing one of his own to his pocket.

“Really. I appreciate it, I do, but you don’t have to try and make me feel less humiliated, I think we’ve already passed the point of no return.” Y/N says, laughing a bit.

“Mmm, okay,” He smirks. “Well that just won’t do. May I have your number?”

She raises a brow as he pushes his phone into her hands, already pulled up on a new contact. She types in her number and “#1 fan” in the name and hand the phone back to him. Harry laughs when he sees the contact name and saves it to his phone, then putting it back in his pocket.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Harry muses, a teasing glint in his eye.

She purses her lips. “Why did you just ask for my number?”

“So I can contact you of course,” Harry smiles. “How else am I supposed to set up another date with you?”

“Another?” Y/N questions, her lips turning up.

“’m a gentleman of course, would never ask you out on a first date over the phone,” Harry calmly explains. “So would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night?”

Y/n hesitates, unsure if this was still an ask out of pity. “You can meet me at my house, of course if you’re comfortable, and I’ll order us takeout to eat on my porch.” He continues, getting more exciting as he imagines how the date would go.

“What makes you think I’d say yes?” She teases and his mouth gapes.

“Oh fuck off.”

#I just used jimmy cause I didn't feel like making my own host up lolz #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles #harrys styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #im literally half asleep but I needed to post this tonight #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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theoreticslut · 3 years

Text

Winner, Winner

pairing: fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader

requested: yes

-fred being a simp for his ravenclaw chaser girlfriend & giving her a surprise when she wins

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ smut, light degradation, shower sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, penetration

A/N: hey look at me finally posting another fic! I am so very sorry that I’ve been slacking on getting fics written and posted. I don’t even know what to say about it, it’s not that I’ve really been busy, I just have zero motivation for pretty much everything & i’ve been beyond exhausted the majority of the time again for literally no reason. I am trying my best to work on stuff though, it’s just taking a bit longer than any of us would like.

Anyways, I have some holiday requests I’m working on finishing up, as well as some fic and headcanon requests from the end of the year party I hosted (A HUGE thank you to everyone that participated in it!! I had a lot of fun & I really hope all of you did too!). Hopefully I can get these requests done and posted within the next two weeks as I’m coming up on that week and will probably hide myself away in my room, not wanting to socialize with anyone, so what better time to write! Lol, anyways, more fics coming soon so either join my taglist and get a notif when they’re posted or just keep an eye out for them. I love you beautiful people & I hope the new year is treating all of you well so far! Xx

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @perfectlysane24 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @kaitlynw011 @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter @streetfighterrichie @sarcasticallywitty15 @isthereanymorejello @karushinekomiya @p0gue420 @hogwartslut @sebby-staan @darthwheezely @slytherin-7 @callmelilone @teenagesublimefan @midsummernightdream @hufflrpuffforfred @aviezap @stxrryxsky @snoopydoop1 @fredweasleypls @hopefullhearts @pandaxnienke @georgeweasleyishot @christhebell @fredshmeasley

^let me know if you’d like to be added/removed (or add yourself here)! Xx

key: y/h/l - your hair length (short/mid-length/long/etc) y/h/c - your hair colour

You take in a deep breath as you get ready for your match. You know you have the skill and that you’ve practiced as much as you could, but you still got nervous anytime a proper game came around. Playing for fun and playing to win were two completely different situations.

Winning this could help bring your house closer to the house cup, and all of you wanted to be able to go home over summer break and tell your families that you had won.

Today’s match wasn’t bad; you were playing hufflepuff, who usually weren’t all that difficult to defeat, but you still wanted to be at the top of your game.

“Psst....Y/n.”

You frown, eyebrows furrowing as you look around the tent. You’re sure you heard someone whisper for you but you don’t see anyone.

“Y/n!”

You frown, turning towards the back of the tent where the voice definitely sounded like it came from. You smile when you find your boyfriend waiting, watching you. You couldn’t help but giggle when he sent you a big smile, motioning you over to him.

“Freddie, love. What are you doing here?”

You take in his appearance as he sends you another smile. He had painted his face in your house colours for the day; two stripes of colour - blue on top and silver beneath - on each of his cheeks.

“Came to give you a pep talk, princess. I know how in your head you get before a match.”

You smile, pulling him in for a hug, standing up on your tiptoes given his height.

“Thank you, love.”

“Of course, princess. I love seeing my girl win. That’s why you’re going to give me a kiss, take one last deep breath, and then go out and play with a clear head. I know you’ve got this. You’re only the best chaser I’ve seen.”

You chuckle, pulling him into another hug. He smiles, wrapping his arms around your thighs and lifting you up off the ground a little, your legs wrapping around him to secure yourself in place.

Pulling back you smile as Fred brings his lips to yours, reminding you of how much he loves you and silently telling you that he’s rooting for you.

“If you happen to win, I might have a surprise for you later.” He whispers to you after you pull apart, winking and sending you a smirk.

“Yeah? What happens if we lose?”

“Do you really want to find out?” He retorts, both of you chuckling as you shake your head.

“No. I suppose I would much rather win and figure out my surprise from there.”

“That’s what I thought, princess. Now go out there and win this. I know you’ve got it.”

You take a deep breath and nod, kissing him once more as he sets you back down on your own two feet, patting your bum once you’re steady.

“I’ll find you after the game.” He promises, linking his pinky with yours, before heading off to get his seat.

~.~

“Y/l/n makes a goal, earning ravenclaw ten more points! And look there! Both seekers seem to have spotted the snitch as they’re racing towards the ground.”

You perk up as Lee’s words register in your head, but you quickly focus back on the task at hand. Even if the seekers spotted the snitch, that doesn’t mean either one has caught it. Until then you need to work on earning points yourself....and avoiding bludgers considering you nearly just got hit with one.

“Hufflepuff’s seeker seems to have lost sight of it as they slow down, but Chang is still racing forward. Whether she still has it in sight is unsure.”

You try to focus on Lee commentating to see how everything is going, but at the same time you’re trying to pay attention to your role. You guys are up 220 to 130 right now and if you lost you’d be just a little upset.

“Y/n!” You hear one of your teammates call. Looking over you find your team captain and fellow chaser, Roger Davies, ready to pass you the quaffle.

You nod, signaling him to pass it while one of hufflepuff’s chasers come flying towards the two of you.

“Looks like Davies is getting ready to pass the quaffle to y/l/n.....Aaaaand he’s passed it just in time for hufflepuff’s chaser to miss interception. Y/l/n passes it back to Davies landing another goal and earning 10 points to Ravenclaw!”

“That’s my girl!” You can hear Fred bellow in excitement as you fly by one of the stands. You can’t help but smile as you try to keep your focus. You love hearing him cheer for you.

~.~

It seems that you guys play for another hour before the snitch is finally caught, by Cho fortunately. Ahead by 200 points, your team wins and you can hear the rest of the house cheering from the stands.

“That was such a magnificent game! I can’t wait to see the next Ravenclaw match. Until then, the next match will be...”

Most of Lee’s ending commentary is drowned out by the cheers of your teammates as you all land and pile into a group hug, high-fiving and patting each other on the back for a good game.

Even though you’re beyond excited for winning and are looking forward to the party you know will be raging in the common room when you get back, you can’t help but admit to yourself just how exhausted you are after the game.

Not only is the adrenaline starting to wear off, but you’re already starting to feel the pain from the physical exertion. You may have also gotten hit a few times by a well-aimed bludger, which Fred was not happy about considering you could clearly hear him yelling out in your defense.

You figure that a nice shower and maybe a quick lie-down will help. You’d hate to miss out on the party thrown in celebration of the team’s win, and more so Fred's surprise, so even if you have to push through a little bit, you’ll do so.

“Let’s get cleaned up and changed, then we can all head back to the common room to celebrate, yeah? I think we all deserve it.” Davies announces as a few of your teammates cheer in agreement.

“You all did really great today. I’m proud of all of us.” He smiles before breaking up the huddle.

“Are you ready to party, y/n?” Cho asks as you both head off to the locker room so you can shower.

“Yeah. Just a bit tired, but nothing a nice shower won’t be able to solve. You?”

She starts to answer before you’re interrupted by another one of your friends calling out to you.

“uh, sorry, Cho. I’ll catch up with you, yeah?”

She nods, smiling, as she continues on to the locker room while you’re dragged over to one of your friends.

~.~

When you finally get into the shower you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Most everyone has already left the pitch and stands, all your teammates already gone to the party presumably as the locker room is empty.

You can’t find it in you to care, though. You in desperate need of a shower before going anywhere and the hot water against your skin feels heavenly. In all honesty, having the lockerroom empty means that you can take however long you want, and you were certainly not going to complain about that.

You let the water wet your hair and warm up your body, gently relieving the pain from your achy muscles. You try to rub at your shoulders as they seem to be in the most pain aside from your lower back, but it's not doing much good. Even if your shoulders feel better with you rubbing them, it only makes the rest of your arm muscles sore.

“Y/n? You in here, love?” You hear Fred call out gently. You can't help but smile as he's truly the only other thing that you could want right now.

“In the shower, Freddie. I’ll be out soon.”

You can hear some movement outside of your stall as Fred makes his way over, but you assume he’s just going to stay there and talk with you.

Therefore you’re a little surprised when you see him join you under the water, his hair becoming darker as the water wets it.

"Hello, princess." he smiles, pulling your lips into a gentle kiss.

“What are you doing?” You chuckle, watching him as he grabs your shampoo bottle, squeezing some out into his palm.

“I’d like to shower with my amazing girlfriend if that’s okay? I figured you might like some attention after playing so hard.”

You can't help but smile as he lathers up the shampoo in his hands before massaging it into your hair, focusing his attention on scrubbing your scalp. Not too rough, but not faintly either.

“Mmm, Freddie.”

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” He chuckles, making sure to thoroughly cleanse your y/h/l strands of y/h/c hair.

He knows how much you love when he plays with your hair, given that you’ve fallen asleep a few times while he’s done so cuddling.

“Mhm. Feels amazing, Freddie.”

After throughly massaging your scalp, Fred motions for you to rinse the soap out before he grabs your conditioner to run through your hair.

He loved taking showers and baths with you, so he had learned your routine fairly quick. You always washed your face first, if you were going to in the shower that is - sometimes you decided against it, before going on to shampoo your hair and following it up with your conditioner which you applied to the ends of your hair. The only time you massaged some into your scalp was when it was a bit dry. After putting conditioner in your hair, you let it sit while you shaved and washed your body. After all that you finally rinsed out your conditioner while rinsing off your body.

He admired how strict your shower routine was, especially since you had so many more steps than he did. All he did was shampoo, rinse, wash his body, and then rinse again. To him, your added steps seemed like the greatest interest in the world. He knew you found the amount of steps you had to be tiring, though, and that’s why he loved to do them for you. He loved shampooing your hair and watching you relax into it. It made him feel good knowing he could make you feel good.

He especially loved washing your body, not only because he got to feel every inch of your skin, but because he liked to take his time and massage your back and shoulders and the content sighs you’d let out were his absolute favourite sound.

“You played a really great game today, princess.”

“Yeah? Thank you, love.” You hum, your eyes shut as he runs his hands through your hair, making sure that each strand has its share of conditioner.

You loved when he would play with your hair, whether it was in the shower or while you two were cuddling. It was just so relaxing and you feel like a little kid. He never failed to make you feel beyond safe in his arms as he ran his fingers through your tresses.

“You still looking forward to your surprise?”

“Always, Freddie.” You chuckle, a smile on your lips as you turn around in his arms so you were chest to chest.

You just wanted to be close to him right now. You were tired and so sore. All you needed was to be held.

“You’re perfect. You know that, angel?”

You hum, smiling into his chest as he holds you close, your breasts pushed right up against him but he didn’t seem to mind. At least if he did, he hid it well.

“You sore, baby?” He asks after a minute, noticing how you try to stretch out your muscles softly and groan whenever he rubs over your middle and lower back.

“Just a little.” You sigh, pulling away from him so you can grab your body wash and your loofa.

He watches you as you squeeze some body wash into the loofa, agitating it until you have a poof full of bubbles.

He smiles softly as you start washing your body, getting your arms and shoulders no problem but having trouble reaching your back.

“Give it here.” He chuckles, taking the loofa from you and pushing your mess of hair over your shoulder so your back is bare in front of him.

He gently starts running the loofa over your back, moving in careful, circular motions until your back is all clean. You can’t help but smile, loving that your boyfriend is so caring.

Before you realize it he’s slowly bent down to wash your legs for you, starting with the loofa at your ankles and working his way up.

“Freddie,” you sigh as he places some soft kisses to your inner thighs.

“Yes, angel?”

“Don’t you think this would be easier in bed?”

“I think I want to make to girlfriend feel amazing and that I don’t really care where that happens.” He responds, chuckling lightly before kissing at your thighs again.

You moan, relaxing into his touch as he trails his hands back up your sides, standing up. He finishes running the loofa over the rest of your body before rinsing and hanging it up on one of the hooks. He may be done washing you, but you know he’s nowhere near done with you. Not yet.

“You know how hot you are while playing, baby?”

You hum, his hands trailing all over your body, almost as if they can’t decide where exactly they want to rest. They’re up and down your sides, before running over your arms, and then cupping your breasts before they’ve travelled down over your stomach and down to your thighs, slowly prying them apart.

“I can imagine.” You chuckle, leaning your head back to provide him your neck to kiss.

“Do you know how hot you are when you play? Godric, Freddie.” You groan, remembering the way his muscles tense when he plays, especially when he swings at a bludger.

And then the way his face is set in pure concentration? You don’t think there’s anything more attractive than that, when his jaw is set tight and his brows are furrowed, his focus attached solely on the game.

He hums, chuckling a little as he kisses at your neck, his hands resting on your breast and stomach.

“If it’s alright with you, princess, I think I’d like to give you your surprise now.”

“I wouldn’t want anything else, Freddie.” You smile, moaning out as he pinches your nipples and sucks at your neck.

He moves around in front of you, placing a kiss to your lips as he’s now facing you, before he slowly walks you back to the wall. Once there, he gives you a sweet kiss on the lips before trailing his kisses down to your neck and then your chest, where he spends some time sucking at the flesh, paying special attention to your soft nipples.

“Freddie, my love. Godric that feels good.”

You can feel him smirk against your skin which only succeeds to drive you even crazier. This boy was going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.

Slowly he trails his kisses all the way down to your stomach and eventually your thighs once again.

You can’t help but moan out as he kisses your inner thighs, so close to where you need him.

“I’ve been missing the taste of your pretty pussy, angel. Is it okay if I indulge myself a little?”

“Please, Freddie.” You whine, grabbing at his red locks.

He smirks, bringing his lips close to your folds, his tongue eagerly licking at you as soon as he’s close enough. It only takes him a few seconds before he’s got your clit in his mouth, sucking at it and making you whine for him.

“Freddie, love. Please. I want more.”

He chuckles as he pulls away, bringing his middle and pointer fingers up to your folds, coating them in your wetness before slowly sliding them into you.

“So needy, princess. What next? You want to cum on my fingers?” He teases, but you and him both know that’s exactly what you want.

“Such a filthy girl, aren’t you princess? You love making a mess for me, huh?”

You moan out, your legs twitching at the wave of pleasure that runs through you.

Fred smirks, loving your reactions to him. Normally he’d demand you to answer him, but today he’s just enjoying pleasing you. Besides, it is supposed to be all about you given that you played well and won.

He can’t help but smirk out at the groan you let out as he curls his fingers up into you. One of the beautiful perks of being your boyfriend is knowing your body inside and out. He’s more than proud that he can get you so close to release in no time.

“Fred,”

“What, angel? You gonna cum? You going to make a mess of my fingers?”

You whine, giving him all the answer he needs, as if the bucking of your hips and clenching of your walls isn’t enough.

“Well come on, princess. Show me how good I make you feel.” he chuckles, a proud smirk on his face as he continues pumping his fingers in and out of your wetness.

It only takes a few more pumps and one last curl of his fingers before your reaching your high and cumming all over his fingers.

“Freddie,” you gasp, your hands tugging at his dampened locks a bit harshly.

“Feel good, angel? You think you could cum again on my cock?”

You groan as you watch him pull his fingers from you and suck on them, tasting your sweetness. You try to hold back a moan as a groan rumbles from his throat at you taste, but you fail quite miserably.

“So delicious, angel. Like a snack sent straight from heaven.”

You can hear him chuckle as you squirm around in need. You want more. You need more. You need so much more of him including his cock in you and his lips on yours, his fingers running through your hair before grabbing the back of your neck and holding you against him. You need him so much and you know he knows that.

“Freddie”

You can’t help but whine at this point. Even when he’s supposed to be pleasing you he ends up teasing you more than anything. You swear it's just his nature. He's just a fucking tease no matter what he's doing - sexually related or not.

“You want my cock, princess?”

He smiles as you nod at him, grabbing for him as he stands up, pulling your hips to his.

“Can you beg for it, angel? I know this is your surprise, but I just love hearing you beg for me.”

“Please Freddie. Please give me your cock. Please make me cum again all over your pretty pretty cock. I need it. Please.”

Without so much as a warning he’s pushing himself inside of you, your walls clenching around him as your eyes shut tight.

You whine at his slow pace, wanting you to be able to adjust to him. He wants to make you feel good, not give you any sort of pain.

“I love you, princess. I’m so proud of you for winning today. I knew you could do it.”

“I love you too, Freddie. C-can you please move? Please.”

“Anything for you, love.” He smiles, catching your lips with his as he starts thrusting faster and harder into you, your moans spilling over into the kiss.

Fred slowly trails his one hand from you waist down to your thigh where he pulls it up onto his hip, creating a different angle that felt just like heaven.

“Ohh-ohhhh”

“That feel good, princess? Are you going to come?”

You nod, not able to form words as your head is lolled back against the shower wall.

You can feel yourself clench around him wildly, knowing that you’re close. You just need that extra push to be sent over the edge.

“Freddie!” You gasp as his fingers roughly - and unexpectedly - rub against your clit, successfully sending you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you.

“So good, princess. Did so well. Fuck, I’m gonna-fuck”

Before you can even realize it, he’s pulled himself from you, painting your stomach with his hot cum as you feel your orgasm drip down your inner thighs, warmer than your already warm skin.

For a few moments all either of you can do is try to catch your breath as the showerhead still soaks both of you, slowly washing his cum from your body whenever the water trickles over your body just right.

You can’t help but chuckle as soon as you come back to your senses. If you were tired before, you're beyond exhausted now. And yet your stomach is already filling with butterflies at the thought of round two in your dorm room.

“I think that was the best surprise I’ve ever gotten, Freddie. Thank you, my love.”

He smiles, as he pushes some hair out of your face, staring into your eyes for a second as he tries to read your expression. His stomach fills with warmth when all he can find is pure love, adoration, and happiness in your features.

“Of course, princess. I’m really happy, and proud, that you won. Not what do you say we get going to the party? I’m sure everyone is missing you.”

You chuckle, nodding as you pull him into a kiss. You know that neither of you will be spending much time at the party, and you're sure he knows that as well given the way he's biting at your lip already.

You're positive that the first chance either of you get, you’ll be dragged up to your room and fucked over and over until the both of you pass out. That's one of the many joys of dating Fred Weasley - not only does he constantly express his love for you verbally, but he's always ready to show you just how much he adores you as well. All you have to say is that you must be one of the luckiest people ever in order to have Fred as your boyfriend.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #hp imagine #hp smut #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #requested

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n7punk · 3 years

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Beg For Me Fic Notes #1

Beg for Me is now complete! This will be my last Big fic until December (see this post for details), but I’ll be working on another shorter multi-chapter at during the end of October/start of November.

Epilogue life:

Catra: Catra’s art career is only beginning by the time that the fic ends. She continues to get commissions sporadically for the next year and is more successful with selling her art in her online store. The next year she gets a shot at being in a bigger show that draws her more attention than the last and leads to her getting the opportunity to be part of a gallery installation (rather than just a sales show) a few months later. From there her career builds. It is slow progress, but eventually she is an established and known artist.

Catra renews her lease on the studio with Lonnie once when it comes up the same year that the fic ends, but by the time that it comes up again the next year Catra already knows she is going to be part of the bigger show that year and is making enough selling her paintings to scrape by (though, because she has been living with Adora for over a year and is more comfortable with them sharing responsibilities at that point, she doesn’t have to barely scrape by), so she decides to quit hosting sessions (both proper domming and education sessions) herself and transitions just to doing parties on-location as a little side income. That doesn’t require her to have her own studio space. She and Lonnie talk about all this leading up to it, so Lonnie is prepared for it and switches to renting space as needed in a commercial dungeon instead. She makes a little less money for each appointment with this set up, but it doesn’t hurt her business or anything and she actually has a wider range of equipment available for her to use.

(Side note: Catra retires from professional domming due both to her dom drop and her art career taking off. Adora never pressures her to do so, continuing to carry forward the attitude of “I want you to do what’s best for your mental health” that she had in the end of the fic, though they do have to have discussions about it to prevent jealousy at times.)

Catra quits professional BDSM entirely in her 30s, now focusing exclusively on her art, though she and Adora continue to enjoy engaging with it in the bedroom for the rest of their lives. Catra went on to do an entire art installation around shibari when she was 48, and as she ages she is considered a grey fox by many of her fans, including Adora, who never stops being ridiculously in love with her wife.

Adora: Adora’s career is much more boring, but she continues to gain promotions and work her way up the corporate ladder. She is happy being the one with a stable job and 401k, even if eventually Catra is making more than her. Adora quits her job when she is 40 so she can switch to something that leaves her free to travel with Catra to shows or events without having to worry about how much vacation she has left. She begins working remotely for a charity, where her pay is negligible, but she has flexible hours and finds working with donors much more rewarding than she did when working with vendors.

Adora also becomes Catra’s assistant and manager in some ways, though Catra does have an agent at that point. Adora teaches herself stuff using the internet, books, and observation. She just loves her wife’s art and wants to do everything she can to help promote it, or at least to offer sound advice when Catra asks for it.

They end up moving out of the house shortly after they finally own it, buying a larger place so Catra can have a formal studio and more room to store and work on her paintings. The current house is just too small, though they construct a sunroom around the porch at the new one so they can continue to have one.

Scorpia, Perfuma, & Entrapta: Scorpia and Entrapta knew Catra moving out was coming even before she brought it up. It ended up being the catalyst for Scorpia to then move in with Perfuma and Entrapta to get her own apartment closer to work – which also brought her closer to Catra’s and Adora’s house, so they continued to all keep up with each other. Catra and Entrapta now watch Etherian Makers in marathons rather than on a weekly basis, but they all remain friends.

Predictably, Scorpia and Perfuma end up being a great couple together. Eventually they all get to the point where they can kind of laugh about how awkward it was when Scorpia had a big crush on Catra, though it takes a bit.

Glimmer & Bow: They really don’t show up much in this fic, but they ended up having a kid right around the time that Catra and Adora got married. Glimmer and Catra of course end up being good friends once they get to finally meet in person and Catra’s jealousy is dead.

Songs for this AU:

Beginning: Old Wounds – PVRIS. Bitter – FLETCHER. Don’t Do It – Marian Hill. The Way I Loved You (Taylor’s Version) – Taylor Swift. Sex (With My Ex) – FLETCHER. honey – Halsey. Bad Love – Sleeping Wolf. If I Hated You – FLETCHER.

Warming up: Stay On The Line – Kat Cunning. Strange Love – Halsey. Tough Love – CXLOE. Your Body Is A Weapon – The Wombats. Shh… Don’t Say It – FLETCHER. If You Ever Leave, I’m Coming With You – The Wombats. Break The Ice (Remastered) – Britney Spears. Ghost – Sleeping Wolf. bad idea! – girl in red. Belladonna – Ava Max.

End: Secret – Sleeping Wolf. Circus – Britney Spears. Come Home With Me – Zolita. Do It For Me – Rosenfeld. she calls me daddy – KiNG MALA. Blindfold – Sleeping Wolf. Be Your Shadow – The Wombats. Nails – Call Me Karizma. I Wanna Be Your Slave – Maneskin (there’s a dot over the a, but I can’t do that on my keyboard).

Chapter 1: Reintroduction.

This is my oldest AU ever written, although I have older ideas I haven’t written yet, so the record will be broken. I created my first document for Beg For Me back on the 24th of November 2020, though I had been thinking about it before that.

Bow’s bachelor party was arranged by his brothers primarily.

Adora was, ngl, a little turned on by Mermista being so decisive and saying they were going to sleep together. She still wouldn’t have done it and everybody was joking around, but what’s a little fluster between friends?

Lonnie is demisexual in this AU and really has no interest in any of the sexual stuff/clients, but she likes her job nonetheless.

Catra and Lonnie never schedule clients at the same time unless a couple requests it. Neither of them works enough hours to fill an entire day on their own, so renting a space individually would be impractical, but the shared space works really well for them.

Catra’s consent form is based off a template that Huntara had. It hasn’t been written or designed by a lawyer, so there’s almost definitely loopholes in it, but having it at all is a deterrent to anyone taking action against her, and it gives her something to point to if she did end up in court to make it clear she had done her due-diligence and that they agreed to participate.

Catra knew Adora for eighteen years because they met at age two and broke up at 20.

Catra usually has clients call her sir as an honorific and to create professional distance, but in this case, she absolutely didn’t want somebody saying her name and even more of the party guests figuring out who she is (in relation to Adora, at least).

Have a cut paragraph from when I was playing around with having everyone be a part of the first scene:

“You were all convinced I was innocent,” Adora points out.

“I wasn’t!” Perfuma helpfully supplies. Adora silently thanks her for it, because it draws Glimmers attention away. Glimmer begins interrogating her seat-neighbor on how she knew Adora was like the biggest slut ever, but only in her head. Adora would protest, because that is categorically untrue, she just knows what she likes at this point and – apparently – isn’t ashamed to admit it while wasted.

Chapter 2: Aftermath

Lonnie has had the thought, glancing at the canvas, of “Hey, could that be Adora?” and then dismissed it because 1) She didn’t think Catra would want to look at it after the breakup, much less paint it in the first place, 2) She assumes that it is just something sexy to put up on the wall that Catra either conjured from her imagination or is influenced by a real moment without being an explicit recreation of a real person, and 3) To be quite honest, she doesn’t think Catra has the balls to paint a portrait of her naked ex and then hang it not only where she will have to see it, but in public.

Chapter 3: The Session

Yeah, so this was all supposed to be part of the last chapter, but given that one was 8k and this one was 10k, clearly that wasn’t happening. They just had a lot they needed to address, so their emotional constipation forced things into splitting up into two – much like their initial breakup.

Adora has undiagnosed ADHD in this fic (as she often does when I write her), which was a contributing factor to her struggling so much in college once her support structure and all her coping mechanisms were taken away (not that I know anything about that……..).

Chapter 4: Good Girl

The jealousy aside comment is a joke – or rather, Catra is – because Catra could never set her jealousy aside.

Okay I have thoughts about pet play in a world with hybrids and my thoughts are that some people are oversensitive and think it might be an issue to them, which is what they actually find insulting. When people are into pet play, they are into being treated like a dog, cat, horse, etc, all of which exist in Etheria. They aren’t trying to act like hybrids, treat hybrids like pets, etc, so conflating the two actually says more about the person worried about it than someone being into pet play does.

Pet play, to me, is a “softer” version of the master/slave thing, which is just a bit too much for me to try to write. Now, if I was writing Adora barking and stuff pet play would be too much too, but in this AU it’s more about the collar and ownership than anything else.

Chapter 5: Work of Art

The childhood bullying scene is unfortunately based on real events I came across when doing research, with a kid getting bullied by his classmates for using the wrong colors in art class (until that moment, he didn’t actually know he was colorblind).

The Super Pal Trio has enough towels for three people, but Entrapta and Scorpia basically share the same supply of towels, whereas Catra has her own stock meant to dry her fur. However, if Scorpia ends up forgetting to check she has a towel before a shower, she will temporarily borrow one of Catra’s just to cover up. Entrapta won’t, because Catra’s towels are an absolutely horrible texture to her. In Catra’s defense, they aren’t meant for human skin and so are a made of a material that is kind of uncomfortable on it, but Entrapta doesn’t see what the big deal is about walking naked to her bedroom this one time (even if it hasn’t been one time) and refuses to even touch Catra’s towels.

Have this paragraph from a scene/subplot that got edited, but I love this paragraph and it’s still canon:

“That gay bar that Entrapta got banned from is having a Halloween drag show tonight,” Scorpia tells her. Catra winces. Entrapta got banned for property damage. Catra was fucked up from a depression spiral before they even got to the alcohol at the bar and neither she, nor Scorpia babysitting her, noticed that Entrapta brought along the small prototype they dragged her away from tinkering with when they left for the bar. It caused a minor explosion on the bar top when she resumed working on it while Scorpia and Catra were distracted making out in a corner.

Chapter 6: Halloween

Perfuma’s cape is a reference to Dorian Corey, an NYC drag queen featured in Paris is Burning (which I highly recommend watching). She also, maybe, killed a guy and hid him in her apartment for decades. He was found amongst her belongings upon her death. He was shot in the back of the head, but it’s still very possible that it was some kind of accident or self-defense (he was known to rob people and she was known to carry a gun for protection) and she just knew that she couldn’t go to the cops because she was a queer POC. I’m not trying to cast shade on her – I find her and the related murder case fascinating and personally believe the self-defense theory.

Catra’s parents were in a rollover car accident, but they spent more than they could afford on a good car seat for Catra, so she suffered only a few minor injuries. Catra’s father died on the scene from injuries, smoke inhalation, and burns before he was freed from the car. Catra and her mom were taken in an ambulance to the hospital, but Catra’s mother died. Catra was in shock and crying as doctor’s treated her. She started hiding in dark corners, underneath things, and in blanket balls pretty quickly. She ended up hiding in a crate when she found out her case worker was moving her, already having gone through so much, so the case worker just brought the entire crate to the foster home. Catra still didn’t come out upon arriving and Shadow Weaver wasn’t about to put her actual skin in the game and risk getting clawed, so she had every intention of letting Catra stay in there until Adora came bounding in.

I’ve known a number of trans women who discovered their gender identity by starting with something like crossdressing or drag because then they could “still be cis” and allow themselves to experience what they had been wanting to but were struggling too much with internalized transphobia to really examine. It was a gateway step that allowed them to confront what their gender truly was. That is what Perfuma’s experience was in this AU.

Chapter 7: The Morning After

The way that Catra maps out the house while Adora is busy is rather cat-like, but it's also "inspired" by trauma responses making one need to familiarize themselves with a space to feel safe in it. Furthermore, you can learn a lot about someone from their living space. By seeing Adora’s living space (and comparing it to how it used to be before), Catra can assess things like her mental health, her interests, how much free time she has, her financial situation, who she is close with, etc. She can even assess Adora’s workout routine somewhat by spotting her running sneakers. She wasn’t going full CSI or even opening cabinets, but she was looking around.

Scorpia’s mothers own the tea shop and Scorpia is a part-owner and manager. Basically, they juggle all the upper-level stuff for the small business between the three of them. They can do things like finances and marketing from home, but they also have to do day-to-day managing and work themselves in addition to managing their employees. Scorpia was supposed to work a full shift that Monday, but she was a bit of a wreck and her mothers sent her home early.

When Catra says that Scorpia carries ceramics, she is referring to teapots and the such.

Chapter 8: Friendship

The metal frame is actually rated for a lot more than three hundred pounds, that would be some puny metal, but that’s what it is rated to be able to handle squirming and fighting without risk of it tipping or sliding along the floor.

I was thinking about how Catra’s toe claws are non-retractable and a regular treadmill belt definitely wouldn’t be able to handle that, hence more heavy duty (and more expensive) hybrid treadmills made out of different materials. Because they’re more expensive, gyms usually only have a few.

Chapter 9: Failure

When I posted this chapter, a lot of people were like “I saw the title and panicked, you did that on purpose didn’t you” and while I am evil, I didn’t even think about that when I named it. Failing was just important to the smut and I think BDSM would be a great way for Adora to learn to not only accept failure but to embrace it, so I made it the chapter title without thinking about it.

Okay, so, Storytime. Back when I wrote TOHT, I mentioned that on Catra and Adora’s 4th time together, Catra ate Adora out. I either mentioned something about face sitting related to that, or did it later and people misinterpreted it. I don’t remember, it’s been over a year since that fic. The point is, people started talking about wanting to read the face sitting in a She-ra Discord server I used to lurk in, and then I got an anon (presumably from one of those people) asking me to write it.

At the time, I said I had no interest in writing it, and that still holds true. However, I’ve written many things I have no personal interest in just because I think Catra and Adora would like it. This one in particular just took on a mythical status because of people were asking for it. I also have a policy against requests, commissions, etc, but I joked with a friend at the time that I would write facesitting if the anon would put their money where their mouth is and pay me.

Facesitting became a running joke for me, to the point of where I created a fake screenshot of a Patreon tier costing 200$, with the person who bought the tier being able to choose which universe (AU or canon) that I wrote facesitting in. And then I just…… put it in the Beg For Me outline without thinking, because it fit the fic and the scene I wanted to create. I was in the middle of chapter 9, about to write the smut, when I realized “hang on a minute, I have a running joke that I’ll never write this for less than $200” and so I made a post about it.

Separately, my friend Meta (who draws lots of great Catradora comics), had made a joking post a few weeks before that they realized they had never drawn Catradora kissing and would do so if someone paypal’d them 30$ so they could get Baal in Genshin Impact (I don’t play the game, so that’s my basic understanding of it). They replied to my post and we entered barter-economy negotiations, with me trading writing facesitting for 6.67 kisses (with the 7th being an almost kiss). And that’s how I ended up finally writing facesitting, and this post came to be.

Chapter 10: Flexibility

In the second scene, what Catra whispers to herself is “I’ll hold you down.”

Kyle was an accounting major, Lonnie didn’t know what she wanted to do and was taking time to figure it out, and Rogelio was apprenticing at a greenhouse on the edge of town.

In general I don't mention exact foods during a scene where people are eating (sometimes I do, but in general) because what food someone eats is so varied by preference and culture. By not mentioning the exact meal, your brain can fill it in without breaking any immersion for readers from different places (within the same country or all over the world). I also give Catra a limited diet because I too have food sensitivities and as a result I just…. don’t know a lot of recipes because I can eat such a limited selection of things, so pulling out a specific meal for characters to be eating is hard for me.

Catra and Lonnie had a kind of friends/kind of rivals relationship for most of their younger lives, but they (and Adora) all bonded over being foster kids, although in this AU they weren’t in the same foster home together. Lonnie actually shifted homes a few times, but usually stayed within the same school system with them or ended up back in it before long since Thaymor wasn’t all that big and only had a few schools.

Catra saying she had the beginnings of a plan that required a lot of restraint from Adora is a meta reference to how this scene changed as I was writing it. Originally Adora was supposed to be unrestrained physically and thus hold herself back, but I wasn’t feeling that angle when I went to actually write it.

Chapter 11: Brat

Okay, what Adora did last chapter was much more bratty, but also, this is Adora’s idea of bratting XD

Chapter 12: Sunshine and Daisies (& other disgusting shit)

I saw the cat-shaped crop in the recommended products when I was looking for a photo reference for Adora’s collar (didn’t find one that I liked) and I immediately was like “Alright, Lonnie’s got to do a prank with this”.

Lonnie left so easily because she was kind of hoping Huntara would talk some sense into Catra when it came to “platonically” domming her ex. She assumed that that topic would make Catra as cagey as she was, but that she had finally broken and sought advice.

Chapter 13: Challenges

The car is kind of this AU’s version of their platform over the Fright Zone.

Chapter 14: The Art Show

I know I “skipped the vanilla sex”, but I didn’t actually skip it because it was vanilla, I skipped it because it would have slowed the story down. Adora had already topped Catra, so it could be inferred how it would go even without showing it onscreen, and including it would just had an extra 2k words in the middle of the chapter that slowed it down. Skipping it kept the flow.

Obviously not all the smut in this fic “serves a purpose”, the fic is as much about its themes (healing, growth, acceptance, trust, etc) as it is about gratuitous smut, but there is a reason a lot of the smut in this fic is at the start or the end of a chapter and not the middle.

Chapter 15: Domesticity

People in the comments kept thinking I was setting up for Glimmer to come over and walk in on them because I mentioned her having Adora’s spare key, but there is no reason for her to just randomly pop over to Adora’s. I literally just mentioned it as a realism/safety thing for someone else to have Adora’s spare key in case something happens. Glimmer has used it when Adora was sick before to come bring her stuff, and probably once when they had plans that Adora slept through, but especially once she knows what Catra and Adora are doing regularly at her house, she isn’t going to just pop in randomly.

Chapter 16: Healing

I fully admit to knowing absolutely nothing about art shows and making up a lot whole-cloth (though some of it was based off of research into commercial galleries), but my grandmother is actually an artist who was once commissioned to do about 50 paintings for a hotel opening up downtown, so that part is based on reality. I was really stressed about people finding it “unrealistic” even though I know for a fact that it happens and I’d had her spend awhile making it nowhere in her career first.

Glimmer knows how to make amazing wings because it’s Micah’s family recipe and so he made sure she knew how to do it because otherwise his mother would be ashamed of him.

Chapter 17: Endings & Beginnings

What Catra switches to doing is actually inspired by a real dom in Australia. He’s the only male dom in his area and while he sometimes hosts sessions, his main gig is education and helping couples experiment with BDSM.

Huntara’s girlfriends are that cool bull lady and Grox, her “friend” (we all know they fucking) who betrays her in the season four.

Original Outline:

You would think, because this fic is so old, that it would have a lot of change in the outline, but no, the biggest change was just adding in plot. It has technically had a lot of iterations, but those iterations were just different combinations of the same ideas.

The basic structure of this fic was always: 1) Adora & Catra break up (in the backstory), 2) Catra becomes a dom alongside Lonnie to pay the bills (in the backstory), 3) Adora accidentally finds out Catra is a dom due to shenanigans with Glimmer, 4) Adora starts hiring Catra for professional sessions, 5) a catalyst, 6) They start having private sessions but still aren’t together, 7) they grow closer and eventually get together.

1) & 2) never changed, and neither did 4) or 6).

3) went through 4 iterations. My very first rough idea (which rarely sticks around as the plan once I start writing, but this was the idea that sparked the entire AU) was Adora going with Glimmer to a leather bar with a BDSM dungeon attached. Glimmer then paid for Adora to go back in it as a joke and, surprise, the dom’s her ex. The second iteration was Catra getting hired as a prank on some girl’s foster sister – said girl being Glimmer and the ex-foster sister being Adora – but that didn’t make sense with the timeline of when I wanted them to date and break up though (breaking up when Adora went to college, not when she got fostered out), so I pretty quickly changed it. Third iteration was Glimmer hiring Catra to come to a party she was throwing for some indistinct reason and it turning out to be Adora’s ex. That’s the one that evolved into Mermista hiring a stripper for Glimmer’s bachelorette because the bride doesn’t organize those herself usually, though I did start to write the fic using the second iteration back in January when I needed a break from Strange Disease.

5) is harder to say if it changed, because my very initial thought when I was first like “what if… dom AU” was them having a few sessions before Adora admits that she would like to explore more in BDSM and Catra replying that she doesn’t do that with clients, but if Adora wants her real address, they can arrange something private. I guess you could call that the first iteration, but like with 3), that one was only a half-formed thought that was then replaced with the second and final version when I actually thought about it. This was the party hookup.

I heavily outlined the party hookup scene when I came up with it back on April 14th, when I was listening to the re-released version of “That’s The Way I Loved You” and started having Thoughts™ about a love triangle with Catra feeling nothing with Scorpia. I outlined the entire car hookup that day. Along with the other vague impressions of the AU I had been carrying around since I first thought of it last year, Catra and Scorpia having some kind of friends-with-benefits/almost-dating thing was on the list, but this party and then car scene was where it solidified – and coming up with it was the moment I considered the AU to have “grown plot” despite have already planned out the later art stuff as the ending for it.

6) This part didn’t change, but was more friendly, calm, and sweet in the fic than it was in my head when I first was plotting with it because it needed that softness to make the BDSM feel/be healthy.

7) was just a vague impression of the end of the AU for a bit, but it soon developed into a) Catra getting an opportunity to show her art out of town, b) Adora being her ride/assistant for this trip because she doesn’t know anyone else with a car, c) them sharing a cheap hotel room together and getting far too sweet/date-y with each other, d) Catra’s art doing decent at the show and then getting a commission afterwards, propelling her career forward, which e) leads to her being too busy with her true passion to keep up BDSM professionally, so she and Adora settle into a happy relationship together again, giving Catra the best of both worlds.

a) through d) stayed the same, though e) changed a bit. As I was writing, I realized that this fic would have to stretch on for years to get to the point where she was established enough in her art to do just that, so I switched it to her changing what kind of BDSM work she does so she wouldn’t have to struggle with her dom drop as much.

Meta:

Timeline

Catra’s romper (CH1, CH3), Catra’s painting (CH2),

What’s next?:

My next AU is We Drink the Fatal Drop, a vampire AU. I plan to start posting it in the next few days.

#beg for me #ficmeta #fic notes

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wisehq · 3 years

Text

Mission Debrief: Chapter Forty-two

...It's all coming together.

I'm just going to come outright and say it; I had no idea what to write for this review- not because there wasn't anything to discuss, but rather this chapter gave us so much that I didn't know what to focus on first. Chapter forty-two has single-handedly thrown open the doors to a hundred different theories, and believe me when I say that after a whole night of redbull and theorizing I couldn't come up with any clear answers (the folks over at the Strix discord group can attest to that).

So here's what we're gonna do; I'm not going to focus on the chapter itself.

It was cute. Cardshark Anya is hilariously awesome. Damian is a little shit (whom I adore), and the chapters where the kids can just be kids are- in my opinion- the best.

That's all I'm going to say on the matter. For the rest of this review, I want to go over all the facts we know so far about the story and setting. All of the things Endo has been slowly building up in the background and the pieces that we can stitch together from them, starting with this chapter. Two key things stuck out to me.

In the entirety of the story up till this point, this is the first time we have heard mention of a royal anything- and not only that, but this chef is a former royal chef. This of course implies that a) said chef was fired (not likely given that Eden wouldn't likely associate with someone who was disgraced like that) or retired, or b) that there is no royalty anymore. Ostania is a totalitarian state and the main power of the government- from what we've seen- lies with the ruling political party, i.e the National Unity Party, a.k.a Desmond's party. Such a political structure would have no room for royalty in a governing capacity, and therein begs the question; is there still a royal/noble class- albeit in a non-governing sense- or was it abolished sometime in the recent past?

Classical language is not proper speaking and diction like I had originally thought. Classical language is a specific term typically used to describe a dead language or dialect (think Latin, or Hebrew before it was revived). I find this particularly interesting because under no circumstance would a child as young as Anya know anything about a dead language unless- as Loid points out- she was exposed to it as a toddler. It would have had to have been when she was very young, as she herself doesn't realize she knows this information. This would mean she likely learned it from her birth family; Anya was old enough to remember the lab and scientists, meaning she became Subject 007 later on in life- otherwise she would have remembered knowing classical language.

These two concepts are incredibly important to keep in mind, both now and later on as the story progresses. We now know that a royal class plays a factor in the political game that Twilight and everyone else is playing, and we know that Anya knows information that she shouldn't know otherwise (even with her mind-reading powers). So where does that leave us?

Honestly, for the first time...I'm kind of stumped?

Let's look back at the story and see what else we can piece together- maybe there's something in there we can extrapolate for our purposes. Another clue to point us in the direction that Endo is seemingly funneling us towards.

From chapter forty-one

Franklin Perkins was a man who believed in making his country a better place to live. In his eyes and from what he saw, Ostania wasn't going in the right direction- but why? He blames his lack of money for his mother's death, and we see him hold resentment towards the government over socialistic policies. Wealth is something to be shared with others, not hoarded for ones self. That seems to be where Ostania's moral compass is pointing towards, but is that really the case?

From chapter 39

Mr. Green mentions that people have been fleeing to Westalis; from the way he says this it sounds like this is happening currently- not in the past- and people are going so far as to travel through a third country just to get to Westalis. Such a journey isn't without its perils, so anyone attempting to crossover from Ostania would likely be taking a huge risk in doing so. Not only that, but most of what we've seen in the story is Ostanians loathing Westalins...so what would compel people to do this in the first place?

From chapter three As Anya reads the minds of people gathered at a politcal rally near the start of the manga, we see their disgruntled thoughts behind her. There's multiple mentions of losing jobs and not having enough money- some people are even hungry. Most of these people blame Westalis for their troubles, though not the leader of the rally, ironically.

Also from chapter 3

We find out (and often forget) early on that there are multiple political parties in Ostania. Donovan leads the National Unity Party, whereas the political rally we see here is hosted by the Nationalist Party. The latter preaches peace with the west, but many of the people gathered reject this outright. This is important; the N.U.P is the most successful political party in Ostania, which means a majority of the country's citizens approve of their platform. If we're to assume the Nationalist Party's platform is to advocate for peace with Westalis, then we must also assume that the N.U.P stands for the opposite; direct aggression with the west.

From chapter 31 The Zacharis Dossier, though ultimately a bust, hinted at rumors that have permeated East and West since the start of the cold war. We know for a fact that human experiments did indeed take place in Ostania, so it also stands to reason that there is at least a kernel of truth to the claims of P.O.W (prisoner of war) massacres conducted by the west. It's a heinous crime, and also one that leads to another question; why would any country go through with it in the first place? In addition, piggy-backing off the former point;

From chapter 19 While Loid details Project Apple, he uses the word 'regime' to describe the former Ostanian government. The literal definition of a regime is a government, especially an authoritarian one (Oxfrod Dictionary). I won't highlight all the specifics of what is and isn't authoritarianism, but essentially the point I'm trying to make here is that the current Ostanian administration is still very much a regime. Donovan acts as the authoritarian ruler (or would-be ruler; we don't know if he's actively in charge or is looking to usurp power for himself) and continues on the legacy of the former government. We know for a fact that this is the case because Anya is only at most 6 years old, likely even younger. That would mean the experiments being run on her had to have been recent, which fits with the time frame that we established at the beginning of this rabbit hole- it also aligns with what we know about what Donovan has been doing on the back end of things. Those who have kept up with my reviews know what I'm talking about; gloom pharmaceuticals, the truth serum, OSO-R, etc. All of that, which then leads us to...

...right back where we started. So...what then? What can we conclude from all this? At least a few things;

Anya is tied to Desmond- either directly or indirectly.

Anya's past is also Ostania's past; she's familiar with a dead language that's no longer spoken, and there's definitely a reason why no one speaks it anymore.

Ostania is in a period of political and economic turmoil. This also comes on the heels of a (possible) former monarchy, and the struggle of a country willing to embrace authoritarianism so long as it means staying alive.

WISE and Westalis are not innocent in this game of chess with Ostania and the SSS, and more than likely have committed atrocities that may or may not be directly tied to Ostania and- possibly- Anya's past.

And...this is as far as I can go. I've hit a wall, as have other people I've talked to. We're still missing pieces to the puzzle. Endo will of course provide us with more clues and theory fodder as the weeks and months progress, but for now this is as far as I can go on my own. On the one hand I feel defeated because I can't come up with a meaningful explanation for everything and present it in a neat little bundle for you all to read, but on the other hand I'm thoroughly enjoying this. I'm more engaged with this manga and story than any other I've read before; I'm at the edge of my seat every week, and I'm sure most of you are, too. For now, I'll leave the review here. I find it fitting to leave it open ended, just as Endo did with Loid's self-imposed question. Hopefully, like him, we can find answers in the near future.

Also, BONUS...

...No fun panel with a snappy comment this time. Instead, I’m going to humbly ask for your help.

If you have any ideas about where you think the story is going, theories as to how everything fits together, or just really want to discuss the manga with other fans- please check out our forum and share with us. We’d love to hear what you all think; not only that, but a lot more heads makes theorizing both more productive and a whole lot more fun. Check it out if you have the time, or- if you don’t feel like clicking on any links- you can always leave a comment either on this post or send us an ask or message. Anytime, any reason, we’d love to talk SxF.

Again, thanks for reading, and we’ll see you all next chapter!

#spy x family #chapter forty-two

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lupismaris · 3 years

Text

Summertime, And The Livin’s Easy- a black sails fic prompt fill

this became incredibly long so instead of just posting it with the ask i’ve made it’s own post

@themelonface asks- For the fic prompts (if you're still taking them), silverflint talking about children. Can be AU, can be set during or after canon. I just have a feeling Miranda never wanted any, Thomas was too wrapped up in the fight for equality to need anything more than cats, but maybe James would have wanted kids in another life.

HERE MY DARLING HAVE THE FIRST OF hopefully TWO PROMPT FILLS because i want to write a post canon ficlet for this ask as well.

but for now have modern au silverflint (and hamilton at the end) and the discussion of children 💕

cw for mentions of child abuse and shitastic fathers!!! but theres nothing graphic mentioned or shown.

***

It was the hazy space between what would have been brunch on a weekend and the corporate lunch time rush and the start of cocktail hour on every other day when half the bars in Brooklyn Heights hadn’t actually opened their doors yet and those that had were serving sandwiches and day drinking friendly cocktails.

The Walrus was one of the latter.

Silver slid off his bar stool as the last member of the aforementioned lunch rush stepped out the door and leaned against the polished bar top with a bright grin. “How you holding up, honey?” Muldoon rolled his eyes. “Please, a corpse could make an aperol spritz.” “I doubt a corpse could make that many of them that quickly.” “Flattery might work on other men,” Muldoon said, as he always did, with a wag of his tattooed finger and a smile fighting to show on his face. “But it will not work on me.” “Are you sure? Cause you were pretty sexy with those martinis. Remind me why its always vodka?” “Your boyfriend has told you that a dozen times already, I know it for a fact, you shit.” “Okay but maybe I wanna hear you explain it. Again,” Silver said, propping his chin on his hands and putting on his best Cheshire smile, throwing in a slight batting of the lashes just for Muldoon’s sake. They played this game every time Silver wasted away a few hours at the bar, which he was starting to do more and more often. He’d joke with Flint that it was only out of boredom, but in truth, he felt safe there, nestled in the corner with his laptop or acting as an honorary member of the staff when they needed some help. He didn’t want to dwell too much on it, on why he felt so safe there or why after so many years he was once again feeling so painfully devoted to the same group of men who’d despite everything, seen him through hell. Muldoon sighed, his hands making quick work of filling the high powered steam dishwasher under the counter. He pushed it closed with his hip and looked up at Silver, finally cracking a smile. “Do you want to help me run bar for a bit, love? While it’s quiet?”

Silver was behind the bar before Muldoon could even consider changing his mind. He did pause to duck into the kitchen quickly, where the two line cooks- Randal and Dooley- were working on their mise en place and Vane was wedged into the alley doorway with a cigarette in his mouth, recovering from the lunch rush. His long hair was carefully tied up in a braided bun and covered in a bandanna, ears lined as always with half a dozen hoops a piece. “Why do you look like you just ate a canary?” Vane asked around his smoke. “No reason. Where’s the Captain?” Vane nodded to the walk in pantry where Flint was likely checking stock counts, “he’s in a mood again.” “When isn’t he? When he’s done tell him to come up to the bar I’ve got a surprise,” Silver said, still wearing that grin, and Vane laughed with a nod, going back to watching the alley behind the bar. “Alright come on you flirt-” Muldoon called, and Silver quickly washed his hands and snagged one of the spare aprons Hal kept behind the bar. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to make a cocktail, he played bartender for house parties all the time. But there was something different about learning to do it properly, from Muldoon who clearly took great pride in it, and in a place that was quickly becoming a second home to him. An hour in, and several successful cocktails later, Muldoon allowed Silver to help him actually fill orders for the few customers they got, though it wasn’t many. Flint still had not resurfaced from the kitchen, and so Silver kept his focus on the recipes Muldoon had him run through- proper martinis and Manhattans, Mojitos and mules, mezcal margs and all the things you could do with the collection of Amaros and aperitifs behind the bar. The customers were students on their way home from morning classes, morning shifters heading home or stopping for some food before the evening shift at their second job started, regulars who stopped in for lunch because no one made a cuban quite as well as their kitchen did. And then the door chimed and Silver looked up with his customary smile and greeting ready, waiting to see where the guests might seat themselves- the host wouldn’t be in till four when the official dinner service started- and found himself staring at, well, children. Six of them, all too young to be in a bar unsupervised even before happy hour but probably even too young to be wandering around Brooklyn by themselves as it was. The older two definitely had the hardened older sibling with “semi absent if not entirely absent parents” look around them, Silver knew that look far too well, though whether the four younger kids were siblings or just under their care he couldn’t be sure. All of them were wearing some variation of public school uniform which Silver recognized from the public school a few blocks away. “Hey Nicki,” Muldoon said with a wave, and one of the older kids with short messy dark hair and equally dark eyes waved back. Silver looked at Muldoon quickly with raised brows. “Do me a favor go find Flint, okay? Tell him the kids are up front.” Silver just nodded, watching as Nicki and the other older kid shepherded the younger kids into the big corner booth closest to the bar without being told to, and slipped into the kitchen. Vane was at the prep table, knife in hand and making quick work of a cut of meat. He didn’t look up when he heard the door swing open but tilted his head expectantly. “Flint?” Sliver asked. “Smoke break, should be about done. Said he was coming up to see you in a minute.” Silver threw open the back alley door and there was Flint, propped up against the wall with a beaten up paperback on his knee and a forgotten cigarette in his hand. He looked up at him with a frown. “Hey whats wrong? You set the bar on fire with a flaming mojito or something?” he said, wearing a rare teasing smile. “Not yet but theres like, half a kindergarten class upfront.” Flint blinked, looked at his watch, and swore, “shit they must’ve let out early cause of the heat.” “Darling, what in the hell are you talking about.” Flint stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it in the ashtray by the door, kissing the top of Silver’s head as he passed. “I’ll explain in a minute- Vane! Leave the dinner service I need you on the meal kits with me-” “Already started on them,” Vane said, waving the knife idly as he portioned the meat into rather exact ready to cook portions. Flint nodded and washed his hands. “Dooley wheres those sandwiches I told you to fix-” “Here boss.” “Silver,” Flint loaded up six plates of sandwiches onto two serving trays and passed the lighter of the two to Silver. “Take one of these out with me ‘kay?” Silver nodded and balanced the tray on his shoulder, following Flint out of the kitchen. The bar was still mostly empty, Muldoon hanging out at the corner of the bar closest to the kids, making them each a Shirley Temple and passing Nicki a pitcher of water for them to share. Normally, Silver would’ve made some smart ass remark about how apparently it was normally for a bunch of kids to just turn up at the bar for lunch but something about this felt different and something in the set of Flint’s shoulders told him to stay quiet. “Let me guess the AirCon crap out again?” Flint asked upon reaching the table. “Or did one of you sabotage it to get out early?” The younger kids all started talking at once, bursts of loud excitement at seeing Flint, and the food, all wanting to explain why they had been let out of school a little bit early that day. Nicki and the other older kid, Sola, helped distribute the plates of food with smiles and nods of thanks while Flint listened intently to the kids’ rambling and incoherent explanations. Once the young-ins were distracted by the sandwiches, Nicki offered a more coherent explanation. “Yeah they said the AC’s gonna be out till tomorrow with the heat, so they’re closing school till Monday,” he said. “Three day weekend I guess, without the extra homework since the teachers didn’t have time to prepare for any.” “Nice. Gonna meet your friends at the bridge park tomorrow? You mentioned wanting to get your kick flips more polished.” Nicki shook his head, looking bitter about it. “Can’t, busted up my front bearings and wheels on a ride home last week, won’t be able to afford to fix it for a bit. S’fine though, got chores to do.” Flint nodded, leaning back against the bar with his arms lazily crossed over his middle. “Do me a solid and bring the board by tomorrow okay? I think one of my guys might have some spare parts they’re not using.” Silver felt something in him break a little at the way the boy’s face lit up at Flint’s words. Or maybe it was at the ease with which Flint handled the kids, the openness he showed them, listening to how their days had gone, if only in brief, listening to their problems, which to them seemed world ending- Sola’s internet was out for the weekend, so she’d be at the library doing homework on Friday and probably most of the weekend when she wasn’t helping at her aunt’s salon, the little ones would all be shuttled to various relatives until Monday until they went back to school and Sola and Nicki, or another of the older kids in their building would take charge of them again. One of the younger kids was staring at Silver, her sandwich half held to her mouth. Just staring, bright brown eyes fixed on him in that quizzical way that children possessed that always made Silver feel transparent. Flint noticed and followed her gaze with an amused grin, waving for Silver to come over to join them instead of hiding behind the bar with Muldoon. Silver looked at him wide eyed for a moment, then at the kids, specifically the little girl who was staring him down like a gunslinger, and then back at Flint, who just reached for him. Damn the bastard, he knew that was all it ever took. Silver came over and let Flint pull him in under his arm, feeling like a bug under the microscope in a science class he never attended but had heard about from other people. “You have pretty hair,” the little girl said. She was missing her two front teeth and Silver wanted to melt. “Thank you. You have big eyes.” “Yeah. They see a lot,” She said nodding solemnly. Silver could feel Flint shifting with the effort it took not to laugh. “They’re a pretty color. They remind me of this stone called tiger’s eye,” Silver continued. He could see Nicki giving Flint a look, though he didn’t know what Flint was doing in response. The little girl tilted her head. “Whats that?” So Silver pulled out his phone and showed her, which lead to a short lesson in gemstones that mostly amounted to excited cries of “oh shiny” and “I’d steal that one” which did Silver’s heart good. “This is Silver, a friend of mine who just moved back to town. He’s helping out round here. So he and I are gonna go fix your take away bags,” Flint said, once the momentary fascination in gemstones had faded and the kids were once again fixed on their plates. “Sola, you and Nicki just let Muldoon know if you guys need anything, or stick your head in the kitchen and yell okay? We’ll hear you. C’mon Silver.” If Silver had hoped for an explanation, he didn’t get one. Once he and Flint crossed the threshold back into the kitchen there was work to be done- Randal and Dooley handled the orders brought to them from the waitstaff while Flint and Vane, with Silver doing whatever Flint told him to, made quick work of assembling meal kit after meal kit from dishes both on and off the bar’s menu. Everything was boxed up and taped shut, paired with pre-typed instructions on how to cook the meals and how many servings each would make, and tucked into sturdy double layered brown bags that would hopefully survive a trip across the neighborhood. As they were finishing twenty minutes later, Hal’s voice could be heard through the window behind the bar, which answered Silver’s most pressing question- did he know that Flint was just running a school cafeteria out of the bar? Apparently yes, and apparently the kids were just as excited, if not more so, to see “Uncle” Hal. Because of course they called him Uncle Hal, why wouldn’t they. God, Silver was going to have to book a fucking dentist appointment for all the tooth rot the sweetness of this was giving him. He helped Flint carry out the bags of food, Vane insisting the kids would be too scared of him while Flint argued that Vane was just scared of the kids, and Silver watched as Hal and Flint got the bags labeled for each child and into a push cart that Sola promised to bring back the next day when she passed on her way to her Aunt’s salon. He then did his very best not to pass away on the spot as each kid, even Nicki and Sola, hugged Hal goodbye. Flint had crouched down to say good by to the little ones, accepting their clumsy hugs, reminding them to be careful walking home, and asking them to recite the bar’s phone number for him just in case (though Silver was sure they probably had cellphones, even if they were elementary schoolers), before he stood and gave Nicki and Sola each a one armed hug and watched them shepherd the group outside again. “Only group today?” Hal asked and Silver thought his voice sounded a bit heavy. “So far. Powers out at their school though, likely a couple others’ll come by later. Want me to call around to the other bars and see if they’ve heard anything?” “Yeah call the food bank and the closest shelter too for me, see if we can’t drop off our end of night supply to them this weekend.” Later, several more hours of food prep and three more groups of wary looking kids who all seemed completely unafraid of Flint and his crew, plus a Thursday night dinner rush, and Silver finally got his explanation. He also thought he should have gotten the nobel prize for being able to keep his mouth shut for as long as he did. “So are we gonna talk about it?” Flint was sitting on the floor in front of him, half asleep already between his thighs, as Silver combed his hair. They had taken home food from the bar and shared a six pack between them on the deck, Thomas held up at a Client dinner where he was no doubt being wined and dined and bored to absolute tears. They had treated themselves then to a hot bath, with the jets, and were now just wasting time with the kind of nonsexual intimacy that Silver had learned he craved with Flint, waiting for Thomas to join them so they could all manage a good nights sleep. “Talk about what?” Flint asked, his voice a heady rumble. “The kids. And why they knew to just wander into a bar on a Thursday,” Silver said, keeping his voice gentle. He coated his hands in more product and worked it into the shaved sides and back of Flint’s head, massaging his scalp as he went. “Why you and Hal and the rest of the crew seemed completely unphased by it.” Flint hummed lowly, nearly a purr as he leaned into Silver’s touch. They’d settled into the bedroom Thomas and Flint shared, like they did most nights since it had the nicest adjoining bathroom and all the obnoxiously nice hair and skin care products. Silver sat in the old plush armchair, bundled up in a robe while Flint, naked and content to air dry, leaned into him, a picture of ginger hair, rich freckles, and well loved tattoos on a soft strong figure. If Silver hadn’t been so distracted by the day, he’d have been more appreciative. “S’not that big a deal. Lots of families round here with young kids, can’t keep an eye on them between working two or three jobs, haven’t got money for babysitters or relatives to watch ‘em, or enough to cover food for the week, especially when the public schools can’t feed em. You start to notice which kids it is, when they pass by, which schools they go to, which blocks.” “In Brooklyn Heights?” “They don’t live in this neighborhood, Silver, you know that, not all of Brooklyn has been gentrified to shit by the developers. Hell walk a few blocks east towards the tech school and you’ll find a lot of them. Or south towards Bayridge. Anyway, the groups you met today are all right from Downtown Brooklyn, they go to school nearby you’ve seen them.” “Yeah I just… I dunno, you see so much of the multi-million dollar condos I guess you forget thats not all theres is.” “Nicki lives with his mom, his dad walked out and she’s working two jobs to keep the one bedroom they share over on Jay street. He’s only thirteen but he tried getting a job with me washing dishes last summer, I turned him down, sent him home with some food for his trouble,” Flint continued. Silver smiled, he could picture the scrappy dark haired boy trying to square up with Flint, trying to convince him he was old enough to legally work. “Let me guess he wasn’t the first.” “Won’t be the last either. If they aren’t working for the family to earn some extra money or to cut back on hiring expenses they’re looking for shifts somewhere to pick up the slack. They’re losing out on being kids all because the rent keeps going up and there ain’t shit else to do about it other than leave. And a lot of them can’t even afford to do that.” There was a familiar grit to Flint’s voice, the old bitter salt that meant someone had touched a nerve. It scared other people, but Silver knew it just meant Flint was, for the moment, being vulnerable with him. “Were you Nicki once? Trying to bully your way into work?” Silver asked softly. He reached for the comb again and sectioned off a part of Flint’s hair to start working with. Flint was quiet a moment. “Yeah. Yeah worked the docks a bit as a boy, most kids did it to earn pocket money or to help out with the bills.” “Which was it for you?” “Granddad only had his pension. And he spent that on booze. So whatever I earned at the docks helping the fishermen, or from pickpocketing, that was what bought food. Kept the lights on, shit like that. I told you once, that I met Henessy that way, picking his pocket.” Silver laughed softly. “I do remember. You technically succeeded, didn’t you?” “Mm, he only caught me cause someone snitched. Broke that fuckers nose real good I’ll tell you.” They were quiet for a moment, Silver combing Flint’s hair with impossible care, working his fingers through any knots he found, before following with product and conditioner, Flint grew heavier and heavier against him, warm and soft and his. “So you and Hal decided to do something, the way you always do?” Silver asked. “Hm? Oh yeah- city isn’t doin’ much, food banks and schools are already over run, and when school holidays hit, they can barely keep up demand for kids who need free meals. So we got a few other bars involved, met with some schools and the food banks and sent out some notices and just- started feeding people. I mean thats why Hal wanted to open the bar you know? You feed people and you give them everything. You feed them and they’ll do the rest. So thats what we did. In a week or two when the schools are out for the summer we’ll have a couple trucks that’ll make deliveries, so the kids don’t have to come to the bar.” Silver hummed and kissed his temple. “You’re sweet.” “Am not.” “You’ll let me help, right? Prep the meals and stuff?” Flint tipped his head back to look up at him. “You want to?” “Yeah. This altruistic thing is new to me, as is the cooking for fun thing but… it matters, to you, any idiot can see that. And I want to be part of it.” Silver smiled and leaned down to kiss him best he could. He could feel Flint smiling into the upside down kiss. “You’re really good with them too, you know, which please don’t take this the wrong way, I did not expect,” he added when he pulled back. “What with the kids?” “Yeah.” “Oh no offense taken I have no idea how it happened. They just aren’t afraid of me for some reason. I fully expected them to be, mind. I used to think I had the kind of face that would make babies and small children cry but apparently they just, I dunno, think I’m alright.” “They trust you, thats a big deal for kids. Especially ones who have clearly been let down by other adults. I mean you also talk to them like they’re just tiny adults which probably helps.” “They’re gonna be adults one day, might as well treat them with dignity well before they realize they should be fighting for it, you know?” Silver smiled softly, “Sometimes I don’t think you realize how magnificent you are, you bastard.” Flint didn’t say anything, just blindly reached for Sliver’s hands so he could pull him closer. So silver set aside the comb and rested his chin on the top of Flint’s head, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight to his weathered, tattooed hands. “You were good with them too, once you stopped being scared of them,” Flint offered. “Kids scare me, I’ve never spent enough time around them to learn how to make them happy. They’re so easy to hurt, so easy to damage. And extremely durable, extremely resilient but… I dunno… Just never trusted myself and never had the opportunity to do more than amuse them for a few minutes at a time before vanishing into thin air like Santa Claus.” “Well, you’ll have plenty of practice at the bar. I still think you were good with them. Little Sylvie likes you at least.” “Not as much as they love you.” Silver thought a moment. “Hey…” “Hm?” “Have… Have you and Thomas ever talked about kids?” It was a heavy question, one that might have been too much too soon and a part of Silver wished he hadn’t asked it. But there had been such a softness in Flint’s face when he’d spoken to the children, a kindness and a focus in his attention that meant he’d put time and effort into his actions, into making sure what he was doing was what the kids needed in that moment. It wasn’t just an adult slumming it with the neighborhood kids cause he had nothing better to do, it was almost, dare Silver think it, Paternal in nature. Paternal and the dread Captain Flint being used in the same sentence had not been something Silver had ever considered as possible, and yet- And yet it was, and it had piqued the old curiosity. Flint was quiet again, though he didn’t pull away or let go of Silvers hands, so Silver trusted that he hadn’t upset him. Silver held him tightly, turning his head to rest his cheek on Flint’s hair and wait patiently for him to speak. “Its complicated, pup.” “You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. I never thought of you as a dad until today but now I’m… I won’t lie a part of me is still thinking about it.” There was a soft shuddering sound and Silver felt Flint shift in his arms, curling tighter in on himself for a moment before trying to settle again. Silver held tight, pressing his face into his hair. It took another moment or two, and several deep breaths, but Flint eventually spoke. “Thomas and Miranda were expected to have children when they married,” he said lowly, “all wealthy families expect heirs. But Miranda didn’t want to go through pregnancy and Thomas wasn’t sure if he could sire so they found ways of putting it off and focusing on Thomas’ political career. Thomas… he wanted to save the world, I’m sure for a while he thought he couldn’t allow himself thoughts of a future until that was done.” Silver hummed. That did sound like Thomas. Even now, with the chip on his shoulder and the somewhat colder view of the world, he still seemed to think he could save it. Silver wasn’t about to point out that Flint still seemed to think the same way. “And after everything I dunno I guess it just took so much time to remember how to be living, breathing people again, that children were never part of the consideration,” Flint said with a shrug. There was a weight to his voice, an emptiness that had Silver frowning slightly in surprise. “How can you care for a child when you’ve only just come back to life? When you’ve only just found reason to stay alive? It- Any child we brought into our lives would have been at risk, back then for certain, though I’m not sure a child would be better off now and besides with how much we work its not like-” “James,” Silver said softly, lifting his head, “you’re rambling.” Flint went still in his arms, still as if waiting for the lash that he knew would never come, but waited for all the same. The readiness with which Flint expected violence broke something in Silver, just as much as it felt like a mirror, smudged and smoky and cracked with age. “Is this your way of saying you want to be a father, but the thought of it terrifies you?” Silver asked. “The things I’ve done,” Flint said in a rough voice, “The stains my hands have carried- I’d see them every time I held my child. That’s my fear, I think. That I’d see them, and that violence would stain them as well.” He paused. Silver held him, hiding his own face. It was easier, they had learned, to talk about such things like this, with Flint’s back to Silver, their faces just hidden enough to give the illusion of control. How many secrets had they shared like this? Silver was losing count. “I was raised by a drunken old sailor and a bastard of a navy man who brought nothing but ruin- what could I ever give a child, John?” Flint asked, his hands white knuckle tight on Silver’s, his eyes the deep green of the sea, ghostly and far away. “What could I give them but that same ruin?” And what could Silver say in the face of that? So he said nothing, just nodded and kissed Flints throat until the tension in his shoulders softened and Flint settled back against Silver’s body to rest, weary and still haunted, but at least no longer at knife point in his own home. Silver went back to brushing his hair, singing softly to him as he worked, until Thomas came home and they were able to find more pleasant ways to spend their evening than discussing the sins of one’s father. They didn’t talk about the possibility of children again, not for the whole of the summer. They helped the food banks and the neighborhood families as best they could through the summer, made sure whatever kids stopped by the bar or the kitchen door in the alley left with something to eat, on the house. Thomas made sure checks were written to the shelters and the food banks that needed them, that the families that needed childcare could get it free of charge. They got through the summer, and the conversation never arose again. Silver just kept the thought of Flint holding a bright eyed child that sometimes looked like Thomas’ kid, and sometimes looked like his own, locked away safely in his heart and didn’t examine it too closely. Then Idelle had her baby in August. In October they held a two month belated baby shower for her at The Walrus, so the crew could meet little Wesley Ira Featherstone and his father, bless him, could cry with his crew mates about how proud he was while Idelle had her first stiff drink in over a year. Rackham was there, of course, as the boy’s God father (Silver was delighted by the idea because Rackham was absolutely as terrified by the concept as he was as honored) and Wesley took to him as well as any two month old possibly could. But when it came to crying babies, Rackham didn’t know what to do, and Hal the God Father to all and obvious baby whisperer was back in the kitchen unable to assist. And so Thomas and Silver watched as Flint, who seemed to be acting without really thinking about what he was doing (outside of scolding Rackham who was himself on the verge of tears) scooped up the baby and promptly rocked him calm within moments. “How did you-” Rackham stared at him in shock. “If you didn’t fuckin panic all the time then he wouldn’a started crying,” Flint growled at him, which Wesley found hilarious, if the slew of gurgling giggles was anything to go by. Silver watched, feeling his face split into a ridiculous smile, as Flint refused to give the baby back to Rackham until he’d sobered up, and instead let Idelle tie a sling around his chest to tuck Wesley into, so he could still fix drinks and use his hands while keeping the baby safe. “Sure you don’t want me to take him back?” she asked, Max watching with an amused smile. “You’ll have plenty of him soon, I got ‘im. Just give Rackham a 101 on how to actually hold a baby.” Silver leaned into Thomas as they watched Flint from their seats at the bar, humming as Thomas’ arm went around him automatically, pulling him close into his side. He looked up, curious to see what Thomas thought of his husband suddenly so at home with a child. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but whatever it was, it wasn’t what he saw. Thomas’s face had gone soft, from the crows feet around his eyes to the laughter lines around his mouth, which parted in the gentlest shape of awe Silver might have ever seen on the man, as if he’d realized something he’d never considered before. His shoulders were rounded, leaning forward against the bar, hand fidgeting against the polished bartop as if desperate to reach out for his husband. Silver could feel the arm he hand around his shoulder tensing with the need to act. They watched as Flint moved behind the bar, one hand resting where Wesley’s head was under the sling, rocking him gently as he fetched fresh beers for himself and for Hal. Silver was watching his face, watching the way his lips were moving, as if he were talking to the baby, but he was just too far away to hear what he was saying. “He’s singing,” came Thomas’ voice suddenly, almost lost to the noise of the bar. “What?” “He’s singing,” Thomas said again, nodding to his husband. “Padstow Farewell, he sings it to me sometimes when I have nightmares, I’d know the lyrics on his lips even in the grave.” Silver smiled softly. “He sang it to me when I was recovering from my leg. I didn’t know it could be a lullaby.” “Neither did I but…” “But now-” “Yeah.” Silver reached for Thomas’ other hand and kissed his knuckles, leaning into him further. Thomas held him impossibly tight, resting his cheek on his hair. There’d be more to talk about in the morning, tomorrow, the day after, next week, next month, next year. And there was a dizzying sense of joy in that, the same kind of joy that came from watching Flint carrying the future in his worn and weathered hands.

#my fic #jamie's fic prompt fills #black sails #black sails fic #black sails modern au #silverflinthamilton #silverflint #james flint #john silver #thomas hamilton #@themelonface #muldoon #hal gates #charles vane #i had a lot of feelings writing this one y'all just so many feelings all over the plave holy shit!!!!

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 4

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Four: A Little Lost, A Little Found

Elain was in Lockhart Manor. Elain was currently sleeping a few doors down the hallway. Elain, his mate, was here. Elain-

“Oh, shut up,” Lucien groaned to his own mind, as he rolled over with more vigour than necessary. But there was little hope of sleep finding him tonight, not when he felt so energised and awake. Not only did Lucien feel the bond, taut and invigorated in-between his ribs, but he could still smell Elain, that Spring morning clear in his mind.

What was she doing here? What had changed?

Had she come for him?

Of course not. Right?

Lucien rolled over again, allowing a small snarl of frustration to rip from his lips. If Lucien knew Elain a little better then maybe he’d actually be able to talk to her and ask her these questions. But he didn’t know her, and he wasn’t her friend.

Maybe she’d come to break the bond. That had to be it. Given his luck his entire life it was outrageous to believe that his mate who he hadn’t spoken to for two years had travelled the country to be under the same roof as him, to work alongside him, to go to meetings by his side as his…colleague?

He just wanted to talk to her. One clear conversation where he wasn’t holding back, when he didn’t care about every word both spoken and unspoken. One conversation where he could be the silver-tongued fox he’d been before any Archeron had entered his life. But around Elain he was a fool. A hopeless, romantic fool.

Oh, how Tamlin would’ve goaded him over this. Lucien, who had taken lovers to his bed as though he was being paid, unable to even conjure more than a sentence in front of a female. Well, old Tamlin would’ve laughed at him – with him. Old Tamlin would’ve laughed, period. Now…Now he was another thing in Lucien’s life that had turned to poison.

It was only last week, after Nyx’s arrival, that Lucien received a letter from Rhysand detailing his new assignment in the Spring Court. He’d been able to delay such work thus far, but by the end of the week he was expected in Spring. Following that, the plan was to manipulate his way into alternating weeks between the Spring and Lockhart Manor.

Would he leave Elain here? Could he convince her to somehow come with him to Spring?

She’d love it there, not just the proper and neat gardens of the Spring Manor (or what was left of their civilisation) but also the rugged fields and forests. Spring Court was violent with life. It was a pandemonium of flora, every single plant one could possibly find in Prythian could be found somewhere in the battlefield of the Spring lands. The overwhelming, erratic terrain was exactly where Lucien saw Elain thriving.

If he took her maybe she’d love it. She’d most likely take clippings or, or maybe not. Maybe she would just stay for a moment, and enjoy existing in such a place, her gentle hands refusing to intervene with the beautiful, wild course of nature. Maybe she’d lie down in the fields, maybe she’d go swimming with him in the pools of starlight. One day, far, far, far into the future.

Maybe she’d smile – a real, genuine smile. Lucien believed he still had yet to experience the privilege of seeing such a phenomenon.

The voice of the bond had quietened in his mind, along with the voice which seemed to come from deeper down, the one that told Lucien exactly how much shit he was in given the size of the schoolboy crush he’d somehow developed. But still, there was little chance of Lucien finding more than a few hours of sleep.

And so, with his body alive and electric, Lucien did what he had been doing for the past two years. Lucien wrote a letter - one that was never, ever, intended to be read.

***

Breakfast was awkward. Surely it wasn’t always this awkward, not with the glint in Jurian’s smile and the steel in Vassa’s glare. Lucien seemed…bemused, he appeared to be glaring at his toast and eggs as though they contained some secret prophecy that he needed to decipher.

She was curious about the particulars of Vassa’s curse, about how she knew when the change was coming. Did it happen always at sunrise? How much time did she have to prepare? Was it the workings of the death lord’s magic, or his deal? She was especially curious given that one of her tasks being down here was to help undo Vassa’s ties to the death lord, not that she was sure the Band of Exiles were aware of that given her sister’s ruined letter.

It was Vassa’s stoic silence that kept Elain from opening her mouth. That and a million other worthless reasons.

“Is there something you wish to ask me, Ms Archeron?” Vassa eventually spoke into the unbearable silence, perhaps aware of the frequency of Elain’s not so inconspicuous side-glances. Elain fought the blush as glared at her plate.

“Elain, please…” maybe she was being paranoid, but the way everyone here kept stressing her title felt like an awful lot like a reminder of the title she was supposed to have in these lands. The life she was supposed to have, the husband, the house, now it all felt so foreign.

“Really, we should be calling her Lady,” Jurian smiled, his own breakfast consisting of a single orange and a small goblet of black coffee, a delicacy of the Night Court he’d bought in bulk.

“Perhaps…if we were in Prythian,” Vassa said non-committedly.

“Titles do not interchange between borders, even human borders,” Lucien spoke up suddenly, his voice sounded causal and polite, but his figure had gone rigid, and his eyes were burning as they rested on Vassa who seemed to shiver slightly under his gaze. Elain adverted her gaze, an ugly feeling flashing through her like lightening. She’d been avoiding looking at him for most of the meal, desperate to ignore how she’d noticed that he’d changed.

“Lady Elain…” Vassa began, her eyes still locked with Lucien’s and Elain felt a furious blush warm her cheeks. God she was so…angry. Stupid mating bond. “Last night you asked me to discuss with you how you maybe be of some use whilst working with us,” Vassa’s eyes found hers from where she was seated at the head of the table, Jurian and Lucien either side of her, Elain next to Jurian. “Well tonight we’re having dinner and talks at the Nolan’s residence-”

“Which of course you won’t be forced to attend,” Lucien ground out, glaring at the queen who just shrugged and reached for the syrup.

“We’ll be discussing all manner of important things; it would be a brilliant opportunity for Elain to familiarise herself with those who she’ll be working in close quarters with for the foreseeable future.”

“These dinners are of little consequence,” Lucien’s eyes flickered to Elain’s for a moment before his gaze returned to the queen and Elain felt something inside her crack. It was as though he couldn’t look at her for more than a second, that or he couldn’t bear to look away from the queen. “I don’t even bother with attending.” Lucien directed at the queen.

“There’s ample opportunity for Elain to make acquaintances elsewhere,” Jurian said through a yawn, leaning back with a stretch. But Elain didn’t miss how his eyes appeared to rove over his two fiery-haired companions. Mother, how she wished they would stop talking about her rather than with her. If she wanted to be discussed at the table as though she were a child she might as well have stayed in the Night Court.

“I’m grateful for the offer but today I was hoping to have a look over the current contracts and ensure they’re meeting the timeline Feyre had drawn for you. Once I can ensure the work you’ve done thus far meets the standards of my High Lady then I’ll know what to both expect and push for with the human councils.” The words flowed out of Elain in an orderly manner, in the exact way she’d practiced as she fell asleep the night prior.

Unlike the Night Court, it was clear Elain was going to have to fight and demand for her own voice and seat at the table. Here, with the Band of Exiles, no one would coddle her. So, she’d either have to stay in the shadows, or step into the light.

Besides, there wasn’t enough gold in the world that would make Elain step a single foot in the Manor that would’ve been her home, once upon a time.

Vassa opened her mouth to say something before shutting it and turning back to her plate, a firm line carved in between her brows. Jurian was glancing around the table with a shit-eating grin and Lucien, the tension in his body had seemed to ease and after a small moment, he took a large mouthful of food.

“Are there, um, any other gatherings I may be able to attend, later in the week?” Elain tried to shake the nervousness from her voice. She couldn’t let these three see her as someone able to be pushed to the side. She needed this.

“There has been weekly meetings with all the human lords,” Lucien said after swallowing, his eyes meeting hers in a way that drew the breath from her body, “Huckleberry Hall is where we’ve been hosting the crowds-”

“The house by the old creek?” Elain couldn’t stop herself from interrupting, her mother would’ve pinched her thigh under the table for such poor manners. But it was just so alarming, to hear the residencies of her childhood come out of Lucien’s mouth. He’d always felt so far and distant, and yet, he was familiar with the lands she’d grown up in. Though she wouldn’t admit it, it made her wish she knew about him. His upbringing.

“That’s the one,” Lucien’s smile was soft and warm and…genuine. “We’re having a meeting there the day after tomorrow. If you wish, you’re most welcome to attend, it’s where the most current information is, and the meeting will give you’re a formal opportunity to meet with our human colleagues. I was heading there today anyways to meet with their cartographer, if you…well, if you’d like to…accompany me?”

“Yes I, uh, I don’t know the way to Huckleberry from here,” Elain was far to aware of two sets of human eyes boring into her at that moment.

“Yes,” Lucien blinked. Not quite a statement. Not quite a question, either. “Yes…good, yes. We’ll set off at first light then...”

Elain just nodded. Not trusting her voice to speak.

***

They were walking in silence.

As Lucien at promised, at first light he’d met Elain at the Lockhart’s front door, his hands behind his back as he waited at the bottom of the stairs. Elain had taken a moment to assess his clothes before she had to look away. He was wearing a loose brown shirt, dark trousers and brown boots. It was a perfect outfit for the summer morning, with the thick air and dewy sunlight. But it was the sight of his crimson hair, tied in a loose bun at the nape of his neck, a few whisps framing the sharp angles of his face, that had Elain looking away.

Lucien seemed to still as she came into view, quickly saying goodbye to Nuala who turned and made her way back up the stairs, and Elain turned to watch her go, giving Lucien a chance to look her over. Her dress was a plain cream, and was of a simple cut that could pass in both human and fae realms – a cunning choice of clothing he thought. The neckline was perhaps a little daring for the human communities which was hilarious given that all one could see of Elain was her collarbones, but the full skirts were the same of the women he’d seen in these lands.

It was her hair he lingered on. Even when bouncing with curls it came down to her waist. Intricate braids pulled most of it away from her face and Lucien could spot pale flowers in a variety of sizes perched at the crown of her head. Real flowers, nothing like the faux pieces the humans tended to favour. She was…divine. Impossible. Beyond him, in every conceivable way.

“You ready?” He tried smiling at her, but it felt as though it came across more of a grimace.

“Hm mm,” Elain bowed her head, a faint blush colouring her cheeks as her curls bounced. Gods, he was fucked.

Silence had fallen quickly over the duo, besides the odd ‘watch out for that root’ or ‘duck’ as they made their way into the forestry of the mortal lands. The path was clear until a certain junction, and then it became little more than a dirt path, only wide enough for them to walk single file. Lucien had wanted Elain to go first so that he’d be able to keep an eye on her, to keep her safe, until he remembered that she quite literally didn’t know where she was going.

Lucien had thought Elain would’ve been disgruntled by the shrubbery pulling at her fine dress, but Elain meandered through the forest in an expert fashion. She gathered her skirts in her hands and would hop with a doe-like grace over the greenery and roots. In fact, the only time he heard her disgruntled was when she’d accidentally stepped on some plant or flower – forever a lady of the forest.

It was only when Lucien was finding himself relax in their silence that disaster struck. Lucien’s foot snagged on something under a large fern that had grown over the path, and then there was an audible snap of leather. The noise was enough to set Lucien into action, with one arm, he unsheathed his Autumn sword and with the other he turned and pulled Elain into him, all sense and thought evaporating from his mind and being replaced with the single, overwhelming urge to ‘protect, protect, protect’.

But where Lucien had been prepared for an enemy of mortal body, their attack came from above. Lucien saw a glint of something dropping down on them at a furious pace and pulled Elain tighter to his chest, bending slightly at the waist so he covered her entirely, so that not one inch of Elain was visible to the attack from above.

But the attack never came, not quite. When Lucien span, turning to tuck Elain behind him as he faced the enemy, he came face to face with…a cage…of wood. Ashwood.

The cage arched over Lucien and Elain, and the wood was interwoven in a way that was reminiscent of the dog cages Eris had used for his Dobermans. It was hilarious really. Lucien and Elain, two fae, and highly powerful fae at that, caged in like a common pup.

Lucien was just scoffing at the cage when he felt Elain shift behind him. Turning around, Lucien just caught Elain as she reached out for the cage, perhaps in an attempt to shift the weak structure out of her way.

“Elain, don’t-” But it was too late, Elain had ran her hand along the edge of the meshed cage before pulling her arm back with a pained gasp. “Shit!” Lucien was by her side in a flash, one hand on her arm, tucking her away from the cage as though it were an enemy, and he were blocking her from view. His other hand went to her crumpled hand which was now throbbing as a furious burn puckered across the surface.

Looking down, Elan watched as Lucien turned and, without touching the damaged skin, assessed her injured palm.

“Fae trap,” Lucien growled, “many councils are encouraging their use now that the wall’s gone.”

“How horrible…” Elain whispered before surprise rattled through her. Three years ago she would’ve thought these traps necessary protection against the evil fae. But now, they just seemed cruel.

“Horrible for us and other civilised fae, but there are other creatures, particularly the southern woods of Spring, who one might argue deserve every bit of this treatment.” Lucien turned back to glaring at the cage, and if looks could burn Elain didn’t doubt that the wood – perhaps the whole forest – would be furiously ablaze.

“I…I don’t know if I’d call you civilised…” Elain finally murmured, allowing herself to momentarily give into the urge to soothe him, to let him know that she was okay. Lucien’s head whipped back around to her and, after a moment of assessing her soft expression, a coy smile that showed his perfect teeth pulled at his lips. Not a laugh, but a genuine smile.

“Was that a joke, Lady?”

“An attempt,” Elain couldn’t help but shyly duck away from his warm eyes and dimpled smile. “You know,” she changed the topic, “I can’t image these kinds of things would work.” She nodded up to the cage.

“When there’s Ashwood involved, anything’s possible.”

“I’ve seen fae on a battlefield,” she shuddered involuntarily, “Something like this,” she went to touch the cage before remembering and flinching her hand back, “seems hardly daunting.”

“Ashwood doesn’t work like an Illyrian, they’re all cock and walk, Ashwood is cunning and clever,” Lucien was glaring at the cage, his metal eye clicking and whirring as it roved over the trap.

“How can wood be cunning?”

“It’s a weapon, all weapons have personality.”

“Does your sword have personality?” Elain murmured, nodding at the silver blade she’d never seen him without.

“Well…since it comes from the Autumn Court, it would be safe to assume it’s the metal equivalent of a ruthless git.” Lucien shook his head, his crimson hair shifting in a stream of sunlight. “A human trapping a fae or two in some Ashwood is easy,” Lucien continued, “But then begs the question of what one would do from there.”

“Well, they’d have to lift the cage,”

“They’d be dead in seconds,” Lucien quipped, his head cocking to the side, whisps of his fiery hair following his movement. “Go on, don’t stop, think like a fae hunter.”

“I’d rather not,” Elain shivered slightly, very aware of how close Lucien was standing. Elain also didn’t fail in missing the dark shadow that passed through Lucien’s eye at the nod towards her ex-fiancé.

“Okay, then think like a fae.” Lucien swung his arms across his chest with a catlike grace, “You’re hunting, let’s see...an Attor, clearly feeling a little dangerous today. It’s walked right into your lovey cage of Ashwood, which let me say Lady Archeron, I must compliment you on your excellent lattice work.” Elain giggled and Lucien faltered in his speech, his eyes widening as he looked as though he’d struck gold. “So…” he cleared his throat, “You’ve trapped the Attor in your wonderful cage, then what?”

“Well, it depends on what I want an…At-tor, for?”

“Hm, interesting. Let’s say you need to cut out it’s tongue for a healing tonic.” Elain made a face, “Okay, okay, no tonics.”

“No tongues please.”

“Oh really?” Lucien couldn’t stop his shit-eating grin, especially when Elain began to blush furiously and avoid his eye. Something inside Lucien was racing, entirely giddy at the fact he was bantering with Elain, Elain, Archeron.

“The Attor?” Elain stressed, turning around and perching herself on a fallen trunk.

“Interrogation – you need vital information pronto, or the High Lord will have your head.”

“Rhysand?”

“Well if in this world you, Elain Archeron, are hunting an Attor, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to believe that I might be High Lord.”

“Of which court?”

“None of them. No, all of them. No wait, my own court – the ‘Lucien is incredibly handsome’ court.” Lucien was pushing his luck, that he knew. He was towing that line as always, the one between banter and a step too far. Saying something that would cause the other to retract from him, or carve out his eye. But Elain just tilted her head, her honey hair spilling across her pale dress.

“You have many devout followers in this court?”

“Maybe, but only one of them matters.” He grinned at her knowingly, testing the waters, seeing how far he could go with her before they remembered they were bonded by destiny. Something shy flickered across Elain’s face as she took in his meaning. And then.

“Are you peacocking right now?” Elain smiled, a real smile.

“I’m always peacocking,” Lucien grinned, a real grin. Then his eye caught on the hand Elain was still cradling to her chest, and something akin to agony tore through his chest.

“Mother, I’m sorry,” He muttered, his amusement having evaporated as he hurried to sit next to Elain, taking her ruined palm into his lap with a featherlight touch. “I can’t ever shut up. I just talk and talk and forget about the important things.”

“What are you doing?” Elain was sure he voice sounded somewhat strangled as Lucien zoned in on her mutilated palm, his metal eye whirring as he ran a single finger along it’s creases.

“I have the ability to heal,” Lucien’s voice also sounded a bit strained as he hunched himself over her hand.

“Oh…�� Elain murmured, as a warm sensation prickled across her skin, and she watched as the red splotches clamed back into ivory. “You know,” Elain was practically whispering as Lucien moved to her fingers, “My skin never used to be this colour.”

“Oh?” Lucien seemed to be breathing through his mouth, and with is gaze occupied, Elain allowed herself to rove over his appearance. The knot of crimson hair, the strong yet angled brows, the white webs of his scar, prominent cheekbones, sharp jaw, full and wide lips, and a strong curved nose.

“No…” Elain breathed, “I always used to be so much tanner than my sisters, I was always in the gardens as we were growing up you see. My mother would ring me out for it. She’d love the colour I’m now.” The colour she’d been since the Cauldron. She didn’t know why she was telling him all this, or why it felt so natural to talk to him about these things. But here in the human lands, a world away from the sneers of Nesta or the gossiping of Feyre, Elain found that she didn’t mind the idea of conversing with Lucien.

“I was always the darkest out of my brothers,” Lucien moved to her second finger.

“How many do you have?”

“Seven,” Lucien met her eyes momentarily with a cheeky grin.

“Seven!” Elain smiled back, and then Lucien’s eyes seemed to darken and something in him seemed to rescind as he turned back to her hand.

“Well, I used to have seven…a few of them died.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” Lucien seemed to go to say something, his mouth turning into a frown, before he shook his head and moved to the next finger.

“I…my mother told it was because I’d been kissed by the Sun when I was born…that’s why I was so tan. I was born on the Autumn Equinox, it’s the longest day of autumn in the Autumn Court, the sun turns crimson and blesses the lands for the upcoming year.”

“That sounds very beautiful…”

“It is. It’s believed the trees come to life in the night and talk to each other, lovers of the earth able to speak for a few hours of the year. There’s feasts and fires, and we read stories of the sacrifice of the Wyvern.”

“Wyvern?” Elain’s yes turned bright and wide, “As in the animal from adventure novels?”

“Animal is an awfully polite term to describe harbinger’s of fire and death,” a grin flickered across Lucien’s face, “It’s believed that centuries and centuries ago, when the Old Gods still ruled the Earth, the Autumn Court was a nest of Wyverns. When the world changed into what it is today the mother Wyvern, Hermenegilda, scattered her cubs throughout time so that they may survive. Every year those of the Autumn Court gather in the caves to see if a cub will appear, and to praise the mother for her sacrifice.”

“Do they? The cubs, do they appear?”

“They used to, though a cub has not been found since before I was born. Courtiers tend to believe the cubs have run out, that there are no more children of the mother Wyvern, but devout believers still hope for a cub to appear each year.” With that, Lucien finished healing her pinkie finger and turned to peer at her. Their bodies still close, Elain’s palm still resting in his hand in his lap.

“You…what do you believe?” Elain breathed, her voice just a whisper.

“I think…well I…” Lucien’s voice was breathy and low, intimate in a way Elain hadn’t heard before, “...I’d like to believe that anything’s possible.”

Before Elain could have a moment to respond, or even think about what possible double meaning could come from his words, a furious flapping of wings caused her to startle and whip her head around, ripping her hand from Lucien’s lap in the process. There, on the other side of the cage, perched on a tree branch, was a beautiful bird. It was huge, with iridescent feathers and woody eyes, and the air surrounding the bird seemed to thrum with energy and magic.

“Don’t worry, it’s only Vassa.” Lucien nodded at the firebird, “…she’ll get Jurian for us.”

Elain just nodded, aware that her cheeks were still most likely flushed. Unable to meet Lucien’s eye, Elain watched as the firebird took off into the golden, mid-morning sky, a disapproving screech tearing from its throat.

#elucien #elucien fic #elucien fluff #Elain #elain acotar #elain archeron #elain x lucien #elain/lucien #elain and lucien #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #fffaf

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hwrryscherry · 3 years

Text

The one where Harry and Model Y/N miss their christmas flight and have a little fun on their detour.

blurb: It's the most wonderful time of the year so Harry & Model Y/ N rented a holiday house on the French Alps to celebrate Christmas with their families. It's finally the day to go and Harry is the one to blame when they lose their flight to meet their families in the Alps. Spoiler: Model Y/N gets furious at Harry's calm behavior.

warnings: fluff. They left Los Angeles on December 20th and arrived in the Alps on December 21st in case you guyst get confused.

word count: 7.1K

author's note: HIIIIIII guyyys! It's officially CHRISTMAS week and it's my favorite holiday ever sooo I imagined what Model Y/N and Harry would do on their holiday trip and I guess I'll post a blurb everyday with Christmas theme. AND i'll be suggesting a christmas song in every blurb. Enjoy and Merry Christmas♥️♥️♥️♥️

christmas song of the day: Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande.

December 19th, 2020 - 11PM

It was a very cold night in Los Angeles for you to be walking around in your pajamas with no shoes on, a face mask on your face and wet hair that left small water drops through the closet floor as you continued to walk between your clothes and your suitcase that was settled in the floor. You wanted to be laid down in bed, in your cozy and warm bed because you were so tired and a good night of sleep were everything you actually desired.

As you tried to decide on the coats that you were going to take to your Christmas holiday in the French Alps. You felt a gaze directed to you, what made you bring your head up so you could see Harry stopped at the door frame. He looked very calm. Otherwise, you looked desperate; your flight was scheduled to 6:45 AM. You had to sleep as it was already late and you haven't even packed your stuff but at least you could do it with just some minutes unlike Harry. Anyway, Harry had his grey sweatpants on with a TPKW merch hoddie, his hair, unlike yours, was already completely dry. You probably have to stop washing your hair so late at night but now wasn't the moment to think about this.

— God, why didn't I pack earlier? — You asked rhetorically as you sighed taking some of your favorite pants and folding them right before putting them in the suitcase.

— Exactly! I told ya to do it earlier today but you said you still had time. — Harry said on a convincing way as he drank a sip of his water that he held in a bottle. You just rolled your eyes at him. You hated being stressed and you hated even more when you were stressing over something and Harry says something like "I told you so." You hate conflict and specially when it's with Harry and now was definitely not the moment, so you just shrugged it off.

— By the way, which suitcase are you taking? Because I found yours up in the shelf. — You said, never taking your eyes away from the clothes you were putting on the floor as you created combinations and outfits for you to have an idea before putting it in the suitcase; you were on your knees as you decided to which clothes you'd take with you.

Harry went completely silent at the moment he heard you. This was the time he realized that with all the things you both were setting up for the trip today, he completely forgot of packing his stuff. Harry froze, he felt it through all his body. He knew how much you were stressed over all the things you both did today to get prepared for the trip, and he'd swear to god that you'd completely lost it at the moment he'd tell you he forgot about it.

You looked over at him because of his silence and his expression said everything his mouth didn't. You stopped moving your hands immediately and kept a straight face at him literally praying he was only joking, but he wasn't.

— Are you for real? — You'd ask resting your hands over your thighs as you only received silence as a response — Harry, I can't believe you! — You'd say sounding extremely frustrated. You'd pass your hands over your face trying to wake you up more because truly, you were so sleepy right now. You'd feel your cold hands pass through your wet strands of hair before looking at him getting more into the closet now.

— Love, I'm so sorry! — Harry'd say entering the room and bend down next to you avoiding touching your clothes on the floor — It's just... I went all the way today resolving all the other stuff for the trip and I completely forgot about it! — Harry would say with puppy eyes, he actually felt kinda ashamed for just saying to you that he told you to pack before when he didn't even remembered to do it himself.

— I know, I know — You said getting more relaxed on the floor now crossing your legs — It's just, you take so long to do it everytime and we need to grab some sleep tonight — You'd say making an emphasis on the "so long" making Harry sigh. He instantly stand up after you finished talking, walking directly towards the shelf to grab his own suitcase putting it on the floor as he opened it too.

— No, I won't take too much time! I'll just grab some stuff. I'll show you and you tell me what you think! — Harry said as he opened his part of the closet immediately looking through the pants, the many pants he had actually — It's okay! — He'd say, probably trying to convince himself more than actually you. You have no idea why but whenever Harry had to pack his suitcase he'd take hours to do it, he would just take hours to decide on each outfit and then he'd decide when to wear it and if he was actually going to wear it, so yes, it would literally take hours.

Later, Harry'd think about it all while he contemplated you from the bed. He was lying on his side, propping his head on his hand, so he could get a more proper look at you.

It took both of you two hours to pack Harry’s suitcase and it was around 1AM now. You don’t think he knows what ‘'It’ll be fast’’ actually means. You were now in front of the mirror. You used the comb to brush your now dry hair while looking in the mirror. You have had long nights at work before and you've been very tired several times but this time, it felt different.

This is the first time that you and Harry have decided what to do for Christmas and thank God there would be no hosting; but even so it's difficult to organize things for so many people. Harry has been so helpful, and you can't complain. Even though he was tired of being on set, he always donated his time to talk about Christmas, but how could he avoid it? He loved it. He loved being able to get together with his family and spend a good and happy time. Harry remembers the first Christmas you spent together. It was 2018 and you guys went to Holmes Chapel to celebrate. That was also the first Christmas of your life where you wouldn't spend it with your mother because, well, you didn't want to abuse it and take her to Anne's house. Harry realized how sad it had made you and surprised you on Christmas Eve afternoon when he came home from an alleged "supermarket drive" with your mother. He remembers how happy you were, your genuine smile that you just couldn't get off your face, and he remembers how much he fell ten times more in love with you that day. There was not even a year that you were together, god, as time flies.

You have finished brushing your hair and put the comb in the first drawer of the counter. You left the bathroom to walk to your bed feeling Harry's gaze on you making you frown and smile at him as you lay on the bed covering yourself with the covers.

— Why are you looking at me like this? — You ask taking the covers up to your neck while turning to be able to face the boy's face, who was now accompanied by a tender smile.

— Nothing much, just memories! — Harry said as he watched the yellow light from his lamp reflect in your eyes —You're so beautiful it makes me angry sometimes. — Harry said pulling a chuckle from you. God, how he loved that sound. He then extended his arm to turn off the lamp leaving the room in total darkness, then going deeper under the covers as well.

— Oh, you're just saying that! — You responded by making him chuckled now with your fake modest — You set the alarm clock, right? — You asked him softly, trying your best to keep your eyes open even though they insisted on wanting to close.

— I did! — Harry said approaching you, feeling your body heat under the covers. He brought his right hand to your waist and pulled you closer to his chest, taking the opportunity to kiss your temple. — Let's sleep now okay? I love you! — Harry said feeling you nod and whisper a soft '' I love you too ''. It was a combination of you to say you love each other every night before going to sleep; you did it even when you fought, but in these cases I love you's usually came with "but I'm really mad at you."

December 20th, 2020 — 6:00 AM.

You were in such a deep sleep, you two were. The truth is: this instability was not your thing. At one day you were in London, the next in NYC, the next in LA, then in Palm Springs and now back in Los Angeles, the hard part would believe you wouldn't be tired of it. And it's precisely because of tiredness that neither you nor Harry heard the four times that the alarm went off, but let's agree that having gone to sleep after one in the morning packing Harry's suitcase was a big factor to consider.

5:00 AM, 5:20 AM, 5:30 AM, 5:45 AM... Nothing, you didn't even move, well, you did move to pull the covers next to you. For some reason your eyes slowly opened. You stared at the light coming from the curtains content with yourself for waking up even before the clock woke up, little did you know.

You stretched and took your hands to rub your sleepy eyes then using one of them to get your phone that was powering on the nightstand next to the bed. When you unlock the phone screen and face the hours, you felt your heart beat faster. You blinked briefly to see if you were seeing the right time and got out of bed in a heart beat.

— HARRY! — You said basically screaming. Harry woke up quickly, his heart racing as he sat on the bed and watched you standing, putting on your slippers quickly. He watched you take a hair tie from the drawer of your nightstand and quickly tie your long strands of hair into a ponytail.

— What...What happened? — Harry said using his hands to rub his eyes as he slowly got up from the bed.

— It's already six in the morning, the alarm didn't go off! — You said quickly what surprised Harry, since normally you spoke even slowly — Come on, get up! We have 45 minutes to get to the airport, and it's a 35 minute drive. We need to start getting ready quickly. — You walked directly to the bathroom counter, pouring liquid facial soap into your hands and washing your face. You couldn't see it, but you heard the noise of Harry changing clothes in the room. You absolutely hated leaving the house in the morning without taking a shower, but you wouldn't have any time for that.

You chose not to wear any makeup, as always in fact. You just put sunscreen on your face and loosened your ponytail feeling your long strands of hair fall over your shoulders as you retreated from the suite bathroom and spotted Harry wearing jeans and an oversized black sweatshirt walking past you to use the bathroom himself now. You opened your part of the wardrobe by grabbing yourself a black jan bell pants, a black t-shirt too and a pink sweatshirt over it in which you dressed up fastly, and put your white sneakers as well.

— Have you finished? — You said putting your cell phone, charger, wallet and other essentials in your handbag as you approached the bathroom door observing Harry dry his hands on the towel and then saying a brief "Yes" after putting on his rings on his fingers. He turned off the bathroom light and turned to you while the two of you started walking towards the stairs, where you went down with your suitcases in hand. The original plan was to call a car to take you to the airport but clearly, there was no time for that, so you guys would go in Harry's car, which would be picked up at the airport by Jeff who had promised Harry that he would take him back to the house.

The sun was still cold, that cold early morning sun where the sky still has that lilac color mixed with orange. You left your suitcase in front of the trunk and walked to the passenger seat next to the driver where you sat down and installed the belt instantly while Harry just put both suitcases in the trunk, then closed it and walked to the front of the car as well, and right after sitting in the driver's seat putting on the seat belt, he started the engine and starting to drive as well.

The drive to the airport was quiet. There was little traffic, nothing compared to LA traffic but there was still a little. Harry prayed it didn't have any fans at the airport, not because he didn't want to see them, but because you were so late and he knew that neither of you would ignore your fans and just keep walking. When Harry parked the car, you might notice some paparazzi's outside, nothing too crowded actually. In less than two minutes, you were already out of the car with your bags on a cart walking, let's say, very quickly until the airport check-in. You were a little impatient to see that there was a line of about five people before you. You looked at the time on your cell phone and sighed, turning the screen to Harry showing that it was now 6:47 AM and there were still three more people in front of you. You had a frustrated and worried look, just the thought that maybe you can't make it to your destination and Harry realized that, he always perceives the smallest things in and about you; let it be a different sigh to a different gleam in the eye. He perceives everything, even though you're wearing a mask now.

Harry wrapped you in his arms, hugging you tight and kissing your hairline as a form of affection. Your head was between Harry’s neck where you could perfectly smell his scent, and the comforting warmth he emanated; you could have sworn that nothing and no one could get you out of that moment, but then your turn came in line and a man called you.

— Good Morning ma'am! May I help you? — The man said trying to sound sympathetic. You were hoping that Harry could resolve this but apparently, the guy asked you and not him. You put a few strands of your hair behind your ears, and you formed the phrases in your head.

— Good Morning! — You said first, feeling Harry touching the ends of your hair behing your back — So, we had two tickets for the flight of 6:45 AM for Paris but, unfortunately we couldn’t make it in time. Is there any way that you could get us new tickets? Anything would be amazing! — You said, while mentally praying that there was at least one flight that would take you there. The plan was that you were going to make a scale in Paris and then taking the train to the French Alps which would be a 5-hour train ride, but as you were counting on a direct flight to Paris, it wouldn’t be a problem to stay on a train for five hours.

— Look, ma'am. — The guy sighed looking a little frustrated. Harry touched your shoulders and squeezed a little feeling how hard your shoulders muscle were from tension — I do have a flight for Paris! — In the moment he said it you and Harry let out a deep breath relieved — But, it's going to scale in New York and London!

— And how many hours of traveling? — Harry asked getting a little closer to the counter putting his glove covered hand over the counter as well.

— Around 18 or 20 hours — The man answered and you and Harry sighed. You would be there in the morning on the LA time, and on the French Alps time it will probably be 6:30 AM too. You let out a long breath, and Harry looked at you attentively looking for any sign of giving up; he wanted to go, of course, but if you said it would be better to stay, he would be without a second thought.

— Well, we have to go, right? — You said softly to Harry and then redirected your gaze to the man and nodded. — Okay, we’ll keep the tickets.

—They’re economic tickets, all right? I see here that you had executive tickets — The man asked and you can't hesitate to drop a light chuckle.

— No problems! — Harry replied, and then he returned to finishing to configure the informations of your new tickets.

It didn't really take long, a few minutes and you already had the new tickets in hand. As you both walked to find a place to sit, you remembered that with all the running from the morning none of you had breakfast. You checked your bags on the conveyor belt and went up the escalators at the big LAX Airport looking for a small restaurant to buy something. You chose the Urth Caffé & Bar because you were used to eating in there whenever you had to travel. It was a very cute and cozy place with a yellow lighting, wood tables and chairs that gave a whole charm to it. You both ordered a coffee; you ordered a latte and Harry ordered a black coffee, and to eat you both ordered bagels sandwiches. There were some fans in there this time. They were all pretty respectful and nice when they came over asking for pictures. You both took the pics and talked with them for a while until you had to leave which honestly made your heart aches. You loved when you could meet and talk to your fans, to create that connection it's so important to you but you couldn't risk missing another flight.

As you were already settled up on your seats, you re-checked your seat bell probably five times in a row while the "In case of emergency" video passed on the little screen in front of you. Harry noticed you checking it again, and he used his hands to hold yours as a sign to stop you.

— Hey, you already did that... — Harry said looking directly into your eyes — Five times, love!

— Oh... — You whispered then redirecting yourself on your seat. The truth is, you're a model, you date a singer and you're probably more in a plane than in your own house, but you are terrified of it. You've always been, just the thought of being on a plane scares you. And we don't even have to say about whenever a turbulence would occurs. Harry knew that, and he took it as a responsibility of his to keep you calm whenever you were on a plane together.

— Oh, let's watch something together! — Harry said getting his upper body closer to you looking at your little screen — We can choose the same thing and watch it!

— Sure, something on your mind? — You asked as you grabbed the ear plunges of the plane trying to turn it on as Harry now were turning his phone off.

— I don't know! Since we finished watching Bly Manor, I have no idea what we should watch next — Harry said putting his phone on his pocket, and then grabbing himself his ear plunge.

— Oh god, and how good was it? — You said having a fan girl moment. Literally, you were such a fan of The Haunting series and all about it. You and Harry binged watching The Haunting of Bly Manor in like a day. — But.. — You turned on your screen and started to look through the christmas movies, yes you also loved them. Both of you do, who doesn't like christmas movies? — Oh, let's watch Princess Switch 2? We didn't have time to watch it! — You clicked on the movie, so you could read the synopsis to have an idea what would be about. You and Harry watched the first one back in 2018 and you guys really liked it so this could be cool. It's actually kinda crazy all of the stuffs you've watched together. It's crazy how you guys can watch a really serious and heavy movie and then watch all of Barbies movies on the same day.

— Alright, let's watch it! — Harry agreed as he searched for the movie himself — I saw in the trailer that there's a third twin on this movie.

— Love, they're not twins!— You'd say getting your movie ready to be started.

— They're not? Of course they are! If they're not, then what are they? — Harry said putting his ear plunges on and getting the covers that the airplane company use to put on the seats for the passagers. You actually think it's cute that Harry has this thing on being under the covers and cuddled up whenever he was watching to a movie, and with the weather like this, it would be perfect. I mean, it's cold in LA with 46 F°, as you lived in NYC before you could only imagine how the weather was in there with 32F°. But anyway, you kinda missed NYC a little bit. It's honestly kinda messed up now because you haven't officially moved to LA from New York, but the last time you were in NY was probably in early May, before your birthday because you both celebrated your birthday in Holmes Chapel with Anne and Gemma.

— I don't know — You'd chuckle to answer his question feeling him spread the covers on both of you and snuggle himself on your chest — I think they're relatives in some point, but they're not twins! — You'd hear a soft "oh" from Harry as you put the ear plunges yourself and clicked the movie to play. In general, you watched the movie commenting on the scenes and you both really liked it, it was funny and not tiring at all. And then after it, you both bing watched The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, I know it seems crazy but you've been so obsessed with it lately and anytime you were obsessed with something you'd usually make Harry get obsessed too. And I mean, it was a 5-hour long flight and you both could catch up with some housewives drama. The flight ended, and you both arrived in NYC, you'd have a 1 hour and a half stop and you managed to think you both could actually do something in this hour, obviously nothing to far away from the airport, you wouldn't take any risks. So you'd chose one of your favorite places in New York ever aka the M&M's Store. God, you loved this place, and you loved M&M's, and so did Harry.

There were some paparazzi on the street, but this is NY and it's just a daily basis thing. You both walked around the store buying some really cool chocolates when you saw a cute one with marshmallows and you showed it to Harry getting a disgusted face from him.

— No, I'm so allergic to marshmallow! — Harry would say grabbing some kind of M&M's to see and you rolled your eyes recalling the number of times you both had this conversation before. You turned around getting right on Harry's front and looking into his eyes.

— You’re not allergic to mashmallows! You’re allergic to one of the ingredients in it, if you do the homemade one you can eat it normally, oh my god! — You said trying your best to show your sassy side and Harry actually only continue saying this because he knows you'll react like this and he think it's cute, so he'd just get closer to your face and give a peck to your lips.

— I know, sorry! — He'd say smirking a little and fixing his beanie on his head with his left hand — I love the ones you make, by the way.

— I know, I'm such a master chef that's how I made you fall in love with me! — You'd answer him with a smirk on your face when you turn around to look more over the chocolates.

— And who said I love ye’, miss? — Harry said mocking you and you’d immediately turn to stare at his face with the most realistic offended expression you could create now.

— Um, excuse me? — You’d say with your righthand touching your chest with raised eye browns — If that’s how you feel I'm just gonna go over there look for Brad Pitt! — You’d say with your sassy tone starting to walk away from him but you were stopped by him when he grabbed your empty hand bringing you closer to him

— Oh so you're overlapping me for Brad Pitt? — Harry said making you roll your eyes with a playful smile in your mask covered lips.

— Well, take it as a revenge for overlapping me for Mitch every day! — You'd say making him let out a loud laugh — But, I'll consider letting this go if we go to Victoria Secrets right now and you buy me my favorite fragrance!

— Oh, you're such a blackmailer! — Harry would say shaking his head slowly and crossing his arms close to his body watching you put your best puppy eyes on display — Alright, just because I probably love that fragrance more than you! — He said making you give him a big smile that he could notice by the way your eyes got smaller. This is actually a joke because it was pretty rare for having you ask Harry to buy you anything, you'd always tell him that you "didn't need anything", and specially when he comes home with those really expensive Gucci merch. Honestly, all the expensive things that you have, like, Chanel, Versace, Gucci were usually gifts from the brand and a few from Harry because you're much of a economizer thinking that these are actually pretty expensive things and you don't actually need. Why would you go around with a 3 thousand dollars Gucci bag when you can buy a super cute bag for 50 dollars? Yep, Harry didn't understand that on the many times he got you something expensive so then, now he rarely does it because he knows that the way for your heart it's probably the most simple and genuine he can be.

In the VS shop, you were looking through the fragrances for you favorite one that was Bare Vanilla, it's probably the best. And you've been using it for years now, literally since you were a teenager. When you finally found your Bare Vanilla Kit, you were actually surprised by Harry behind you holding a set of lingerie on the color of pearl with some baby blue lace details. You looked at it and then later at the lingerie and then at him again with a "what is that?" expression on your face.

— Love, I know ye' came here to buy the fragrance but this would look so good in you! — Harry said making a louder voice while pronouncing the "so good" making you touch the fabric with your hands in silence thinking about it as you looked, yes it was really pretty. What can you do? Your man does have a good taste. — Ok I'll buy it as your christmas gift! — You said taking the lingerie carefully from his hand.

— For me? I was thinking more of you in it, but I can wear it if you want. I bet it will define all of my sexy curves — Harry said putting a hand on his own waist making a pose making you laugh out loud of his words, it's the sass for me.

— No, oh my god! I'll be the present. This could be the gift paper — You'd say winking on an eye at him as you tried to control your laugh seeing the smirk on his face, this little promiscuous guy.

On your way back to the airport you noticed very similar words on a wall beside you and you couldn't hold your emotion when you saw it. It was a black wall written "Do You Know Who You Are?", as in Lights Up. When you showed Harry he got so smiley and blushed at the same time, it's just the shyness in him. You took a quick picture of it before actually entering the airport again. Right on time.

You were about to face another flight with a six hour and 40 minutes of duration and god, in this cold weather, with covers, hoddies, M&M's, movies and your love made everywhere feels cozy and warm. On this flight, you agreed to watch The Notebook with Harry, and you liked it very much, not as much as he did, but you liked it. You had taken your sneakers off staying with your socks only, you had also let your hair loose as you leaned your head on Harry's shoulder this time, fixing your covered legs under the cover and feeling the warm sensation coming from his body heat, it wasn't much until Harry realised that you were completely asleep when he tried to talk to you about how Ellie's mom had such an attitude when she decided to hide Noah's letter from Ellie all those years but instead, he saw your sleeping face on his shoulder and his heart melted at the vision so he just decided to let you sleep because he really thought you deserved to, and also, after the movie ended he did sleep as well.

Your flight arrived in London by 7:28 PM on Los Angeles time. By London's time it was already 5:28 AM, and it had a 44 F° weather. You had a smaller scale time this time. It was a 35 minutes scale, thank god. You both took your time to walk inside the airport. You loved London. You really did. You loved the weather and the beautiful places to visit in here, oh and the cute british accents, you loved it.

You both walked through the airport observing everything. The people, the christmas lights and the stores. Harry had one of his arms over your shoulders as you walked through it. As you entered the stores session, you'd spot World Duty Free store and look at Harry. — Let's go to World Duty Free and buy colorful highlighters so you can use it on christmas eve! — You say while stopped walking when you got in front of the referred store. Harry looked at the big illuminated sign with the store's name and then back at you.

— A colorful one? D' you think it'll look good? Maybe a gold one, no? — He said pushing you into the illuminated store. You loved that Harry knew this stuff and how sometimes when you'd have nothing to do he would let you put some makeup on his face because he knew you didn't like putting it on your face often.

— Yeah, a gold one would be better! I'll go find one, try looking for other stuff — You'd say getting out of his embrace and walking to the other corner of the store. You looked through the makeup wall in front of you as you searched for a gold highlight.

— Hello, may I help you? — A very young lady came to you with the store's uniform. You looked at her smiling tenderly and shook your head. — Oh no, thank you! I was just looking for a highlighter, but I already found it! — You said showing her the little package in your hand and she smiled back at you saying that if you needed anything else you could call her and you thanked. You would keep looking through the wall to see if you wanted anything else when you noticed a tall man coming over you. You looked at him because well, he was staring you.

— Hm... Hi, I'm Ryan! — He said shyly to you. You just stayed there looking at him with no moves — Hm, I just wanted to say that your American accent it's really cute and... Would you mind giving me your number? — He'd say nervously, and you let out a chuckle as you closed your eyes for a moment.

— I’m really flattered, but I’m here with my boyfriend, I’m sorry — You said softly as you could see Harry coming over to you guys with a very straight face. — There he is! — You pointed at Harry that quickened his pace a little when he saw you pointing at him.

— Oh, I apologize! Anyway, merry christmas! — He said with a tender smile as he walked away from you when you murmured a "Merry Christmas". Harry finally got to you and frowned his eyebrows a little looking at the guy’s back and then back at you.

— Who was it? — Harry softly asked containing his jealousy. Whenever Harry would say in interviews that he was an easily jealous person, he wasn’t joking. But he learned to contain it now because this was the biggest discussion maker on the beginning of your relationship.

— It was this guy Ryan trying to hit on me — You’d say with a smirk on your face because you knew this would tease him — He politely asked me for my number, and then I told him that I was here with my boyfriend.

—You should’ve told him you were here with your handsome and sexy boyfriend — Harry said with joking tone and you raised your eyebrows at him as you started to walk towards the cashier.

— No, I think just ''boyfriend'', is enough! — You’d say mocking him before you paid your bill. And walked back to the departuring space for Paris.

You confess that coming back to Paris made you a little nervous. The last time you were here was in February and it was quite...peculiar. But it would be just a scale and things would occur right.

The flight for Paris were definetely the the fastest one as it lasted only an hour and fifteen minutes. You both had dinner in the plane while binge watching The Real Housewives of Bervely Hills, a little obssesed maybe? Harry had already warned Anne about both of you being late as you all scheduled to get there maybe 6 or 7 hours ago, but as the iconic Queen of Genovia said once ‘’A queen is never late, anybody else is just earlier’’. Oh, you both could’ve watched The Princess Diaries today, damn it.

— As we’re here, we have to admit it... It was quite an adventure, wasn’t it? Three cities in a day — Harry would say taking the ends of your hair between his fingers.

— It was, but I kinda wished we had a little bit more of time in London so we could go to the London Eye — You’d say causing Harry to happily agree with you as it was one of his favorite attractions to go in London.

— All I know is that when we get in there I’ll sleep for as long as I can.

— How can ye’ be sleepy? You slept all the flight from New York to London and I know it! — You’d ask really curiously about his answer because it actually made you surprised on how easily he could sleep. He could be sitting on the most uncomfortable chair in the world but if he closes his eyes, he’ll easily fall asleep.

— It’s my natural talent! Did you think that I could only sing? — He asked rhetorically with a very convincin' tone.

— I’m sorry then Mr.Sleepy! — You would say mocking him as you turned your phone on to answer your missed texts. Gemma has already sent you tons of texts about the house and how’s the climate in there. She told you that you both better be all wrapped up or instead she’ll push your face, oh the good old family love.

When the plane landed, you and Harry grabbed your suitcases as fast as you could so you could get a cab to the train station and finally arrive on the Alps. You loved Paris in the winter. You loved Paris by the night, and that hasn’t changed. There weren’t paparazzi which contributed to keep you calm but there were maybe some fans spotting you guys and asking for pictures. They’d ask if you both were going to celebrate Christmas in Paris and you’d tell them that it’s just a scale. You were calm but Harry wasn’t. Since the prank in Paris from February, Harry has been incredibly more protective than he already was, and getting back in Paris actually remembered him of that night and that he wouldn’t let it happen again.

But it all turned out good, the train ride actually felt so relaxing and that made you wonder why in the world none of you have ever traveled together by train. Neither of you slept, though, you both talked. Talked for hours nonstop. You talked about your jobs, your experiences, what you like and what you don’t. You talked about what you wished for 2021 and you even chuckled a bit when Harry said he was looking foward to put ring on your finger in 2021; bullshit, you'd think. But anyway, you'd talk on how in some way you both were grateful for having each other during the hard times we’re all living, getting to know each other better while there was nobody on the streets because actually, if the world was ending you both wouldn’t want to spend it anywhere else and with anyone else.

The train ride was so calm, so great, so both of you. You were not the kind of couple that needed all luxury, that needed to go out every weekend to have dinner on a fancy restaurant, that needed to buy each other expensive gifts and needed to share every detail of what you did. You were simple. You were comfortable discovering a new world and experiencing things together on your own way and your own time. Neither of you needed all of those stuff. You only needed each other. You needed to feel the warm of each others body, you needed to be graced by the sound of each others laugh and voice, you needed to see the smile on each others faces and to know that even when times get hard you’d always have each other. Your relationship wasn’t perfect, none are. But in the end of the day love always win and if you love each other and it’s meant to be the rest will be history.

As the sun was starting to rise, you leaned your back in Harry’s chest so you could both see the view from the big glass window. You had your hair loosened on his chest as he envolved you on his arms hugging you from behind supporting his chin by the top of your head. The light yellow sun made the snow even whiter and more resuscitating by touching it with its rays. The sky had this lilac and orange colors, and it seemed to have a breeze air, you couldn’t confirm it though as the train was warmed by a heater. You’d start murmuring to the song Turning Page by Sleeping at Last which caused Harry to smile tenderly. He knew you were doing it by a reflex and actually didn’t think he was going to listen to it, but he did. And he smiled because this had been you guys song for almost three years now.

—Your love’s my turning page, where only the sweetest words remain — Harry would start singing really close to your ears. Really close and really softly, causing you to smile now but never taking your eyes of the view of the window — Every kiss is a cursive line. Every touch is a redefining place — You’d close your eyes caressing his arm around you and then opening your eyes again, messing with his rings that covered the fingers on his strong hands.

— I surrender who I’ve been, for who you are — You’d complement the song lycris with your eyes closed, feeling nothing more than peace.

— For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart — Harry kept singing holding you tight, because he never would want to let you slip away of his embrace — If I had only felt how it feels to be yours, I would’ve known what I’ve been living for.

— What I’ve been living for! — You complemented. There’s no other place either of you would want to be now. Of course this wasn’t the trip that you both planned, but it was better. It was different, funny and relaxing, and that’s the one thing for you.

You both got out of that train feeling nothing more than peace, and that’s the spirit of the holidays, isn’t it? The cold sharp of air hitted your face immidietely and you both rushed to get a car that could take you to the holiday house. Gemma would probably kills both of you for not being properly wrapped up but she actually didn’t, thank god for her to be sleeping.

When you both arrived at the house you struggled a bit to unlock it with the keys but it worked and you came across a beautiful Christmas decoration with a huge christmas tree with a lot of lights and some other cute decorations too. It almost felt like North Pole but it would probably be ten times colder than it was here. You both left your bags on the living room floor and went to take a small tour on the house, when you arrived at the kitchen there were a plate full of brownies and a small note.

Harry & Y/N,

we couldn’t wait for you to arrive because we were so sleepy but we did those brownies for you guys. Eat it, you must be hungry! We love you and we're looking foward to see you in the morning

— love, Anne.

— Your mother is the best person on the entire universe! — You’d say showing the note to Harry and grabbing yourself a piece of brownie as he took the small paper on his hands to read it himself as you took a bite from one brownie— And those brownies are the best thing I’ve ever eaten.

TO BE CONTINUED.... Christmas special part 1

#harry and y/n #harry styles and y/n #HARRYxMODELY/N #HARRYxMODELY/NxCHRISTMAS #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

Could you do #40 cancelled holiday party? Thank you!

40. i just found out that a friend of a friend of a friend isn’t hosting their annual holiday party this year, so now how am i going to have my annual run in with you?

from winter writing prompts here

happy xmas eve, if you celebrate it!

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

Newt doesn’t really have many friends, and certainly not enough to warrant a flood of party invitations come December, but for the past few years he’s been able to rely pretty consistently on at least one. Back when the band was still together, his drummer had a pretty cool girlfriend who would sometimes let them tag along as the entertainment for parties around town, and her brother (who was almost as cool as her) ended up liking the way they sounded so much he invited them back to his own parties a couple times. Then he dated Newt’s guitarist, and then he broke up with Newt’s guitarist, and then he dated Newt, and then he broke up with Newt, and it sort of fell apart from there (and so did the band), but the breakup was actually pretty amicable, and he’s never failed to extend the invitation to Newt for his annual holiday bash as a courtesy. And Newt’s never failed to make an appearance. What’s there not to like, you know? It’s free booze, free food, and the chance to not feel like a total loser loner for once. Plus…well. Another reason.

But this year isn’t looking too good for Newt.

“Sick?” Newt says. “What do you mean he’s sick?”

“I mean,” Newt’s ex-drummer says, irritably, “he’s sick. Caught the flu or something. I don’t know, Jackie just wanted me to call and tell you, she didn’t give me any details.”

“Couldn’t he have called me himself?” Newt says.

“No,” Newt’s ex-drummer says, “I told you, he has the flu, he’s totally out of it, man. Party’s off this year. Hey, did you get our Christmas card?”

“What? Oh. Yeah,” Newt sighs. He tacked it up on his fridge: the two women with their arms around each other, one pink-haired, one blue-haired, holding up their cat in the middle like it was their son or something. Clever. Quirky. Newt just makes a generic Tweet mid-December wishing everyone a happy holiday season and calls it a success—less effort. “Yeah, it was cute. It’s definitely cancelled? He can’t just, I don’t know, take some Advil or something and—”

“Newt,” she says.

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Newt says. “Tell Jackie to tell him to—get well soon? Soon enough for New Year’s, maybe? Because it would be great if—”

She hangs up on him. Newt probably deserved it.

He stalks Jackie’s brother’s Facebook for a bit after the phone call to make sure he’s not just lying about the flu to get out of inviting Newt to the holiday bash he’s definitely having. It becomes clear pretty quick it’s pretty legit—he’s made exactly one post in the last few days, and it’s a selfie of him looking absolutely horrid in his bed, advising everyone to not be like him and get their flu shots. Not lying, then. Damn it. There’s not even going to be anything for Newt to crash.

“Damn it,” Newt groans, and slams his laptop shut.

In all honesty, Newt’s not pissed about missing the party itself. He’s pissed about missing the party guests. How else is he going to have his annual spat at the snack table with his mortal enemy, Dr. Bitchy, British, Badly-Dressed Gottlieb?

Mortal enemy is too strong. Rival, maybe? Though certainly not a friendly one. He’s fond of Dr. Gottlieb, really, in some insane, backwards kinda way, like he’s a specimen Newt would love nothing more than to cram under a microscope and study up close. What makes him tick? What makes him scowl like that, yell at Newt—more or less a stranger—like that, attend the same party year after year like that only to stand in the darkest corner like a vampire and avoid every single other person? The first time they met was at the party three years ago, when Dr. Gottlieb loudly accused Newt of deliberately snagging the last cucumber finger sandwich because he somehow knew Dr. Gottlieb was eyeing it up, too, and only did it to annoy him, and it’s only gone downhill from there. Or maybe uphill. He fascinates Newt.

He’s also insanely attractive to Newt. Bitchy, British, Badly-Dressed, but, my God, what a set of cheekbones, what a set of eyes, what a big ‘ole mouth that Newt can only assume would be awesome for kissing. And only a few inches of height on Newt, too; he wouldn’t even need to stretch up that far to test out his hypothesis.

Since Newt has Facebook open, he does another search for Dr. Gottlieb—Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, technically, though he’s furious whenever Newt tries to call him anything other than his full title. If Newt was normal, he’d just shoot the guy a friend request or something. A simple message. He just stalks his page instead, which makes him feel the sting of the cancelled party even more keenly: Dr. Gottlieb doesn’t post, like, any pictures of himself, but the ones he’s been tagged in by his company and someone who appears to be his brother make it very clear very fast that he kinda just got even hotter over the year. He’s started wearing his oversized glasses on a librarian chain, and his haircut—which had always been a severe sort of undercut—has grown out up top to be adorably poofy. Tragic.

He shoots his ex-drummer a text later. Can you ask Jackie to ask about that Gottlieb guy that’s there every year? Like, what’s his deal?

The reply comes later, while Newt is reheating some leftover Chinese takeout for dinner. they’re friends w gottlieb’s younger bro. mostly invite him to be nice.

“Figures,” Newt mutters.

Well, if there won’t be a party at which to have their annual run-in, Newt is simply going to have to orchestrate a run-in himself. The first step is finding out where Gottlieb works.

Newt picks a miserable day to set his plan into action. A snowstorm swept through the city a few days prior, and before the sidewalks were even finished dethawing, a sleet storm followed and turned them into eighty-percent sheets of ice. And then more snow comes. Newt slips and slides all the way to the cafe across from Gottlieb’s humble little robotics research facility, cursing himself for not having invested in proper winter boots yet. Docs are practical and cool, but they could be warmer, and Newt’s are so old the treads are basically nonexistent. He orders himself the most expensive coffee on the menu as a reward for his troubles and claims a chair near the large shop window in front, underneath a hanging fern. He would simply wait and watch for Gottlieb to walk out. The man had to walk out eventually. Lunch break, or coffee break, or even just clocking out for the day. He had to.

“Would you like to see our sandwich menu, sir?” a waitress asks Newt. “We have a new—"

“Nah, no thanks,” Newt says. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the window. “You don’t have to call me sir, by the way. It makes me feel old. Does a Dr. Gottlieb ever come here?”

The waitress snorts involuntarily; she flushes a second later. “Sorry,” she says. “It’s just that—yes, Dr. Gottlieb comes in a lot, and he’s kind of…”

“Awful?” Newt grins.

“Particular,” the waitress says. “He has us remake his coffee if it’s not perfect enough for him. And we have to write out the whole thing, Dr. Gottlieb, on his cup, every time. He tips really well, though, so we don’t really mind.”

“Has he come in today yet?” Newt says.

She opens her mouth as if to answer the question, but then furrows her eyebrows. “Why do you want to know, anyway? Are you guys friends?”

“Not really,” Newt says. Deciding it’s not worth the effort to explain the complex homoeroticism of his dynamic with Gottlieb, and to random waitress who probably doesn’t give a shit at that, he amends “I mean, yes. Good friends. I’ll see that sandwich menu, actually.”

Newt has a nice breakfast of avocado and egg on a bagel, and pretends to do work on his laptop for a few hours, but—to his disappointment—Dr. Gottlieb doesn’t come in for a coffee. Newt doesn’t catch sight of any familiar dark-haired, scowling men walking in or out of the institute, either. Gottlieb must have off today. Maybe it’s for the best, anyway; Newt’s not totally sure what he would’ve done if he ran into the guy on the street, or how he would have even explained why he’s there to Gottlieb if he did. He was just sort of operating under the assumption he’d figure it out in the heat of the moment. He calls it quits around three in the afternoon, not wanting to walk home in the dark after sunset. “Happy holidays,” he tells the baristas gloomily, and steps out into the snow with one last cardboard cup of coffee.

He mulls it all over in his head as he avoids ice patches and passersby on the way home. Should he ask for Dr. Gottlieb’s number? Is it weird to ask your ex, or even his sister, for the number of a guy you’re sorta-interested in? Newt supposes it’s weird to invite your ex to a holiday party in the first place, but he really wasn’t lying about it being amicable. Maybe he wouldn’t care. He could always just send that fucking Facebook friend request. Or he could just wait until next year. It’s just a year.

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice the patch of ice directly in front of his apartment until he’s already stepping on it, and his stomach flips in a way that lets Newt knows he’s just fucked up; his worn-out boot loses traction, his arms pinwheel, his coffee goes flying, and he lands—

In someone’s arms?

Well, even that’s not totally right. He lands mostly in someone’s arms, but he hears a little oof, an exclamation of surprise, and then they both topple over and into a snowbank. The coffee lands somewhere next to Newt’s head. “Bugger,” a familiar voice groans.

Newt sits up. Dr. Gottlieb is laying on his back next to him, wrapped in a green parka and about three scarves. To Newt’s relief, he doesn’t look angry. More embarrassed than anything else. “Apologies,” he says. “You were heavier than I’d anticipated. Or perhaps I was not as strong as I anticipated.”

“I appreciate it anyway, dude,” Newt says.

He gets to his feet, locates Gottlieb’s cane from where it’s somehow landed on the other side of the sidewalk, then tugs Gottlieb to his feet as well. Gottlieb makes a face as he rights himself. “You ought to watch yourself, and be more careful,” he says. “You could break your neck next time.”

“Worried about me?” Newt says. He dusts some snow off Gottlieb’s shoulders. “What are you doing outside my apartment, dude?”

“Er,” Gottlieb says.

He goes a strange shade of pink, and clears his throat. “I fancied…a walk. In the snow. Fresh air. And I just happened to be—er—” He clears his throat again. “I happened to discover you lived here, and my walk happened to take me by. I wasn’t looking for you, if that’s what you’re implying. Or waiting for you. I have better things to do with myself.”

“Really?” Newt says. “’Cause I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” Gottlieb says.

He really is cute right now, with his red-tipped ears, his dumb coat, his dumb scarves, the snow sticking to his back and his poofy hair. Sticking to his long eyelashes. It’s the first time Newt’s ever seen the guy not, like, at least mildly annoyed at him; it’s doing something funny to his heart. “Hey, you wanna come in for a coffee or something?” he says. “Mine kinda spilled, and I could go for another.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Gottlieb says.

Newt grins. “Come on, I know you want to. It’s cold as shit out and you’ve clearly been out here for a while. We can order a pizza or something, too.”

“Well,” Gottlieb says, and he ducks his head as he finally smiles back. It’s worth the wait, because my God, is it cute, all broad and crooked. Newt has the feeling not too many people get to witness it. “Perhaps for a bit. I was hoping to discuss your latest article with you, you know, and was very put out when I learned I wouldn’t be seeing you at the party this year.”

“Oh?” Newt says. He holds out his hand, and Gottlieb startles visibly a moment before taking it. Newt can feel how cold Gottlieb is even through his thick red mitten—he could use a little warming up. Newt can light a fire in the fireplace he rarely uses…maybe break out some wine…it’ll be nice and romantic… “Did you like it?”

“Not in the slightest,” Gottlieb says cheerily.

“Just what I was hoping,” Newt says. “After you, Doctor.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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rosethornewrites · 3 years

Text

Fics I read this week

Some of these may have been read earlier than a week ago, but I tried to keep it contained. Not sure I’ll keep this up, but I’ll try.

Finished:

Rated E:

the origin of change, by kissteethstainred, rated E

Lan Xichen said, “Time for regrowth and mourning is, of course, the most important. But there has also been a—frequent—discussion of marriage.” He paused to drink more tea. He almost seemed apologetic when he added, “Your name has been brought up often.”

“For marriage,” Lan Wangji repeated.

Except with Wei Ying in the picture, nothing goes exactly as planned.

Opportunity, by brooklinegirl, rated E

Lan Zhan is jostled slightly and he turns in his seat to see a harried-looking man squeezing in next to him. There isn't an empty seat there, and the bar is quite crowded. "Sorry," the man says, sounding out of breath. "I know I'm all up in your business, I'll move, I promise, I just—" He blows his breath out. "I'm going to lose this seat next to you, that dude over there has been eyeing it, and it's mine as soon as this guy leaves.”

Rated M:

Oxymoron, by feline_somnambulist, rated M

Jiang Yanli was in the kitchen. She hummed softly along to music being played somewhere else in the house, as she shuffled carefully back and forth from the prep table to the giant vat of soup. The house smelled like pork rib and savory broth. As always, she was beautiful in her element, a goddess of her domain despite the limp and the leg brace.

Her phone rang just as Jiang Cheng entered the kitchen. She saw him and smiled as she made her careful way to the phone on the wall-mounted charging station.

Jiang Cheng put the stack of paperwork down on a counter. He got to the phone first, picked it up. It was Lan Wangji’s number. He rejected the call and put the phone in his pocket.

“A-Cheng? Is everything okay?” Jiang Yanli asked, a frown creasing her brow. “Who was that?”

It Ends With the Beginning, by feline_somnambulist, rated M

They fight. They part. Jiang Cheng is hurt. Wei Wuxian comes to help. Wei Wuxian runs. Jiang Cheng is tired of chasing. They fight.

Until The End, by abCEE, rated M

"When I -- when I tied my ribbon around our wrists, I knew what I was doing and I privately honored it." Wei Wuxian's brows continued to meet as he tried to understand where the conversation was going until realization dawned on him. "Wa -- wait! Lan Zhan, is it what I think it is?!!" "It is usually done at the end of a wedding ceremony --" "What-" "But it could have been acknowledged as an engagement." "Lan Zhan!" He cannot believe what he is hearing now. "But my ancestor revealed herself --" "And we bowed… three times. We bowed, Lan Zhan!"

In which wangxian are married since the Cold Pond Cave incident, knows how proper communication works, and had confessed in the middle of the Sunshot Campaign. Things went spiraling up and down from there.

Rated T:

as it should be, by Sienne, rated T

Post-canon Lan Qiren time travels to before the Cloud Recesses lectures. The Cloud Recesses are quiet and peaceful, something his home hasn't been in years. ...In fact, it is too quiet and peaceful.

Judgment Day, by Grace_Logan, rated T

Cornered Wei Wuxian sees only one way out after cluing in on the Jin's plan.

Welcome To Gusu, by perkynurples, rated T

Deep in the lush forests of Gusu hides an aging resort that hosts dozens of children every summer for an unforgettable couple of weeks. It’s where Lan Wangji grew up alongside Wei Wuxian, and when his childhood friend (for the lack of a better term) surprisingly returns years later in the position of Senior Counsellor, seemingly hell bent on causing the same kind of mischief that got him kicked out of Gusu in the first place, but also taller, broader and tanner than ever before, Lan Wangji knows he’s In Trouble. Or, this fic has it all: longing looks over campfires, found family dynamics, ill-timed skinny dipping, teenagers inappropriately shipping their counsellors, camp weddings...

Therapy is a Performative Act, by cinder1013, rated T

“What does your dad think of your comedy?”

“Oh, he hates it, but it pays the bills and I need it to pay for my goddamn fuckin’ therapy.”

Jiang Cheng stumbles into being a stand-up comic and his favorite topic is dear ol’ dad.

sorry, i love you, by moon_thief, rated T

lan wangji was practically seething as he watched it happen. what kind of person could be so careless, unruly, undisciplined-

and then their eyes met.

oh. oh.

Tremble a Prayer, by cqlorphan, rated T

They kiss, and Lan Wangji regulates himself. There are no tears pricking at his eyes. There is no lump in his throat. His hands are undressing Wei Ying, and then Wei Ying’s hands are on his hands.

“What is it?” Wei Ying says, between kisses.

Even with Wei Ying back, Lan Wangji's sadness overwhelms him at times. He tries, and fails, to keep it from him.

The Quiet Work, by ShipsAreLaunching, rated T

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian get a summons for help from a minor clan in Gusu. When they go to investigate they find a horrible truth, and do what they do best.

Rated G:

Ink Stains Not So Ignored, by Preludian_Staves, rated G

Qiren found something that he still couldn't bring himself to ignore about his youngest nephew's husband.

I’d buy a big house where we both could live, by failed2be_chill, rated G

“Ah, so you want to play with the rabbits and enjoy their soft fur and silly little nose twitches while your poor husband toils in the heat of the day with hammer and nail doing exhausting manual labour. I see how it is. It’s a good job I love you, huh?” Wei Wuxian kisses his husband’s soft cheek.

“Mn, very good.”

---

Or, married WangXian embrace the practical and symbolic joys of home ownership. Domestic bliss.

Family, by Speechless_since_1998, rated G

Jiang Cheng blinked as his brother while he played with the baby he was holding.

He hoped he had misunderstood, but he had proof that it was true right in front of him.

So he did the only sensible thing that came to mind, "Wei Ying, what the fuck ?! '

"A-Cheng, language!" Shijie scolded him with a stern look.

"A-Jie, you can't really accept such a thing!"

"Why not? He is so cute!" she said, making funny faces at the child, totally in love with him.

Was it possible that he was the only one with a bit of mental sanity left?

A Lonely Guqin (No More), by Asphodel_Meadow, rated G

Wei Wuxian is the first person who makes Lan Wangji want to have a duet.

piercing, by escapingaugust, rated G (read the tags)

Stolen Midnights, by hinotoriii, rated G

There are nights where sleep eludes Wei Wuxian. Where the demons of his past are too loud in his mind, reminding him of that which he could never forget, second life or not.

Unfinished:

Not Rated:

Disclosed Regrets, by zLanWuxian, Not Rated

The majority of the cultivation world are pulled into a room that suspiciously resembled the burial mounds. (Their golden cores were sealed too. As to why, nobody knew.)

They are invited to watch Wei Wuxian's life.

What will they do when they find out everything they believed was a lie?

(Or: The characters of Mo Dao Zu Shi watch Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Rated E:

Where You Fell, by Sweet_William, rated E

Years ago, Lan Wangji was a Senior in high school, readying himself for graduation and the coming years studying at the Gusu Lan Institute of Music. Everything in his life made sense, from his role in his family, to a future as a classical musician. The only thing that didn’t fit was the sudden epiphanies he had about himself brought on by his bothersome and flirtatious classmate, Wei Wuxian. When the growing attraction and friendship was cut short by the other boy’s disappearance, he mourned what could have been, but ultimately had to move on. What he didn’t know was that fate would bring them back together again one day, or the reality of how far apart two lives can diverge, how some can find peace and prosperity, while others can fall farther than he ever imagined.

A Narrow Bridge, by FrameofMind and Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle), rated E

Once, Lan Wangji made a choice to step aside. Ten years after Wei Ying’s death, he finds a way back to choose again.

Setting fire to our insides, by StarsAlignNomore, rated E

Lan Wangji dies after the thirty-third strike. Lan Xichen does not handle it well.

*fleabag voice* This is a fix it.

Rated M:

Live Again, Love Anew, by kkanime5555, rated M

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian finally speaks up.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan hums to show he’s listening.

“I think we traveled back in time.”

...

“I’ll go, Lan Zhan. I’ll come to Gusu with you.”

-----

Or,

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are soulmates and, upon Wei Ying's death, they are sent back to when they first met as kids on the streets of Yiling. From there, they both are taken to Gusu, where they are raised together, gradually learning of their shared feelings and finding out the mystery of who sent them back in time and why, all while planning how to save the world, preferably with all their loved ones left alive.

A Torn Red Ribbon, by shiroakuma, rated M

The night before they marched into the Nightless City, Lan Wangji was invited to join Wei Wuxian in his tent.

Unbeknownst to him at that time, it became their last real conversation.

In which, a resounding victory against the QishanWen Sect is won seemingly at the cost of Wei Wuxian's life. Lan Wangji still spends some time being heavily injured. Lan Xichen tries to pick the pieces left behind by the war. The Jiang Sect is renowned thanks to the revered Wei Wuxian and the cultivation world is plagued by unknown forces while Lan Wangji meets with Wei Wuxian in his dreams.

Sacrifices Made with Blood, by NocturnalFriend, rated M

Lan Wangji knew it was too late, there was too much blood on Wei Ying's hands already. Still, if he asked his brother for help, surely. There was a way to rescue the man who held his heart?

Or: Trust is not easily given and all to easily shattered. Lan Wangji learns this in the worst way, when Lan Xichen gives into the demands of the cultivation world. Although nobody could have predicted the whims of fate, giving them another chance at righting things.

What makes you sing?, by Fictio, rated M

Madam Yu was never known for her matchmaking skills but she was known for her inherent meddling. Though it still came as a surprise, when on one fine Saturday afternoon, she called Wei Ying and set him up for a blind date.

There She Rose, by Aiiiru, rated M

Many years had passed yet whispers and gossips about YiLing Matriarch still stayed alive like unruly weeds refusing to die.

"That damn Wei Wuxian must have cursed this year's harvest with 'unkillable' locusts" "But Wei Wuxian had died right?" "Didn't you know that her body wasn't found?" "I heard some cultivators saying that during the chaos, some people saw her leaving in a sword, flying away with someone else." "That must be the demon with whom she signed a contract, a female challenging three thousand or was it five thousand cultivators by herself? Hah!! She definitely has ties with evil creatures and ghosts." "I heard from my cousin in Yunmeng that YiLing Matriarch was born shameless." "Some say she was a male but took female form to seduce the ghosts of burial mounds and gain power by starting demonic cultivation" "Shhh! Don't talk so loudly! My cousin knew a man who loudly gossiped about Yilling Matriarch only to be cursed to death the next day"

Visitations, by Vir_Abelasan, rated M

"Wei Ying-" Lan Zhan says, stutters, "I'm sorry."

And now Wei Wuxian sees it, the red rimming Lan Zhan's eyes, the rumpled edges of his blazer. There is an old, familiar urge for him to reach over, to hold Lan Zhan's hand and smooth his hair, to tell him that everything will be fine.

"We're all a bit sorry about this, I think," he says instead, and finds that he means it. For Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and everyone else in that Guanyin temple, the pain must be unbearably fresh, like skin just flayed open. But Wei Wuxian's chest had been cracked open a long time ago, his wounds licked and cauterized and sewn shut over five long years - Ever hurting, but a dull, constant ache, "It's really alright, Lan Zhan."

Five years after being accused of corporate espionage and losing everything, the Guanyin Scandal breaks open and Wei Wuxian finds a familiar face at his door.

Kiss My Wounds, Bless My Scars, by Pegunicent, rated M

When he is sixteen, Lan Wangji makes a choice. He becomes Wei Ying's bride.

Rated T:

the one where Jiang Yanli visits (and she's a fucking goddess), by ShippersList, rated T (part 4 of a series)

Wei Wuxian’s sister was a fucking goddess so it was a travesty she wasn’t being fucked like a goddess deserved.

Luo Qingyang decided to do something about it.

(Also, family feels and some plotting but that's beside the point.)

obscured in the shade of the willow, bathed in the light of the moon, by cloud_wanderer, rated T

Wei Wuxian leaves the Burial Mounds for the first time to attend his martial brother's wedding, and everything changes from there. (a.k.a. a universe in which Nie Huaisang schemes to thwart Jin Guangshan's plans and ends up saving Wei Wuxian and the Wens in the process)

Wei Wuxian meets Xiao Xingchen and helps found a sect in Yiling.

Inchoate, by Marinelifeclub, rated T

“Where would you even go once you left? Wait a few more years before leaving." persuaded Jiang Fengmian,

“Will I live to see that long?” Wei Wuxian whispered under his breath.

Jiang Fengmian felt cold at those words. He always thought his children would be the ones to heal the scars left by their mother on Wei Wuxian, but just the concise way he spoke about them, he knows that wasn’t true. Now his best friend’s son sat in front of him, confessing to not thinking he will live to see himself become a man. Cangse and Changze must be furious in their graves as the sweet smiling son they raised endured pain because of a jealous woman and a cowardly man. Sighing, he did the only thing he could to make things right and accepted the boy’s wishes.

At age 14, Wei Wuxian left Lotus Pier and never looked back.

Wei Wuxian leaves Lotus Pier and while things change something’s are just set in fate.

Here We Go Again, by Alliandra, rated T

He looked over to where the swordswoman was still fighting, but her focus seemed entirely locked onto that fight so it was unlikely that she could have had anything to do with the energy drain. He was still wracking his brain for something else to do to assist, so this thing didn’t kill them both, but now he was feeling weak, dizzy and currently not far from helpless.

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been several months since the events at the Guanyin temple and Wei Wuxian is wandering around on his own. After he helps a stranger kill a very dangerous beast he uncovers what seems to be a conspiracy aimed at ending his life. He heads back to Cloud Recesses with his new companion in tow, looking to get Lan Wanji's help in working out what is involved.

Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling made a surprising discovery under Koi Tower that may well be linked to the threat against Wei Wuxian's life.

Can they all work together to find out what is going on and put a stop to it, before something disastrous occurs?

Nie Huaisang's Ten Steps to Fix The Fucked Up Reality, by cosmic_zephyr (ProudHaikyuuTrash)

1. Find the time travel array in the Nie library 2. Convince (manipulate) Wei Wuxian to use demonic cultivation to activate the array. 3. Transmigrate to the body of your 15-year-old selves with Wei Wuxian and Survive his wrath. 4. Come up with yet another exaggerated, slightly concerning, plan to save Lotus Pier, Dafan Wens and your brother. 5. Use Empathy to make the Wen siblings side with you in the mess that is soon to come. 6. Kill the main Wen family and make Wen Qing the new leader of Qishan Wen so innocent people are not killed. 7. Annoy the hell out of Lanling Jin just for funsies and also a political statement because Jin Guangshan can suck it. 8 Preferably, just for your own sanity, find a way to kill Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao. 9. Work with Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing to solve the sabre problem of the Nie clan. 10. Live a happy life with your brother alive and the cultivation world not being the huge fucked up mess in your own time-line. P.S. Matchmake the pining pile of disaster and gay aka Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

Aka canon divergence where Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian (and Lan Wangji) travel back in time and save the cultivation world.

Deal, by Rahar_Moonfire, rated T

Nie Huaisang wants revenge for his brother. He also wants his friend Wei Wuxian back. Lan Wangji left the Cultivation World after Wei Wuxian's death and hasn't been heard from since. It's a good thing Nie Huaisang has spies everywhere. He has everything he needs to put his plan into motion: the notes, the instructions, the "willing body," and the patience to pull it all off.

Now he just needs to be sure Wei Wuxian survives long enough to pick up Nie Huaisang's bread crumbs, solve the puzzle, and shatter the Cultivation World again. The only person suitable for that job is Black Jade of Yiling, the husband of the infamous Yiling Patriarch, Lan Wangji.

Rated G:

Hadn't gone as I planned, by hamlets_ghost, rated G (part of a series)

Lan Xichen leaves the Cloud Recesses with Wei Wuxian and Wangji to meet his mother.

He cannot stay.

[continuation of 'Hold on to your heart']

#the untamed #untamed fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #CQL #mdzs

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danteinthedevildom · 3 years

Text

A Royal Pajama Party “Analysis” - Part 2 (of 7)

A continuation from the previous post! Here, we pick up with MC actually in Diavolo’s room with him, preparing for the sleepover. This covers content from the Story Key-locked chapters of the Devilgram, so here’s your cursory warning for spoilers!

Another point towards how important MC is to Diavolo, and how unusual it is for someone to actually spend time with just him. The fact that you’re there, on your own, with him, is something he’s still struggling to comprehend. Demons don’t just do that, not with him; maybe if other demons are there, like he suggests - “since everyone came with you last time” hosts the implication that he thought you came because of them, because everyone was together, and not for the sole purpose of seeing him - but never just one-on-one.

This idea that he has someone content to just be alone in his company? It’s still new to him. It’s something he’s still wrapping his head around, as much as it’s something he’s always wanted. He’s so used to being a secondary thought - to being a host for friends spending time together, and never a friend being spent time with - that you actually being there is surreal. Like a dream, or perhaps a mistake.

You’re not just there to hang out. You’re there to stay the night. You’re there, with him, without interruption. For one whole night, he has your attention, and your attention alone. There’s no second guessing here that you’re only visiting the castle to spend time with someone else; no second guessing that your eyes are drifting elsewhere, or that you’re having more fun with others. It’s you and him, in a setting he’s never gotten to experience before.

Of course he wants to savour it. Of course he wants to enjoy this very rare, very special moment he gets with you. You’re always surrounded by others; the brothers, or the Purgatory Hall boys. Barbatos is never far from his side. This moment, just the two of you, for a whole night, where he can finally be himself and have fun as any other demon would? It very, very likely means the world to him.

I’m likely not overstating when I say this is a night he’ll remember for the rest of his very long life, regardless of whether you end it romantically or platonically.

Diavolo is so behind on what it’s like to be a normal demon - and so excited to be spending time with you - that he’s come up with a list of things the two of you can do together. There’s a better screenshot for this a little later on, so I’ll go in more detail on that there, but there’s two points I want to make here:

A) Diavolo’s so desperate to make this night something special, he actually pre-planned the sleepover to make it more enjoyable for you. That’s how much your time together means to him. He doesn’t get to see you much; he wants to make every second count.

(And maybe, if you enjoy the night, you’ll be more likely to come over again.)

B) There’s a literal list of things Diavolo wants to do with you. When he thinks about doing something with someone? You’re his go-to. There are experiences he wants to share with a friend he cares for and who cares for him just as much, and he’s chosen you to be that friend.

(Here, you essentially say that you love the onesies. It’s one of the options you can choose.)

Diavolo made everyone a set of onesies because, to him, that’s what helps make an evening (and subsequent sleepover) more enjoyable. This is really what I meant by him living the childhood he never got to have. You don’t actually need onesies to make a sleepover fun, and to a lot of adults, it’s something of a childish aspect (as is the concept of a sleepover at all); they’re something you enjoy when you’re young and the idea of dressing up as a dragon is exciting, not what you do as a fully-grown adult (who is more likely to be embarrassed by the concept, as Barbatos is).

The fact that Diavolo isn’t aware of this - or perhaps outright doesn’t care - suggests the entire experience is brand new. He’s excited because he’s never had the chance to do this before, and his inner child - the one that never really had a chance to live - is thriving.

It also shows a lot of inexperience regarding the concept of sleepovers. Diavolo... really doesn’t know what to do. Case in point? He didn’t get the idea of the onesies from his own mind or understanding of sleepovers:

He was told by Asmodeus that pajama parties have to come with “adorable leisure wear”.

There are a few implications here.

One, Diavolo went to Asmodeus for advice. He often does this when he wants to set up events, if only because Asmodeus is a big party animal and up-to-date on the party scene - but the fact that he did it for this? For a sleepover? It says a lot.

Diavolo has no idea what a sleepover entails. He’s absolutely clueless on what they are and how they work. He’s never had one before; never seen how they function. He likely doesn’t realise that a sleepover can really be nothing more than spending your time talking before calling it a night and crashing in bed.

So, knowing his own ignorance, he went to the one demon most likely to know what they are - and not just that, but how to throw the best sleepover possible. He wants this to be a night for he and MC to remember, after all; the better the party is, the more fun he thinks the two of you will have.

In other words? He’s so determined that the night be good, he went to someone else to learn the things he never got to live.

Two, Diavolo fully trusts Asmodeus on anything regarding parties. This isn’t a huge point, but I want to note this because it has come up before.

Diavolo, in chats, has expressed upset over not being invited to Asmodeus’ parties, and in Devilgrams, has asked for Asmodeus’ help in setting up events. He knows this is something Asmo’s good at and that will likely make him happy, as well as something that allows Diavolo to spend a little time in his company.

So, it’s not just MC that he tries to get close to - it’s everyone. You’re just... the most reciprocal to his attempts at friendship.

That said, though, he trusts Asmo’s advice enough to go back to him for more. Which says a lot! He’s a prince; he could have someone else do the research for him, and he probably has a party planner of some sort, since most royals actually do considering the amount of ceremonies they host. Instead? He personally goes to Asmo and asks for his thoughts. And not only does he listen to them, but:

Three, this is still a novelty to Diavolo, but it’s also something he’s taking seriously. He’s not just reciting Asmodeus’ words directly - you really can hear Asmo’s voice in the first screenshot, as if he’s saying them verbatim - he’s also praising Asmodeus for the knowledge he was given as if it’s some sort of secret law Diavolo wasn’t aware of.

Which absolutely makes sense. Diavolo’s gone to Asmodeus about various events before - such as the colour party in the Concealed in Colour Devilgram - and much of those come with a set of “rules” that make the events what they are. It’s entirely possible that Diavolo genuinely thinks you have to wear onesies for it to be a proper pajama party. He doesn’t have the experience to tell him otherwise; he’s never had one before!

Plus, we all know how theatrical Asmodeus is. The chances of him emphasising that “a pajama party just isn’t a pajama party without onesies!” is fairly high. Diavolo wouldn’t know better. So, naturally, he’d make everyone a onesie, and include them in this sleepover he’s set up to pack everything he never got to experience into.

This is the final set of screenshots for this post, since the next really does need its own, but! This is the part I mentioned before, noting that Diavolo actually, legitimately wrote up a list.

Firstly? This is a list of things he wants to do with you. It’s not just a sleepover list - although it is, since a lot of what follows are typical sleepover-related events - but a list he’s written up specifically for your time together.

I cannot express how sad this is. This is how little Diavolo gets to see you, particularly one-on-one. This is how little Diavolo gets to do with anyone. This is what Diavolo sees as thrilling for a night of fun.

Watching a movie with you, and eating popcorn.

It is the most mundane thing anyone could come up with. This is the sort of thing you do spontaneously at a sleepover - “hey, anyone wanna watch a movie? I think we’ve got popcorn in the cupboard” - and yet... it’s something so unique to him, he actually wrote it down.

Movies take time. At least an hour and a half. The fact that he’s never had the chance to do this with you before suggests he’s never had so much as an hour and a half of free time spent just with you, without anything else going on - and you're someone perfectly willing to visit him at the drop of a hat.

It's sad to think that part of Diavolo's struggles in making (and keeping) friends may entirely revolve around how difficult it is to spare time for the beings he cares about.

It's likewise sad to think that this time is so rare, he openly tells you he'll cherish the mundanity of watching a movie.

Moreover, these are the experiences he sees as prime importance for the very lengthy time you're sharing together.

He's the Prince of the Devildom, and there are almost definitely events that humans have never been able to experience before going on across his kingdom well into the night. He could take you to events beyond comprehension; to scenes that would enrapture you and fill you with awe; to places you would never be able to reach without him by your side...

Yet all he wants to do is watch a movie with you.

If it's true that he doesn't get to spend much time with you (if any at all) in a casual capacity, Diavolo is explicitly showing here that what matters most to him is time spent in personal, close contact. He doesn't have to make your time with him grand and ever-lasting; he just wants to share these normal, plain, everyday experiences with you.

You make him feel normal. You afford him to exist in a way he simply can't at any other point in time, with anyone else. This is more special to him because of what it represents. Because it's you, and him, doing something everyone does. Because you're his friend, and he's doing friend stuff with you.

It's a little awkward - a little stiff and formal with the list and the setup - but it's only because he knows he doesn't get much time with you, knows he might not get more time with you for several months, and he's so out of touch with how friendships work he wants to do everything in a single night.

In other words? You're his friend. He wants to know what it feels like to have a normal friendship with you. And he wants to stuff every rare moment he gets in your company full of activies he's not been able to do with you before.

Which brings us to the second point: the importance is in his wording.

He's wanted this for "quite some time". There's an implication that he's not just spontaneously come up with a bunch of activities he thinks you'll enjoy or that are typical to the sleepover experience; he's chosen things he's been dying to do with you. Things he's been sitting on for some time, patiently waiting for the chance - for the perfect alignment of stars - to actually bring up to you.

Maybe these are things Diavolo has always wanted to do. Things he's noted down and planned out since he was a child, having heard other demons talk of them, so he could experience them at a point in time where he finally had friends of his own. Maybe they're things he's only thought of doing more recently, clinging onto the hope that he could actually plan for experiences, even in the tentative quiet of his own mind, with your arrival. It's hard to tell.

But in either case? He is so genuinely thrilled to be able to spend time with you, he has enough ideas - enough experiences he's never shared with someone before - that he's fully capable of making a list.

This is how isolated Diavolo was, and still is. This is how much of his childhood - of his life - he missed out on. This is why he's so enthusiastic to spend any time with you he can.

He has an entire back catalogue of perfectly generic things he's simply never done.

That has to be one hell of a lonely life if something like "watch a movie together" is something he's been wanting to do "for some time". That has to be one hell of an isolated life if this, to him, is his most desired item on his itinery - and not the thousands of things magic and rulership leave in potential at his fingertips.

Which leads me to conclude this post on one, final question.

How long since your arrival in the Devildom has he wanted to spend simple time with you?

+++

And thus, we conclude part 2! Thank you for reading this far once again. Hopefully it was enjoyable!

The next set of screenshots dip into the movie experience with Diavolo, and are a tiny bit lighter than the previous two posts.

So, if you’d like, hop over to part 3!

#obey me diavolo #obey me analysis #obey me

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ill-skillsgard · 3 years

Note

is faith dealing w being away from fausty? I miss them so :(,, I hope you’re well love xoxo

Warning: 18+ Mentions of sex/phone sex, mentions of alcohol and drug use, violent threats, non-consensual touching, brief mentions of rape.

Note: I missed writing Faust stuff so much over the holidays. He’s definitely one of my favourite secretly soft boys. I can’t wait to get back into the swing of writing. Thank you to the lovely anons who haven’t given up on this pairing yet! I will try not to go 2 months between posts for these guys.

Summary: Faith starts to miss Faust so much while he’s away on tour that she goes to his apartment to spend the night in his bedroom. However, her plans are interrupted by the people Faust warned her not to hang around.

Faust x Faith Masterpost [x]

Faith awoke in a sweat, chest pumping hot torrents of blood to her head as the ceiling came into view, the walls containing her after a flight through a nightmare faded into obscurity. She rolled onto her back, her flimsy cotton nightgown sticking to her dewy skin, and tossed the comforter from her top half. Streetlamps and passing cars cast geometric blocks of light on the ceiling, illuminating the dust motes floating by her face. Faith breathed in and out, shaking her head free from the gripping terror of unconsciousness.

She had dreamed of receiving a phone call from Faust in the middle of the night, and when she answered, he explained to her in a laconic, matter-of-fact voice why they shouldn't continue seeing each other. He was too busy to maintain a relationship with a girl who's path would never intersect with his goals. She was too young, too naive, too proper. Too this and too that and in no way matched him. The terrible sinking in her chest returned as it had in the dream, but she dismissed the sensation. It was all a silly dream, a manifestation of her worst fear. Faust loved her and would never break up with her—least of all over a phone call.

The cellphone next to her pillow came to life, vibrating a couple of times before she found it and squinted at the bright screen. Faust. She sat up, and her lungs froze, the cavernous hole opening up under her skin. When she answered, voices and loud music came through like warring radio waves.

"Hello?" She whispered, not wanting to wake her dorm mate.

"Faith? You there?"

"Yes," her voice crawled from her throat, no louder than a rasp. She cleared her airway and said again, "Yes."

"Aw, are you sleeping, babe?"

"No," she whispered.

"Hm? I can't hear you. Hang on, let me find a quieter place."

Faith swung out of bed and left the dorm to go to the shared washrooms where she could speak. She entered a stall, put down the toilet seat and sat atop the cold plastic, waiting for Faust's deep voice to tickle her ear again.

"You there?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"That's better, yeah. I can hear you now."

Faith squeezed her knees together, his voice like warm liquid flowing into her stomach. She sighed, relieved.

"Sorry, I know it's late for you. We had a really late soundcheck, then I was in the green room until we went on. I didn't forget to call."

Faith nodded, smiling, though Faust couldn't see the respite his words gave her after the unpleasant dream that had jarred her awake.

"It's okay. Where are you again?"

"Utah, probably a couple hours behind you. We're out of the venue now."

"How was the show?" Faith asked.

"It was good—big stage. Couple hundred people, but maybe a quarter of them were there for us. We sold a lot of merch, though."

"That's great, babe. I'm glad you're having fun."

"Yeah," Faust sighed. "I miss you, though. Can't believe there's still another three weeks of this."

Faith leaned her head against the stall's metal barrier, reading the scandalous notes engraved in the chipped paint. "I know. Seems like forever."

"You're still good to come to our last show?"

"Yes. I told my parents I'm going to a friend's cottage for the weekend."

"But really, you're getting on a Greyhound and coming to see me."

She closed her eyes and giggled. "That's right."

Faith wondered if she should tell Faust about her bad dream. She knew what he'd say to her: it was just a dumb dream, and he would never break up with her, so she shouldn't let it bother her so much. She accepted this assurance without bringing it up.

"I'm in my bunk now," Faust told her.

"I'm in the bathroom," said Faith.

"Wish you were here, though. It gets so boring sometimes, driving from place to place, listening to these dumbasses argue over the shower."

"It's the same here. I've started taking showers at midnight just to avoid the headache and bargaining. These girls all have the same night routine. There's always a line-up to use the shower."

"Mm," Faust grunted. "Yeah. Stupid."

A moment of silence passed between them. Faith savoured his soft breaths coming over the line, wishing she could feel the warmth behind them. She craved his scent, the smell of his shampoo, the distinct mentholated freshness of his deodorant. She wanted to stroke his face, and touch his biceps, inspect the hair underneath his arms until he told her she was weird for finding such things fascinating. She wanted to feel the twin ruts coming to a peak below his navel, leading down to his groin where he'd snatch her hand and berate her, ultimately relenting and letting her stroke the soft skin underneath the band of his plaid boxers.

"I wanna touch you," she whispered.

"Fuck," he drawled. "Me too, babe."

"I had a bad dream you called me in the middle of the night to break up with me... then you actually called. Do you think that's weird?"

Faust scoffed in that indignant way he always did. She pictured the corner of his mouth snagging, his brows descending at such a silly thing.

"That's kind of weird."

"I hate not being able to sleep next to you."

"Don't worry, babe. I'll be home soon. You can get through the next few weeks."

"Yeah, but... Do you miss sleeping next to me?"

"Oh, definitely. I really miss you hogging the blankets, pushing me to the edge of the bed, punching me in your sleep."

"I don't do that!"

Faust snickered. "Yeah, you do. But it's okay. I'm like way stronger than you. I can move you like nothing."

"Don't remind me," Faith groaned.

"Don't remind you of what? How strong I am?"

Faith made her voice small. "Yes. I can't think of that kind of stuff right now."

"You can't think about me overpowering you?"

"Sh. Quiet."

"What? Don't want to think about me pinning your arms above your head with one hand while I finger you? S'that what you don't want to think about?"

"I hate you," she said.

"Hate it when I pick you up and fuck you against the wall?"

"Yes."

"So...You're definitely not thinking about my cock, then? You haven't been playing with my pussy while I've been away? Pretending your fingers are mine? Or using that toy you bought to fuck yourself in your dorm when your roommate isn't there?"

"Oh my gosh, Faust. Please."

"You don't make yourself cum to the thought of me eating out that pussy? You don't miss my fat cock stretching out that poor little slit? Making you bounce on it? Sucking it until I cum buckets down your throat?"

"Faust," she whispered. "You're bad."

"Answer me. Do you think about riding my cock every night before bed? Rub yourself against a pillow between your legs?"

"Yes, I think about it all the time."

"Can you do me a favour?" Faust asked. Faith agreed before hearing the terms of said agreement. "Tomorrow, I want you to go to all your classes without wearing any panties under your skirt."

Faith's cheeks burned from his request. "What if it's windy and it blows up my skirt?"

"I don't really care," he said. "Know what? Never mind. Scratch that. This isn't a request; it's a command. I want you to take pictures while you're in class to prove you listened."

"I can't! Someone will see."

"Think I give a fuck? Sit in the back if you have to."

"I'll try," said Faith, toying with the sleeves of her nightgown.

"That's my girl."

They spoke for a few more minutes until Faust's bandmates flooded onto the bus, yelling and searching for the drummer who'd stowed away in the bunks. Faust said his goodbyes, made sure Faith understood her instructions for tomorrow, then said goodnight. She heard his friends mocking him in the backroom, calling him pussy-whipped, listened to him threaten their lives and giggled.

"I love you," Faust said, loud enough that anyone around him might hear. His unabashed affection filled her to the brim with warm fuzz.

"I love you, too," Faith replied, then looked at the phone screen until he hung up.

Later in the week, Faith started having trouble sleeping. Even if she filled her days with activities, studied into the night, ate properly and read before bed, her mind swam with anxiety. She told Faust about it, but he had no solution other than to stop by his place to grab one of his hoodies to sleep in, maybe one of his blankets if she missed him so much. Delighted, Faith accepted the suggestion, and Faust texted his roommate to leave the apartment door unlocked for her. She made her way over after dinner one night and walked in on Faust's roommate hosting a party.

The apartment was in disarray—worse than she'd ever seen. Beer bottles and cigarettes overflowing the ashtray was commonplace, but now there were grease-stained pizza boxes open on the floor, salt stains on the rug from people coming in and out from the balcony. The sofa pocked with several more burn marks, the dishes hadn't been washed since Faust left, and the entire living room reeked of stale food and smoke. Not only that, but she'd come in at the precise moment the music transitioned, and every eye in the place went to her.

She recognized half the people in Faust's apartment from other parties—Anika, the most familiar face that turned in her direction. The tall, blond girl smiled and pushed a guy's hand off her shoulder before approaching her. The metal music picked up, drowned out the silence, and Faith relaxed when Anika hugged her.

"Hey! I didn't know you were coming!" Anika exclaimed.

"I wasn't... Well, I didn't know anyone was here. I just came to get some stuff from Faust's room."

"Oh, cool. How is Frosty? I haven't seen you guys since Halloween!"

"He's good," Faith said, voice tapering off when she saw a pair of malicious eyes grilling her from across the room. "You know... Just touring."

"Yeah, I heard. That's awesome. Hey, you want anything to drink? We have beer in the fridge," Anika said.

Faith felt awkward standing in the middle of the front hall, while groups of people occupied her boyfriend's apartment. She realized she had very little dominion and shrank into herself until Anika pulled her into the kitchen. The blond pulled out two cans of domestic beer and handed her one, noticing Faith's unease.

"What's the matter?" Asked Anika.

Faith wondered if Faust knew about all the people in his apartment, if his roommate had asked him if he could have a party and invite all the people Faust talked shit about—the people he warned her not to hang out with.

"Uh, nothing. Just feels weird being here without Faust," said Faith.

"Aw, it's okay, girl. We party here all the time."

Faith questioned the verity of Anika's claim. She couldn't recall them having any big parties there since she started dating Faust eight months ago. Faust didn't like too many people in his space. Whenever they partied, it was always at someone else's house or out in the bush around a fire.

The same pair of blue eyes had Faith in a stranglehold. She cocked her head, and Anika noticed her attention locked on a man with fine blond hair touching his collarbone.

"Is that—?"

"Sven? Yeah. You probably remember him from that time we went camping."

Faith wished to turn in on herself, abandon the can of beer Anika had given her, grab what she needed from Faust's room, and leave. Anika sensed her discomfort and placed her thin hand on Faith's shoulder.

"Don't worry, he won't bother you. He has a girlfriend now."

"He's a creep," Faith muttered.

Anika shot Sven a look over her shoulder, and he turned away, pulling on a beer and wiping his mouth. Faith remembered the stench of his burnt hair in the fire, how Faust had punched him and dragged him through the dirt toward the pit where he held his face in the flames. Sven complained about the scratches and scrapes on his arms and legs from Faust dragging him the entire way home after they cut the trip short. The same tension that pierced the atmosphere in the van while Sven took the front seat and Faust held her hand in the back seat was the same strain she felt now as he stole glances at her. His wispy mustache had grown back along with his eyebrows and pale lashes.

Faith felt a pang of guilt in her stomach but dismissed the feeling with a swig of beer and Anika's encouragement. Faust would get angry with her if he knew she felt even an inch of remorse over what happened. Sven deserved what he got, and that's what she kept telling herself throughout the night as she drank a couple more beers with Anika and took a hit off a joint someone offered her out on the balcony.

A few of Faust's friends asked her about him, and it filled her with pride knowing everyone there knew who she was, who Faust was. She told them where the band was that night, where they were slated to go next, that they had sold out of merchandise and had to place an emergency order and have it shipped to the next venue. After a few hours, Faith felt the tug of exhaustion creeping over her shoulders and told Anika she had to head out, though she'd already missed the last bus and had little money in her bank account for a cab. Faith considered asking someone for a ride back to campus, but nobody seemed sober enough to trust behind the wheel.

Instead, she went to Faust's bedroom and shut the door and all the noises behind her. In his room, she took in a deep breath, and then another, filling her senses with the comforting scent of pine, stale air and the boyish aroma Faust carried with him. She went to his closet and brushed a hand over the black t-shirts and one of his leather coats. Next, Faith opened the third drawer in the lowboy and pulled out a hoodie that had shrunk in the wash and didn't fit Faust anymore. She often wore it when she came over, but he refused to let her take it home until now. She slipped it on over her blouse, smoothed it over her skirt and wrapped her arms around her ribs. The hood still smelled of Faust's hair.

Without thinking much, she arranged the objects on his dresser into an organized system rather than a mess of pens, splintered drumsticks, guitar picks and snack wrappers. She shovelled the waste into the garbage can under his desk, made his bed, fluffed the pillows, cleared the dirty clothes off the floor and kicked it all into the closet. If there wasn't a party going on right outside the door, she'd have done his laundry and took the dirty plates and forks to the kitchen sink. She did what she could without having to set foot outside the bedroom, and by the time she finished folding the clothes in his dresser into neat stacks, it was far too late for her to go anywhere.

Faith took off her panties and skirt, changed into a pair of his pyjama pants and sat on his bed with her hands folded, wondering if Faust would care if she spent the night in his bed. The fluffy pillows called out for her head. His comforter promised visions of them together again. She considered texting him to say she was staying over, but there was a knock on the door as she went for her phone.

She lifted her feet off the carpet and tucked them under her thighs, balled herself as small as she could until whoever knocked got the hint and walked away. The knock came again, and Faith's throat tightened.

"Yes?" She called.

The door opened, and she expected to see Anika's blond head poking in, but it wasn't her. The person was blond, but the face was not smeared with white foundation, nor were the blue eyes overlined with charcoal black. Sven stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked.

"What are you doing in here? This is my boyfriend's room. Why wouldn't I be here?"

"Sorry," said Sven, opening his palms to show he meant no harm. "I wanted to talk to you for a second. Is that okay?"

"I don't see why that's necessary."

"Mmkay, well, you don't have to be a bitch about it. Your boyfriend is the one who almost burnt my face off."

"Well, you were being weird. You're being weird now by coming in here. You should probably go."

"Sucks when he's not around to intimidate everyone that ever wants to start a conversation with you, huh?"

Faith pressed her lips together. Was he threatening her? She wasn't sure. He kept his distance, though his eyes ricocheted off the valuable objects in the room. The Gibson guitar hanging on the wall, the vintage RD bass in its stand just below, the electric drumset next to the desk, Faust's five-thousand-dollar computer, and finally, her. Faust's prized possessions all in one room.

"What do you want to talk about?" Faith broke the silence, sweating.

"I wanted to apologize for acting like an idiot back in the Summer. I was really drunk. I shouldn't have said that shit."

"Okay, well, thanks for the apology."

Sven gestured at her, pale eyebrows high on his freckled forehead. "And?"

"And what?" Faith asked.

"Aren't you going to apologize to me?"

"I have nothing to apologize for."

"You can apologize on behalf of your psycho boyfriend. That’d be a start."

Faith scoffed, heated by the insult. When it came to Faust, she never wanted to hear the negatives. It reminded her of her father's disapproval, filled her with useful venom. "Sorry, if you want an apology from Faust, he’d have to give it to you, and I don’t think that’s happening any time soon."

"Wow," Sven said with a click of his tongue. "And I thought you were a nice girl."

"I am nice, but right now, you're in my personal space, and it's making me uncomfortable."

As she spoke, she noticed Sven's knees wobbling. He was drunk. His beer breath filled the room. Faith shifted closer to the wall, clutching her crossed legs, silently begging for him to leave. He took a step closer, and she gasped.

"Relax, I'm not gonna do anything. Jesus, you chicks watch too much TV, thinkin' every dude is a rapist or something."

"Whatever you say, man. Look, if you're done, I think it's time you leave."

"Why? You going to sleep?"

"You just shouldn't be in here. If Faust were home, you wouldn't set foot in this room or even think about talking to me."

Sven threw his head back and laughed. "Just because he caught me off guard once doesn't mean I'm afraid of him. He can suck my dick, and so can you."

"Get out," Faith said.

"Hey now, hey... It's all good. Christ, I'm just trying to mend bridges, but you're being a total bitch when I'm here apologizing."

"You just told me I could suck your dick. You're literally insulting me to my face. I've asked you to leave, and you're not!"

Sven pushed air through his teeth, teetered closer to her and sat down on the foot of the bed. Faith's body froze, her limbs stiff as boards as the man laid on his back. His face was a foot from her.

"If it weren't for your boyfriend, I'd be on tour right now. I'd be the one selling out venues and merch, signing shit and having people ask me to take pictures."

"It was your fault."

When the words floated from Faith's mouth, his forehead crinkled, and he shot up. She gasped, scrambling against the wall like a cornered rodent.

"Fuck you! Stupid fucking slut! Faust is a way bigger piece of shit than I am. Ask anybody! Everyone knows how much of an asshole he is. Nobody actually likes him. They're just afraid of him because he threatens to kill anyone whoever disagrees with what he says."

The venom roiled in Faith's stomach, blistering up her neck and filling her mind with violent static. Her hands shook as adrenaline pumped into her veins. One more minute alone with Sven and she thought she might lose control of herself.

Sven got off the bed and went for the bass. Faith hissed at him not to touch it, so he leaned over and spat on the finish.

"Get out!" Faith cried. "Get the fuck out right now!"

The music outside the door must have drowned out her yells, for nobody came looking for her. She stood up on the bed, back pressed against a poster. Sven grabbed at her ankle, but she kicked and slapped the top of her foot against his forearm. He laughed and swiped again as she danced away.

"LEAVE!"

"Make me!"

"I'll fucking call the cops on you!"

"Do it, bitch. I'll knock you out and do what I want before anyone even realizes I'm in here."

"Help!" Faith hollered. "Rape! Rape! He's trying to rape me!"

"Woah, woah, calm down. I didn't say that—"

The venom boiled over, shot up through her esophagus and escaped her mouth in panicked screams. Stunned by the banshee shrieks ripping through the air, Sven backed toward the door, feeling around for the doorknob while Faith screamed her face red, blood vessels popping in her eyes, throwing explosions of stars across her vision until he left the room and she dropped onto the bed, crying. Faith felt around the bed for her phone and called Faust.

He answered on the first ring.

"Faust," she blubbered.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm coming home right now."

"W-what?"

"Look over at the computer."

Faith wiped the snot from her nose onto the hoodie's sleeve and glanced at the desk where the computer monitor stood. "Huh? I don't understand."

"See that light right beside the monitor? Wave at it."

Faith lifted her hand. She squinted at the blue dot belonging to a small camera set up between a speaker and the monitor.

"I installed a Bluetooth camera before leaving for tour. Don't trust people to not go into my room and touch my stuff."

"You mean—?"

"I saw everything. Heard everything, too. It's motion-activated."

Faith paled at the thought of Faust watching her cleaning his room, the way she'd caressed his clothes on her face and huffed his scent before Sven came in.

"What should I do, Faust? He's still out there."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"Should I call the cops?"

"No, don't call anyone. Don't say anything. I said I'll take care of it."

"Okay," she whispered.

"Faith, I'm serious. Let me handle this," his voice was stern.

"What're you gonna do?"

Faust went quiet for a moment until she motioned at the camera. He sighed. "I can't tell you right now."

The adrenaline depleted, and Faith let out a sob. "I need you, Faust. I'm scared."

"Don't be scared, babe. I got you. I'll be home as soon as I can, but I need you to be strong. Don't talk to anyone about what happened until I get there, understand? Nobody. Not your friends, not your parents, don't write it in your journal or breath a word. I promise I'll make it better."

#faust x faith #valter skarsgard fanfiction #valter skarsgard imagine #valter skarsgard

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