#he said he looked like ginger root… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atskiruma · 1 year

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you bump into him

expl: while looking down at what you were holding, you didn't notice the person in front of you; bumping straight into them

a/n: the poll is still going but i'd say this won with the overwhelming vote of 61 to 38 | the poll of the last imagine

second-person writing no pronouns used | uses of the pet name baby in heizous part

It seems that the Zapolyarny Palace was bustling with people today. It was no surprise when you entered the palace and were welcomed by a lot of people going which-ways trying to find their places. It was usually this busy regardless, seeing as the Fatui were extremely important, especially in the roots of Snezhnaya.

Tasked with being Pantalone's personal assistant, you also found yourself rushing between rooms and meeting with several other business owners hoping to borrow money from the organization.

This meant that breaks were rare since Pantalone worked you to the core and was always finding things for you to do. And you also met with a lot of the other Fatui members and were remarkably close to them. Those who Pantalone favored, were also in your favor, and those he disliked, you stayed away from.

"I need to you bring these to Pulcinella. Make sure to keep them all in order and once you give them to him, tell him I also marked the presentation for the next Tuesday." Pantalone said without giving you a glance. He seemed too interested in the vials that The Doctor had given him, Dottore was also present in the room.

You nodded, opening the door and leaving the room to make your way across the building. Continuing to look down at the documents, you marked every number at the top of the page in order to make sure they were in the correct order once you arrived. Knowing that there was hardly anyone in the hallway, you didn't mind not looking where you were going.

You were able to take 2 more steps until you collided with a hard surface. "Oof!" Came from your mouth until you watched as the papers burst into the air and landed in multiple different spots in the large hallway.

The distress you felt was ignored when you looked up and saw a large patch of ginger hair. The 11th Fatui Harbinger standing in front of you after turning around from the commotion. This was one of the harbingers that Pantalone did not like.

"Sorry about that! Seems like I was taking up a lot of the hallway." He said, before reaching down to help you pick up your papers. You also bent down to pick up some, noticing his lingering glances towards you in your peripheral every now and then.

Once the both of you picked up the papers, he handed you the ones he got and stepped back a bit to give you some space. Smirking at you while putting one of his hands on his hip.

"You're Pantalone's assistant aren't you? I know a familiar face when I see one." He said, walking behind you and putting a hand on your back while he urged you to keep walking to your destination.

That was when Pantalone's voice reached both of your ears, calling you to turn around and face him. You did, seeing as he was standing there with his hands crossed over his chest.

"I see you're taking my assistant somewhere Childe, may I ask you to halt your plan and return them at once." He said, his voice hinting at a small amount of irritation underneath.

Childe smiled, before reaching down to take your hand and place a kiss on top of it. "We'll meet again," He said, before walking away with a sly smirk on his face.

The Traveler always seemed to excite their old-time friend and companion who came around once in a while and indulged you on the matter more times than you could count. This was a blonde-haired man who wore a black and blue cape, with a very mysterious personality.

But you never met him, of all the times you heard about him, you could practically call the two of you friends. You knew so much about the man but never came in contact with him once. This did spark curiosity, but at the same time, you were never going out of your way to finding him.

This changed when you and the Traveler were exploring the 3rd Windblume event in Mondstat. Multiple shops were open for longer, with new and exciting things to explore in them. It seemed the two of you, or, three of you, including the white-haired thing following along, were out for quite some time. This was evident when the sun began to set across the tall walls surrounding the city.

You were looking down at the new souvenirs you acquired on your trip to the shops and didn't notice the man standing in front of you near the front gates. With a swift moment, you managed to bump right into him when he seemed to be in a trance at the other shops along the coast.

This caused the both of you to get spooked in result, his hands coming to grab your waist when you tumbled backward and almost fell. When you finally opened your eyes, you were met with a very handsome blonde man... wearing a black and blue cape.

"Dainsleif! It's great to see you!" The white-haired creature exclaimed, learning that her name was Paimon after you asked who it was following the Traveler around all day. This also resulted in you receiving an awful nickname for your ignorance.

"Traveler, Paimon, I see you two are enjoying the festival." He said, with his hands evidently still on your waist. A small blush crept onto your face when you noticed he wasn't letting go either.

"Oh? Do you two know each other already?" The Traveler spoke, with a small smirk forming when they noticed the position both of you were in.

"No... I don't think we've met." He said, still completely oblivious to his action. Paimon also exclaimed, asking if the two of you were dating, which then called his attention to what was happening. He let go and dusted his hands off lightly on his pants, clearing his throat in slight embarrassment.

"Apologies, I'm Dainsleif, I also travel along Teyvat like the Traveler here."

Your rosy cheeks didn't seem to help your case when you spoke, "Nice to meet you... I think I'm going to head back you two, but I'll see you later." Speaking towards the Traveler and Paimon, you took a swift escape down the bridge and back to where you originally came from.

Dainsleif also found himself watching you leave until you were completely out of view, his left hand tightening a bit in remembrance of feeling your waist in his pocket.

The Tenryou Commission was not where you wanted to be right now. But Thoma said it was the place to go when finding out where your lost change went after that robber passed by you in a flash.

He said you could find someone where to help you since all of the crime in Inazuma seems to be solved in the walls of the famous and intellectual detectives here.

It was noted that you really didn't know where you were going. The building was huge and you had never stepped foot in it before.

Multiple people could be seen going back and forth between rooms and others were off to the sides talking to themselves. It was really confusing, where did you go to talk to someone who'd help? Would anyone here help?

While walking around mindless, you hadn't looked where you were going and immediately bumped into someone. The man wasted no time grabbing you before you fell, and when you opened your eyes, you were immediately met face-to-face with bright green pupils.

"Woah! Watch out there, glad you bumped into me rather than anyone else Baby." A man said while still holding onto you when he lifted you up. You looked straight at him and tried to pick a name with the face, but came up with nothing.

"My name is Heizou if that's what you're wondering." He spoke, looking at you with a kind smile. "Can I ask what you're doing here? I can't imagine someone as attractive as you coming along." His flirtations seemed to pass by you one by one as he kept piling on compliments left and right.

The sound of the clan's head boomed across the hallway towards you too. "I've been waiting for your arrival! Thoma told me what happened, I'm here to help." Kujou Kamaji's voice was followed. You tried to turn and look at him but were still trapped in Heizou's arms.

"I see you've met Detective Heizou. Are you two perhaps close?" He asked once reaching you both. Your flustered face practically blew up and before you could say something, Heizou had already beaten you to it. "I'll be helping with the case instead Sir, but thank you for coming all this way." He said with a smile.

Your stuttering pleas for help didn't seem to reach either of their ears while they chatted and by the time they stopped, Kamaji was already walking away. You sighed looking back at Heizou to see him already looking towards you with a smirk.

"So anyways, how can I help you?"

Working for the head of the Kamisato Clan was scary at first, you didn't know how to act around such important people. Eventually, you warmed up though, Thoma was very nice showing you the ropes and telling you that it was gonna be okay.

You also met a lot of people on the way through working your way up the ranks. You were just below Thoma's role and were helping him help the two siblings who ran the whole place.

Today was the day that the Traveler and a couple of other friends came to visit for some dinner. You and Thoma were invited of course, but the duties of cleaning came first and seemed to take up most of the time they were there.

The both of you worked as hard as you could, making sure every place around the house was spotless and clean. You eventually had to run back a few times to refill the bucket of water you were using, which was something you were tasked with doing again after getting through 4 rooms with the same bucket of water.

You managed to pick up the heavy bucket and insisted you do it when you saw Thoma's concerned glance. Walking out of the room you two were currently cleaning and watching the water as you walked to your backyard to insure you didn't spill, you hadn't noticed the person standing in your way in the hallway.

Met with a hard back, you shut your eyes and let out a grunt before stumbling backward with the bucket in hand.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't watch where I was going." You said before looking up at the man in front of you. Kazuha, that was his name. You remembered from the numerous amounts of visits he and the Traveler paid here.

He looked at you with a soft smile and glanced towards the soaked clothes you now wore after bumping into him. His eyes didn't seem to return to your own for a bit, and he looked more in a trance than anything at the fact that you were now soaked and more exposed.

"Apologies," he finally spoke, "I should have moved more off to the side in case of anyone going down the hall." His kind words reached your ears, and you smiled back. "Please, it's my fault, I was the one not looking where I was going." You said with a closed eye smile, that was until you felt something touch your chest and immediately shot your eyes open in surprise.

Kazuha had taken out a handkerchief and was dabbing the area where you had gotten wet. He seemed pretty focused on doing it too, his hand occasionally being too one to touch more of you than the cloth. You began flusteredly stuttering out words of assurance that it was okay and you were fine being a little wet. He didn't seem to hear you though and kept making sure to soak up as much water as possible in the tiny little handkerchief.

Once he was finished, he stood back up straight again and kept smiling at you. If you focused, a small blush coated his cheeks from the interaction.

"My apologies again, you've worked so hard making this place look nice." He said, and you smiled back with a larger blush on your own. Moving around him, you walked past to keep your journey going outside to empty the bucket, not before his hand brushed along your side as he walked the other way.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #dansleif x reader #dansleif imagines #childe x reader #childe imagines #kazuha x reader #kazuha imagines #heizou x reader #heizou imagines #atskiruma

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ginevrapng · 11 months

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𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄?

pairing: george weasley x slytherin!reader

word count: 5.2k words

content: no war au, non canon quidditch match, fluff, some angst, insecurities

a/n: this was super fun to write and my first long harry potter fic, hopefully you all enjoy it! hopefully george isn't too ooc in this. i might make a part two of this with smut but i'm not sure yet.

"did i ever tell you how beautiful you are?" spitting out your drink in shock you turn to look at your best friend and see him looking at you, swaying drunkenly. george has definitely had too much to drink tonight. before he can say anything else that you know he'll regret in the morning you cover his mouth with your hand. "honestly george, i leave you alone for an hour to talk to adrian and you get wasted and start sprouting nonsense. normally you're the one stopping me from doing stupid stuff, georgie," you giggle, vowing to make sure you don't get any drunker so you can get you both home safe.

you first met fred and george in potions in your 4th year and it was a rocky start, they didn't like slytherins and you didn't have the time and energy to waste on trying to get people to like you. however that all changed when in one class fred nearly messed up his wit-sharpening potion by putting gurdyroot in instead of ginger root, immediately you grabbed his wrist before he could put it in, straight away scolding yourself for doing such an idiot thing and dropping his hand. normally you wouldn't've minded if someone messed up their work, plus potions was your best class so it'd be less competition but sitting in front of george weasley and then right next to fred it was inevitable you took a liking to their antics, even if you never told them so or even spoke to them.

at the time fred was extremely suspicious, some girl who he'd never spoke to before stopping him from putting in an ingredient. before he could even question it you stated, "it's meant to be ginger root, you've got it wrong." you turned away from him and carried on with what you were previously doing, not wanting to see his reaction, you warned him and he'd do with that what he will. you expected him to not respond but you didn't expect utter silence from his workside. "you can believe me or not, i don't care. don't just do nothing though, snape's going to think you're up to something and it'll distract me when he comes over."

you started to get pissed off at weasley's lack of movement before you heard him not so quietly whisper to george, "oi, what's meant to be in this thing? gurdyroot?" you didn't hear what george said, you're not sure if it was because he was actually quieter or if you were slightly stunned and pleased with the fact he took some notice on what you said and didn't throw away what you said you said completely. in the corner of your eye you saw fred turn back around and almost sounded reluctant as he replied, "shit. urrr thanks.. i guess."

after that day you both took more interest in each other, only talking when having something that needed to be said but that was definitely an upgrade in your relationship. george took notice of this change but others didn't. by the end of your fourth year you talked in potions together all the time, with george joining in by leaning over to talk to you both, cheekily winking at you whenever he caught you looking at him, promptly leading to an eye roll from you and occasionally walking over to you under the guise of needing to get something where you were, leading to many detentions and you vowing to never speak to him again if he distracted you in crucial parts in class. everybody just thought george wanted to talk to fred but they were wrong.

you also listened to their prank ideas, giving impute when you can but mostly just fascinated by everything they were saying. you'd stealthily give them presents for christmas and their birthday and they'd always tease you about it but you'd always be able to tell they liked what you gave them. they also decided to bother you while you studied in the library. to this day you think about shock people must have had when fred and george said they were going to the library for the first time, madam pince probably thought she was going mad when she saw them.

it just turned into a secret, your friendship, you're not really sure how, you just knew that fred and george didn't want people to know about you. you wish you could have said the same but you had no interest in what others thought of you. you were very prideful of your house but you didn't care about your reputation, at those times you wish the twins felt the same. you would like to say it didn't bother you to keep quiet about how you're friends with them but it did, not all the time but sometimes it did get to you. you'd finally found amazing friends and they actually liked you for you and have interest in what you had to say, they were probably the closest friends you had and had ever had. you knew that you kept to yourself and you liked that fred and george somehow managed to get you to open up so being made to never speak to them in front of other people hurt sometimes. you sometimes wondered if you mattered that much in their lives.

that was answered to you after a quidditch match, slytherin against gryffindor. slytherin won by a landslide and for some reason the other team were off their game this time, whatever the reason it was a win to slytherin. you wished you could have cheered on fred and george, they are great beaters but you knew you couldn't have cheered for them, that's okay though because adrian was on the slytherin team and you two have always been close since first year. you were decked out in all green, cheering him on and the rest of the team, house spirit and all, scarf and socks matching, watching them play.

on your way back into the castle you see a small commotion and notice the green robes so you went over there to see an argument between some of the two teams. malfoy spewing rubbish like all ways. more and more people were starting to come over and you knew soon one of the professors would get there, you were not going to lose house points today, especially when you've just won the game and gained house points in return. "the only reason you're still on the slytherin team malfoy is because your father's paying flint's parents to keep you on the team." you heard potter say as you walked up towards them.

you reached your hand out to touch malfoy's shoulder pulling him back. "let's go malfoy, it's not worth it, we just won."

you froze as you heard potter talk to you, he'd never even looked at you before, now he's got it in for you. "who are you, anyway? just some other blood-purist? bet you're so proud of your house cheating." if you were more confident in that moment you would of spoken up, would've told him to shut it, that he knows nothing about you. but you realised everyone is looking at you, slytherins, gryffindors even hufflepuffs and ravenclaws and the twins are behind harry and oh god you felt sick. you tried your hardest to not look the twins in the eye or even in their direction at all. you thought that they're probably disgusted that they ever talked to you. you're nothing like what potter thought you were and everyone who knew you knew that but fred and george never did ask you questions about your beliefs, maybe afterwards they had doubts when potter said that.

you kept your head down and walked away, pushing against people, clearly trying not to cry. you just wanted to get out of there. you found out how much you mean to the twins when george see's your figure leaving, going back to the castle. without much thought about the situation he goes to correct harry, because there was no way in merlin he was going to let someone think that about you. fred beat him to it though, "she really is nothing like that harry." george pushes against everyone as he followed you, catching up with you quickly.

"don't worry about it, harry just doesn't know you."

you couldn't help it, it just came. you were overwhelmed with emotions and frustration you stop momentarily, spun to face him and shout, "that's the whole problem. he doesn't know me! leave me alone weasley, i never want to speak to you again." you walked off quickly, deciding you're done. it's over and you just want to sleep for the rest of the day.

george wasn't too fond of this idea and he catches up with you again. honestly he was slightly taken aback by your outburst, one second he saw you desperately try to stop malfoy from saying anything else due to not wanting to get into trouble and the next second harry made you run off while trying not to cry. he wished that you never saw the fight between them all, he hoped you didn't think ill of him. "please don't go, let's just go wait for fred somewhere, he's probably still fighting with malfoy."

"didn't you hear me weasley, i'm done. i'm not going to be your stupid secret. i don't want to be your bloody friend only when it suits you."

george never meant for you to think that you're a secret and he knew fred felt the same. "i'll fix this." you didn't answer but all you could think was 'no, not this time.'

you did however successfully help deescalate the argument. gryffindor's confusement with how the twins stood up for you left malfoy to throw a couple of snide comments without any reply from them, leading enough time for pansy to notice mcgonagall on her way over and warn all her house that they should leave, including a very worked up malfoy.

"what the bloody hell was that all about?" ron questions fred, everyone else turning to face him thinking exactly the same thing.

"well obviously malfoy was being a git like always."

"you know bloody well that's not what i mean."

"is she who you go see when you 'go to the library'?" ginny asks. "i mean seriously, it's not like i believe you both have suddenly started studying multiple times a week."

fred knew ginny's caught him out but he doesn't know what to say. how would they all react to finding out about you and what if you don't even want anyone in slytherin to figure out your friends with two gryffindors.

"we're friends." fred hears as he turns round to see george had come back. he didn't want for you to feel like a secret anymore. he wonders where you are and questions him. "she said she's going... actually i don't know where."

"is she okay?"

george pauses for a second, "we'll figure something out."

ginny was the only one who didn't have something to say about what they'd all just found out. she had a suspicion something was up, she just didn't know what, she really did not think that it would be something to do with a slytherin though. but everyone else definitely was not taking the news too well. not just a slytherin but someone opening being friendly with malfoy, at least in their eyes that's what it looked like.

every time you saw the twins after that you walked away, doing everything in your power to stay away from them. that did not work for long, as two days after the incident you had charms first period with george. mentally preparing yourself to see him and ignore him no matter what he said or how funny he is, you get out of bed, get ready and leave the common room.

as you left you get the fright of your life. "oh merlin, george! what are you doing lurking about?" your heart racing out due to the jump and still trying to be angry and scold him even though you missed him and fred incredibly so. you see him smirk as he tries not to laugh and you want so bad to wipe that smirk of his stupid face.

"i've come to carry your bag, you always complain that you have to carry to many books on tuesday so i've come to save you, i'm your knight in shining armour! we've got charms." before you can even retort and tell him to go away he's taken your bag and is walking off.

"hey give me my bag back!" he doesn't try to keep in his laugh this time as he then assures you that you'll have it in charms. "i need that bag now weasley, if you remember before class there's normally a little thing called breakfast."

"i did actually forget about that. let's go have some breakfast then." he carried on walking and didn't give you your bag back. you're walking in the halls together and you don't know how to react. not only are you angry at him but now you're confused because what the hell does he think he's doing and why did he suddenly care about you enough to be seen with you.

"stop thinking so much. you know me and fred really care about you and we'll make it up to you. we never wanted you to feel the way you have been feeling. godric i'll even drop a bag of dungbombs in mcgonagall's classroom because i know how much you secretly don't like her. even if you pretend you do, i see your face scrunch up in annoyance all the time when she talks."

you unsuccessfully tried to hide your smile, as you mumble about how you want your bag back and how you wasn't even thinking about that. george relaxes more as he see's you smile, there was always that insecurity that you'd never talk to him again after the quidditch match although fred was so sure you would and told him so and he's so fred was right glad.

right now though at this party fred's on his own this time with getting home. you're pretty sure he was talking to seamus finnigan and neville longbottom last time you saw him anyway so it's unlikely you'll see him again tonight if he's with all gryffindor alumni.

you've found it best to stay away from that lot anyway, as you've only properly met the twins family and harry, and you know they're probably very welcoming people now that they know who you are and the twins want you to properly meet them but you had a hard enough time meeting hermione granger for the first time, you don't want the hassle of going through that all again and even after all these years you know that she still doesn't like you, no matter how close you both are to the weasley family. you remember bursting out crying the first time they invited you to spend the holidays with them at the burrow when they found out you'd be staying at hogwarts that year for christmas.

now george has come to find you he hasn't left your side, not even by an inch, so close together you can feel each others body heat, squished on a small sofa together with your thighs touching. he tries to hold out to you and you're unsure about what he wants to do but lean into his touch anyway. "don't get your drink on my dress or i'll kill you weasley."

he grins and pulls you closer, you're now tucked under his chin, being able to feel his heartbeat. you're already hot from the summer heat and the dancing, but you welcome being so close to him, quickly getting used to the position.

'fred's normally the one who's touchier.' you didn't realise you said that out loud until george pulls you tighter to him, humming back to you.

you both sit together for a minute or two, listening to the party-goers and the music in the background. you could sit there all day with george, doing nothing in particular, just being next to him. just like at hogwarts when it was only you and him, fred's off somewhere else and you'd both sit under one of the oak trees in the shade away from everyone else and play with his hair absentmindedly, reading to him as he closes his eyes and listens. but as you go to sip your drink you hear george say, "i don't like how you and fred always touch each other." you stop moving and draw your hand back down without drinking. he really must have no filter when he's had too much to drink.

"what on earth are you talking about george? you make it sound like we're bloody all over each other. you know we don't have any kind of feelings for each other. plus does it really matter to you?"

you look to him and see his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a tight line. "you are all over each other though." he looks you in the eye while whispering. "and pucey, what's his deal, you know he was a shit quidditch player right?"

you get up to leave, george may be pissed drunk but right now he's pissing you off. you decide you'll cool off and come find him later on to take you both home. that is unless you see him making out in the corner with alicia spinnet. last time he got in a mood like this with you it was at a party in your last year at hogwarts. for some reason george just had so much to drink and started questioning why you spent the night dancing with fred and even started talking about how you went to the yule ball with flint. aware that you were both drunk you didn't want to argue you left to find fred. later when you came to find george after missing him and wanting to forget about the outburst, you saw him snogging alicia spinnet, his hands on her waist and her hands in his hair. just seeing it made you feel sick and overcome with feelings you don't want to confront as you left the party without saying bye to anyone, nearly forgetting the password for the common room as you stumble inside, wanting to forget about the entire night.

this won't be like last time though as before you can successfully make your escape george holds onto your wrist and drags you back down onto the sofa, nearly landing on his lap. with his other hand he tilts your head towards him, so you're face to face and eye level. too flustered and surprised, you don't move. you're so close to each other that you can can smell the firewhisky he's been drinking and the sandalwood shampoo he uses and his cinnamon scented body wash and cologne. you're so close you can count his freckles and you're trying desperately not too think about this. george is your best friend, george weasley is not someone who should distract you from your surroundings because all you can focus on is him.

"the only person who you should be all over is me. not pucey, not fred, not that twat flint that took you to the yule ball, not that bloody ravenclaw who kept eyeing you up in our 5th year, it's me, not them." your eyes widen as george talks softly to you. you're gazing into each others eyes and you don't think you've ever seen george look so nervous in his life. you think his eyes are beautiful, you've always thought that. like he told you he thinks yours are tonight, like how he told you how beautiful in general you are tonight. but right now it's different, he's being vulnerable and trusting you by letting you look, by letting you softly study his features in more detail than you've ever been able to in the past, it's an open invitation into his heart and soul, trying to convey to you how much you mean to him. his chocolate brown eyes are glazed over and you're unsure if it's due to him drinking or if it's because he's telling you how he feels and he's getting emotional. you see crinkles under his eyes from his countless hours of laughing and smiling and pulling pranks. how he's slowing blinking as if his eyelids feel heavy. you wonder what he can see in your eyes and during this moment you can't even begin to recall what your own eye colour is. the warmth of his eyes making you forget your own, you believe they're probably glassy due to what george confessed.

you licked your lips, suddenly finding them incredibly dry, "why?"

george slightly moves his head back further away from you, "why, what?" george didn't know what you would say but he didn't expect it to be a one word question that he's too drunk to wrap his head around to understand. he genuinely did not know where this night was going to go at the beginning but one thing lead to another and in george's eyes you started getting to touchy with someone and then all these words kept tumbling out that he thought he'd never say out loud.

"why you?" you turn your head away slightly, twidling with your fingers.

"thought it was pretty obvious after all i said love." your stomach flips at the name, "i'm mad about you." he looks at you with bated breath, waiting for your response.

"tell me you mean it." george hears your voice shake and as he leans closer to you to try and get you to look at him again he see's tears running down your face, uncontrollably. he's taken aback by seeing you cry and hates that he's the one who caused it, he's unsure of what he should do after but right now he can't help but to draw you into his arms, holding you against his side, placing a kiss on your head and stroking your back. he hears you sniffle and strokes your cheek, wiping away all the tears. "please.. please georgie. tell me you mean it."

"i-i mean it. i've never meant anything more in my life-," george starts to say but you cut him off.

"are you sure? your friends don't like me and what if alicia spinnet comes up to you and kisses you again or asks you out on a date." you whisper, still holding on tight to him. you're insecurities flowing through you.

"well firstly, i have no idea what my mates have to do with how i feel about or why it matters. and secondly..." he trails off as he then realises exactly what you said. george lifts a hand to your face and gently places under your chin tenderly, lifting your face up and facing him. "wait, are you jealous of alicia spinnet?" he studies your face, red eyes still watery and seeing you heat up and pout. he knew he got his answer and became more confident and self-assured. grinning from ear to ear, he says, "i didn't even know you saw that love. we only kissed once." you furrow your eyebrow causing george to chuckle and gently smooth out the wrinkles with his fingertips before kissing your forehead. "you seem bitter, love?" he teases.

you knows he's riling you up for a reaction but that doesn't stop the reaction. now he knows you might share feelings for him nothing will stop him from pressing your buttons in hopes that you'll get fired up and shout at him because he finds that you're so cute whenever that happens and you might even shout out your feelings and tell him how you feel. he might be able to get you to tell him how you feel about him or if it's only you being possessive of your friend after you've had a few drinks but he really hopes that isn't the case.

"weasley if you keep teasing i'm going to be mad at you," you huff. george hasn't stopped grinning though and you want so desperately to wipe that grin off his face, to have the upperhand but you've lost all capability of telling him you feel the same, you have since your fourth year and even now you worry that you aren't good enough, but you remember to before how he was looking at you and what he said about you and how pleased he looks right now and all of that worry goes away for awhile.

you lunge closer to him and close the already small gap between you two and kiss him, momentarily stunning george by your bold attention before he's smirking and kisses you harder, moving his hands so one is tracing patterns on your waist and the other delicately holding your jaw and cheek.

after kissing for so long it feels like your lips might just fall off, you reluctantly break apart, not realises how much you currently needed air until you could get some. "so you like me too, ay?"

you refuse to answer out of being shy and kiss him again, mainly to get him to stop speaking but there is one thing about george and that's after all these years he knows you like the back of his hand, so he doesn't kiss you back to watch you get frustrated, and boy did it frustrate you. you scowl as you look at him, "why'd you do that?"

george tucks some of your hair behind your ear, causing you to shiver at the action and george to smirk at your reaction. he whispers in your ear, "tell me you like me too, love." you want so desperately to hold onto him but he's moving away from you before you even get the chance to. he's looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to crack.

you soon crack, just as george knew you would. "bloody hell, george i am in love with you, alright! so kiss me now!"

"you..you what?" if you were more sober you would have instantly regretted saying that, however as soon as the words came out of your mouth you forgot what you confessed to entirely.

you grab hold of his shirt and pull him closer towards you again. "please, georgie, 'need you." that snaps him out of his thinking as he starts kissing you again, this time less soft as before. he's almost hungry now as he's holding onto you tight, and has started moving down your neck, placing kisses in his wake. you softly moan at the sensation before you're rudely interrupted by whistling.

"oi, get a room you two. it's bad enough to have seen you make heart eyes at each other for the last six years." you've never wanted a strangle fred more and it looks like george is sharing a similar sentiment, as he glares at him across the room.

"lets get out of here sweetheart before i punch him in the face." you giggle and stand up.

"that's awfully violent of you george, i'm meant to be the one that gives threats." you've started to sober up a bit now but lean against him anyway, wanting an excuse to be close.

" 'fraid i've always seen through that. you're not very scary love, i mean you scream every time you see a spider. if i trapped you and dear little ronnikins in a room with a spider, just imagine the chaos." he chuckles as he looks at you fondly and holds your hand while pulling you tighter to him, he sees through your guise of needing help to stand and keep steady but that doesn't stop him from holding on to you, any reason or excuse to hold you and touch you he's going to take it, especially now you're both sobering up.

george steers you through all of the people as you're making your way to the door. "wait georgie, do you need to say bye to everyone?" you stop in your tracks and pull in your hand back a bit.

"nah, doesn't matter." you softly smile and hold tighter onto his hand. you hum and follow him out the door.

as soon as you're out the door you're hit with the winter cold. " 'm cold," you grumbled as george was already taking his jacket off.

"here, love," he replied as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, giving you extra warmth. "if i knew it was going to be this cold i'd have brought a scarf." he wraps you up in his arms, slinging his arm around you and sharing body heat, making in difficult to move quickly but appreciating the warmth.

"don't know why we couldn't apparate out of there, bloody annoying if you ask me." you complain.

he laughs as you make a fuss. "there were muggles there."

"what the bloody hell were muggles doing there?"

"careful, love, you're starting to sound like malfoy," he responds playfully, causing you to lightly hit his shoulder and pout.

"you know what i mean. how does he know muggles?"

"dunno honestly, but on the brightside i get to walk home with a pretty girl." you pinch his arm softly to silently tell him to quit it, getting a laugh out of him.

"there's no 'brightside', it's night. plus i'm just pretty?" you feel the need to tease him like he's been teasing you as george always wins in this kind of thing, never failing to make you shy and flustered.

"oh no, not just pretty. the most beautiful person in the world." he tells you without missing a beat. in response you kiss george's cheek, pleased and feeling fuzzy at what he said and you both walk together in comfortable silence.

"so you're in love with me," he remarked. you can hear his grin. the cogs turn in your brain as you remember what you told him.

you keep your head forward even though you want to turn away, and silently thank how you're still slightly tipsy, giving you the courage you need to not deny your deeper feelings. "shut up weasley."

george spins you to face him, your skirt flowing with the movement, the skirt that you definitely should not have worn tonight no matter how long it is. pressing your foreheads together he whispers, "i love you too. now lets get home before i freeze my bloody bullocks off."

you burst out laugh and bury your face in his neck, this time making him shiver at the touching contact. you don't think you've ever felt happier than right now, as the man you love loves you too.

you carry on your walk and swing your hands intertwined with his. "does that make me your girlfriend georgie?"

"merlin! it better be, six years is a long enough wait."

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley #hp x reader #harry potter x reader #slytherin reader #weasley x reader #weasley fluff #harry potter fic #harry potter #gryffindor x slytherin #george weasley fic #weasley twins #♡ mine / writing #♡ george #harry potter fluff #hp x reader fluff #harry potter x slytherin!reader

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frannyzooey · 1 year

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Short Days, Long Nights: 4

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature (slow burn, forced proximity, age gap)

A/N: Thank you so much to the lovely @mourningbirds1 on this one, for always being so reassuring and kind and patient and @the-ginger-hedge-witch for being the best cheerleader. Enjoy! ❤

Morning comes, and with it, an apology.

You had stayed in the bedroom late into the morning, the relief at his presence not enough to overpower your stubbornness at being hurt that he left in the first place. Waging a silent war with yourself while you watched the sun rise and flood into the room, you knew you were going to forgive him, but hadn’t wanted to face him just yet.

You relent when it seems absurd to stay in his bed any longer; his footsteps a muted sound in the other rooms as he moves around the cabin. Waiting until your ear judges him to be in the kitchen, you wander out, wrapped in his thin blanket.

He looks up when you walk into the room, watches as you stop hesitantly at the edge of it, and follows you with his eyes when you perch on the edge of a stool across the counter from him. He has his gun in his hands, the pieces placed on the surface as he holds a rag in his hand and he studies you for a moment before dropping his eyes from your face downwards.

“Listen,” he starts, clearly uncomfortable and out of practice. “I didn’t mean to…”

He folds the greased rag, his fingers playing with the cloth for a second before he looks up, his eyes finally meeting yours. “I didn’t mean to just leave like that.”

Your fingers tangled in the blanket around your shoulders, you look away, and bolstering your intended indifference, you shrug. “It’s okay.”

“It wasn’t,” he presses, resting his hand on the counter. He tilts his head to meet your eye line in an attempt to impress the genuineness of his words upon you. “You asked me to wait, and I didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You say nothing, and he keeps going. “I just…that dream I had the night before. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Do you wanna talk about it now?” You ask the question quietly, trying to keep your face neutral, knowing he’ll be scared off by pity or concern.

He shakes his head, a firm decision set into his expression. “No,” he says, not unkindly. “I don’t, I just wanted to tell you because….because I don’t want you to think I would leave you. For good like that. I wouldn’t do that, and I’m sorry.”

You were worried he left - you knew it, he knows it. His apology dives down to the deepest recesses of you, touching the part that knows he wouldn’t truly leave you behind. Hard to convince yourself of that yesterday though, there isn’t any point in pretending like you weren’t worried, but your hurt insists you try anyway.

“Thanks.” You give him a one word answer, his eyes lingering on your face as you look anywhere but directly at him. If you do, you know he’ll be able to see right through you to everything you felt yesterday: the panic after he left, the worry, the comfort you sought in his bed.

It had been about comfort: the distress at his possible abandonment had been near paralyzing the longer he stayed gone. You had paced between the walls of the cabin, trying to come up with a plan should you need to have one, but your mind seemed unable to move forward. It stayed rooted in thoughts of him, wondering if he was okay, attempting to walk through the forest with him, trying to picture him coming back through the door as if wanting it hard enough could conjure the actual thing through sheer will alone. The loss of his protection was something you hadn’t been able to reconcile, and seeking out a substitute in place of the real thing, you had eventually curled up in his bed.

He said he would be back, but your own doubts had rang louder in your head than his voice and you tried to silence them by burying your face in the cool cotton of his pillow, inhaling until you felt relaxed enough to sleep.

When you woke up, the absence of him in the bed had been felt just as keenly as his presence in the other room.

The pause between the two of you is loaded as he lingers there for a moment, unsure of how to move forward. You give him an out, switching the subject. “So, find anything good?”

You shift on your seat to get comfortable while he unpacks the bags from yesterday, unloading them onto the counter. A good haul by all means, you pick through the items when he bends to pull something from his backpack on the floor.

“Saved the best for last.”

He places the untouched bottle of whiskey on the counter with reverence, the amber glow rich and inviting in the sunlight and when you look up at him with an excited expression, he matches it with a small smile. You reach for the bottle, and he grabs it before you can touch it, sliding it back towards him.

“Hey!”

“What, you gonna open it right now?” he teases. His eyes drop down to your playful pout, shaking his head at you.

“This can be our reward,” he starts, drawing out his intent until you raise your eyebrows at him. “Let’s check the traps first. Show me you remember what I taught you?”

–

You do remember.

The afternoon is spent going over the traps he’s set around the property, making sure you both know where they each are. The various triggers to them hidden in the brush, he makes the time pass easy with his calm, confident guiding instructions: his hands showing you how he tied a certain type of knot, why he decides to place one where he did, explanations of his methodology and where he learned it from.

You’ve been quiet all morning, answering him with single sentences and avoiding his gaze every time he looks at you. He hurt you yesterday, and as if keeping a physical distance from him is akin to protecting yourself emotionally, you try to force some space between the two of you as he leads you around the woods.

It’s tentative, your trust. You know he meant what he said in the kitchen, but your faith in other people has been broken too many times to fully believe him. Or rather, the problem is that you do trust what he said, but you know you probably shouldn’t.

Your head bowed, you hang slightly back while you walk with him, but he doesn’t allow it. He slows his pace, matching your steps.

“I think this cabin used to be part of a resort property,” he begins, seeing your head lift out of the corner of his eye. “When I was walking yesterday, I found another one. Sealed up just like this one was.”

He turns his head, looking at you and you keep walking with your hands in your pockets, but he can tell you’re listening.

“About three miles that way,” he gestures. “I’ll take you to it, if you wanna look around for yourself.”

“I take it that means you didn’t see anyone else?” you reply, looking out at the trees.

He shakes his head. “Nope. Not a soul.”

For the first time today, he sees a smile unfurl at the edge of your mouth and a subtle weight lifts in his chest at the sight. “I almost forgot to keep watch, it was so peaceful.”

You nudge him with your elbow, your steps shifting closer to his for a moment. “I know that’s not true,” you reply. “Joel Miller would never let his guard down.”

He glances at the crown of your head for a moment, shifting his gaze out into the forest. “I don’t know. He might.”

The canopies of the trees block the heat of the late afternoon, but allow the sun to filter through and he keeps glancing at the way the shadows slide across your face, how the light catches on your angles. Shafts of it pierce the air around you, gold rimming the edges of vegetation.

“You ever go on vacation to a place like this?” he asks.

“No, but I always wanted to though. I thought it would be fun, to be so far away from everyone and everything….but only for a weekend or something. Whenever I took vacations, they were always in cities. I’m a city girl.”

You say the statement sheepishly, and he chuckles. “Oh yea?”

“I just love – loved,” you correct yourself, “everything there was to do. To see, to explore. I liked the sounds of the city, the people watching. The food, the museums. I only had a year or two of being old enough to go alone before everything went to shit, but it would have been neat to see things overseas. I always wanted to travel.”

A small crease forms along his forehead when you mention your age, and you continue. “What about you? For some reason, I can’t imagine you were a city person.”

“What makes you say that?” he asks, playfully affronted.

“Just a hunch,” you smile. “Am I right?”

He nods. “Yea, I was always more into the quiet than the noise. Though, if I knew how much quiet I would hear for the rest of my life, maybe I would have tried to seek out something a little different.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “So did you stay at a place like this?”

The question, an innocent one, gives him pause and when you look over at him, a frown has settled between his brows. Recognizing the look of someone being pulled into a memory, you touch his arm, drawing his attention back to you.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to –”

“No,” he replies. “It’s…,” his eyes go far away for a brief, fleeting moment before blinking. “I did. A couple times, actually. It was nice.”

He can still see her by the water, if he tries hard enough. The back of her dark curls in the fishing boat, the peel of her laughter over the splash of water. His hands skimming along the delicate wings of her shoulder blades as he covered her in sunscreen, the heat held in her small limbs after a day in the sun.

Your hand is still on his arm, your fingers pressing into the soft flannel and you wonder what he would do if you just slid your grip down the length of it, fitting your palms together. You want to, not only in a silent thank you for everything he’s shown you today but also to ground him against what he is clearly still thinking about. You want your touch to draw those memories out of him through skin to skin, take away from the pain that lives deep within him and so you do it, before you can stop yourself.

Your hand fits neatly within his, his much larger palm skimming and then fitting against your own when you thread your fingers together. You have to splay them wide to work between his, and he looks down at your joined hands, bringing both of you to a stop.

“Hey.”

You’re waiting for him when he looks up, sunlight catching the light brown in his weary eyes and you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“You wanna check on the garden with me? Make sure nothing got into it overnight?”

He straightens with a deep inhale, gently moving his hand out of your grasp.

“Sure.” Palm up, his hand motions you to go first. “Lead the way.”

–

“I don’t think I’ve ever drank whiskey before.”

Your statement makes him shake his head, crouching low to open the door to the woodstove.

“Well, I know people say it’s an acquired taste, but seeing as it’s all we have, it’ll have to do.”

His walk yesterday satisfying the worry that there is anyone close enough to see smoke, he kneels down to place kindling into the stove, twisted pieces of newspaper catching immediately when he drops a match inside. He stacks dried chips of wood, some smaller twigs from outside and when the fire is more than sufficient to burn on its own, he reaches for some logs he brought in.

You watch from your seat on the chair, unable to look away from the way he just knows how to do this kind of stuff. No hesitation, no questions asked. Just like the way that he takes care of you in so many other ways, he just does because he knows how and his experience not only in this life, but in life in general, has heat centering between your thighs. You can still feel the ghost of his hand in yours, warm and dry, and the need spills and merges with the same one that’s been simmering since last night, when you surrounded yourself in his scent.

He stands, shutting the door to the stove and walking into the kitchen, he retrieves the whiskey.

Coming to stand in front of you, he holds it out.

“You did good today. First sip?”

You take the bottle from him, childishly hoping he would have taken a drink first so you could place your lips where his had been and twisting it open, you grimace at the strong smell but tip some into your mouth nonetheless.

He sits down across from you on the couch, leaning back with a sigh, his thighs dropping open in his relaxed position.

The fire crackles in the corner of the room, the sound of it comforting in the silence and you take another slow sip of the whiskey, wincing at the burn as it slides down your throat. A spreading warmth quickly coats your gut and you offer the bottle to him in a wordless gesture.

He leans forward to take it and tipping some into his own mouth, you shamelessly watch the swallow of his throat.

“Well?” he asks. “What do you think?”

When you make a face and shake your head, he chuckles - even more when you hold your hand out for it again.

It goes like this for a while: the passing back and forth, your sips smaller than his own. You find yourself slouching in your chair, all tension drained from your limbs and feeling a lack of inhibition paired with the sudden need to chat, you ask him if there is anything he wishes he brought with him from the QZ.

The butterfly he has hanging in his window flashes through his mind, but he shakes his head.

“No. Well,” he reconsiders, “I did have a guitar. I wouldn’t mind having that for nights like this.”

“You play guitar?” You sit up in your seat in interest, reaching for the bottle and he gives you a single nod when he hands it over.

“Yea. I mean, I’m not really good or anything. But I liked it.”

“I wish it was here too,” you say quietly, handing him back the bottle. He looks at how much is left, glancing up at you for a moment and he takes another, smaller swallow.

The lantern’s light dying, the halo of brightness only extends so far and between that and the woodstove, the ambience of the room is intimate, almost romantic. He’s looking down at the bottle in his hands, twirling it slowly and you watch the movement with hooded eyes: those capable hands, situated right between his firm thighs. Your eyes trail lazily upwards, over the width of his chest, up along the few buttons undone at his throat and you see him swallow under your gaze.

“Starin’ pretty hard at me,” he says, the sound of it low in the dim room, the edge of his mouth curving up. The sound breaks you from your daze. “Got something on your mind?”

For a moment, you think about telling him. Opening your mouth and letting out every thought that’s plagued you over the last couple of months: what would he kiss like? What would his mouth feel like against yours? His hands? The weight of his body? The warmth of his bare skin?

Why didn’t he come to bed last night?

That last thought surprises you with the ease in which it floods into your mind. You had sought out comfort above all else, but now, after being around him all day and sitting with him in this room, you acknowledge that there was a small part of you that wanted him to crawl into that bed last night when he came back. Slide under the covers, curl himself around your back, and use those capable hands - the ones you’ve been daydreaming about for weeks - on you.

The spread of his thighs. The fit of his shirt. The line of his throat. You unconsciously slide your tongue along your bottom lip, still looking. The light of the fire dancing across his face. The threads of gray in his beard. The width of his body, the strength held in it.

“Okay, you definitely got somethin’ on your mind,” he jokes, looking over at you. “You’re lookin’ at me like –”

He stops himself, because he knows that look. It’s been years since he’s seen it directed at him, but he knows it just the same. He frowns, sitting forward and knowing he’s about to discourage anything else, you cut him off.

“You wanna dance?”

The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them, the liquor loosening your tongue and he stills, his eyes snapping to yours with the bottle halfway to his mouth.

“What?”

You giggle at his pause, and probably should be more put off by the way he’s looking at you like you’re crazy for even asking but instead his expression strikes you as funny. He shakes his head, and you let another laugh bubble out.

“We don’t even have music,” he says, taking a sip. “Pretty hard to dance without that.”

“That doesn’t sound like a no to me…” you tease, sliding down the cushion you’re sitting on to stand and he’s already protesting.

“No, that was a no. Don’t bring that idea over here, I’ve indulged you enough. This is where I’m gonna draw the line.”

You sit down on the couch next to him, your knees pressing into his thigh. “You haven’t indulged me near enough.”

The double meaning of the phrase sits heavy in the air, more noticed by him as you’re too lightheaded to fully grasp the meaning. “Saying yes to one thing isn’t enough, Joel. Besides, I miss music and you just said you used to play it. You could hum a song for us or something.”

He sighs, letting his head tip back into the couch as he looks at you. “I said I played guitar, not that I sang.”

“Oh come on,” you coax him, leaning in close. “No one else is around. Just you and me.”

He stares back at you, and his direct gaze sparks something deep inside that’s reaching out for him. His heady presence, his physical closeness on the couch; your need for him last night and all these weeks coming to the forefront of your mind.

His eyes drop to your mouth and tension fills the space between you, your heart picking up.

You yearn to crawl into his lap, your eyes glancing down at it.

“I do have something on my mind, actually,” you start, and he breaks his gaze, looking down at the floor.

“No, you think you do, but it’s the whiskey. I –”

You’re already shaking your head, reaching for the bottle to set it aside. “No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking about it since before the whiskey. For a while, in fact.”

You shift closer and he stiffens, and though you try to hide it, he still sees the way your face falls for a split second before determination takes its place. Your interest made plain, you decide to ask him what you’re really wondering.

“Why didn’t you come to bed last night?”

Your words are almost whispered, but he hears them loud just the same. His eyes close, his jaw clenching and he takes a minute to respond, his now near black eyes opening again to meet yours.

“You know it wouldn’t have been just sleeping,” he replies, and you bite your bottom lip, his eyes resting on the plump pillow of it for a moment. He hates to make you doubt yourself when everything he’s done up to this point has only been to prepare you, to make you more confident - but not this. He can’t let this happen.

“It would have,” you lie, your voice softer this time. His body shifts on the cushion, giving you some space and you fill it immediately, leaning into his side to take his hand in yours.

He doesn’t stop you. His fingers illuminated by the flames, you slip your own into his hold. His palm is rough and calloused, but warm and dry and you’re so fixated on gently skimming your touch over it that you don’t notice how he’s holding his breath.

“I wanted you too, you know.” You confess to him, your face slipping into a sort of trance as you trace the deep lines you find across his palm and he sighs deeply, watching your fingers.

“You shouldn’t.”

The words are said with little conviction, more of a resigned scold and he lets his eyes flutter shut, taking a deep, slow breath. Your touch lights a path across his palm, every nerve tuned into it.

“I think about how you would feel, if I touched you like this,” you continue, ignoring him, choosing your next words carefully. “I think about how…..how else you would feel, if I touched you in other ways.”

He starts to slip his hand from yours, and you hang onto it, not letting him.

“I think about what it would be like to kiss you.”

The words bring his attention back to you and you look up at him, your face so open, so innocent and pleading that it kills him.

“Can I?”

He swallows, his eyes dropping down to your mouth.

One kiss would be okay, right? One kiss to satisfy your curiosity and his own. One kiss before he turns you down. One kiss before bed.

”It won’t be just one. That’s not how this works.” He has enough experience to know that it’s never just one kiss, and whether you know that as well or not, he knows you are already hoping for more.

He is too, which is why he should say no.

Should.

You lean closer, your breath mingling with his own and he stays still, his hooded eyes watching you. The fire crackles in the corner, the magnet that pulls your mouth closer to his getting stronger with every second and you lean forward to bridge the final gap, your eyes fluttering shut.

It’s a gentle kiss, a press of your mouths together as he stays still and lets you do it. You fit your lips around his bottom one, feeling the way his mouth subtly responds and then you’re kissing him again, this time with more intent.

He shifts to face you, his hand coming up to brush against your cheek as he holds you in place and for a split second, you get a tiny glimpse of his hunger when he opens his mouth to gift you his tongue. It slides against yours, his breath tasting like whiskey and warmth and your lips mold around his as he deepens the kiss. The pads of his fingers flex against the hinge of your jaw, pulling you closer and he leans into you as he takes.

You make room for him, tilting back to guide him closer and then –

“Stop,” he growls, pulling back.

Your eyes open, and he looks so torn and frustrated with himself that you immediately reach for him. He catches your hand, placing it back into your lap.

“You shouldn’t – we shouldn’t do this. You need to go to bed.”

Frustration and embarrassment flares bright inside of you, his dedication to your safety and well being something to be admired, but you wish he would push through his obvious hesitation and touch you. He wants it just as much as you do, you could feel it in his kiss and while you are younger and less experienced in this world, you’re not inexperienced, and it's almost insulting the way he is taking your choice away from you.

“But I want –”

“It’s late and you’ve been drinking.” He means for it to come out more forceful, but it sounds more like a plea for you to understand. When you don’t move, he continues. “You’re all cooped up in here with me and it’s making us – making you – think and feel things you shouldn’t.”

You sit there, mortification at rejection growing hot behind your eyes and still staring at him, he frowns, his voice dropping into a murmur.

“Go to bed,” he says, sighing. “Please.”

You stand from the couch and he won’t meet your eyes, keeping them fixed on the fire. When you stay there for a moment, he eventually steels himself to look up at you sternly and it’s that look that makes you turn, leaving the room. When he hears your bedroom door shut, he presses the heel of his hand into his eye, holding it there with a frown.

Your sweet mouth. Your warm breath. Your hand, so small in his own. Your eagerness. Your innocence. Your trust. Your body, underneath his, right here on this couch.

He sighs, closing his eyes.

Fuck.

The sound of your doorknob turning clicks down the hallway, a crack appearing where you’ve left it open and he stares hard at that black, inviting space.

Stares at it as he takes another drink.

Stares at it as the fire pops in the corner.

Stares at it until the lantern gutters and dies.

In the dark, he stretches out on the couch and listening to the fire, closes his eyes.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

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citruscitrushope · 1 month

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Complaining about things that don't matter part one: Akito What is Your Hair Color

Outside of Virtual Singers, when limited hairstyles mess with hair colors it either involves adding colored streaks,

Changing the locations of existing colored parts,

Or changing the colors of colored areas.

However, Akito's colofes hair instead adds a gradient, which usually isn't done in the game, and it's higher up than other gradients in the game, thus looking a lot like he has darker roots and his hair is dyed.

Though prsk usually insists that all characters' hair, no matter how wacky, is natural, this is the first time any evidence is given towards their hair being dyed as opposed to against it (outside of ensekai saying Saki's pink tips are dyed even when this wasn't said in the original text). Furthermore, seeing as it comes from Akito, whose yellow streaks are the only fully confirmed dyed hair in the game, and whose hair doesn't match his father's or older sister's in the slightest while his roots in this card are a lot closer, it makes sense to take this as his hair being dyed.

Even though his hair is shown to be orange in his older child live2d and without the yellow streaks, I've seen many a 11-12 year old sporty boy that wears graphic t-shirts and acts like little Akito did, they're prone to dying their hair outrageous colors.

So my headphones theory thing seems correct!

Until Rise as One gives us little kid Akito.

WHO DYED THE BABY'S HAIR??? ENA??? HE CERTAINLY DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS, AND I DOUBT HIS PARENTS WOULD ALLOW THIS. HE'S LIKE FOUR YEARS OLD-

So all in all why must you toy with my emotions prsk is he a natural ginger or not

Join us next time for "Tsukasa how does your hair's gradient work"

#project sekai #akito shinonome #project sekai headcanons #mine ☆

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jae-bummer · 1 year

Text

Gentle Pressure

Request: 1 & 4 from the prompt list with Joshua!! Maybe something cute?? 💓

Prompts:

1) "Please don't stop touching me."

4) "Okay...so this is new."

Pairing: Seventeen Joshua x Reader

Genre: Fluff

You let out a soft groan as your bedroom light flipped on.

"Y/N?"

Squinting, you looked over to the figure in the doorway that you couldn't quite focus on. You slung your forearm over your eyes before muttering an unintelligible response.

"Wake up sleepyhead," the familiar voice chuckled, crossing the room to sit on the bed beside you. He gave your shoulder a gentle shake, but you were unmoved.

"Not sleeping," you croaked.

"That sounds suspiciously like something someone who was sleeping would say," he hummed.

Removing your arm from your eyes, you glanced to Joshua, your best friend in the entire world.

"Go away."

"Rude and uncalled for," he muttered, now resorting to flicking your nose.

"Noooo," you moaned, rolling away from him. Your whole face already hurt and that didn't make it any better.

"Sensitive today," he clucked. "What's wrong?"

"Headache," you rasped. Turning back toward him, you winced. His cheerful expression had quickly fallen into one of concern. Reaching upward, you moved to rub a finger over the crease between his brows, but he immediately pulled away.

"Aw.." you complained, your hand still hanging in midair.

"Did you take something?" Joshua asked, springing up and beginning to flutter around the room. "What about ice? That can help with..."

"I took Tylenol," you grumbled slowly. "Tried ice. Drank water. Turned off lights."

You watched Josh's eyes grow in alarm before launching himself toward the door and smacking the switch, once again plunging you into dim lighting.

"Jeonghan even made me this awful ginger drink he said would-"

"Never trust Jeonghan, especially when he's mixing ingredients together," Josh laughed lightly.

"He was just trying to help," you muttered.

"Pfft," Josh laughed. "He could smell your weakness. He can't control himself. His goblin sensitivities take over."

Making his way back toward you, he sunk into the mattress again. Pulling himself toward the middle, he sat crisscross, and furrowed his brows. Looking behind him, he snatched one of your pillows and set it flat against his lap.

Patting it lightly, he nodded to himself. "Let me try to help."

"Would said help involve me moving?" you croaked.

"Unfortunately," he nodded in mock sadness. "But I think it'll be for the greater good."

Heaving a sigh, you shifted your body backward. Targeting him with a questioning expression, he nodded as you leaned back into the pillow and placed your head in his lap.

"Okay..." you hummed, looking up at the underside of his face. "So this is new."

He smiled down at you, causing your chest to stir with something akin to butterflies. This whole moment felt entirely too intimate, and headache aside, you weren't mentally prepared to handle whatever was going on here.

"Tell me if this doesn't help," Joshua cooed, sinking his fingers into your hair. "If it still hurts, I'll stop."

Rubbing gentle circles into your scalp, you tried not to illicit a moan of pleasure. While your headache was still rooted deeply in your skull, this was definitely providing some sort of solace. The pain instantly eased enough for you to close your eyes and exhale softly.

The simple sound caused Josh to shutter to a stop, wary of causing you any discomfort. "Are you okay?"

"Joshua Hong," you ground out. "Please don't stop touching me."

After a beat of silence, your words slammed back into your understanding. Opening your eyes, you could see Josh's ears turning red.

"I mean - I," you stuttered.

"No, no," he said swiftly, beginning to move his hands again. "I get what you meant."

His fingers moved more quickly and erratically than before, causing you to hiss out an "Ouch."

Stopping again, Josh looked down at you with wide eyes. "What did I do?"

"Just," you whispered, reaching up to grab his palms. You moved them around your head slowly. "Gentler. Like you were doing."

"Right, gentle," he said sternly. "Got it."

Allowing yourself to be leisurely pushed into the pillow, it wasn't long until you fell into an easy silence. You could tell Josh had been nervous, but you were unsure if it was centered around his fear of hurting you or simply having you this close.

It felt like you had been friends forever, but as you looked back on it, you had never been very physically affectionate. In general, skinship could be overwhelming for you, so you didn't necessarily seek it out. If it happened, that was fine, but it seemed like Josh never wanted to make you uncomfortable in that way.

But the thing was, he could if he wanted. Glancing up at him, you reckoned with yourself. Joshua was one of the few human beings in this world who felt cozy. As an entire person, he was warm and agreeable and safe. Even though this contact was new for both of you, you had never felt more secure than you did in this moment.

When what he was doing felt this good, it was easy to blur the lines of friendship you had so carefully set up between the two of you. He was the type of boy you fall in love with without meaning to. He was the type of boy you could happily introduce to your mom. He was the type of boy you would gladly file your taxes with and trust with your credit information.

That was Josh. Safe, stable, loving, Josh.

Chewing on your lip, you finally noticed that he was watching you as well.

"Whatcha thinking about?" he said quietly.

"How good this feels," you fibbed. To be fair, it wasn't an outright lie. It did feel amazing. It just wasn't at the forefront of your mind.

"A little bit of pressure helps things loosen up," he hummed. "You'd be surprised how often I do this for the members."

Your stomach sank a little bit at his words. For whatever reason, you had felt special with him doing this for you. It was silly to get hurt over him interacting in the same way with other people he cared about.

"It definitely helps," you whispered, looking away.

After a few moments of silence, you felt him poke your cheek. "Hey."

"Hey," you exhaled, looking up at him again.

Sucking in his lips, he seemed to be warring with himself. Halting his motions, you were surprised when he pulled his hands from your hair. You remained still as he set his palms on his knees and took a deep breath.

The next part felt like it was in slow motion. Before you could even register what was happening, Josh began to lean forward. Arching his back until his face hovered directly above you, he paused. Without saying a word, he placed a small, tender kiss at your hair line.

Your mouth popped open at the small gesture. A feeling of comfort unfurled in your chest and burned brightly. Had he really just done that?

"That...that was also new," you managed, searching his eyes as his gaze remained locked on you.

"I...I thought maybe it would feel good," he said, his voice raspier than it had been only a few minutes ago. "For you. Pressure and all that. Lips are softer than fingers and-"

"Josh," you laughed. "You don't need an excuse to kiss me."

"I don't?" he croaked.

"No," you breathed, admittedly surprised by your own words.

A small, delicate smile played across his lips while his eyes danced mischeviously. "In that case..."

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precious-little-scoundrel · 2 months

Note

do have any rosie headcanons? especially erm, ahem, *spicy* ones? (asking for a friend, plz/thanks)

Oh Nonnie, don’t I just! come on into the pillow fort, (don’t forget to bring your friend) and be careful not to crush Meatball’s paws.

Massive amounts of gratitude to my darling friends who contributed so very much found herein, some aspects word for word, and who are always there in my hour of need: @suraemoon @faegoddessog

Well hello hello. Is this a requested description or a love letter? Legit don’t know but here goes…

Cock-versations || Major Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal edition 🥇

nsfw (AF!!) below the cut

General Remarks: let’s just start this off with some entirely accurate blanket statement like- “this is the prettiest cock in the 100th.” Yeah we could get in the weeds and start measuring everyone up to see if The Nazi Prosecutor and Legendary Pilot of 52 missions and the 100th’s beloved Step Dad(dy) Who Stepped tf Up is indeed the biggest, but like, why? Because what we know without that experiment (although Lordy, what an experiment that would be??) is that this man knows how to use what he’s got. And what he’s got is substantial. Must I go on to euphemize the whole “piloting a school bus like a fighter jet?”

Sordid Details: Rosie stands for something else besides shortening that name, ok? This color is like…like Monet specifically invented it for the perfect shade to paint his waterlily and for the gorgeous and graduated pink hues of Major Rosenthal’s cock leading to the impossibly wide mushroom head that’s situated on a very plush pink base that’s almost as wide as it is long and so is in danger of appearing mildly shorter at times? but that’s mostly an optical illusion due to the girth. Yes we said Gale is packing the perfect dildo cock but beauty is in the eye of the beholder and so at a certain point one must ask: for some of us, doesn’t a little individuality almost add to the beauty than subtract? Such is the case with the Rosie Cock, it’s just special enough you could pick it outta a lineup but it also doesn’t look so unforgettable as to be mistaken for an elephant trunk or a betting pencil.

For your endearing consideration: beyond being the prettiest color and the most deliciously sized appendage, this man also takes care in his appearance, those short and curlies are kept nice and trimmed for your ultimate sucking pleasure and the pubes are a little surprise in themselves as, rather like his mustache, they have dark roots but there’s a definite glint of ginger to them when you get them out into the bright sunlight or when the sun is really pouring into the window. So, your assignment is to 1. outdoor sex, romantic picnic or lounge chair by the pool it don’t matter just no fox hunting. 2. Let this man throw the covers off after a night of passion and then you yourself wake up early enough to survey the landscape of him, as it were, i swear the prettiness will take your breath away

A Note on the Wielder of the Weapon: back to the whole piloting a school bus like a fighter jet… He’s packing but he’s not a pummeling packing sorta guy like dear Egan who will bully his receivers into orgasms, or Cleven who will soberly and expertly dish them out like they are communion wafers to be reverently accepted. Rosie, no, see, he’s both generous and also -fun. He’s a dork, he laughs when he shouldn’t and trains in his underwear -but one of those times to laugh is sex!! a little levity never hurt sexy times and some of the most truly romantic sex is fond and giggly while also full of expertise, passion and hours and hours of this man wooing the fuck outta you like you’re not already signed sealed and delivered as his. This is the sorta man to be able to line up y’all’s eyes, noses and lips all while undulating like a damn dolphin at the hips.

Finesse, my friends, finesse.

Twinkle Toes aspect: such a fucking tease and a dork at times, as we’ve mentioned. Also between his crazy eyes and his lawyerly self assurance, this man has terrifying capabilities to turn his virtues into villainous weapons. See: gaslighting. He can make you feel nuts for thinking he’s teasing the fuck outta you when he’s just been sitting here with colleagues. (Honestly? This could get intense but that’s for a darker fic at another time.) But to keep it chill and more in character, let us just say you’ve gotta be ready to be wooed for hours on end, and that’s not for the faint of heart. Neither is being discreetly fingered in front of his prestigious associates at dinner or in the elevator. Because he does that, so subtle and yet so intense. He’s 100% a “feral for no panties under that skirt” kinda guy, all the house chores he so sexily helps out with also means he can hide your underwear like a pro just in time for an outing.

In short: he’s all about sex all the time, but not in the rabbit-like aspect of some of his fellows, doing dishes is a natural form of foreplay for this man, he understands the inner workings of arousal, it’s on his mind all the time but it doesn’t mean he’s doing it all the time, and in fact, this is one of the few men who could put it in you for a few strokes, bent over the hood of his Chrysler after dancing and drinks, only as a means to tease you and then put himself back in his trousers and drive home while you get so desperate you actually start calling him Daddy. -not in the modern weird way (no shade but it stands) but in that 40’s sorta way, (which has layers of its own).

If ya know, then ya know.

One more addendum: once he’s inside you, this man’s face displays every wondrous, anticipatory, contemplative and blissful emotion that is part of the orgasmic journey, he also cums an extraordinary amount, you’ll think he’s done at last and NOPE, here comes another rope of the thick stuff. Which means that after the frantic over-the-edge-first-wave-of-cumming bit, he’ll open his eyes again and smile down at you as he works the rest out in a more measured but very lethal way, if you’ve not cum yet or are about to again, this is when he gets you and it’s made so much worse/better because of all the hot and slick stuff he just deposited 🥰 also…humming

#masters of the air #rosie rosenthal #mota #mota asks #cock-versations #naughty sleepover #nate mann

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irulaan · 1 year

Text

HOW FAR IT CAN BEND | REGULUS BLACK

— the way he loves was tainted since he was a child. it didn’t help that he always, subconsciously, desired everything his older brother could put a hand on.

nav | regulus’ mlist

✧ PAIRING. regulus black x fem!reader

✧ WORD COUNT. 1.8k

✧ WARNINGS. low self esteem. mm slightly sirius black x reader. english isn’t my first language

You have been around them for a while, you knew them but never had a word with any of the four boys. Lily Evans, a fierce girl, whose personality and intelligence was paired with ginger hair and bright viridian eyes, had a few words with you, at a potion class. And her good nature ignored the fact you were usually linked to a pure blood fanatic, Regulus Black.

On said occasion, her words kept slipping through her mouth—she was surprised by your kindness and the way you’ve carried a light conversation about the day’s topic, since she expected you to be a complete asshole. She believed you could be a good friend, a good partner at class—as your intellect matched her own. Over the following weeks, she kept looking for you to start banal conversations, about classes, about anything. It was about time to meet her friends.

Three of them had a study meeting with Lily Evans, and they adored the girl, they won’t say no. “I think she’s Regulus' girlfriend?” James has said, when yours and Lily's blooming friendship became a topic.

Sirius snorted, “Pff, that spineless idiot could never have a girlfriend. Haven’t I told you he's as cold as my progenitors? The only way he’s getting to that point is if they arrange something” He was unusually so bittersweet about his brother’s affairs. Since he stopped caring a long time ago.

James smiled at his behavior, laid his books down on the table. And sat across Sirius and Remus. “We just saw them”

“Maybe she pity him?” He earned a round of laughs. Remus had shocked his head, covering his eyes with a large hard at Sirius’ nonsense.

“Yeah, most likely” James mocked him.

Remus eyes’ caught his ginger friend arm in arm with her new friend, you. “Speaking of the devil…” He said, warning his friends.

They liked you in a beat. Sirius' first impression was that you were a complete opposite to his younger brother. You laughed at their lighthearted jokes and had a focused expression while they explained some of their pranks. It was nice and refreshing to have you around, it wasn’t always, but it was often enough to have a sense of proximity. A belief and a feeling you were a friend to all of them. Your first impression of Sirius was meh—nothing less, nothing more than you expected. He had the most charming personality, an ounce of his attention was enough to make you feel like a radiant sun—a fake one tho. You knew his ways with girls, how they would fall to his feet with a smirk and a mischievous grin. Your confused feelings constantly met a wall when you saw his interactions with a potential love interest, even if it’d last a few weeks—days even.

Regulus Black had collected the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend on a sunny, fresh spring morning — just a month before summer holidays. It was a question you have been expecting since you realized your romantic feelings for him, months ago. It was easy since he let you into his softe, most vulnerable side. Where you learned about his terrors and insecurities. Where you learned his need for reassurance —that you like him, that you love him— has its roots in his abused childhood, where his parents deprived him of pure and sincere affection, only praising him when he did things Walburga and Orion thought were correct. His way of understanding of love was tainted by his emotional baggage—it was something you thought you could work on together.

Four Gryffindor boys saw you both hand in hand, kissing in public. You didn’t see them, as your eyes could only lay on the boy staring lovingly at you. You were both in love. That love you crave and envy when you’re young and wild, a love seemingly pure and sincere at the surface, one that couldn’t be marred by anything or anyone, but one that was cursed by the first shared glance. You'd have to scavenge a bit to find its rotting foundations. That day Lily Evans and her kind self gave you a cold shoulder unmatched by the concern and guilt in her eyes. They boys didn’t acknowledge your presence. It lasted—and continued for a week, until you couldn’t bear with it.

You were glad you found the group hanging in the common room. Your presence was noticed at first by James, who tried to escape when his eyes met yours, Lily held his hand, keeping him in his place.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Sirius received a whiplash when he turned when he heard your voice. Now, all of them stared at you. “Like if i made a mistake i would want to apologize, but i don’t know what i did” Your distressed tone and how your voice broke were enough to make the older Black brother feel a pang of guilt. Like a stab at his heart by his own hand. Because it doesn’t matter how hurt he was when he saw you and Regulus’ holding hands—it didn’t matter because now he had hurt you, by isolating you from them, your friends. Thinking you did something wrong.

The sand-like haired boy shared a quick look with Sirius, as saying you, and only you can fix this. It was his responsibility. “It’s okay, i’ll explain to her” He had said and the rest of them flew out of the room in a blink.

Now alone, he had focused on your red rimmed eyes, on how you bite the insides of your mouth. “I’m sorry”

You let out a humorless laugh, “What does that mean?”

His breath faltered, “I shouldn’t have done this—I was angry I guess” You nodded, confused. “I don’t know how to say this, huh”

To catch Sirius Black struggling to find some words was a spectacle—nor of you enjoying it. It fueled your anxiety and desires to run back to Regulus’ soft gaze, the one he gave you when you told him you were going to fix whatever you’ve done. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe you should have let the time work it out for you.

“Sirius, you’re scaring me, please,” You tilted your head, getting close to him. It destroyed him—your fucking worried eyes.

“I liked you, and you ran to my brother’s arms!” His tone was harsh, and he crossed his arms in his chest when you shot him a confused look. Like a spoiled child, who wants something he can’t have.

“So you decided to not talk to me again, without saying anything?” He couldn’t utter a word, he felt dizzy, even. He couldn’t understand how he was in that situation. “You know, I liked you too, for a while, but I knew if I told you, you’d have broken my heart. That’s who you are”

He breathed in, appearing trapped. “It was different with you!”

“How—how was it different? —No, you know what, save it. I didn’t deserve any this” You pointed furiously your index finger in his direction.

He bit his lip. He would rather see you angry than put up with your understanding side. He hurted you, and maybe he didn’t deserve to be forgiven, for now. “Sorry, it's not gonna happen again. Don’t know what else I can do”

So he didn’t do anything.

Summer came over, distancing you from them. You tried to close the wound, because they never apologized, and Sirius did a terrible job at it. But it didn’t matter anymore, because you probably won’t see them again. They graduated and you’ve heard James and Lily were trying to have a baby—feeling the need to leave something behind. You were afraid to reach for them, to send a letter congratulating them, to know what they’d do now. You missed Lily and developed a hate for Regulus’ older brother and his poor emotion management. A feel that grew everyday like an undergrowth, one you watered with self doubt.

“I knew he liked you,” Regulus’ had confessed some time after. “He stared at you as if you were a piece of meat. Another girl he can ruin and then left”

You wouldn’t have suspected anything if his eyes wouldn’t give him away — he felt guilty.

Your breath wavered at the realization, and Regulus knew. “You’re cruel, I’ve been in love with you for months and you only asked me to be your girlfriend because you saw Sirius as a threat?” Your voice was delicate, slow but unsteady, as your own insecurities jeopardize your calm.

Regulus had shook his head rapidly, with a mind ridden by guilt. “I felt the same, I was just scare you didn’t want me that way—He just made me realize I had so save you”

You snorted. “Pff, Save me?”

His head gave up, hanging low, avoiding your eyes. “I’m sorry I was wrong, please don’t be angry at me” He begged in a low tone, barely audible. But it was sincere and ras.

“I’m not—“

“—Nor disappointed” You smiled. It was real Regulus. It was Regulus’ realizing his decayed stability. And you had promised you'd go through this.

Warm hands greeted his cold, sharp cheeks. Held his head and mind—quite literally. “I’m not, Reggie,” It was heaven, as your thumbs traced his cheekbones. “I’m just sad, you needed — you waited until someone gave me attention to act. You wouldn’t have said anything…” In such a short time your self deprecating ruminations had leaked through your conscious mind. But you won’t unfold your heart in this situation.

His head lingered near your shoulder, craving more of your touch, but so afraid to ask for more than he thought he deserved. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry, can you forgive me?” He kept apologizing, not raising his voice.

You push his head up. You hadn’t expected to find tears at the edge of his silver eyes. “You’re forgiven, just don’t do that again, please” Like a caged animal set free, his arms snaked around your torso, flushing you against him. But it wasn’t enough—he craved more.

Shoving his nose into your shoulder, Regulus had tried to remember your scent. To have it forever stuck in his mind. “I’ll try. I’ll do anything” A short silence filled your ears. “Do—do you still love me?” He muffled against the upper side of your left collarbone.

You placed a short, tender kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Reggie” A promise, it was a promise. All you could do was give, give everything to him.

Foundations putrid and all, when pieces fell, they’d remain together glued by the sweet but dangerous desire of being needed and to need each other. Glued by three-word promises.

COMMENTS, LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED i will literally give you forehead kisses if you support me <3

#regulus black x reader #regulus black x reader angst #regulus black #sirius black x reader #timotheé chalamet x reader #marauders era

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kiwanopie · 1 year

Note

heyyy!! do u think we can get some sort of drabble with crime!au kiyoomi and his fiancé?? i’d love to see how they interact ~~~~ :)))

You pick at a hangnail as dress shoed feet click before you.

You don’t lift your head as orchestral music muffles under the click of a shutting door. You don't even hear it. Too immersed in your own racing thoughts to hear anything outside of the rattling in your skull. It’s ironic how radiant you look in your wedding dress. So aglow you compliment the gemstones in your tiara. Because you feel so sick you could puke your guts out till your stomach lining tore. So high strung you haven’t slept since he parted with you the day before.

Your pupils scutter over nothing as you pick at the skin until it bleeds. Tear it off your nail until the elastic of your cuticle strips down to the root of your thumb, and feel it start to ail as the wound throbs. You barely notice. Rather, stay clueless to the sting in the midst of your silent daze.

But it’s short lived. Those familiar larger palms incase your hands in their loving grip, careful in their cradle. He’s flower petal gentle as he brings one of your hands toward himself and wraps your thumb in a thin bandage. And even in his crouched position beside the makeup chair does he almost see eye to eye with you, all 6’4 of him meagerly attempting to look as small as possible for a woman he has no intention of causing any more distress to.

His voice is balming, it always is when he addresses you. “What are you thinking about, angel?”

You silently furrow into his hands.

“I-I’m…”

“I don’t...” You shake your head. “I’m sorry. Everybody’s out there waiting for me and I-I’m-“

Kiyoomi cuts you off quietly. “Don’t even think about that. Today is about us. No one else.”

You frown.

“I’m… Kiyoomi… Out of all people…” And it’s a good thing this makeup is waterproof because you’re surely about to push it to its limit. “Why me? Why choose me?”

“Don’t ask me a question like that.”

“But why, Omi?” Your lip wobbles. “I-I’m not like you. I don’t think like you, I don’t have the same training that you do, o-or the strength to be able to handle a lifestyle like this. I’m not the wife of a kingpin. The only reason I’m here is because-“

Kiyoomi firmly shushes you as he stands to his feet. Too burly and too tall, blocking out the overhead lights till the raven tufts of curls on his scalp turn miscolored and fluorescent. Like always your eyes follow him in his movements, like always, he’s ginger as he pulls you in his grasp.

Your nose is mushed into the cotton of his button up, his lips are warm and definite as he presses them against your forehead. “I don’t care about titles or circumstance. I don’t care about any of those things...” Kiyoomi swallows. “I love you and I need you. If this lifestyle is what you’re worried about then I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe and taken care of.”

You sniffle against his dress shirt. Something like that should be comforting. Especially in the arms of your future husband - one half of a bonafide national empire, and you, soon to be its elegant latter halve. Saying you fear your safety may have been a little asinine to say. In this past year and a half, you haven't so much as gotten a splinter without being assured that whatever half-cocked piece of wood that wronged you would wind up making soot prints in some landfill. You could throw a rock and hit a corpse before it even got the chance to berate you. Saying something like that will only encourage him more. An excuse to distance you from your public freedoms, and hire men that all but follow you around and chew your food for you. And even though it’s pig shit to deal with, it's already habitual. It gives you room to keep your fears to a one man minimum. But with that being said,

Kiyoomi skims his nose down the bridge of yours till his breath is kissing fever spots on your Cupid’s bow. Shivery puffs of desperate air, overwhelmed in his distance. He pinkens like a schoolboy when he’s too close for too long. Amps himself up just to trill at the high he gets from being this near - but not near enough to taste the bliss that’s your candied lips. He loves you. - He loves you. He loves you. So much it makes him shudder. Even in the short time he’s had his hands on you his palms have gone sweaty. Making hotspots on your cheekbones as he thumbs your stray tears aside.

“I know we’re not the most… conventional couple,” Quasi-post-Stockholm syndrome? “How hard things were for you in the beginning, and how much it took for us to get here. I wish I could’ve done this the right way. - You deserve that much.”

“But I love you so much it makes me sick. It’s the only thing that keeps me breathing.”

You lean into his hands as he scoots away to get a good look at you. His lovesick eyes turn the whites of yours a stinging scarlet, and you hate that seeing him get choked up cuts you so deeply.

But he only ever really cries in front of you anyway. A man this neck deep in generational human trafficking, drug trading, arms dealing, and like a million other equally awful things, should have his fair moments to excuse himself for a quiet weep. “Kiyoomi…”

“I’m sorry,” He leans in for a watery kiss. “I’m sorry. Weakness is the last thing we need from me right now.”

You guide his head against yours, and share the weight with a linchpin. It’s so recurrent that it’s earnest when you console him. “Wellness is, baby. This is about the both of us.”

“I… already don’t know what my life would be like without you. I never think about it. Every day it’s you and when are you gonna be home. - Are you gonna come back to me in one piece? Will you still be you and will you love me the same? What would I do alone in that big house?”

You mirror his thumb as you sweep away his tears. “What would I do if I didn’t have you anymore?”

The way Kiyoomi melts into your grasp is like the anodyne of a baby bird, crooning as you assague him. There’s nothing on this earth that could give him the comfort you do, and the realization of that feels brand new every time.

It’s a fresh wound. Accustomed to your chains to the extent that each chafe feels like a kiss. Metal burrowing in torrid welts, but the key’s a stipulation. Only freed by requisition.

“It’s not about safety… if anything happens to us. I’d rather it be me.” You whisper. “If not to know you’ll keep living, my peace would be in finally resting. Not wondering. Not worrying.”

“Regardless of our unconventionality,” You kiss him. “I love you.”

It’s a fresh wound. Accustomed to your chains to the extent that each chafe feels like a kiss. Metal burrowing in torrid welts, but the key’s a stipulation. Only freed by requisition.

“Regardless of our unconventionality,” You kiss him. “I love you.”

#only half of it posted at first im SO sorry #he loves you so so much he loves you more than anything and he’ll give you anything as long as it’s not a life without you #now if that’s a good thing or a bad thing is up to you to decide #sakusa kiyoomi #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #sakusa fanfiction #sakusa x reader #sakusa imagines #sakusa fluff #crime au #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #crime au!kiyioomi #drabble #sakusa drabble #crime lord!sakusa kiyoomi

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buckyegans · 4 months

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Ok but hear me out - Bucky and reader rooting for different baseball teams

⭑ saw this and immediately had to answer. i love this concept and competitive bucky will live rent free in my mind for the next 4 months thank you

⭑ no warnings except language, drinking, bucky and reader being competitive, gender neutral!!!

You sat back in your chair, movements languid as you sipped your beer, shoulder to shoulder with Curt and Buck. The bar was packed with both American and British airmen alike—you were focusing in and out of the conversation in front of you. You’d caught a lot of smack talk between your friends beside you, and the RAF men across the table. They all wore smug looks, and spoke poshly. Your lips wrapped around your beer as you tipped the rest of it back. You caught some of the words.

“If you wanna get the Major excited,” Curt started, reaching for the refill Crosby set down. “Baseball.” Curt stated.

Major John Bucky Egan turned, brows shooting up. “Yeah! Specifically Yankees.” You rolled your eyes at this. The Yankees? Out of all the teams, Egan was rooting for them? Bucky caught the action, and he sat up straighter, brows furrowed. “What was that, L/N? You rolled your eyes.”

You shrugged, grabbing your new beer. “Just…didn’t pin you for a Yankees guy, is all.” you had muttered in response, lips forming a thin line.

Bucky scoffed. “I love the Yankees. You probably root for the Cardinals or somethin’…” Bucky replied offhandedly, shaking his head.

It went silent for a moment. You blinked at the Manitowoc-born man for a few seconds, jaw dropped. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you asked, eyes narrowing towards him. “The Cardinals are great.” you defended.

“They’re not bad, per se. But, Yankees are better—by a long shot.” Bucky stated, looking at you with wide eyes. This was a revelation for the both of you. You’d known each other for months, and you’d never known that you’d rooted for opposing teams.

“You’re just mad we kicked your ass at the World Series in—” you started, but Bucky intervened.

“No, no, no—I’m not mad, *sweetheart*. I’m just sayin’ that when they’re head to head again, we all know who’s gonna win.” Bucky said, smiling lopsidedly, cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

You huffed. “Yeah, the Cardinals—”

“You misunderstood, it’s gonna be the Yankees—” Bucky interjected again. The RAF men across the table watched the banter back and forth with creases between their brows. The argument definitely wasn’t helping the tension between sides of the tables. Between you and Bucky sat Buck, who had his arms crossed. Buck didn’t give two shits about baseball, or any sport for the matter. He looked like he was about to explode—which was a lot considering Gale Cleven was a very patient man. Reaching for his ginger beer, Buck sighed, lips forming a thin line. He glared daggers at Curt, who’d started the topic of baseball.

“Sorry that I like watching a good team, it’s just—” Bucky was saying. His words were cut off from the sound of Buck setting his bottle on the table roughly, the sound silencing the banter.

“How about they both suck?” asks Buck. “Because you guys really need to shut up…” he muttered. It was silent for a moment—then, you and Bucky were at each other’s throats again. Buck huffed, shaking his head. He gave one last glare to Curt, who just shrugged sheepishly. Some friends he had, right?

#hbowar #callum turner #hbowar imagines #masters of the air imagines #masters of the air #bucky egan x reader #john egan

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jungle-angel · 6 months

Text

Lessons In Nursing (Calvin Evans x Reader)

Summary: You decide to have your mother-in-law come and give a lecture to your class, but woe to the heckler who incurs her wrath

Tagging: @floydsmuse Meggy, I hope you're good with it, but the entire time I wrote this I was picturing Emma from White Christmas as Patricia and could literally hear her voice as I wrote it (lol).

Warnings: Pregnancy, college admin being a sexist moron, misogynistic remarks, etc.

"You nervous Pat?" you asked as the three of you made your way towards the science buildings on campus.

"Not in the least (y/n)," Pat answered confidently. "I've had to give numerous lectures in the past and have yet to face one that I couldn't do. How about yourself? How are things?"

"I'm tired," you answered.

"I tried that home remedy you suggested the other day Ma," Calvin answered. "The one with the raw ginger?"

"Did it help with the morning sickness?" Pat asked.

"Morning sickness, yes but the fatigue is a different story," Cal said.

"A mug full of chamomile tea in the morning will do you good," Patricia explained. "Did it with every single one of my kids and it hasn't failed me since."

The three of you had at last arrived at Franklin Hall, a tall, imposing gothic monstrosity of a building that looked more like a medieval church than a reputable college institution. Here was where the science classes were all held, chemistry, biology, anatomy and physiology as well as the nursing courses that you taught.

"You gonna be able to make it this afternoon?" you asked Calvin as he handed Six-Thirty and his leash off to you.

"I'll make it," Calvin promised. "Dr. Powers and I will both be there after our classes get out at twelve. But after that I need you down to the cafeteria so you can get something to eat. I don't want you faint in the middle of the lecture."

You chuckled and kissed your husband, even as Six-Thirty nudged your belly with his nose. "Now you knock that off," you told the dog. "That's Daddy's job."

Calvin smiled as he gave you one last hug, his hands trailing to the slightly evident bump that had shown up overnight. He couldn't feel the baby kicking quite yet, but you knew that when he did, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off you.

"Good luck Sweetpea," he said, pressing one last kiss to your lips. "I'll see you at noon."

"I'll see you then."

Cal pulled open the heavy oak and iron doors, letting you, Six-Thirty and his mother in first before he followed you both down the hall. He headed straight for the chemistry labs with Dr. Powers while you and Pat headed for the anatomy lecture room.

Your girls were all awaiting in the room, each one in their lab coats, chattering away as you and Pat took yours from the rack. "Good morning ladies," you chirped.

"GOOD MORNING PROFESSOR EVANS!" they chimed in.

"Alright ladies," you announced, taking your place in the lecture pit. "We've got our demonstration today at noon and to prepare, I've brought a little guest to help. So without further adieu, I present to you all, my mother-in-law, Patricia Evans."

"Thank you sweetheart," Patricia said, taking her place at the stand. "Alright ladies, none of the usual bullshit this morning. Lets get down to business....."

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

"So am I technically doing this right?" the eighteen year old asked Calvin.

"Yep, you're good," Calvin assured him. "Just let it drip into the beaker and let it do its thing."

Calvin absolutely loved working with the eager, fresh-faced students who had come from all the local high schools in the area. To him it meant being able to get back to basics, to go back to the roots of chemistry and to teach them from the ground up. He loved when they got creative with their notebooks, drawing colorful pictures and diagrams and experimented with their handwriting. Any other professor would have turned their noses up at it, but Calvin and Anthony Powers absolutely loved it.

"Hey Professor Evans?"

"What's up Frank?"

"Remind me again what color the fluids are supposed to be again after they've boiled?"

"It's supposed to be pale pink," Calvin answered. "What color is it now?"

"It's a dark pink."

"Let it go another five to ten minutes but no more than that," Calvin instructed.

He looked up at the wall clock and saw that it was ten minutes till noon. As soon as he had the chance, Calvin ordered everyone to clean up and to put their experiments in the glass cabinets until tomorrow. He dropped his lab coat in the laundry and made his way down to the other end of the wing, eager to hear and see your demonstration.

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

"..........Now these particular tests are quite easy, but determining the results can be a real hassle," Patricia explained to the audience. "Back in the day you wouldn't have thought to test the patient's blood at all and half the time you'd wait until really, truly, severe symptoms appeared......."

"Your mother's a knowledgeable lady that's for sure," Dr. Powers remarked to Calvin, the two of them sitting higher up from the pit.

"Knowledgeable isn't even the half of it," Calvin whispered back to him. "You should see when she really gets going."

"Now after the blood test has been done," Patricia continued to explained. "It's best to continue the treatment as is, until further notice or until the results come in and then determine the course of action therewith."

"Sounds like a brilliant plan," someone in the crowd spoke. "Coming from a woman."

The entire room fell so silent one would have been able to hear a dog whistle. "I'm sorry?' Patricia enquired.

"It just seems funny to me to think that you know more than the doctors on this campus," the grey-haired young man said to her. "After all, nursing is one of the lesser sciences."

Calvin wide-eyed and made a face, Dr. Powers groaning and running his hands over his chubby, round face. "Oh no, he didn't," Powers groaned.

"Brace yourself, this shitshow's about to get worse," Calvin warned him under his breath.

You and Patricia glanced at each other, your mother-in-law noticing the way your jaw clenched and how your posture stiffened.

"Young man do you work here?" she asked.

"Well......yes but I....."

"And to what department do you belong?" Patricia questioned sharply.

"Well, the medical arts," the young man replied. "You see I had studied at the Harvard Medical College and......."

"Oh and Ivy Leaguer huh?" Patricia said. "Tell me now, have you ever stitched up a man with shrapnel flying around you in all directions?"

"No I......."

"Have you ever had to repair a torn aorta in a tent before?"

"No I......"

"What about trenchfoot?" Patricia questioned again. "Ever had to deal with any of that?"

"No ma'am I......"

"Then I wouldn't consider you much of a doctor in that case," Patricia scoffed.

"Now ma'am you see here for a moment!"

"Young man, I had to earn my stripes in the middle of a shelled out church in France, rearraigning men's guts day after day while everywhere else was having the living daylights pounded out of them," Patricia snapped. "So until you yourself have been there, I suggest you sit up a little straighter, keep your legs crossed, shut your mouth and mind your own business!"

The young man cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter, as did everyone else including Six-Thirty who was in the corner at your feet. Not a single soul in that lecture hall dared to make another snide comment to Patricia Evans or to you.

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

"Well that went a little better than expected," Patricia commented as you, her and Cal made your way up the little brick path to the house. "Although I could've done without Mr. Ivy Leaguer there making those snide remarks."

"I saw him cross his legs the minute you snapped Ma," Calvin chuckled, unlocking the door.

"My apologies, but the damn fool had it coming," Patricia remarked. "Besides, if that had been your father, he would have said things that would have Ulysses S. Grant himself rolling over in his grave."

"Or blushing in most cases," you chuckled.

You both entered the house, the place warm and cozy as ever with the smell of dinner cooking on the stove. One could say whatever they liked about Henry Evans Jr., but the man was a damn good cook.

Henry and Pat both conversed about the happenings of the day while you and Cal enjoyed their company. All of you laughed at the lecture incident, but when Calvin looked at you and mouthed a silent "I love you", you couldn't help but lean into him, one arm round you and the warmth of your husband surrounding you.

#lessons in chemistry #calvin evans #calvin evans x reader

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winterlogysblog · 2 months

Text

Fairy Scents ft. Kiane Kids Scent Headcanons

It's well established that each fairy has a scent that is associated with a flower or a herb. So far we have confirmed scents for each notable fairy we have been introduced to.

So after some quick research I found some info about these flowers and their scents

King - Gold Osmanthus

Osmanthus Wine tastes same as I remember, but where are those who share the memory XD

Origins: China

In the language of flowers, they carry the meaning of love and romance, symbolising true love and faithfulness

Smells like a mix of juicy peaches, ripe apricots with soft leather or suede.

Elaine - Lavender

Origins: Mediterranean

Represent purity, silence, devotion, serenity, grace, and calmness.

Biblical meaning of lavender symbolizes purity, devotion, and love

Delicate, sweet smell that is floral, herbal, and evergreen woodsy at the same time

Helbram - White Rose

Origins: Ancient Greece

Symbolize loyalty, purity, and innocence.

Combination of floral and fruity notes, with hints of honey and jasmine

Fun fact: A White Rose is what King used to kill Helbram (the first time) it turned red because of the blood

Gerheade - Mint

Origins: Mediterranean

Symbol of Hospitality and Wisdom

Gloxinia - Ginger

Origins: Maritime Southeast Asia

In many cultures, ginger is considered a symbol of love

Used in religious rituals to symbolize cleansing, protection and blessing.

Warm and spicy, with a hint of sweetness

Lancelot - Lemon

Origins: Unknown (said to be first grown in Northeast India, Northern Myanmar, or China)

Symbol of purity and cleansing

Headcanon Time

Since Nakaba hasn't spoken out about their scents I'll give my thoughts on the matter.

Lancelot introduced fruits into the mix of scents and Gloxinia smells like Ginger which is a root so I went ham with this.

Nasiens - Oleander or Sunflower

Oleander are toxic which is very fitting for our Mad Herbalist

Smells like Vanilla

Oleander symbolizes love, beauty, and resilience

I want one of Kiane's kids to smell like Sunflowers cause you know... Sunflower

Sunflowers also don't have a distinct smell so it's actually fitting for Nasiens since he grew up thinking he's human so there's really no natural fairy-like smell he could have detected from himself

Sunflower represents longevity, lasting happiness, adoration, and loyalty

Sixtus - Peach

Since Sixtus looks extremely like King I think it's only fitting if his scent is close to King's as well

Peaches symbolizes longevity

Belte - Jasmine

Belte gives Helbram energy and he kinda looks like him too so his scent also needs to give Helbram energy

Jasmine stands for purity, simplicity, modesty and strength.

Zana and Zillian - Blackberry and Raspberry

Since they're twins I want their scents to match

Blackberries are mild, sweet and slightly acidic scent, with earthy and woody nuances.

Some believed that blackberries contain properties of abundance and prosperity

Raspberries are fruity, sweet and slightly acidic

Raspberries are symbol of kindness in Christian art.

Tioreh - Pink Hyacinth

Phao - Lily of the Valley

Symbol of purity, joy, love, sincerity, happiness and luck,

Has a floral and green scent, with fresh and slightly sweet notes

I want one of Kiane's kids scents to come from the earth, something underground. There's an underground Orchid but it smells bad so that won't do so I specifically looked for a flower that has an earthy scent. I also want it to be PINK for Tioreh

Sweet, robust, and earthy

Pink hyacinths symbolize playful joy.

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honeygrahambitch · 1 year

Text

Will grabbed a bottle of soy sauce and two ginger roots like Hannibal had asked him and lined up in the queue.

He had to go to the asian store to grab some emergency items which Hannibal needed urgently for dinner so of course he had asked Will to get them. He would have gone himself but he needed to take care of the rest of the food which was still cooking.

Will was not thrilled by the idea. They had been busy with a nasty murder last night and he thought he would be able to sleep during the whole afternoon. But those plans had been shattered when Hannibal had walked into the doorframe of their bedroom with a serious look on his face.

Will had been worried at first but the sentence which came next made him lift an eyebrow.

"I am in urgent need of soy sauce and ginger, Will."

So that was the reason why he was now waiting in the queue. There was just one cash register and she was quite slow.

Two young girls were sitting in line in front of Will, gossiping about "some hot dude at school". He was cranky anyway, the loud chatter and giggles only pissed him off more.

"No, no, no, he doesn't have a girlfriend. He is flirting with the whole school. Especially with the freshmen." One of them said and laughed loudly.

"I'm pretty sure he has. He posted a picture of himself and a pretty girl. Older than us though." The other one replied skeptically.

"Oh, shut up, Beverly, don't ruin my day!"

Will could not hear the rest of the conversation. His mind went blank as soon as he heard the name.

Her severed body flashed before his eyes and then their last conversation. He had replayed it in his mind for many times. It was the crime Hannibal had commited but her blood was not on his hands. It was on Will's.

"Sir?"

He had zoned out so deeply that he didn't realize he was right in front of the cashier. He mechanically paid for everything and left the store.

As soon as he got outside, his mind went back to the crime scene. To him, it had been one of the worst crimes Hannibal had ever committed. Right next to Abigail's. He had taken a good friend away from him.

She had been the only one ready to risk her job and life in order to look for evidence for him. Because he had kept pushing her. He had insisted and insisted until he had killed her. He felt something between rage and deep sadness towards Hannibal, but he felt even more rage towards himself. He shouldn't have let her get that close.

And for what? Her death had been in vain. He and Hannibal were almost engaged at that point. All the struggles to catch him had been reduced to nothing. Will felt like the biggest hypocrite. He ended up exactly like him. Beverly would have been disgusted if she knew what she had risked everything for.

"Will? Is everything alright?"

He had dissociated on the whole way home and didn't even greet Hannibal when he came in. He just left the paper bag on the kitchen counter and then he walked straight towards their bedroom.

"Will?" Hannibal insisted and followed him.

Will didn't even notice his attempts. It felt as if the floor was simply pulling him in as the walls of the room kept spinning. He hadn't thought about Beverly in a few years now. He had repressed everything so deeply that it felt as if a train had hit him.

He came back to his senses when he felt Hannibal's thumb on his cheek, wiping away a tear which escaped from his eye.

"It seems like you entered some dark rooms." Hannibal said referring to his mind palace.

Will nodded shortly as more tears ran down his face.

And in a matter of a second, the rage, the blame, the guilt, the sadness and the regret were replaced by something else.

He missed her.

She had been his friend and he was missing her. The adrenaline rushed so fast to his veins that he had to allow himself to sit on the floor, followed by Hannibal.

"I miss her" was all he said before he couldn't speak anymore and broke down in tears.

Hannibal wrapped his arms around him, as gently as possible, grateful that he did not push him away this time. Will pressed his face against his chest to muffle his sobs and look for some sort of comfort. Peculiar, to seek peace in the arms of the one who had caused you pain. Even more peculiar, to be able to admit that he loved him more than his own life.

Hannibal tried to figure out who he was talking about. Abigail? Hopefully not Molly, God. Alana? Even worse if it was the case. He doubted it was Abigail, he would usually get pretty cold towards him when it came to Abigail.

The Will he was holding now in his arms needed physical touch. Needed to consolation. Needed sweet words.

However, one thing was certain. He was the reason for Will's pain. It was certainly someone he had taken away from him that he was grieving now. If he could, he would bring back to life anyone, only to sooth his pain.

"I am so sorry." He had said as one of his hands ruffled his dark curls.

In reply Will sobbed even harder to the point where Hannibal wondered if he could breath properly.

Will kept crying in his arms until there were no more tears left. Until he could not feel a thing anymore. Not towards Beverly's death, not towards Hannibal and nor towards himself. He felt as cold as he would usually feel when he would take away someone's life.

He lifted his head and for a few seconds he and Hannibal looked at each other. In contrast to his, Hannibal's eyes were full of emotion. He wanted to help, to make it a bit better.

Will simply got up, turned his back to him and left the room, letting him on the floor alone with his regrets and apologies.

#i know this starts funny #and i know it ends miserably #but heyyy you missed an angsty fic right #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal series #hannibal fanfiction

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