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harrypotterbrainworms · 2 years

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Best Not-A-Date Date

Summary: Arataki “Ever Oblivious to His Surroundings” Itto doesn’t realise you’re taking him on a date.

Pairing: Arataki Itto x Male Reader (No gendered terms used or described so take what you will)

Word Count: 2618

A/N: Dedicated to all my Itto mains out there, I have slowly gained in the confidence to start writing again. I hope you enjoy it!! Also how many Arataki “____” Itto can I fit into one fic.

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“One more time.” He held his hands out towards you, a determined fire in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, you glanced over as a few restaurants started turning on the lanterns outside.

“Fine.” You mused, holding your hands out as well. A few people stared at you as you entered the tenth round of rock, paper, scissors. He’s lost every round so far, you found it cute the first few times, thinking he was losing on purpose so you could choose where you were going. Though by the sixth round you quickly realised that he was pulling the same thing whenever you won in cards. “One more round.” He said, leaving him with no more snacks to bet and sulking in the corner before you feel “too full” and give him half of your “hard earned” snacks.

“One more.” He groaned holding out scissors to your rock, you smiled a little annoyed. His fist rested on his palm once again. You crossed your arms, refusing to play again, you won fair and square after all. It’s what you’re owed. He looked at the ground, kicking his feet on nothing. He wasn’t Arataki “Make you feel bad for winning against him, but you can’t help it” Itto for nothing.

“Itto.” You warned, you just really wanted to eat now. You both have been standing there for the better part of 10 minutes playing this endless game. You were growing very impatient for this date.

“Just one more., please (Y/N)? Pretty please?” He begged, playing his puppy dog eyes on you, on any other occasion you would have given in, but you had a particular location in mind for your date. Uyuu Restaurant, you had saved up all of 2 weeks of odd jobs for Itto.

“Just admit I won.” You pat his shoulder in a comforting way, mockingly of course. He knew how to play his cards, but he always managed to give what he was hiding.

“Mhmmfine.” He finally gave in, sulking a little bit as you walked up the path toward Uyuu. He stopped a few times assuming that you were going to choose one of the usual spots, but your eyes were locked on your destination.

When you arrived at the doors, Itto looked like the blood had drained from face, the gang rarely ate here. It was expensive and for a short time Itto was banned. You urged him to join you inside. “Are you sure I’m even allowed in here anymore?” He whispered to you.

“Don’t worry, I checked and you’re all good. Here!” You pointed to the two lone bar stools in the back. “Perfect! I thought they might have been taken” You sit on the stool closest to the wall, waiting for service, Itto settling in next to you.

You both started talking as waited to be served, nothing too involved, just some ideas Itto had for the gang. Something about hitting the new “Mondstat tourist market” having met a strange green bard a few weeks back, advising him about the “True Mondstat Experience” before you could get too in depth about this new “business venture”. A server cleared his throat, looking at you.

“What can get you two?” He smiled, pointing above him for the menu.

“I’ll have a beer.” He said politely, trying not to disturb the buzzing atmosphere of the dinner hour.

“Make that two beers and some Tri-Flavored Skewers to start us off?” You looked at Itto for confirmation and he nodded warily, a little dizzy thinking about the bill already.

Before you had a chance to continue talking, there were two beers and a very delicious platter of skewers awaiting in front of you.

“A second round after we finish these?” You added, pointing at your drinks. The server nodded, continuing to take orders from the bar.

“Nothing better than beer and skewers” You said, bringing your hands together, rubbing them in anticipation. You grabbed one, tearing off a piece and sighing at how good it was. Couldn’t get this quality at a cheap bar outside the main city. Itto grabbed one and bit his fangs into it from the side, you intently stared at his teeth before looking away. You felt flushed and you hadn’t even touched your beer yet.

“So that bard, right? Voice of angel I swear. Almost fell asleep the minute he started a tale. Definitely not because it was boring, but that voice!” He added emphasis where needed, as animated as ever. “Something about him really draws you in.” He added, nodding as he took a huge sip of his beer. You nod along to his tale, only interjecting with questions about this mystery bard from Mondstat.

“Enough about what I’ve been doing, tell me where you’ve been? I haven’t seen you for more than a few minutes this last month.” He frowned, tilting his head to the side. You choked slightly on your drink, hoping he wouldn’t ask. You clear your throat with his eyes completely focused on you.

“I’ve been working mostly, keeping records for the warehouse while the festival was going on.” You feel slightly boring compared to Itto’s grand time at the festival, ending up in the hospital where you visited him the next day, flowers in hand and a small bag of his favourite candy.

“Run into some money trouble? The Arataki Gang always asks for help, remember that.” He was frowning again, this was more frowning than should usually happen on a date.

“No, nothing like that. I was just saving for this.” You said, looking away.

“For this?” He asked, still missing the point. “For dinner with you.” You added, blushing as you took another sip of beer for your nerves.

He nodded, turning to face the bar, waving the bartender down for refill, thanking the Archons that the beer seemed to hide blush. “For me?” He chuckled, somewhat humbly, flustered and flattered that one of his most trusted friends and members would go to such trouble.

“Yeah, for you.” You said softly. As if on cue, your server returned asking for your dinner orders. Without needing to ask Itto, you order Tonkotsu Ramen for him and Butter Crab for yourself, you deserved it.

“You don’t have…” He said, a little more shy than before. “I can just have the Udon Noodles, I don’t want you to spend that much.” He shook his head, his hands waving the suggested meal away. “Nonsense, it’s so good.” You smiled, sending the server on his way and getting your second refill.

You and Itto were practically drooling by the time the main course arrived, having had an extra beer each while chatting away. Itto thanked you profusely, declaring that he owes you next time before digging in. You started chewing away at the criminally delicious crab, the meat soft and buttery in the perfect way. You both enjoy yourselves, you try desperately not to disturb fellow customers every time Itto had you in stitches.

“And then you wouldn’t believe who I saw-” He whispered low against you mid story, sending shivers down your spine.

“Who?”

“General Kujou Sara was in line RIGHT next to me, I almost had a heart attack, thought I was trespassing the line for the limited Ms.Hina merch sale.” He added, still low in your ear, this voice was making you light-headed with the added beer.

“No.” You said, shocked. Itto’s eyes glinted, he loves telling stories and you would say right now in your buzzed state that he was better than whoever that bard was.

“Yes! Except she wasn’t in line for Ms.Hina like I was, but a limited Shogun figure!” He said, his facial expression exploding with the surprise he had on his face that day. You laughed, taking the final bite of your meal and finishing off your beer just after Itto had.

“That hit the spot.” You sigh, stretching and yawning. “Let me walk you home:” Itto laughed, asking for the bill, you nodded. This was probably the best first date you’ve had in a while. Itto felt a bit embarrassed looking at the sizable bill, watching you drop your hard earned money on a twenty five thousand mora meal. You just thanked your server, taking Itto by the arm to leave.

With full stomachs and hot cheeks you both left Uyuu, you suggested some dessert on the way back and Itto nodded pointing out a food stall with relatively cheap dango.

“Two Tricolor Dango, please!” You said, pulling out your wallet before Itto cleared his throat stepping in front of you.

“Let me cover this.” Itto interjected, pulling out some mora before you could even protest, giving the vendor the money. “You paid for dinner, let me cover it.” He took the dango from the vendor, turning to you with a smirk. “Wouldn't wanna tarnish my Arataki “Always the Gentlemen Even if He’s Kinda Broke Right Now” Itto reputation, would I now?” He said, handing you one of the tri-color dango.

You moved your party down to the taller walls around the food stall, sitting together with your feet dangling. Itto nudged you to look over at him.

“Thank you for dinner, (Y/N). Don’t remember the last time it was just us.” He said before taking one of the spheres into his mouth in one go, chewing away happily. “It was a good time, Haha!” He laughed, cheeks full of dessert. You took a bite as well, chewing and swallowing unlike the oni.

“It really was a nice date, Itto. Thank you” You add look up at him for a moment, the moon reflecting in your eyes. You look away bashfully, chewing your dessert much less loudly than the big oni next to you. Regardless of the hiccups, it was a lovely day you recall. No one seemed to make you laugh as much or made you feel as safe as he did, it was only natural to finally ask him out. When you looked back at him, his cheeks were full of his second treat already, his eyebrows raised in shock.

“Thifs wath a dae?” Itto asked, mouthful of dango, he swallowed hard. “Archons. This was a date.” He repeated to him, a deep blush settling on his cheeks. He felt suddenly embarrassed by his usual behaviour. If he knew this was a date, he would’ve doubled the Arataki “Hopeless Romantic, but refuses to admit it even to himself” Itto charm, maybe bought you flowers and not insisted on winning the stupid rock, paper, scissors match. “Why didn’t you tell me??” He abandoned his last dango next to him, turning to you and taking your hands in his.

“I thought you knew” You laughed a little, your clear amusement making him even more embarrassed. “I did say “Hey, you want to go out for dinner?” and when you were already running to invite the entire gang, I stopped you.” Itto bowed his head down to hide his face in your hands, now very aware of your implications earlier that day. “I’m an idiot.” He whined against your hands, you could feel how hot his face was.

“Hey you’re not an idiot, I should’ve been more clear.” You lift his face up to stare into his fiery red eyes. “Why don’t we start from scratch?” You smiled softly, watching his expression change from, frankly, cute sadness to hopefulness. “You really wanna still go out with me after this?” He searched your eyes and you laughed to yourself, he really was the sweetest (and only) oni you’ve ever met. “Now you’re being an idiot, of course I do.” His demeanour lightens up, grabbing your hands excitedly. He stood up and dragged you along with him which wasn’t hard considering how goddamn strong he is.

“Hey! Slow down, big guy” You gasp as he marches with determination you’ve only seen in the toughest of beetle battles, you resign to your fate, being dragged through the streets of Inazuma City. You whip past closed restaurants and stalls, the city quiet, save a few cicadas in the late summer air.

“Here.” He stopped, letting you go finally. You rub your arm a little, frowning before you look in front of you, Itto smiling proudly as you look over the calm water. “What do you think?” He shrunk into himself after you didn’t say anything, scratching the back of his neck. “Itto, I-” It was beautiful, you didn’t quite have the words to say, so you sat down on the ground. You urged him to join, patting the spot next to you.

“This is beautiful. I don’t think I’ve been here this late.” Your hands are glued to your lap, afraid to make things weird for the oni, though he seemed content just sitting there together. “I come here to think a lot..” He stared up at the moon, relaxing with you in his presence, letting his usual mask slip. “Just about things, ya know? Life, Granny, The boys… You.” He admitted the last thing while staring at the ground, careful not to let you see how flustered he was. “You’re surprisingly introspective.” You chuckled softly and in a moment of confidence you slipped your hand to his.

“I hope you have no complaints about me!” You blurted nervously, laughing stiffly toward the end. “No, no.” He laughed too, the vibrations landing deep in your chest. “All good things. Promise.” He squeezed your hand and looked at you, a wide grin on his face.

Watching the eternal cherry blossoms fall into the water, you sat silently together. Probably for the first time since you met Arataki Itto, he had nothing to say. He was just happily watching the small cat across the water play with the floating blossoms on the water, his thumb rubbing small circles around yours.

“Itto?” You turned to him, putting your other hand over his, trying to grab his attention,

“Hm?” He questioned, not taking his eyes off the moon, his red eyes holding a beautiful reflection in them.

“This not-date-date was great.” He nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the sky, the stars more visible since you arrived here, you took your hand away making him frown a little, but you cupped his face bringing him closer. He held his breath as you forced him to face you, his eyes darting around your face. “What’s u-up? Something on my face or somethin’?” He said nervously, you rolled your eyes, facing your body toward him.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, his eyes lit up, his mouth about 2 seconds too fast for his brain as he nodded. “Am I dead? Did the Shogun strike me down finally? I think I might be in heaven!” He rushed through his sentence, dramatically holding his hand to chest to feel his heartbeat.

“Shut up and just kiss me, idiot.” You smile and roll your eyes, you give him a chaste peck on the lips before he pulls you in deeper, humming into it as you locked lips. He felt warm as he snaked his arm around your wait, pulling you close to him.

You squeaked in surprise when he lifted you up, putting you on his lap, hugging you tight. “Never wanna leave.” He murmured into your chest as he engulfed you. You kissed the base of one of his horns, Itto hummed in content, melting into you.

You stayed like that for a while before a chill settled over the night, you going to tough time explaining to Shinobu why you both were out this late without telling anyone, but why worry when Arataki “Officially Numero Uno in Your Heart” Itto was rubbing circles into your back?

#arataki itto x reader #x reader #fluff #genshin fanfic #arataki itto x male reader #itto x reader #itto x male reader #genshin impact itto #genshin x reader #x male reader #gay #arataki itto #male reader #genshin impact x reader

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 months

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tis the damn season || Fred Weasley

Title: ‘tis the damn season Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: and the only heart I’m breaking is my own Warnings: NSFW - mentions of vaginal sex. A/N: a muggle AU b/c something like this isn’t really plausible with the whole apparition thing and i love this song too much to not write a song inspired by it. I started this over a year ago and have just recently gotten back to it to finish! It didn’t quite end up the way I imagined it but i kinda just let the words take me where they wanted to go. Hope you enjoy!

He can’t remember the last time he was back.

His old life always feels so far away down in London. Like his memories of growing up in Ottery belong to someone else, and Fred’s just watching them on film.

London is just so different. Busier in a way that Ottery never will be, with its barely populated town center and handful of businesses down Main Street. If you put the whole village together it would probably only span three blocks of London, including all the scant cottages that are just barely considered to be part of the village; the piece of land The Burrow is situated on included.

The joke shop and his friends and life in general barely give him enough time to give Mum and Dad a call, let alone pop down for the weekend to visit. Not to mention retirement is treating the Weasley parriarchal well, allowing them to split their time between all of their children and the various parts of the world life has taken them.

But it seems a grapple with nostalgia has led all of the Weasley children back to Ottery St. Catchpole this Christmas. Bill and Fleur took over the helm of hosting the family celebration years ago, when they decided traveling back to England with a baby was harder than hosting a slew of Weasleys at their cottage in the French countryside. So it caught Fred by surprise when his Mum called last month, letting him and George know not to bother booking a ticket to France, since they’d be doing Christmas the old fashioned way this year.

At Molly’s request they’ve all taken the next two weeks off from work and made the trek back home, for one more Christmas at The Burrow. Fred would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit disappointed in the change of plans this year. He spent so much of his life trying to find a way out of Ottery, so driving back up here has left him with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Which is why he left George at home as soon as they’d pulled in the driveway, needing to take a second for himself.

He doesn’t realize he’s been sitting on a bench in town square, staring into the abyss until a quiet voice calls out to him.

“Fred?”

Despite the time that’s gone by he’d recognize that voice anywhere. Y/N.

“Hey,” he greets casually, turning to look at her as he tries to pretend his heart hasn’t plummeted into his stomach. There’s a beanie pulled down tight over her hair and her cheeks are rosy from the cold, but she’s just as beautiful as the last time he saw her. It’d been right in this very place, he’d given her one last look through the rearview mirror as he and George left for good.

Back then her face had been red from the tears she’d shed as he said goodbye, her eyebrows drawn together in frustration. The look on her face today is indifferent, and Fred can’t tell if he should be upset or relieved at that.

“You’re home,” Y/N states, voice even.

“Yeah,” Fred replies simply.

Their words hang in the air around them, both of them just looking at each other while they try and find something to say.

“Well, I’ll see you around, I guess. Unless you’re just stopping through?” Y/N asks, the tone of her voice curious, with just the barest hint of hope.

Fred nods, gesturing down the road with his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I’m in town for a bit. Staying at Mum and Dad’s for the holiday and all.”

“Ah, okay. Cool. Cool,” Y/N responds, rocking back and forth on her heels for a moment. “See you around, then.”

In the next second she’s gone, walking past Fred without a second glance back his way.

Once Y/N has disappeared Fred heads back towards The Burrow, unable to tell exactly why that funny feeling is still there in the pit of his stomach.

“Freddie, Georgie! Long time no see, Lads!”

The pub is loud, but somehow Dean’s voice overpowers it all and the boys easily find the table their old friends have commandeered for the evening. It’s tucked away in the corner, close enough to the bar that they’ll have no problem getting drink refills, but far enough away from the general rowdiness that they’ll be able to have a conversation without having to shout at each other.

All the lads stand up as Fred and George approach, each one taking a turn to pull them each into a hug - as if no time has passed at all. Fred’s embarrassed to admit how long it’s been since he texted one of his old hometown friends, let alone sat down to catch up with them. It had been easier when they first moved to London, they were all young and carefree and it was normal for Fred and George’s living room to be taken over by the lads every few weeks for a Boy’s weekend in the big city.

But as time went on Fred and George got busier, their dream had started to become a reality and investor meetings and paperwork became their priority. And it’s not like things only changed for them either. It seemed like one by one their friends started to find serious partners, and time with the boys started to take a backseat to time spent with their significant other. And now Fred and George are the only two of the group who aren’t married with a kid or two.

“Look at our big London boys, taking time out of their busy ol’ schedules to slum it here up north with the rest of us,” Lee teases, toasting his beer to the boys before he takes a long drag. “We’re honored you could fit in some time to see us, truly.”

“You’re all a bunch of prats who don’t deserve our time,” George shoots back, winking as he drinks from the beer Tom had pressed into his palm. “And truly the honor is ours, I know changing diapers and feeding babies is important work and we appreciate you sacrificing your time to sit here at the pub with us.”

“You can laugh all you want now, boys - but just be ready to get it back tenfold once you degenerates decide to finally settle down and become family men,” Dean chuckles.

Fred takes a long sip of his beer, letting the cool liquid run down his dry throat. Because sure there have been plenty of girls since Y/N. But they’ve all been short term, casual - some of them so brief he doesn’t remember their name or what they look like. There’s only one girl he’s ever imagined that kind of life with, and he’s sure that ship sailed the second he left town without her.

“You boys ready for another round yet?”

Fred swears he must have done something epic to piss off whatever cosmic being exists out there, because for the second time today he’s blindsided by Y/N’s sudden appearance. He keeps his eyes downcast, suddenly super thirsty as he takes another long drink in order to avoid interacting with her again.

“Do you even have to ask?” Lee answers with a hearty laugh.

“Some things never change,” she responds with a lighthearted eye roll, collecting the empties from the table. “I’ll be right back with those.”

Fred finally looks up, his eyes following Y/N as she disappears back into the crowd. He feels like he can breathe again, and he finally sets his empty beer bottle back on the table. Their interaction earlier is still fresh in his mind and despite how uneasy their short interaction left him - he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping he’d run into Y/N again. He just didn’t imagine it would be so soon.

“She teaches year one, over at the primary school.” Fred’s eyes meet Dean’s, his cheeks flushing at the realization he’d been caught. “All the kids love her. Daisy has her this year and I swear everyday when she gets home all she does is gush about Y/N. She works here on the weekends to help her Uncle out.”

Fred finds his eyes trailing back to where Y/N had disappeared to, hoping he might catch another glimpse of her. He’s happy to hear that she’s teaching, that him wrecking their plans of a future together didn’t deter her from following her other dreams. He looks back to Dean then, forcing a smile onto his face.

“Daisy’s already in first year? You’re a proper old git aren’t ya, mate?” he teases in an effort to move the conversation in a direction that doesn’t involve the feeling of regret that’s suddenly started to creep up his throat.

“Are you stalking me?”

Fred turns around at the sound of her voice, goosebumps shivering down his neck. He’d come down to the creek for some solitude, already getting tired of having his siblings and their families crammed into the Burrow after only three days. But of course, this had been their spot, so he’s not all too surprised that Y/N had found him here.

“Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” he teases, breath catching in his throat at the smile that takes over her face. “I was here first, and I was at the town square first the other day too. Seems to me like I’m the one being followed.”

Y/N shakes her head with a quiet laugh, taking a few steps down the embankment so she’s closer to Fred. “And what about the other night at the pub, hm? What about then?”

“Happy accident,” Fred answers with a shrug, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s not like there’s other pubs in the village to hang out at.” He can tell he struck a nerve based on the way Y/N’s eye twitches, and silence grows between them as his brain scrambles to think of something else to say.

“All those years in London and Ottery is still too small for you?”

There isn’t any anger or resentment in her voice, and Fred takes that as a win. In the few months before Fred and George finally took the plunge and moved to London he and Y/N had been fighting more than ever, and like an idiot he forgot that most of those fights revolved around his need to get out of their hometown. While he found Ottery’s size suffocating, Y/N found it charming and more than once she’d made it clear to Fred that the only place she could ever imagine raising a family was the little village they’d grown up in.

So instead of making her choose between her own dreams and his, Fred decided to leave. It broke something in him that day, watching Y/N get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror as they drove away. But he knew moving to London would have broken Y/N too, and he’d rather die than see her become someone she isn’t.

So, he left with no intentions of ever coming back.

And yet here they are again.

“What can I say, I’m a city boy now through and through.”

Y/N hums, giving Fred one last glance before she starts to walk along the creek, and it only takes a moment of hesitation before he follows. She’s walking slow enough that it only takes a few strides for Fred to catch up, and before he knows it they’re walking side by side, arms just barely brushing as they move.

“It’s everything you ever wanted then?” Y/N inquires after a few quiet minutes. Her eyes are downcast, and Fred is thankful that she can’t seem to look at him. He’s not sure he’d be able to handle it.

“It is, yeah,” Fred answers honestly, swallowing thickly. “The store is better than everything George and I ever dreamed of. And the friends we’ve made are amazing. It’s better than I ever imagined.”

“That’s good,” she responds, voice curt. “So you don’t regret leaving everything behind to start a new life?”

“Not everything,” Fred answers honestly again, his voice laden with remorse.

She stops in her tracks then, turning to finally face Fred. He stops too, barely able to bring his eyes to meet hers. He can tell by the way she exhales that she’s upset, but he can’t find himself feeling sorry for what he said. Because all of it is true.

He realized it the other night, after they got back from the pub and he couldn’t sleep. That weird feeling in the pit of his stomach was still there, and he couldn’t figure out why. He thought seeing his old friends would ease it, that he was nervous about seeing them again after so long and it wouldn’t feel the same as it used to. But the night couldn’t have gone better, they all picked right back up as if no time had passed at all.

And yet the feeling had only gotten worse.

When he fluffed his pillow for the hundredth time his fingers brushed against something under it, and when he pulled it out his stomach dipped even further. It was a picture from high school that George took of Fred and Y/N. She was wrapped up in his arms as she smiled for the camera, but Fred had been looking at her. He’s looking at Y/N with so much love you’d think she’d hung the moon and the stars and in that moment Fred realizes that she did. She was the universe, and Fred was a mere mortal lucky enough to be caught in her orbit.

And it’s in that moment that he finally realizes what that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach is.

Regret.

“Fuck you, Fred,” Y/N finally responds, voice full of anger. “I stood there in the middle of town square crying as I begged you not to leave. As I begged you not to leave me behind like everything we had meant nothing to you. And now all these years later you have the audacity to stand here and tell me that you’re only regret in life is leaving me behind.”

She turns on her heel and storms away, and Fred immediately follows. “Will you just let me explain?” he calls as he catches up. He grab’s Y/N’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks so he can pull her back towards him.

Suddenly her body is pressed up against his, and Fred’s heart feels like it might beat right out of his chest. He can’t remember the last time they were this close and he instinctively reaches up to cup her cheek. “Please,” he begs. “Don’t run away from me.”

Snow has started to softly fall around them, and Fred feels like he can’t breathe as her eyes finally rise to meet his. “Please,” he whispers, afraid that if he speaks too loud it’ll break whatever trance they’ve fallen into.

A softly murmured Fred is Y/N’s only response, and before he can second guess himself Fred leans down and kisses Y/N slowly - finally feeling like he’s home.

“This is still your go to hiding place I see.”

Y/N doesn’t even flinch at the sound of his voice, as if she was expecting him to find her here. Which wouldn’t surprise Fred in the slightest. They used to be so in sync it was as if they shared a brain - and he’s happy to find that time and distance hasn’t changed that one bit.

When she does nothing to acknowledge his presence Fred heaves a sigh, taking a step closer to where Y/N sits. “Ignoring me isn’t going to make me go away. It only fuels me to stick around to annoy you further.”

That earns him a glare, and he can’t help but smile. “There’s my girl,” he teases.

“Oh fuck off Fred,” Y/N responds, but there’s no malice in her voice.

Fred takes that as an invitation to come closer, and he sits down on the empty swing next to her. His mind has been racing since Y/N took off after their kiss a few hours earlier, and now that he’s here with her it’s finally starting to quiet down. He’s not really sure what possessed him to kiss her, and even now that he can think straight his brain has yet to come up with something decent to say to her.

They just sit there staring straight ahead for who knows how long, feet just barely pushing against the ground so they can slowly swing back and forth. Wind curls around them as it blows, but Fred hardly feels the chill as he thinks about the girl sitting beside him. He hasn’t thought about her for years, and all it’s taken is three days and a few brief interactions for his thoughts to be consumed with Y/N once again.

“I can’t do it again.”

It’s Y/N that finally breaks the silence, and Fred turns so he can look at her. She doesn’t meet his gaze, but Fred can see the way her lip trembles and he has to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her.

“When you left,” she continues, taking a deep breath. “When you left before it broke me, Fred. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. It took months for my life to get back on track and over a year for me to start to finally feel normal again. I got my degree and started teaching, started dating again-“ she pauses as Fred flinches at those words. “Point is I moved on from you, and I can’t do it all over again. I can’t let you back in just for you to leave again.”

Y/N finally turns to look at him, and when Fred opens his mouth to respond she puts her hand up to stop him.

“But I also can’t ignore the way that kiss made me feel. Because nothing I’ve done in the years since you left has ever made me feel like that and I can’t go around just pretending that you have no effect over me. Not if I’m going to survive seeing you around over the next few weeks.”

“So what are you saying?” Fred asks after a moment. He’s pretty sure he knows exactly what Y/N is saying - but he needs to hear it come from her.

“I’m saying that as long as we can agree that whatever is going on between us is just for this time that you’re back in town - then I’m in. No real feelings, no talking about our future. Just me and you and the next two weeks. Do you agree?”

Fred knows that he should walk away. That he should say no, stand up and walk away from Y/N and just avoid her for the rest of this trip. But Fred is selfish, and the only thing he wants in this moment is Y/N and whatever parts of herself she’ll allow him to have - even if just for a short period of time.

So instead of walking away, Fred nods - forcing a grin on his face. “I do.”

“How the fuck is your cunt still so tight,” Fred groans as he buries his face in Y/N’s neck.

She’s sinking down onto his cock for the third time today, and the way she squeezes around him is making his head spin. They hadn’t wasted any time after their talk in the park. As soon as the words left Fred’s mouth they were on each other, Fred pressed her against the swing set as they kissed and he’d been tempted to fuck her right there in the middle of the park. But ever the responsible one, Y/N had managed to hold Fred off long enough for her to drag them down the block to her place.

He took her for the first time against her front door, both of them still fully dressed with their pants pulled down just enough for Fred to slide his cock into her cunt. It had been frantic and uncoordinated but still perfect and over embarrassingly too quickly. Which is why Fred took Y/N for the second time on her couch a few steps away. He managed to get them both undressed as they stumbled into the living room, and he spent so much time on his knees kissing and licking at her pussy that he’s sure to have rug burn in the morning.

For the third time they finally managed to make it into bed. After she came in his mouth and around his cock Fred finally felt satisfied enough to take his time. He kissed Y/N slowly as they made their way down the hall, stopping periodically to press her up against the wall. When they fell into bed she’d crawled right on top, whispering into his mouth about how it was her turn to take control.

Which is how they got here, with Fred’s mouth pressing kisses from her neck to her collarbone, her hips moving against him as she rides his cock at an achingly slow pace. It feels too perfect and too much like home for Fred to handle, so he grips her hips and kisses Y/N hard to avoid saying the things that are running on a loop in his mind. His thumb finds her clit as Y/N words herself on his cock, rubbing circles in time with her movement to push her closer and closer to another climax.

“Fred, fuck,” Y/N moans breathily as his lips trail back down her neck, toes curling as that familiar feeling pools in the pit of her stomach for what feels like the dozenth time tonight. Fred knows her body even better than she does, and it's embarrassing how quickly Fred has already brought her to the edge of another orgasm. Sex has never felt like this with anyone but Fred, and Y/N already regrets agreeing to a temporary fling.

Because being here with Fred already feels too much like coming home.

All it takes is one more final whispered, “That’s my girl, come for me,” from Fred to push Y/N over the edge. Pleasure washes over her in waves, electric shocks radiating from the tips of her toes to the top of her head as her cunt clenches around Fred’s cock, bringing him over the edge with her.

As they both come down Fred gently rolls over, resting so that they’re both on their sides facing each other, his cock still buried deep inside. He knows he should pull out before they both get too uncomfortable, but some primal urge keeps him from moving an inch.

Neither one says anything, chests heaving to catch their breath as they look into each other’s eyes. Fred figures he should say something to break the heaviness in the air that has settled around them, but Y/N is so warm against him and her bed is so soft that he can’t find the energy to do much besides pull her in even closer so that their bodies are practically one as they drift off to sleep.

Fred spends the days leading up to Christmas at home with his siblings, taking the time to reminisce about their childhood while always finding new ways to create mischief with his plethora of nieces and nephews. For as much as he was dreading coming back to Ottery, Fred actually finds himself having a lot of fun, and he finds that he doesn’t miss London as much as he thought he would.

And he’s sure that spending his nights in Y/N’s bed has played a role in that as well.

Once everyone heads to bed at night he sneaks back out, taking the short walk into town to meet Y/N. Sometimes she’s closing up her Uncle’s pub, and Fred sits at the bar and harasses her as she completes all of her closing tasks before walking her back to her place. Other times she’s waiting for him in the town square after coming from her parents or running an errand, and Fred kisses her right there to try and erase the thoughts of him watching her get smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror.

But most nights she’s already in bed waiting, the porch light on and the door unlocked so he can slip inside. Those nights are his favorite because it’s easy to pretend that this is their life. That Fred’s coming home to his favorite girl and their warm bed after working late or hanging out at the pub with his friends - instead of him coming over for a quick fuck and a few hours of sleep before he has to sneak back into his parent’s house.

Christmas Eve comes upon them quicker than Fred would like, and they agree not to see each other until Boxing Day - neither one wanting their family to catch them in the act. Fred barely gets any sleep that night, tossing and turning so much George throws a pillow at him in warning. Less than a week he’s been sleeping beside Y/N and Fred already is having trouble sleeping on his own.

He doesn’t want to think about the fact that in one more week he’ll be back to sleeping alone.

The kids wake everyone up far too early on Christmas morning, and as Fred trudges down the stairs the only thing on his mind is how he might be able to sneak away to see Y/N for a few minutes. After presents are opened and breakfast is eaten, Fred is just about ready to implement his plan to see Y/N under the guise of an after meal walk when his parents drop the news.

“I’m just so happy you all took the time to come spend the holidays with us here back home this year. It really warms my old heart to see all my babies back under my roof,” his mother starts, hand pressed against her heart.

“But your Father and I have been talking a lot this year about what our future looks like and well,” she pauses, looking over her shoulder at Arthur.”

“We’ve decided to sell The Burrow,” he announces, resting a comforting hand on Molly’s shoulder. Ginny stands in protest, and Arthur puts a hand up to stop her. “It’s far too big of an undertaking for just your mother and I, and between all the traveling we do to visit you all we only spend a few days a month here. That’s why we decided to hold the holidays here just one last time, so we could fill this place with love and laughter one more time before we give another family the opportunity to make their own memories here.”

Bill, acting in his big brother duty, is the first to speak up.

“I know this decision must not have been easy for the two of you to make, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that while it is going to be hard to wrap our minds around the fact that The Burrow won’t be ours anymore - we respect your decision and are happy that you guys are following your dreams.”

“Yeah, we love this place,” Ginny starts, getting up to hug Molly and Arthur. “But we love you more, and we support you in any way that you need.”

They all murmur similar sentiments as they join Ginny and their parents in a group hug, but Fred finds himself not really meaning any of the words coming out of his mouth. He was just starting to find the joy in coming home to Ottery, and now there won’t really be a home to come back to. The thought of making some excuse to come up and visit Mum and Dad in the new year was the only thing that made the thought of leaving Y/N next week tolerable - and now he doesn’t even have that to hold on to.

“You alright?” George asks as they separate from the hug, nudging Fred’s shoulder with his own.

He nods, putting the best smile he can manage on his face. “Yeah, just busting at the seams from all that food. Think I’m going to take a walk - make some room for Christmas dinner.”

George gives him a look that screams he knows Fred is up to something, but he just gives his brother a nod in acknowledgement. “Alright, mate. See you in a bit.”

The second he grabs his coat Fred is slipping out the front door, phone already in hand to convince Y/N to sneak away to meet him.

“You’re not going to try and fuck me out here, are you? Because getting arrested for public indecency is definitely not how I want to spend my Christmas,” Y/N jokes as she approaches. But as soon as she sees the look on Fred’s face the smile drops from her own, and she takes the swing next to him. “What happened? Did someone die?”

“Just my childhood,” he responds dryly.

“Elaborate, please.”

Fred heaves a sigh. “Mum and Dad are selling the burrow, they announced it after breakfast.”

“Oh,” Y/N exhales, taken by surprise. “I’m sorry.”

Except her tone sounds more confused than comforting, and Fred gives her a questioning look. “You don’t sound sorry.”

“Sorry it’s just, you confuse the fuck out of me Fred. You haven’t been home in years, in fact you ran the hell out of here like your ass was on fire and never even looked back. And now you’re acting as if your life is over because your parents are selling their house when in reality it’s not going to have any effect on you or your life.”

Fred scoffs, pushing off of the swing so he can slowly pace back and forth. “I just, I don’t know. Always thought that they’d be there to come home to if I ever needed it. And recent events have made me think that maybe coming home every once in a while isn’t such a bad idea.”

“Don’t,” Y/N states firmly, standing up as well. “Before we started this you agreed that it was a one time only thing. No talking about the future, no real feelings. Just us fucking around until you run back off to London in the New Year.”

“Well I’ve changed my mind,” he announces. “I want to talk about the future and have real feelings. Because this past week has been the best week I’ve had in years. Seeing the lads, running around the burrow with everyone, spending time with you. This is the life I’ve been missing out on and I don’t want to miss anymore.”

“Fuck you,” Y/N spits. “Where was this revelation ten years ago when you left me crying by the side of the road while you went off to start a new life without me? I’m sorry that you regret your decisions in life Fred, but it’s too little too late. I can’t trust you anymore. We talked about starting a life here and then you fucked off to London and now you want to come back here and expect me to just jump back in where we left off? Who’s to say you won’t regret this decision in ten more years and you’ll abandon me here with kids and a house and a whole fucking life you just decide to throw away? I’ve spent enough of my life picking up the pieces that you broke and I’m done.”

Fred’s crying silently as she storms away from him, and it’s far too familiar to the scene he left behind all those years ago. Except Fred had turned back to give Y/N one last glance, but she keeps her head forward as she leaves him behind.

They leave to go back to London on New Year's Day. Christmas is usually their biggest time of year, and both Fred and George want to get back so that the employees who covered for them can get some much deserved time off. Fred had texted Y/N to let her know when they planned on leaving in case she wanted to say goodbye, and despite not getting a response he remains hopeful until the moment they start the car up to leave.

Fred keeps his eyes forward as they drive away from the burrow, steadily ignoring the way his twin looks at him from the passenger seat. He knows he’s been acting weird since Y/N left him standing alone in the park, hoping that his behavior can be attributed to the fact that their parents are selling their childhood home and not the fact that he somehow managed to break his own heart.

“You alright?” George asks as they drive through Ottery one last time.

“No,” Fred answers honestly, looking over at his brother from the corner of his eye. That ache that settled in his bones when they first arrived two weeks ago is back with a vengeance, and it only hurts more knowing he’s the reason why it’s there. “I’ll feel better once we’re home.”

“Yeah, I guess London really is our home now.”

Fred just hums in acknowledgement, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror for one last look at Ottery as they leave for good.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #fread weasley fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fw #golden

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frogmanfae · 1 year

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George Karim X GN! Reader- Talented

Summary: George gets left behind and becomes overwhelmed with intrusive thoughts. That is, until a certain someone let's him know just how important he is.

A/n- I really relate to George in the aspect of always being last choice, so I really feel for him. I hope if any of you relate to this, you realize you are significant

George POV

Everyone looked around at each other as if they were deciding who to leave behind. We got commissioned to take care of a type one, a very simple case. There's no need for all four of us to go, in fact it's really a job two people can do on their own but ever since Lucy almost died going on a job with only Lockwood, he's been adamant about having at least three of us go.

"Why don't we just all go?" (Y/n) offered, though it seemed to be just a way to be nice.

"According to the house measurements the client submitted to me, it'll be crowded with just the three of you. It's a two room apartment with very little space between rooms, only about five feet wide corridor and a twenty square foot kitchen. Both rooms are about fifteen square feet. It's insensible for all four of us to go." I sigh and begin to go to the library. "Have fun, don't die."

"Wait, Georgie where are you going? We haven't decided yet." (Y/n) reaches out to grab my hand.

I pull my hand away. "As if. It's obviously me who's staying, don't act like that hasn't been decided this whole time. I'm a researcher, I've accepted that I'm only an agent when it's necessary. I'm just not as talented as you three."

"George, that's not true-" Lucy steps in.

"Go on, the sun will be setting soon." I continue to the library. "You'd best be off."

They all looked like they wanted to say something, but the setting sun was too much of a pressing matter and they all left.

(Y/n) lingered a bit after the other two. "You know, I think you underestimate yourself too much." And they were off.

I stood there for a moment, processing what they said, before going to the kitchen to get some tea and biscuits.

"Damn it..." I close the cabinet after being reminded that I finished off my preferred tea this morning and I already ate all but two of my favorite biscuits.

I start to go to the library again before stopping in my tracks mid step. On the table was a box of tea, my tea that nobody else really cared for, and a container of the biscuits I eat. Next to it there was a note written on the cloth, it was in (y/n)'s hand writing.

I noticed the cupboard was running low so I went to the store early in the morning. You really need to start putting your things on the grocery list when you start to run out, Georgie.

I smile to myself and put the kettle on. After I fixed my tea I finally went to the library and sat down in the chair opposite of the one Lockwood usually sits in.

Before Lucy came along, I'll admit I really felt something for him, so I would often sit in this chair while he spent his late nights reading magazines and worrying over bills. I've since given up on those feelings after we realized Lucy was more powerful than anyone since Marissa Fittes. I knew Lockwood would never feel the same way about a loser like me as opposed to someone like her.

But about a year after I finally let go of all my romantic interests for Lockwood, (y/n) joined our agency. It was completely on accident, we had been on a case and they were working freelance on the same one. They saved Lucy's life, then Lockwood saved their life and offered them a job and a place to stay. They share a room with Lucy just because it's the largest room in the house.

Since then I've began to develop the same feelings I once had for Lockwood but now for (y/n). I don't really know how to describe it, but I think I feel stronger feelings this time around. They're a lot nicer to me than Lockwood ever was, not that he's mean to me but he can definitely be a prick.

I sit in that chair with my thoughts, biscuits, and tea for about an hour before I go to my room and get ready for bed. I'm not planning on sleeping anytime soon but why wear pants when I can wear no pants?

I lay on top of the made bed for a while, and before I know it my head began to be filled with unwanted thoughts. Thoughts about how I'm a failure and untalented and insignificant.

I think about this a lot. I know that I mean something to the people around me, but that's really only three people. And it should be enough, but sometimes...

Well I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if they'd just be better off without me, though they would almost certainly die without me simply because nobody else researches as thoroughly. However, I think they would do just fine with the research (y/n) collects whenever they help me.

I look in the mirror across the room. I'm such a nerd. And a loser. I'm a nerdy loser. Wow. This is what I've become.

I cry for a while. I'm not entirely sure how long. It's not violent crying, but definitely messy and ugly and it lasts at least an hour.

I hate it when they leave me alone.

I hate being alone.

I hate that I never have good company by myself.

I hate myself.

I can't do this right now. I get up and just walk around the house. I go up and down the stairs probably six times, all the while tears are still falling from my eyes. I'm upstairs by my room when I hear the door open. I put on some sweatpants because I know how cold it gets after those three come home, the essence of a visitor still on them.

"Georgie! I'm back!" I hear (y/n) call from the ground floor.

I rush down the stairs. "Where are the othe- OH MY GOD YOUR ARM!"

"It's fine, Georgie I just need a band aid." They wave me off.

"Uh, no that needs to be taken care of! There's so much blood! Might I remind you your shirt was white before you left!" I go past them to grab some first aid items out of the kitchen but they stop me.

"Georgie you've been crying."

"What? No, I'm just... I'm a bit tired is all."

"No you've been crying, there are tear stains on your face." They bring their hand up to touch my cheek, wincing at the pain in their arm.

"Alright, no, you're in a lot of pain, go sit in Lockwood's library chair and I'll be right there."

I go to the kitchen and get a bowl of water and a rag, some disinfectant and cotton balls, bandages, and stitching supplies. I take it all into the library and ask (y/n) if they can roll up their sleeve.

"I think it'd be easier if I just took it off, don't you?"

I tried my hardest to conceal how flustered that made me feel and just nodded. They removed their shirt and sat in front of me in only their undershirt.

I wince at the sight of the fully exposed gash. "This is a nasty cut you've got, what happened?"

The cut was deep. So deep, in fact, I'm almost surprised I couldn't see their bone. It went up almost the whole side of their forearm and even a little bit up their pinky finger in a bit of a diagonal line. Bits of the surrounding skin were already turning a couple different colors, suggesting mild infection.

"I got distracted."

"Distracted? By what? And what exactly happened as a result?"

"It caught me off guard. It came up behind me and I jumped when it screamed. I pulled out my rapier, but it got caught on the side of my arm. It's been a couple jobs since I've properly cleaned the blade so it probably had a lot on it."

"What could have distracted you so much?" I take the rag and first use water to clean it before moving on to the disinfectant. "This might sting."

"Uh, you did."

"What?" I pressed the cotton ball in a bit too hard out of pure shock, causing them to inhale sharply, "oh! Sorry! Sorry!"

"It's alright..." They sighed. "It's okay, Georgie... I just felt bad about leaving you behind."

"What?" I set the disinfectant down and threaded the needle.

"Uh, can you finish stitching me up first? I don't much enjoy talking while I'm being sewn together."

I nod. "Right, understood."

I started stitching them up and almost began crying again at their occasional wince, I apologized probably twenty times throughout the whole process.

"Georgie, it's fine, really it's- gah-"

"Sorry! I'm sorry... Okay... All done." I took a fresh rag to clean the area, dry it, and then bandage it. "There... Better now?"

"A bit, thank you."

I clean up all the supplies and take it back to the kitchen to be properly dealt with later before returning to the library and sitting in my chair. "I'll have a look at that every day to disinfect it and eventually take the stitches out. Now, what about me distracted you?"

"Well... Why were you crying when I came home?"

"I wasn't."

"Yes you were, Georgie now out with it."

"I watched a sad movie."

"We don't have cable and our VHS player broke last week."

"Read a sad book."

"A whole book?"

"I had a lot of time to kill."

"Georgie."

"Fine. I was thinking about how you guys are all better than me and how I'm always going to be every one of your last choices. I'm not as talented as any of you and I never will be. I will always be George the researcher, never George the agent."

"Georgie..."

"It's true, don't deny it."

"I don't think that way. I never have."

"Don't lie to me, it's patronizing."

"I'm not lying. George, I'm here right now, aren't I?"

"So? Wait- where are the others?" I stand up, worried something had happened.

"They went to get something to eat."

I stepped closer to them. "Why didn't you go with them?"

"Because I'd much rather be with you."

I was silent for a moment before I sat down on the floor. (Y/n) climbed down from their chair and sat across from me.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?" They tilted their head.

"Why would you rather be with me? They're the cool ones, I'm the nerdy loser."

They giggle. Shit that's adorable... "Nerdy loser? Who's put that in your head?"

"... I suppose I did."

"Well... Did you ever think that I happen to like nerdy losers?"

I shake my head. "No..."

"Well. I do. I think the world would cease to exist without nerdy losers. And I'm ever so grateful for them. I'm ever so grateful for you most of all."

I sit there with my mouth agape. Grateful? For me?

"What's that look?" They ask me.

"What look?"

"You've got a look in your eyes like... Well I don't quite know how to describe it."

They look at me and I just look back at them. Then I kiss them. I haven't a clue what got into me but I kissed them. And I haven't a clue why but they kissed back. It was magical. It was like we'd set off a flare. I would never have another kiss like this in my life.

"Georgie..."

"... Shit. Shit I'm so- I am so sorry." I stand up. "Oh my god I am so sorry!"

"Georgie calm down." They reached up and pulled me back down to the floor. "I've wanted to do that for months."

"What? Really? With me?"

"Yes with you silly." They smile. "I really like you."

"You do?"

They nod. "I do."

"I really like you too."

"Well if that's the case, why don't we go to breakfast tomorrow? Just the two of us."

"Like a..."

"Like a date."

I nod. "That sounds incredible."

"Perfect." They lean in again just as the front door opens and we hear Lockwood laughing.

"Lockwood you really aren't that funny." Lucy says as the door closes.

"Shut up, I'm hilarious. George! (y/n)! We're back!" He calls. "Where are they?"

(Y/n) stands up and leans on the doorframe of the library. "You sound like you're in a good mood."

"What happened to your arm?" Lucy gasped.

"Did you guys not see that?" I nearly yelled, somewhat out of anger and somewhat out of shock. "It was vile!"

"It wasn't that bad-" (y/n) began but I interrupted.

"Uh, no it was bad! As the guy who disinfected, stitched up, and bandaged it, it was bad!"

"It needed stitches? How could you not tell us?" Lockwood looked at (y/n).

"Uh, no, don't pin this on them! It was you who didn't see the foot long slice in their arm! Was nobody there when it happened?"

"We had all split up in the different rooms. They came right after."

"God, what's the point of sending three agents when you split up? That's every horror movie ever!" I throw my hands around.

"Georgie, calm down. It's okay now. I tried my best to keep it hidden so it wouldn't concern anyone, and really I didn't think it was that bad."

"They still should have noticed."

"You're right, we should have." Lockwood puts his rapier in the holder. "I'm sorry, I should have been more aware. Is it alright now?"

"It'll need some time to heal, but George patched me up pretty well."

He nods. "Right, well... Good work tonight. Have you showered yet? You can have the first one."

"I have to wrap your arm in plastic first. You can't get those bandages wet." I lightly touched part of the bandage with my finger. "I'll go get some, go sit back in the library."

"Yes, Dr. Karim." They said it with a taunting voice, but it made me feel something. I've always wanted to be a doctor. Whether that be a doctor of medicine or history or science or whatever I haven't yet decided. I had almost forgotten of that dream of mine.

Lucy and Lockwood went off to their respective rooms and I came to the library with a roll of clear plastic and shut the door behind me.

I kneeled in front of them as they held out their arm and silently began wrapping. There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn't dare. They probably didn't want to talk about it. I had been taking care of them, that's why they kissed me. It was the adrenaline. They surely regret it.

"Georgie?"

"Hm?"

"Are you my boyfriend now?"

"What?"

"Are we... Are we dating? Or...?"

"Well... I don't know, are we?"

"I mean... I'd like to be, if that's what you want."

"It is what I want. I want it a lot."

They nod slowly. "So... Are we...?"

"I... I think we are..." I smile. They kiss me again. "Hey, you know what would be funny?"

"If we didn't tell the others and just saw how long it took for them to realize."

"Dear god I think I might be in love, we share a brain!" I laugh.

They get warmer and giggle. "I should go shower. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast, yeah?" They get up and start walking out of the library.

"Yeah, definitely." I wait a second until I hear them go up the stairs, then I flop flat on my back with a wide smile and laugh. I don't know why I laugh. Perhaps I'm just filled with so much joy and don't know what to do with it other than let some of it out with laughter. It's almost overwhelming. Every moment I'm waiting to wake up, but I never do. Because, despite the voices in my head, I am good enough for someone. Not just someone, but (y/n). That's mad to me.

But, mad in the best way.

#george karim #george karim x reader #poor George karim #someone tell him hes special I beg of you #self doubting George karim #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #implied Lockwood x Lucy

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sweetbillwriting · 6 months

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Love Just Happens

In Another Universe (Additional Chapter)

Description: The additional chapters of Love Just Happens is chapters that isn't a part of the original story. In additional chapters I explore my favorite characters Bill and Aurora, just because I want to.

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård and my own character Aurora Lou.

Setting: This chapter is set in another universe than Love Just Happens usually is in.

Warnings: 18+, age difference, ageism, smut, cheating.

Notes: This was just a fun chapter to write and I had thought it would be just this chapter of this universe but I don't know, maybe I want to explore it more.

It says there are as many possible universes as there are drops in the ocean. When you make a choice there is another world where you made the other choice. Our choices affect us, change us but there are some things that are permanent, that is the root of us. There are also some things that happen in every universe because it's the root of everything. This is the universe where Bill never went to the USA and got the part in a big Netflix series. This is the universe where Aurora never got her record deal. But they still met. They met in every universe.

×××

New York, Metropolitan of Art. Bill had always liked just walking around there. He didn't even look at the art so much, it was just a calming setting, or it was at lunch time in the middle of the week.

There were just a few other visitors, students and people like himself, that walked by themselves in their own world. He stopped by the entrance to one of the bigger halls and looked around, then down at his shoes. His brown dress shoes were still wet after the walk through the autumny New York and would probably give him sores on the way to the hotel.

"Excuse me, do you work here?" Said a young, female voice and Bill looked up. He didn't need to raise his head up much because the girl in front of him reached his chest. She looked at him with big brown eyes and smiled sweetly. Bill swallowed hard. She was beautiful. Gorgeous even, with full lips and soft features. She reminded him of a Disney princess.

"Ehh… No… No… I.." Bill heard himself stammer. He laughed a bit painfully to cover up his nervous ways but he could hear that made it all worse.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I can't find any staff and I just…" The girl giggled and shrugged her shoulders. Bill looked at her with big eyes. He didn't realize it himself but he stared at her like she was a specimen he hadn't seen before.

"May, maybe, maybe I can help?" He succeeded in getting out while watching the girl's short skirt. It was gray and pleated and didn't cover much more than necessary. The girl looked up at him and seemed to examine him. He tried to smile friendly even if he knew that was exactly what a predator would do. He really didn't want to scare her but he probably did. He was probably her age multiplied by two and so much taller than her. He also looked like a square in his gray suit and long coat.

The girl giggled a little again and played with the little handbag she was carrying.

"That would be really nice of you… I guess it's just a silly question. It's the painting over there?" She pointed to a painting in the corner of the room and together they walked up to it. Bill walked a bit behind her, carrying his laptop bag and took the moment to admire her. She was so young and he was just middle aged. She wore thigh high boots that touched the short skirt and a pink little cardigan. Obviously a student, he thought to himself.

"Is that a mouse in the corner?" Said the girl and pointed towards the painting. Bill looked at the family portrait. It must have been from the 13th century. He couldn't see a mouse and smirked a little. It was such a silly question.

"Maybe so..?" He said, mostly to be able to stay next to the girl. She giggled again and he smiled at the sound. God, he wanted to fuck her so bad.

"Do you want to have a coffee with me?" It came spontaneously out from his mouth. Sometimes it did that to him. He blamed his genes for that, he couldn't always be that uptight guy he tried to be. She looked at him a bit surprised but then smiled.

"In the museum?" She asked and fixed her cardigan. Bill nodded and put his hands down his pants pockets.

"Sure, okay," she said with a bright smile. "Let me just get my coat, I laid it on a bench."

Bill smiled and nodded, then looked at her walk away. When she went into the other room he took out his hands from his pants pockets and pulled off the gold bands on his left hand. He looked at them for a few seconds in his palm, feeling the guilt creeping up on him but then he heard the girl's heels against the floor again and with a fast motion he put them in his coat pocket. He looked up at the girl again. Her coat was snow white, contrasting with her long dark hair and once again he couldn't stop himself from admiring her. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

They walked down to the lobby and then walked into the restaurant. There were more people there, obviously people eating lunch but that didn't stop him. No one knew who he was there. When they had gotten themselves a table the girl laughed a little and looked at him embarrassed.

"What?" He said and hung his gray suit jacket on the back of the chair. He didn't have a tie and in just his white shirt he felt a bit more relaxed.

"I don't even know your name."

Bill laughed a little too and dragged his hands over his thighs.

"Bill, what's yours?"

"Aurora Lou."

He smiled big. A perfect name for that girl.

"That's a good artist name."

She shrugged her shoulders with a blushing smile.

"You're not from here? I mean, your accent…"

"I'm swedish. Just here for work."

The waiter interrupted them and Bill looked around a bit. No one was drinking coffee. People drank wine.

"Do you drink wine?" He asked her carefully. She looked at him a bit nervously and played with her long nails under the table.

"Sure, okay." She said after watching him for a few seconds.

"We will take a bottle of Bordeaux," he said confidently. Aurora fixed her hair and he got the feeling she became more and more nervous. Maybe she wasn't even 21?

"You’re of age, right?" He made it sound like a joke and made her laugh.

"Yeah I'm 24, how old are you?"

Bill smiled unsure and then sighed. Fuck he was so old. She would get up and leave when he said his age. If she didn't believe he was rich. He didn't believe he looked rich even if the suit was from Prada.

"I'm 40…"

Aurora's eyes got big and he immediately regretted that he hadn't lied.

"What do you do for work?" She asked and he was glad she hadn't commented on his age.

"I'm an archaeologist. But not the digging kind…" he said. Once again the waiter interrupted and served the wine to them.

"What do you do? Are you a student?" He asked instead of waiting for her to say something about his work. It was boring anyway. He really should have taken the risk and become an actor instead. It would probably be more exciting to even do commercials than studying different types of clay.

"No.. I work at Sephora?"

"What's that?"

Aurora blushed and took a sip of her wine. It actually looked like she was afraid that he would judge her. Did she believe he had the upper hand here, because he had a more fancy job? He looked at her perfect face and sweet ways.

"It's a makeup store…"

Bill smiled. It wasn't like he was surprised, her makeup was flawless.

"But I…" Aurora blushed even heavier and looked around in the room. "I really want to work with music but it's really hard to get a foot in…"

Bill took a sip of the wine and leaned back in his chair.

"Are you a singer?"

"Yeah. I'm actually really good. And that is not something I just say. I am really good."

Bill imagined for a few seconds what kind of a voice she had and wondered if she was good. People probably said whatever she wanted to hear just because she was so pretty.

They continued to talk, mostly about shallow things. Bill was a bit afraid to talk about deeper things. His life was nothing he wanted to tell her about. But it was really nice to talk to her, the conversations floated on nicely and she had interesting opinions, much more interesting than he thought a twenty-four year old could have. Suddenly hours had passed by and the second bottle was empty. Bill couldn't stop looking at the girl like he was in love. Maybe he even was.

"Emm…" Bill lowered his eyes a bit embarrassed and then scratched the invisible stubble on his jaw. "I've really liked talking to you like this… Frankly, I don't want it to end."

Aurora looked at him with big Bambi eyes and smiled.

"You can come home with me, if you want to? I have tea?" She said sweetly.

Bill laughed but thought about the rings in his coat pocket. He really just should go to the hotel.

"I would love a cup of tea."

×××

Bill never believed he would get this lucky. Never ever. Alex and Gustaf, his actor brothers, were the ones that got the really hot girls, not him with his weird eyes and awkward ways. He looked at her sitting next to him on the baby pink couch in her short skirt and thigh high stockings, adorned with lace hems. She didn't have any pantyhose even if the weather permitted and he couldn't stop thinking about her panties. He hadn't had sex in more than a year. His marriage was as dry as the clay he worked with.

"Can I kiss you?" He whispered it, like it was something ugly he said and it was. He wanted to cheat. It was the only thing he could think about. Fuck the beautiful, amazing girl next to him. Aurora giggled and played with the edge of her skirt.

"Okay." She smiled and sat up a bit better. Bill smiled happily and felt himself get nervous again, but also excited. Way too excited. He was already hard.

He kissed her softly, tasting her lipstick, the deep pink lipstick and fantasies about her breasts under that thin pink cardigan. He had seen her nipples get hard when they sat in the restaurant. She was braless. Still so young her tits were as pert as two birds in early spring. He deepened the kiss and let his tongue push in. She answered like they had never done anything else than make out with each other. She let his lips go and giggled. He looked down at her with a smile.

"You're hard," She said with a teasing smile. Bill licked his lips and dragged his hand over her neck.

"You're the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen…"

She giggled again and looked down between his legs.

"I wanna see."

Bill's heart beated fast in his chest and in the same rhythm he unbuttoned his slacks and pushed them down with his underwear. Aurora crawled closer to him, lifted her skirt in the movement so he could see her black thongs.

"You're so big…" she said in awe and laid a hand on his thick thigh.

"I haven't been this hard for so long…"

Aurora continued to look at his cock while Bill unbuttoned his shirt too then pulled it off all together. He was in great shape for an archaeologist. Aurora dragged her finger tip through his pubic hair and then down over his shaft. Bill breathed heavily and laughed when she giggled by seeing him twitch. Carefully she stood up and for a moment he got nervous she would walk away but she just started to undress. She did it like a dance, a real striptease and Bill couldn't look away. Was this happening? To him? She took off everything but the thigh high nylon stockings and turned around so he could look at her ass. He had playfully spanked girls before but seeing her ass he wanted to do it hard. Really hard.

"Come here so I can spank that perfect ass, baby girl."

She giggled and walked up to him. He pulled her closer and gave her slit a tongue kiss before pulling her down over his lap. She pushed up her ass so he could spank her hard. He was panting just by that, spanking her but also looking at her pussy from behind. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

"Fuck I wish you were my wife," He said it spontaneously while he pushed a finger in her. She was so tight.

She turned her head back and looked at him.

"Are you proposing to me?"

Bill didn't answer because he didn't know the answer, instead he spanked her again and then moved her so he could push his hard on into her from behind.

"Please be a bit gentle… You're really big…" said she innocently and Bill twitched again at her words.

"Of course honey, of course," He said soothingly and pushed into her slowly. He bent his head back. It was so amazing. He couldn't remember sex being this good but maybe it had never been that good before either.

"Yeah, marry me. For fuck sake, marry me!" He panted. It was silly. They met that day. He had a wife and three daughters in Sweden but he knew he would do everything to get Aurora. He didn't believe in soulmates. Until now.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction

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ephemcrality · 4 months

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[ yigit kirazci, cis man, he / him ] — whoa! KAAN DEMIRCI just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TWELVE YEARS, working as a MAGAZINE EDITOR. that can’t be easy, especially at only THIRTY EIGHT YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit INSECURE and PARANOID, but i know them to be PROTECTIVE and FAMILY ORIENTATED. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to QUEENS!

basics:

nicknames: none

sexuality: bisexual with a leaning towards women

date of birth: february 27th

zodiac sign: pisces

hobbies: reading, writing, the history channel, his herb garden, cooking, learning languages/studying linguistics, fashion, beard care & fancy beard oils, drinking wine at the end of a long day, is known to do origami when nervous, swimming, poetry

dislikes: the cold, reality tv, the color beige, crowds/crowded places, tea (leaf water)

languages spoken: turkish & english (fluent), arabic, spanish, german (conversational)

religion: raised muslim, loosely practicing

++ so much more to know, under the cut!!

family:

mother: living in turkey still

father: deceased

siblings: one younger sister - wc on the main!

birth order: eldest

spouse / lover: single

children: none

pets: two cats

notable close relatives: none involved

best friend: npc/wc - message me!

rival: npc/wc - message me!

crushing on: npc/wc - message me!

friends: npc/wc - message me!

backstory:

TW: abandonment

with strict workaholic parents and overbearing relatives with a constant stream of ideals (that the demirci family never seemed to meet), kaan and his younger sister grew up pretty much fending for themselves. his parents were rarely home, and though they lived well above ' comfortable ' and wanted for very little, he struggled in school to make friends, he struggled at home to keep everything afloat, trying to be the glue for the family while also not losing himself to his own desires.

he loved to read, and was a great student. in his early teen years, his parents got divorced, and though he and his sister stayed with their mom... they hardly saw her after that. she would disappear for weeks at a time, and when kaan came home once to realize none of the bills were paid, the lights shut off... he knew she was probably gone forever, and he was all that his sister had now.

eventually, his sister's career took them from istanbul to the states, where he worked two, three jobs at times to support them. it was difficult, going from fairly affluent to struggling to make ends meet, but kaan put in the work, and made it happen.

it was difficult leaving his partner, and the few friends he had, back in istanbul, too. even now, kaan feels he hasn't fully settled into new york city, over a decade later...

writing has always been his truest passion - kaan wishes to be published, or work as a columnist, anything besides editing, which is his job now. it was a slow climb; he faced a lot of social struggle, almost losing out the job due to narrow-minded individuals who doubted his english ability.

but in the end, he earned the position, fair and square, working as a senior editor for a prominent lifestyle magazine. (think cosmopolitan/scarlet from the bold type). it's boring work, but pays well, and keeps him in the city to be close to his sister, who remains the most important person in his world.

he's dreamed of having a family of his own, of becoming a published author, of owning his own home, of adopting more cats... but somehow, he falls short of ever completing things for himself, always doing whatever it takes to help others.

#BOROUGHS.INTRO #. << introduction >> kaan.

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sergeifyodorov · 7 months

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I just reread strange trails and I'd love to know your inspirations for it! Your ideas behind the worldbuilding, the genesis of the plot, all that good stuff if you'd like to share!

the backstory

im a college student and was unemployed all summer. in order to pass the time while waiting for local jobs to reject me i started a crochet project. throughout pretty much the entire month of june. and possibly also may. i would make my squares and listen to the strange trails album. straight through. every day. i may have gone a little bit insane.

but it's okay. i'm already insane.

lord huron (the band who made the album) has like. lore. am i familiar with this lore? no i am not. am i aware nonetheless that there is lore? yes absolutely. if you listen to their discography there's definitely lore -- recurring themes (resurrection, adventuring, magical seductive women, etc), motifs (depends on the album but strange trails is big on flowers, trees, snow, although there is one song that's set in the desert), characters (they keep mentioning a guy called the world ender.) anyHway the point of all of this is that the music is [solid 7.5 out of 10 but it scratches my exact brain itches] and very evocative of the imagery and idea of a deeper world. my favourite off the album (and one of my favourites in the discography) is la belle fleur sauvage, which tells the listener about a long perilous quest for some mythical thing (a flower. also a woman. metaphor), although one of the ones whose imagery i enjoyed the most is frozen pines, which is a little less concrete but invokes images of cold, the side of a mountain, strange happenings, etc.

the idea

those songs are definitely the most direct inspiration for it but unfortunately my process for developing ideas is kind of terrible because it involves less "sitting down and coming up with stuff" and more "wait for a 60% formed idea to smack you upside the head like rapunzel in tangled and her cast-iron frying pan." which quinn and his sad little corpse did.

if you go back far enough in the quinnfic tag on my blog u can see the post right after it Happened. the idea was literally "quinn hughes carries a corpse up a mountain, and horror."

so i take this little piece of grit from which my pearl of questionable moral integrity will be built and i ask it questions. first off: quinn, why are you on that mountain? who is the corpse? is anyone else with you? soon enough petey decided to join him (although quinn is and was always the protagonist/pov character). the body was The Ghost Of Vancouver before it was brock over top of that.

another inspiration, which i realize i'm leaving out, is this

this is artist grayson perry's work "hold your beliefs lightly" from tomb of the unknown craftsman, and this image of a long perilous upward journey towards some sacred place really combined together with la belle fleur sauvage to form the base idea of the world for the work.

and of course why would you carry a corpse up a mountain to some sacred place if you couldn't resurrect it at the end?

quinn

im big on metaphor. if i'm writing something long it has to have a Point to it, some larger theme than romance and stuff (this is mostly because i'm bad at writing romance)(and also big on curses and the like.) and also because quinn hughes asexual barb i never fucked/i never fucked/all my life man, fucks sake. this was also being written right before the peak of Canucks Captaincy Debate, and in our hearts didn't we all know quinn was going to be the one to wear the c?

so it became pretty clear pretty quick that as well as my attempt at writing horror that this was going to be a quinn character study -- and this is where i should talk about my other fic scheherazade.

in scheherazade, auston actually doesn't make a lot of choices -- he tags along, arguing with the narrator/bill, and only starts to take an active role in the way the story is going near the end, when he finally gets sick of it all. quinn, however, is not at all the same kind of person as auston. he's less artistic and more practical; an older brother instead of a younger one; jewish; not nearly so squeamish. he takes an active role in the story from the very beginning, showing up to the base of the mountain with his pack full, both prepared and not for what lies ahead.

the mountain

vancouver is smack in the middle of the north shore mountains, so there's a million hiking trails about, but the one i can most easily think of (as someone who hasn't been to vancouver in several years) is the grouse grind trail, a popular and fairly short trail that the canucks prospects actually do every year, so i knew quinn and petey (both vancouver draftees) would be familiar. i've never actually done the grouse grind, which was part of the reason i decided to kind of. toy with reality. you can't call me out on inaccuracy when it's Not Real On Purpose (although the sign at the 1/4 mark is copied directly from photos i've seen.)

petey and the plot

once i added petey, i knew i'd have to get rid of him -- a lot of the scene ideas were quinn-only, and petey's way too sarcastic and useless (AFFECTIONATE) to engage seriously with the ideas presented to him like quinn would and did. so i needed to divide them up.

the original plot idea from the outline is actually pretty similar up until the end of chapter 6 (the conversation w the ghost), but it differs in a few crucial ways -- one, quinn breaks down again, crying and everything, and two, he actually does go through with the resurrection instead of using his wish to get petey down the mountain safely. i realized around then that this wouldn't work with the quinn i'd created, especially after his argument with the ghost: he's far less focused on glory than stability, less interested in the cup or his contract and more interested in the safe long bet than high rolling. in a cold, wet environment like the mountain it's a lot easier to get hypothermia without noticing than it is in a dry environment, even if the dry environment is several degrees colder than the wet one. and quinn would know that, having seen petey's thin little sweater and knowing his stubborn ass is going to freeze.

so after that it became about hypothermia. i actually had a bit of a writing pause after this because i knew i was going off-outline, so i had to kind of inch ahead until i knew where i was going. but i'm happy with how it turned out!

#asks #quinnfic #hope this satisfies ur curiosity anon!

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cryptidsnackpack · 2 years

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Tonight, Tonight (Chapter 2)

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader/Cheerleader/Henderson's!Cousin. Y/n is 18+ so you should be too if you're reading this. Fluff. Smut adjacent. Swearing. Borrowing Eddie's Clothes. Doing Eddie's eyeliner. Shirtless Eddie.

Small blurb before we begin: this chapter mentions reader borrowing Eddie's shirt. I usually always avoid this because I like to be as inclusive as possible with my fics. This is an outlier not a trend. My fics are for everyone.

It was about a half mile before you realized that there was no way they’d let you into the Hideout. You had your cheer uniform on and didn’t bring a change of clothes.

“Shit”

“What?” Eddie mumbled against the back of your neck, which was incredibly pleasant but increasingly distracting.

“I need to borrow your shirt.”

“This is a really strange way to get me undressed.” You rolled your eyes.

“Eddie I can’t show up to the Hideout with my cheer uniform on.”

“Okay. But what will I wear, and what about your pants?” You pulled the van onto the gravel road that led to the Hideout. With a ringed finger, Eddie pointed out the loading bay where Gareth and Jeff were already waiting.

“You’re going to wear your vest, and I’m obviously not going to be wearing pants.” You parked the van and turned to face Eddie. His eyes were wide, and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth.

“Look” You absentmindedly fiddled with his pick necklace. “Eddie Van Halen like never wears a shirt. The vest-no-shirt look is in, and if you’re good I’ll even let you borrow my eyeliner.”

Eddie’s eyes were locked onto your lips.

“You drive a hard bargain. Let me get the guys to unload the van and then I’ll let you give me a makeover.”

You waved hello to Jeff and Gareth as you swung open the back doors of the van. They shared a look between them with conspiratorial grins. Dustin had already told you about their ongoing bet of when you and Eddie would get together.

The Hideout was an odd grouping of ramshackle buildings. A tin roof covered wooden walkways that connected each building. Two bars were housed in dingy shacks on opposite ends of the small clearing. A stage sat squarely in the middle. Christmas lights and bare bulbs were strung on rafters throughout, and every square inch of exposed wood was covered with license plates, dollar bills, and writing.

Gareth and Jeff were on the stage setting up while you and Eddie sat in the back of the van. With the overhead light on you watched from the comfort of one of the fuzzy bench seats as Eddie shucked off his vest and jacket. He tossed his leather jacket directly at your face. You yelped in surprise and he chuckled.

With one hand he gripped the back of his Black Sabbath shirt and tugged it over his head. You were staring. It was obvious, but damn.

Eddie’s hair was mussed and he ran his hands through it to tamp it down. Tattoos were scattered over his torso and his jeans hung low on his hips. A small brown happy trail disappeared beneath his belt buckle.

“The belt too.” Your voice was low, much lower than you intended, and you cleared it hoping Eddie couldn’t tell you were practically salivating over him.

“What?” He also looked a bit dazed as he put his arms through his denim vest in one swift motion.

“I need it. For my outfit.” You plucked at his discarded shirt that sat next to you. With a slow sly grin he walked over, slowly undoing the buckle. He stood directly in front of you. You head was tilted all the way back to stare at his face. Avoiding the fact that if you angled your head down you could easily brush you lips against the happy trail you’d been ogling earlier.

You heard the snick, snick, snick as he slowly pulled the belt from its loops. He held the belt directly under your chin, stroking the skin of your neck with the leather.

“Thanks.” You took it and stood. Unzipping the side of your uniform top you pulled it over your head. Fuck bashfulness, especially when was standing in front of you like this. Maintaining eye contact you repeated the process with your skirt.

“Help me put this on?” You handed him the shirt. His shirt. Which was still warm and smelled like him. Cheap cologne and weed and Eddie.

“Lift your arms over your head.” His voice was deep and soft. You did as you were asked. Letting out a small giggle as his fingertips brushed down your arm and the shirt followed. When his hands reached your hips, he stopped. His callused fingertips plucked at the waistband of your panties. With a cocky smile he pulled the shirt down to where it brushed the tops of your thighs. Reaching for the belt he looped it around your waist. After a few adjustments from you, you were ready. You planned on slinging Eddie’s leather jacket on anyway.

“Sit and I’ll put on your eyeliner.” You ordered and he obliged with a dramatic sigh. You startled to rifle through your unorganized purse.

“Aha!” You held the eyeliner pencil over your head triumphantly and made your way over to him. Without hesitation or preamble you straddled his lap. Cupping his jaw you started to smudge his lower lash line. He didn’t flinch or squirm, but kept his hands locked around your waist.

“There. Done!” You sat back to admire your work. Woah. Like woah. You didn’t really think, didn’t know if you could. Leaning forward in a daze you saw that he was leaning forward too. Maybe he reached out for you first, or you did. It didn’t really matter, what mattered was that Eddie was kissing you. His lips were soft and forceful as they pried a moan from you. A brush of his tongue had you clawing his vest to bring him closer.

A resounding thump startled you both.

“Hey stop making out! We have soundcheck in five!” Gareth. Your thoughts were borderline murderous.

Eddie gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand was crawling up your thigh. These touches were possessive and his eyes were wild. He swallowed heavily.

“Let’s get out there.” He eased you off his lap and hauled himself up, taking the opportunity to pepper your face with sloppy, goofy kisses. A far cry from the hunger you saw a second ago.

He held out a hand to help you out of the back of the van, and immediately slung an arm around your shoulder. Neatly tucked into his side you found yourself melting into him. You’d always wondered if he’d be this clingy, this needy. Happy to be right, you wrapped your arms around his waist.

As you approached Gareth and Jeff you saw the latter slap several dollar bills into Gareth’s open palm. Eddie snorted and turned to you.

“I want you in the front row where I can see you okay? Don’t go anywhere alone and as soon as the set is over, I’ll come get you.” His concern was so genuine and sweet you didn’t have the heart to tell him you’d been in much rougher crowds. You nodded and with a grin he gave you a loud smacking kiss.

“Break a leg Munson.” He winked and jogged over to rest of his bandmates, who seemed to be giving him the appropriate amount of hell.

You found a stool at the far-right corner of the stage, in the front row but slightly removed from the surprisingly large crowd. Your eyes tracked Eddie through the entire soundcheck. He looked at you a total of five times. Two cursory checks to make sure you were still there, and the other three were to make insane faces at you.

You realized you’d never actually heard Eddie play or sing. You heard him plucking on Frankenstrat Jr. a few times, but it had never been plugged in to an amp. You’d also caught him singing softly to himself when he thought no one was there. Too busy setting up that week’s battle map and double checking his screen to notice you creeping up on him.

Kevin, who you hadn’t seen tonight bounded on stage and helped the guys make last minute touches before grabbing his own guitar.

“Hello, hello. My name is Eddie and we’re Corroded Coffin!” Eddie shot a wink at you, grinning behind the mic. Biting your lip to smother an embarrassingly large grin, you settled in to watch the set.

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things

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bmodiwrites · 2 years

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I Could've Sworn I Saw Fireworks

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: I'm still locked out of my @ohwereusingourmadeupnames account, so this is where I'm going to be from here on out. Please follow along! Word Count: ~10k Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? There's also a couple instances of violence and homophobic language. Shoot me a message if you'd like to know about it before you read! Summary:

There is no altercation with the demogorgon, so Steve's life isn't turned so far upside down. Instead, he takes Nancy's brief influence in his life seriously - he gets better grades and keeps his nose down. Steve is so desperate to get out of his Hawkins that he takes a basketball scholarship to play at Purdue. He's lucky to be going, except -

His life feels like it's in limbo until his little brother Dustin gets to West Lafayette to suffer Purdue's curriculum, too. Between brotherly love and a bit of meddling, Steve is thrust into many situations with a certain curly haired dungeon master he's been crushing on for months. Find out what happens when Dustin plays matchmaker and Steve & Eddie go along with it!

Or, the one where Dustin actually is Steve's little brother and their lives are all the better for it...

Find it on AO3

Brought out of that mind numbing spiral by a snort of laugher, Steve looked over to find Eddie with his head thrown back, like the entire situation was hilarious enough to warrant such a chuckle. The sound of it was deep and rich, melodic in the way it resounded in Steve’s ears like a song he wasn’t going to be able to get out of his head anytime soon. It was infectious, too. Steve couldn’t help but laugh himself.

“So you really are Harrington’s brother, then. I swear, when he told us about some adorable jock who drove him around, we didn’t believe it. I didn’t, at least.” Eddie looked at him square on then, a sparkle of mischief radiating from his beautiful doe eyes. “I always figured he said you were some stud athlete to boost his perceived coolness. Never mind the fact that I’ve never been all that impressed with the ability to throw a ball into a basket.” There was a wink thrown his way before Eddie started to circle around him, effectively breaking what had become heady eye contact.

Better able to think now, Steve said “it pays the bills” in his own attempted defense – though, he knew it was no use. He’d gotten more than one talking to about his obvious conformity to the establishment. It’d been Dustin’s favorite topic since arriving at school, in fact. And if that establishment wasn’t paying for his college tuition and room and board, Steve might’ve jumped on that line of thought, too. The demands and expectations they had for the people under their thumb were extensive and sometimes glaringly unattainable. When all was said and done, Steve wouldn’t remember much off the court that made the whole experience worth it. But, there was no real way to articulate that to Dustin or anyone else that already had an opinion formed. People saw his free ride as a way to single him out and make him feel other.

Too bad they were years too late for that.

#steddie #stranger things #steve/eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic #bobbie writes #i could've sworn i saw fireworks #this one is one of my favs - dustin as steve's little brother is magic

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pricklynoodle · 3 years

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real or not real

Itadori Yuji/Fushiguro Megumi pairing | Squid Game AU | Rated T | warning: implied character death | ANGST

( yes, writing instead of doing school lol, squid game ruined me so if you want to read this then be warned of SQUID GAME SPOILERS. There's no graphic death, but its sad as hell either way TT)

---

“The player who takes all ten marbles from your partner wins.”

Megumi had always kept to himself, never saying anything unless spoken to, never stuck to groups, and never took the choice to attach himself to something. Everything had an expiration date. Unnecessary things like friendships had never appealed to him. He only needed his sister, and it wasn’t like she had the choice to have him as her brother. But the fact that she still stuck around caring for him until she worked herself to a coma.

So honestly, it’s a surprise why he feels his heart drop when the announcement tells him he has to go against … whatever 310 is to him.

He hardly knows 310, and doesn't know anything about his life actually. Other than that he’s crazy strong, has an impressive pain tolerance, but also the loudest kid he’s ever met. He's always around him, sticking to Megumi like a persistent piece of gum stuck to his shoe. But he doesn't dislike him, but he can't say he's thrilled with him either.

But would Megumi kill him?

Stupid, he tells himself.

“Oh, fuck, I honestly didn’t see that coming,” 310 says with a grimace, looking at Megumi guiltily as if he was the cause of Megumi’s inner turmoil. He sits down on one of the stone benches. The whole setup was supposed to mimic a typical neighborhood, something Megumi wasn’t fortunate enough to grow up in. The bastards even made the effort to add in the sounds of cicadas from the fake trees, as if this was a completely normal summer for a couple of teens.

Megumi doesn’t say anything, he feels dizzy. He drops down to the bench, away from 310 as possible.

“I’ve always wanted to say this,” 310 says as he rests his elbows on his knees, looking at Megumi seriously, “This whole thing reminds me of Hunger Games.”

Megumi looks at him with furrowed brows.

“You know, Jennifer Lawrence?” 310 pushes. Megumi says nothing. “...Tall girl, big ass? The one with the arrows?”

“Can you shut the fuck up,” Megumi deadpans, then he shakes his head. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He counts to ten, then glances down at his hand. 10 marbles. “Just tell me how to play this game.”

“I don’t know either,” 310 admits, sounding sheepish. He shrugs carelessly, “This is more of the games my gramps used to play, but he was too busy being sick to teach me though.”

Megumi looks up at 310. He looks tired, but nostalgic. Like he was thinking of a good memory.

310 perks up, grinning at Megumi brightly, “though they said that we can make our own rules. I’ll think of something.”

Megumi nods solemnly. The silence stretches until 310 lets out an ‘aha!’.

“Let’s bet everything and just play one around,” 310 says, even dropping his fist down onto his hand as if it were the best idea ever.

Megumi freezes, staring at 310, was he going to trick him? He doesn’t even know him. They’re not friends. Of course, everything still is a death tournament at the end of the day.

310 seems to pick up Megumi’s reluctance, he jerks his head to the side. He points towards the pair of men competing against each other, looking frantic and panicked.Their faces are sheened with sweat, t-shirts drenched in sweat. It’s… it’s a pathetic sight.

“Fine,” Megumi relents. “What are we playing?”

“Calm down,” 310 chuckles, “are you that excited to kill me?”

Megumi stays quiet.

“We have a lot of time left,” 310 says breezily, pointing towards the timer mounted on the wall. “Let’s do it at the last minute.”

“What do you suggest we do till then?” Megumi asks with a scowl. “Sit nice and pretty, twiddle our thumbs and shove these marbles up our asses?”

“Jesus, man,” 310 laughs, “no just… talk.”

“Talk,” Megumi repeats.

“Talk,” 310 smiles, looking down at his hands. Megumi looks at them too. He remembers the hard calluses on them, when they shook hands. They’re thick and sturdy, and hold a lot of power. He really could have killed Megumi before, just wrap his hands around his neck and it’s all over.

Megumi also shakes away the filthy thoughts of what else those hands could do. Get a grip, Fushiguro.

“Things we couldn’t tell other people,” 310 says, smiling wistfully. “One of us is going to die here anyways.”

Megumi swallows the lump in his throat.

310 smiles wider. He’s always smiling, Megumi notes.

“There’s no reason to feel embarrassed if that’s the case,” 310 tells him, “I promise I won’t laugh when you blush like a tomato.”

“I don’t,” Megumi denies, but he can feel the heat already rising up to his cheeks.

“You do,” 310 says, “but I think it’s cute.”

Cute.

“So, uh, you have someone back home then?” 310 asks.

“Yeah,” Megumi says.

“...like a girlfriend or something?”

“Sister,” Megumi says quickly, “no...never a girlfriend. Impossible for me.”

“Ah, okay,” 310 says, nodding. “Just your sister?”

“I had a dad, but he … never came back.” Megumi confesses, “he was a shitty dad. He was never really home, but he gave us shelter and food. He had a bad temper, but he never hit us. He never liked to be around me especially. I … used to think he hated me.”

“What changed?” 310 asked.

“I… I became him. I understand why he did what he did,” Megumi says, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. “Doing dirty jobs, stealing, never at home. Hiding from danger. Hiding us from danger. Protection.”

310 nodded, he slid closer to Megumi. Thighs brushing. Silence continues.

“He came here,” Megumi says, looking up at the ceiling. It’s painted a pink-orange gradient, like a sunset. “I found half of that business card in one of his jackets. The last two digits were cut off. I dialed every possible number until I got here.”

“For what?” 310 asks.

“Find him,” Megumi says, “punch him. I would have killed him, I think, if I found out that he left us to rot. Then steal all his money to pay for my sister’s medical bills.”

“Oh, she’s sick?”

“Coma,” Megumi clarifies. “Some rich bastard from work hit her on her way home. He got off easy because of money.”

“I see,” 310 says, clenching his fists. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah,” Megumi says gruffly.

“You’re still getting money though,” 310 says. He doesn’t say but you don’t get your dad back. “What would you do with it?”

Megumi doesn’t even hesitate, “pay for my sister’s medical bills. Buy a nice house for us to live in. A car, if I can.”

“If you can?” 310 says, “where would you drive your car?”

“school,” Megumi says simply. “I would use my car to drive to school.”

310 blinks. “You know, you can do much more with that 40 billion. You really don’t want anything else? Don’t have a destination?”

“I’d go to Sendai.”

“Wh—Sendai? I’m from Sendai. Are you kidding me? Are you going to drive there with a shiny new Toyota Yaris?”

Megumi blushes furiously, “enough about me, ugh, it’s your turn anyways.”

310 shakes his head, but he’s giggling like a schoolgirl. “You really have to think bigger. Have you ever been to the beach?”

“No,” Megumi says.

“You should, one that’s got nice soft sand and blue water. With palm trees too. And you should get piña coladas.”

“What?”

“C’mon man, you don’t get to be frugal with 40 billion. I’ll teach you how to splurge once we get out—”

Ah.

“Right,” 310 breathes out, laughing to himself all silly. “Only one of us leaves.”

Megumi grunts.

Silence.

“...Ever seen a dead body?” 310 asks.

“...I’ve been answering all these questions. You haven’t answered at all,” Megumi points out, feeling far too exposed for running his mouth.

“Ah you’re right! Uh, I don’t have anyone.”

“But your grandfather—”

“He’s dead. For a while now. My mom and dad. Also dead. My brother is on the run. He’s, uh, killed a lot of people. He got the death penalty, so yeah, haven’t really seen him around.”

Megumi looks at him.

“I don’t think he counts,” 310 says, scratching his face. Megumi realizes the scars on his face aren’t from the previous games. They looked healed, puckered and faded from time.“He looks a lot like me, though. A lot of people can’t tell us apart. He hated that. He’s only a bit taller than me, and he loves to brag about it. He has a huge ego.”

“I see.”

“Yeah,” 310 says, but he doesn’t look awkward about it. Just mildly inconvenienced. “Oh, have we really been talking for that long?”

Megumi looks at the time. They have less than 2 minutes.

310 stands up, swiping the dirt off his pants. He pats around for his marbles. “Okay, so you see that wall over there?”

Megumi nods mutely. It’s quite far, maybe around 2 meters.

“Okay, we throw one marble, and the one closest to the wall wins, okay?”

“Okay.” Megumi nods, easy enough.

“Okay, you go first.”

Megumi scowls.

“added rule, we do it together,” he says, jaw clenched.

“Eh?” 310 looks at him, confused.

“I’ve been doing things first, so it seems rather fair if we do it at the same time, with our best effort, okay? I have the blue marble, you get the red one.”

“... okay.”

“Don’t give me a weak ass toss, alright, that doesn’t count,” Megumi says gruffly, narrowing his eyes at him. “Do your best.”

310 nods, giving him a thumbs up. “Okay!”

“On three,” Megumi says.

“Okay!”

“Three.”

“Two,” 310 continues, positioning his arm.

“One,” Megumi does the same.

They both throw their marbles. Megumi’s heart leaps out of its chest as he watches his marble in the air.

Clack!

Megumi looks down on the marble that lands right next to his shoe.

It’s red.

“Ahh, shoot, I threw it too hard,” 310 says with a pout.

Megumi sees red.

He shoves 310 against the wall. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Whoa! No, you won f-fair and square, man,” 310 stutters. “I did my best shot, like you said!”

“Any idiot would know that shit would bounce right back if you threw it like that!”

310 laughs, “I must be some one of a kind idiot, then.”

Megumi shoves him further into the wall. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“You can’t kill me if I’m gonna be dead anyways.”

“THEN I’LL KILL YOU IF YOU DIE.”

“See, that doesn’t really make sense—”

“Shut the fuck up! Why did you do that?!”

310 slumps against the wall, body lax. Not looking at him.

“Answer me!”

“You… you have a lot more to live for than me,” 310 says quietly. He looks up at Megumi, tears in his eyes, “what kind of asshole would I be to deny you for a life?”

“You have a life!” Megumi snaps.

“I don’t, not anymore,” 310 sobs, a wobbly smile on his face. “Before my grandfather died, he told me that I should help others. That when it was my time to go, I would die surrounded by others and not end up like him.

“I should use my strength to help others, that’s what I’ve been doing here. Out there, no one wants me to help them. No one wants the face of a killer to help them. No one wants me to be around them. I can’t go to places, I’ve… I’ve always hated what Sukuna did to me. Made me carry his sins, his crimes. The way people looked at me as if I was him. I can’t move forward, not like you.

“I… I never went to school either, y’know. Or I never graduated. When Sukuna became a wanted man, I became a target. I stayed in my room. The doors were locked. The curtains were always down. It was like this for years. I received no support. The only way I could get by was doing interviews with journalists, feeding the narrative. Making people hate Sukuna more, making them hate me more. That’s no way to live.”

Megumi felt the back of his eyes burn, his teeth aching from being clenched too tight.

“Even if...I had the money. I can’t erase what my brother did. I can’t erase my existence in the world. I would just keep doing the same thing everyday. I don’t… I don’t want a bigger house, not when it’s just me who lives there.”

“You and I are not so different,” he says, looking up at Megumi.. “I think that’s why… I want you to win. You get to experience all these normal things, and feel… happy. You have a chance.”

Megumi wipes his eyes harshly, “Shit.”

“That’s true.”

“... What’s your name?” Megumi asks.

“Itadori Yuji,” 310—no, Yuji says. “My name is Itadori Yuji.”

Megumi takes a shaky breath, he raises his hand for him. “Fushiguro Megumi.”

Yuji grins, he clasps his hand onto Megumi’s. “That means blessing, right?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

“I’m glad then, Megumi. That I’m friends with you even through this hell. That itself is a blessing in a disguise.”

“Shut up,” Megumi punches his shoulder.

A guard suddenly arrives, carrying a gun in his hand. Waiting.

Yuji looks behind Megumi’s head. “Ah, I wish we had more time.”

Megumi bites his lip. “I wish I’d… met you sooner. I don't know anything about you.”

Yuji jaw drops, “Okay, I’ll … summarize this in ten seconds! I’m twenty-years-old, my favorite color is green, my favorite manga is Bleach, my type is tall people with big butts! Uhh, I really like watching action films—”

“Not … whatever, nevermind,” Megumi says softly as he listens to Yuji ramble on about himself.

Yuji pauses from his ramble looking winded, “uhm, Fushiguro, can I hug you?”

Megumi freezes.

“I just haven’t had a hug in a long time—” Yuji trails off before he gets cut off with Fushiguro hugging him desperately, clinging to him.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot!”

“...Hey, Fushiguro Megumi, live a long life, okay?”

Megumi lets go.

He turns around.

Eyes burning as he stares unblinking down the path. Footsteps. Silence. Breathing. He feels something salty on his lips when he licks them. It's not sweat.

He... he got attached. He stares forward, he doesn't regret it. Not at all. He got to know Yuji Itadori, the real him, and the pain in his heart is the best he can give back. A reminder that he was more than what people saw him. Yuji Itadori didn't deserve what the world gave him, they did not deserve his cries. The fact that... no one would shed a tear for him.

...Ah.

Megumi notices the dark wet spots on the dirt.

“Thanks for playing with me.”

#my writing #itafushi #itadori yūji #fushiguro megumi #fushiita #squid game au #squid game spoilers #angst #fanfiction #im sorry everyone lol #it just broke me #i m gonna go lay down and cry now bye

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

First Date

Summary: The reader accidentally sends an angry email off to a co-worker but winds up with a date instead...

Pairing: Landscaper!Dean x reader

Square: First Date

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo . Enjoy!

_______

You yawned as you trotted out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand down to your home office. You plopped down in your chair and got on your computer, checking your email with a tired hum. You saw an email from the facilities manager and sighed.

“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m work from home now, jackass. Refund my parking pass. That was like five hundred bucks.”

You growled and typed out an angry email in response, getting so fed up when you finished you knocked your coffee all over your computer.

“Shit!” you said, grabbing some tissues and moping it up.

You saw a sent message appear on screen and you shook your head.

“No. No. No, I didn’t send that. Recall, recall,” you said, shoving the tissues aside. It’d already been opened though and the recall failed, your jaw dropping. “No! I just moved into this house! I can’t afford to get fired.”

You grabbed your phone and decided to bite the bullet, trying to dial the guy when you got an email back.

As highlighted in my original message below, your refund will show up next month along with all other refunds to staff now working from home.

You hit reply and started writing an apology, praying he didn’t report you to HR.

I’m so sorry. It was an accident. I wrote it to express my frustrations and had no intentions of ever sending it. I’m deeply embarrassed, Mr. Winchester, and apologize once again.

You bit your bottom lip and waited a minute, getting a response back.

Thank you for your apology, Ms. Y/L/N. Seeing as today is my last day and it was a mistake, I see no reason to pursue this further.

“Ah, thank you, thank you,” you said. “Now let’s deal with this coffee.”

Two Weeks Later

“So what’s the damage?” you asked. The man in the flannel and baseball cap wrote up a tally on his clipboard before looking back at the house and yard again.

“Normally, for total lawn maintenance, that includes your weeding, trimming, spring and fall clean up, etc. for a lawn this large, you’re looking at around eighty a week,” he said. “But we’re trying to break into this neighborhood so let’s call it fifty a week. We get ten yards around here, we’ll knock it down to forty. How’s that sound?”

“Fifty for everything?” you asked. “Including the snow removal?”

“We’ll negotiate a separate contract for that but I’d call that about 350 for that season,” he said. “So. We have a deal?”

“For fifty bucks, you got a deal,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Perfect. I will have a contract written up and sent over to you this evening,” he said. He dug around into his back pocket and pulled out a business card.

“Super Natural Lawn Services,” you said. “Winchester.”

“Hm?” he said, writing something down on his clipboard.

“Name sounds familiar is all,” you said.

“Used to be in charge of managing the grounds at a local place until they decided to have their staff work from home. Ms. Y/L/N,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh my…” you said, Dean chuckling. “I am so-”

“I like running my own business a lot better,” he said. “Besides, you apologized. We’re all good. We’ll get that contract straightened out and I’ll get a team over Friday morning to start on your landscape design.”

“I really am sorry, Mr. Winchester. I-”

“Y/N. It’s good. I promise. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You nodded and he headed back to his car, giving you a wave as he drove off.

Two Weeks Later

“Hey, Dean?” you called from your front porch. He poked his head up from where he was head first in a notebook, staring at the dirt edge around your house. “You want a drink? It’s really hot out.”

“I’m okay,” he said, sweating pouring off of him.

“You want to come into the air conditioning for a minute?” you asked. He was about to say no when he took off his hat and his hair was soaked with sweat. “Come on.”

“Alright. Just for a minute,” he said. He hopped up onto the porch and stepped into your foyer, letting out a sigh. “Okay, that’s nice.”

“You like lemonade?”

“Sure,” he said. He took off his boots and followed you to your kitchen, taking a seat at the table when you waved him down. You brought over a large glass, Dean gulping it down. “Do you have a minute? Now that your lawn is in good shape, I have a few ideas for landscaping near the house if I could pick your brain.”

“Sure,” you said. He flipped open his notebook and showed you a drawing, your eyes wide. “You drew that? It’s great.”

“Do you like that kind of style? It’s minimal upkeep but it’s not barren out there this way,” he said.

“I love it. How much does that cost?” you asked.

“It’s part of your weekly bill. I have a few other ideas in here you can take a look at and tell me which you like best,” he said. You flipped through the notebook with him, still liking the first one the most. “Alright. We’ll get that going for you then.”

“My neighbor was asking about you the other day. I gave her your name,” you said.

“Fingers crossed we get a bit more business around here then,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the drink, Y/N.”

One Month Later

You hummed as you sat on your front porch with your morning coffee, watching Dean across the street and walk around a yard with his team. They’d already done your yard for the week and you knew Dean was up to about six or so houses in the development. With a big stretch you glanced over to your car and saw something on the windshield. You got up and walked over, plucking off a note.

Found a problem with one of your plants. Rabbits were eating it. I’ll replace it later today.

You looked across the street just as he looked over. You gave a wave and he returned it before you headed back inside.

Four hours later you were getting home from the store to find another note stuck up against your front door.

Plant should be all good now. Enjoy your weekend.

“Hey,” you heard behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Sorry.”

“Hi, Dean,” you said. “S’alright. I got your note.”

“It was a simple fix,” he said. “I actually am looking for my work gloves. I either left them at your place or the Jones’ but I didn’t find them over there.”

“Are they black?” you asked.

“Yeah. You find them?” he asked.

“Maybe they’re near my new plant,” you said, nodding your head. He looked over and they were on the grass beside it.

“Ah. That’s what I get for taking calls while working,” he said. He grabbed them and started to leave, pausing at the driveway. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“You single?”

“Why?”

“Cause if you’re dating someone, I don’t think my odds of getting a date will go very far,” he said as he spun around. You smiled and leaned against the porch post. “Single?”

“Why would you want to date me? I was very rude to you once.”

“You were pissed about throwing money away for no good reason. Trust me, I got plenty of emails that day. You’re the only one that apologized. Plus you may have once told the grumpy guy in the cafeteria to go do a job that makes him happy.”

“You knew who I was when I emailed you, didn’t you.”

“Yeah. I looked you up at work. You were nice back then. You always offer my crew cold water if you’re home. I just like you,” he said.

“Pick me up at seven,” you said as you spun around. “You decide what we’re doing.”

“Alright,” he said. “I wouldn’t advise a dress and heels.”

“Now I’m intrigued. I’ll see you later then, Dean.”

“Yes you will, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” said Dean when you opened your front door just before seven. You laughed when he held out a packet of flower seeds. “They’ll go great in a planter on the porch.”

“Thanks,” you said. You put the packet inside and locked up, following him to his car. “So what are we doing?”

“I figured we could do something and grab a bite after if that’s okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “Were you thinking of a movie?”

“Hopefully it’s more fun than a movie,” he said. “Trust me.”

“Okay, that is the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date,” you said, Dean chuckling as you both turned in your helmets. “I did not even know there was go-karting in this town. Like really nice go-karting too.”

“We could come back sometime,” he said. “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

“Same,” you said.

“Well follow me then,” he said, walking past his car in the parking lot and headed for the street. He took your hand and you walked across over to a diner, Dean walking the two of you inside and to a booth by the corner.

Twelve minutes later you had a double bacon cheeseburger with jalapenos in front of you along with a basket of fries and onion rings. You dug in, Dean smiling to himself as he enjoyed his own burger.

“Too much?” you said.

“Save room for dessert. They have out of this world sundaes,” he said.

“If it’s as good as this burger, I’m sold,” you said. “So what made you want to have a landscaping business?”

“I get to be outside, do some hard work but some mental work too. We’re doing pretty good for our first year,” he said. “I didn’t like my old job very much.”

“It sounds like this one is working out for you.”

“It is. Probably would have taken me longer to ask you out if I hadn’t sort of known you already but I don’t mind,” he said, taking one of your fries.

“You flirt with all your customers or just me?”

“Just you,” he said. “How’s it working out so far?”

“Pretty good. Want to go catch the music fest downtown after our meal? Main act comes on at nine,” you said. “Unless you’re not into rock.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You and me are gonna get along just fine.”

_____

#spndeanbingo #dean x reader #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean fanfiction #dean fanfic #dean x #dean x you #dean #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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icanfixhimclub · 3 years

Text

"You're insufferable." "I'm glad."

This is part 2 to this, so go read that first!

Blue strided pridefully to the stage, standing beside who she now knows is David, as Jack waves to everyone. "Carrying the banner!" Jack yelled and everyone in the stands cheered. "We've come a long way, but we ain't done yet. And maybe it's only gonna get tougher from now on. But that's fine, we'll just get tougher with it!"

Everyone cheered while Jack started speaking again, "But also...also we gotta get smart and listen to my pal david," some cheered, mostly like Manhattan newsies, "Who says, 'stop soaking the scabs.'" Blue scoffed stepping to look at Jack. "Hey look Kelly, when me and my boys see scabs, we soak 'em. Period."

Every cheered as Jack looked very displeased. "No, no, no!" David cut of the cheering, "That's what they want us to do! If we get violent, it's just playing into their hands." "Hey look, they're gonna be playin' with my hands alright?" Spot said sternly. "It ain't what they say anymore, it's what we say." Blue cut in, scowling at David.

"And nobody ain't gonna listen to us unless we make 'em." Spot adds on. Everyone started cheering again as Spot and Blue glanced at each other. "You got no brains!" Kelly shouts, "We're starting to fight each other, it's just what the big shots wanna see! That we're street trash! Street rats with no brains, no respect for nothing including ourselves!"

Everyone started sitting and quieting down. "So here's how it is," Jack begins again, "If we don't act together, we're nothing! If we don't stick together, we're nothing!" "Tell 'em Jack!" A kid yells. "So what's it gonna be?" Murmurs of agreement could be heard from the crowd as Spot and Blue paced. "So whadda you say Spot?" Jack asked.

Spot looks out into the crowd, "I say what you say...is what I say." Some of the crowd cheered but not all of it as Jack turned to Blue, looking hopeful. "I say you're an idiot Jack Kelly...but that ain't always a bad thing." Blue spit on her hand with a grin as Jack repeated the actions and the crowd cheered. Suddenly the lights went out and a spotlight got turned to the curtains, a red haired woman stepping out at the crowd cheers and wolf whistles.

"Oh boy." Blue mutters, slipping past people to leave the theater, having no mind to deal with the boys obnoxious behavior. Just a minute after she sat down, Spot Conlon did too. They sat in silence for a while until Spot spoke up, "Why do you hate me?" Blue chuckled in response, "Why shouldn't I?"

She turned to look at the dirty blonde, gaze questioning. "I can be a good guy!" Spot argues as Blue busts out laughing. "You? As if! The only thing 'good' about you is how you and Brooklyn use slingshot's, but even then my boys and me are better." Spot huffed, crossing his arms, "You're insufferable." "I'm glad."

Blue smiled a smile that made Spots face heat up, but he hoped the darkness would hide it. Then, an old man who don't look too friendly starts heading into the theatre. "Hey mista, you ain't s'posed to be in there right now." Blue reminded, standing up and blocking the door, Spot standing up shortly after.

"Move it little girl." The unknown man pushes Blue away, her head hitting the wall as Spot stops her from hitting the ground and the man enters the building. "Hey, Blue, you ok?" Conlon asks, sitting Blue against the wall. "Ya," She winces as she brings her hand up to rub the forming bump, "Just hurts a bit, nothing I'se can't handle."

When they hear the clopping of horses, they both turn their heads and see the bulls heading their way. With a knowing look, they both run inside. "Jack!" Blue yells, searching frantically, but she instead finds Bolt. "Bolt! Get the younger boys out, the bulls are here!" She's frantic and the loud noise doesn't help her head but Bolt nods as Blue flees to search for Jack.

Just as she sees Jack run, she all hears the deafening whistle of the bulls, ringing in her head. Everyone started trying to leave, some staying and fighting. As Blue saw a bull trying to take one of her younger boys, she ran to them, pulling the man back and punching him right in the gut, then kneeing him in the face when he doubled over.

She didn't even see it coming, another man landed a punch right where she had hit her head just a few minutes before. She heard the faint call of her name, but she was unconscious before she even hit the ground. Spot saw red, charging at the man, swing his fist with all his might be picking up Blue and running.

He saw an open area and ran backstage, right out the back doors. "Please be okay." He whispered, gently setting her down on the ground before running back inside, praying she was okay

"All rise, all rise. Court is now in session. Judge E. A. Monahan presiding." Blue groaned quietly, holding the ice pack against her head. "Are any of you represented by a counsel?" The judge asked. Spot, Racetrack and Blue all shared confused looks. "No. Good, good. That'll move this along considerably."

"Hey, ya honor, I object." Spot spoke up. "On what grounds?" "On the grounds of Brooklyn, your honor." Everyone laughed, even Blue let out a giggle that had Spot glancing down at her. The judge banged his gavel, unamused by Spots behavior, "I fine each of you 5 dollars, or 2 weeks confinement at the House of Refuge."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey we ain't got 5 bucks." "Hell, we ain't even got 5 cents!" Blue added on to Race's statement. "Hey your honor, how bout I roll ya for it? Double or nothing." Everybody laughed once again at Racetracks remark while the judge banged his gavel again. "All right, move along, move along."

"Your honor, I'll pay the fines," Everyone turned to see Denton enter the court room, "all of them." David entered as well, the 2 walking over to the others. The dull throb in Blue's head made her zone out, Denton words sounding miles away. She only zoned back in when she heard Race yell over to Jack.

The only thing Blue could focus on was the warmth that shot through her body when Spot grabbed her hand and lead her outside with the others, all heading to the restaurant. "Blue, get that ice pack back on ya head." Spot ordered when he saw Blue drop it on the table. "I'se fine, besides, my arm is hurtin'." She complained.

Everyone greeted Denton as he walked into the restaurant. "Why didn't the sun print the story?" David questions immediately. "Because it never happened." Everyone talked over each other in forms of confusion. "If it's not in the papers it never happened. The owners decreed that it not be in the papers, therefore..."

Blue could hear Spots heavy breathing, most likely of anger. "Anyways, I came to tell you fellas goodbye." Silence fell over the restaurant, nobody dared to speak. "What happened, did ya get fired?" David steps forward but Denton was quick to shoot down the idea. "No, I got reassigned back to my old job as the sun's ace war correspondent. They want me to leave right away. The owner thinks they should only cover really important stories so..."

David walked away in what seemed like disappointment. "They don't always fire you, David. I would be blackballed from every paper in the country," Denton tugged David's arm to get him to face him, "Hey, I'm a newspaper man. I have to have a paper to write for." David still stayed silent as Denton sighed, "This is the story I wrote about the rally. And, I want you to read it at least."

Denton took out a price of paper from inside his pocket, but David still remained quiet so Denton kinda forced the paper into his hand as he started leaving. "Bill," the waiter turned around, trying to tell Denton to keep it, "No, no, this should cover it." Denton handed the man some cash and left. David pushed off of the wall and crumpled the paper.

"God David, stop being an ass." Everyone turned to look at Blue, unready for her comment. "Excuse me?" David asked as Blue stood up. "You heard me. Denton had no control over being reassigned and he has to make money too. Boo hoo, we're not in the paper, suck it up and stop acting like a upset toddler."

Blue fiercely gazed at David, her annoyance evident. David shifted his gaze to the table infront of him. "We get Jack out of the refuge tonight. And from now on, we trust no one but the newsies." Everyone agreed, standing up and leaving. After leaving, Blue grabs David's wrist. "Hey, I'm coming with, rather you like it or not." She said, letting ho and walking away.

That night, her and the boys snuck past the Refuge gates following a carriage. David points to a lighted window, "That's where we saw Crutchy." A whistle blows and they all hide. Everyone could see it was Jack. "Where they takin' him Dave?" Mush asked as the loaded Jack into a carriage. "Only one way to find out," David took off his hat and waited for the carriage to leave." I'll meet you guys by the square."

As everyone watched David leave, Blue walked out, staring up at the window. "Aye, whaddya doin' Blue?" Race asked watching her intently. "Mush," The girl whipped around, staring at the tallest of the boys, "You're tallest, get me on your shoulders, Blink, I need the rope." Both boys nodded and walked over to her, Blink handing her the rope.

Mush bent down and helped Blue onto his shoulders, standing up and getting close to the wall. She tried throwing the rope up into the window bars, trying to get it to fall back down over something. When it did, she motion for Mush to set her down and he did. "Alright, which one of you'se is the strongest?" Mush, Blink and another raised their hands.

"Alright, your going to hold the rope still on this end while I climb up the other." The 3 nodded and walked over, grabbing the end of the rope. Blue grabbed the other end and used to Rope to help her scale the wall. When she reached the window, she nodded on it, a unknown kid opened the window. "Is anyone in here go by Radio?" She asked timidly.

The small girl looked sad, looking down. "Radio got real sick and died a few days ago." Blue's breath caught in her throat. She almost let go of the rope, everything slowing down. "T-thank you." Blue nodded and slid down the rope. Everyone's voices were fuzzed and Blue could feel the tears in her eyes. So she ran. She ran faster than she ever had before, faster than she thought she could go.

She ran until her legs gave out under her, right on the Brooklyn Bridge. Uncontrollable sobs ripped from her throat, everything seemed to disappear as she cried. She sobbed so loud she didn't even hear Spots footsteps, not even aware of his presence until he sat by her and puller her into his side. She started to hyperventilate, barely any air in her lungs.

"H-h-He was j-just a b-b-boy!" She subconsciously leaned into Spots comfort. "Hey, Blue, hey, calm down, easy does it." Her loud cries had slowly turned in small sniffles and tear stained cheeks. Spot slowly moved to sit in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. "Now," He brushed his thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear, "Tell me what happened."

"He's gone." She choked out, her hands grabbing at her shirt, "He was to young to d-die. He was 8 Spot, 8! He shouldn't of died at 8! He was gonna become a writer! He was," She choked back another sob, her voice cracking as she spoke, "He was gonna write a book 'bout all of us." The last part came out as a broken whisper, so heartbroken it made his clench.

A small, broken sob left Blue's lips, leaning into Spots touch as he wiped her tears. "Come to my lodge with me. It too late for you to be walkin' back to Queens alone." Too tired to respond, she just simply nodded, eyes already drooping. She didn't say a word when Spot effortlessly pick her up, heading back to the Lodging House.

About half way there, Spot looked down at her to find her peacefully asleep, head resting against Spots chest, the smallest snores escaping her mouth. Spot let out a small chuckle, continuing the long walk back to his Lodging house.

A/n: whew, that was long. Anyways, there's definitely gonna be a part 3 and possibly a part 4, so stick around for that!

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comfortwriting · 3 years

Text

Diamond Flower - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Prompts 25, 28 & 30.

25: “Do you think she’ll like the ring?” He asked sounding nervous.

28: You held the letter close to your heart and blushed, giggling like a little girl.

30: Tiptoeing into your room, admiring you dreaming away, he placed your presents at the end of the bed and left.

About: The reader hates her birthday and Fred wants to change that.

Warnings: food and eating, death of y/n’s mother during birth.

Sitting down at the dinner table with the rest of your boyfriends family, you looked around the kitchen to see where he and his twin were, Molly muttered under her breath in annoyance and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Where are they! those two would be late to their own bloody wedding!” she huffed, passing you the dish of mashed potatoes.

“I’m sure they just got carried away, you know what they’re like” you reassured her, putting the mash on your plate “they’ll be home any minute”

Fred and George went to Diagon Alley for the day, they said they had business plans to handle with the shop being so successful but instead, George was helping his twin look for an engagement ring.

“bit naff proposing on her birthday though, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at different rings.

Fred shook his head walking over to the next cabinet “she hates her birthday and we already talked about this years ago, it would give her a reason to be happy and to celebrate it.”

George spotted a ring with a sparkling ruby, pointing at it “so that's the only reason why you’re proposing then?”

Fred rolled his eyes and slapped his brothers arm, looking at the ring and shaking his head, focusing on the other ones.

“is it fuck, you’re starting to sound like Ron, Georgie.”

Fred stopped in his tracks, picking up the perfect ring, the diamond shaped like a flower. “I’m marrying Y/N because I love her, George.”

Fred tapped on the glass and called out to the saleswoman behind the counter “Can I get this ring please?”

Fred turned to face his brother “I just want the most depressing day of the year for her to be one of the happiest, something for her to be happy about, you know?”

The saleswoman took out her wand and unlocked the cabinet, picking up the ring. “the ring size?”

Fred took out his square piece of paper and handed it to her, the lady smiled and tapped the ring with her wand, changing its size.

All three of them walked back over to the counter, the saleswoman putting it inside a sleek dark blue box.

“but why is she so against her birthday?” George asked, focusing on the ring box.

Fred focused on the ring box too “because her mother died whilst giving birth to her, Y/N blames herself.”

The saleswoman took the gold from Fred and handed him the ring box, him and George walking out back into the evening cold.

“Do you think she’ll like the ring?” He asked sounding nervous.

George nodded “she’ll love it, mate.”

Ron took the dish from you, his mouth full of Yorkshire pudding “there’ll be none left by the time they bet back”

Hermione scowled at him “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Ronald!”

“None of what?” You boyfriend, Fred chimed in, sitting next to you and placing a kiss on your temple.

George followed behind and sat next to Ginny, flashing his mum an apologetic look, muttering that he would explain later.

You loved Sunday roast dinners at the burrow, surrounded by the Weasley family, Angelina, Hermione and Harry, all of you one big family - you missed the presence of Bill and Fleur but the new baby meant they had to take advantage of any shut eye they could get.

Casual talk went across the table, work, work, more work, and you were thankful - at this rate your upcoming birthday would go unnoticed and not mentioned. Unfortunately, a glint of excitement flashed in Molly’s eyes when her focus landed on you.

“Oh Y/N! How could I forget dear!” she beamed, getting out of her seat, swishing her wand collecting all of the empty plates “your birthday in four days, do you have any plans?”

Fred and George shared a nervous glance, Fred’s hands now under the table, playing with his fingers.

Hermione went quiet and flashed you a sympathetic look, she knew how much you hated celebrating your birthday and she felt guilty for not telling Mrs Weasley that you preferred to spend the day alone.

You shook your head, moving back whilst your plate hovered in the air, flying towards the other pile of plates on the worktop “no” you replied, smiling slightly “just going to stay home and catch up on some reading”

Molly waved her hand and shook her head “that's no way to celebrate your birthday! Ginny and I will bake you something special, won’t we?”

Molly walked over to her daughter and stood behind her seat, placing her motherly hands on Ginny’s shoulders. Ginny smiled widely and nodded “of course! been wanting to get more practice for ages!”

You knew if you were to back out now Molly would take it personally, and you didn’t want to hurt her feelings after everything she has done for you since Fred welcomed you into his home five years ago.

You smiled and looked at Fred, his expression slightly sad with a splash of worry “is that okay with you?”

Fred nodded and smiled “it’s your special day, darling.”

You pulled back your quilt and got into bed, pulling the sheets back over your cold legs, Fred leant against the door frame and stared at you for a moment, he walked into the bedroom and got undressed, climbing into bed next to you.

“I’m sorry love, you know what my mum is like” he murmured through a yawn, spooning you.

You nodded and dimed the lights “it’s okay Freddie, she doesn’t know”

The two of you were silent for a moment, Fred slowly placing loving kisses on the back of your neck. You remembered the looks he and George were giving each other over dinner, the low muttering and whispers.

“what were you and George up to?” you asked quietly “you were late to dinner and kept giving each other odd looks.”

Fred didn’t answer, his breath hitched in his throat “uh, we... a trial for one of our new products didn’t go to well” he lied, shuffling slightly.

You knew Fred wasn’t telling the truth, you could always tell when he was lying - but you were too tired to push his buttons and you just wanted the next four days over and done with.

“okay” you yawned, sinking into the mattress, drowning in Fred’s arms and covers “goodnight Freddie”

“goodnight love”

The morning of your birthday, Fred got up bright and early, the shop hours today were altered so he could be home earlier to support you, but with that he needed to be up and out the house earlier too.

Fred put on his coat, nearly ready to set off for work, he got out your presents and a special card in a deep blue envelope that matched the colour of the ring box which he hid behind the photo frame of the two of you at the Yule Ball.

Tiptoeing into your room, admiring you dreaming away, he placed your presents at the end of the bed and left.

Fred couldn’t stop his nerves, between serving customers and stocking the shelves with products he couldn’t help but chew George’s other ear off with his worries.

“what if Y/N says no?”

George shook his head and rolled his eyes “don’t be a plonker, she isn't going to say no, now get those bloody skiving Snackboxes out!”

Once you were able to roll out of bed, you took a bath and tried to stop the guilt from taking over you, opening your presents you were so touched by the beautiful gifts Fred had got you - feeling very grateful and slightly better than you were expecting.

As the day went by, like Fred, you felt more and more nervous, your stomach doing flips and your hands shaking like a tree in the wind - you didn’t know how ready you were for a big cake, all the singing, blowing out the candles, and cheering; but you couldn’t back out, not now.

Dragging yourself into your room, you put on your best dress which sparkled different shades of purple in different lights, and you put on your favourite earrings - a present from Freddie for you first year together.

Hearing a cracking noise, you turned around and gripped your dresser, trying to catch your breath. Fred apparated in front of you with a cheerful expression on his face, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“you look gorgeous, Y/N.” he kissed your head, pulling away from the embrace.

Fred was already dressed in his smart suit, he kept turning his head and looking over the the living room.

“do you hear that?” he asked you, walking out of the bedroom.

You shook your head “no, what is it?” and followed him into the living room.

Fred stood in front of the same picture frame on the wall, staring at the two of you smiling in your best outfits on Christmas Day.

“you shook see what's behind it, love.”

You looked into Fred’s eyes and knitted your eyebrows together, a rare smirk spreading across your face. “no funny business” you warned him, chuckling slightly.

Walking over to the picture frame and pulling it out from the wall, the dark blue envelope hiding behind it swiftly fell to the floor, landing on your feet. Bending over and picking it up, your name was written across it in silver.

You looked at Fred for a moment, he looked back at you with a nervous look on his face.

“Open it, sweetheart.”

Opening the envelope, you pulled out the letter inside.

You held the letter close to your heart and blushed, giggling like a little girl.

Fred knew how much you loved his love letters, the two of you used to write back and forth whenever you were apart.

You pulled the letter away from your heart and started to read:

Dear Y/N,

Words can’t ever explain or describe how much I love you, how much I adore you, what you and your smile does to me and my heart. You are perfect, you are my sunshine on a cloudy day, you’re my liquid luck.

I know this day is never easy for you, but please know it wasn’t and never will be your fault.

I feel so blessed to have you in my life and I don’t ever want to experience a life without you - I know I’m stupid sometimes with all the pranks and being the hilarious one in the relationship, but you are my everything and you keep me grounded, you make this house feel like a home.

Please put down the letter and say yes.

- Freddie.

Moving the letter out of your view, your jaw dropped and tears of happiness instantly pricked your eyes and filling them. In front of you, Fred got down on one knee and looked up at you, holding out a beautiful engagement ring, the diamond in the shape of your favourite flower.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N, my liquid luck, my everything - will you marry me?”

Putting your hands over your mouth you nodded your head, blinking away the tears “yes! I will Freddie!”

Fred got up, tears in his eyes too and placed the stunning ring on your finger, pulling you into his arms and sharing a long and special kiss.

Blowing out the candles on your toffee cake, everyone in the burrow cheered, George flashing Fred a huge smile once he saw the ring on your finger.

Cutting the cake into slices and putting each slice on the duck egg blue plates, you handed Molly her slice of cake, her eyes widening when she spotted the ring. Leaping out of her chair, she pulled you into a tight hug, tears in her eyes matching yours and Fred's.

“Oh everyone, look!” she gabbed your hand, making you show off the beautiful ring “Fred and Y/N are engaged!”

Looking into the eyes of your future husband, you smiled and mouthed “best birthday ever”

Taglist: @reeophidian @amourtentiaa @inglourious-imagines

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic #imagines #oneshots #fanfic #fanfiction

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 3 years

Text

Best Friends Forever

[Gif credit to @cutie-kisses]

Square: Friends to Lovers ( @supernatural-jackles Tell me a story bingo)

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: None but Fluff. Pure, perfect Fluff.

Summary: The reader visits Jensen again to share with him some good news, and he takes one massive leap of faith.

Word Count: 1,186

Bingo Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: This is a sequel to You Do You. Hope you enjoy!

She walked onto set wearing a proud smile, she couldn’t wait to tell him the news she has already shared with her friends and family.

Sure she had a day job that helped make ends meet. Paying her bills, giving her a roof over her head, meals in her belly. But she also did what she loved to do.

Creating. Storytelling. She enjoyed writing, drawing, even using Illustrator and Photoshop to help create posters, covers and other pieces of art for her writings.

She shared her creations with her friend Jensen, and when he encouraged her to share her works online, she was hesitant at first, but she took his word for it and went ahead and shared her work.

And it turns out he was not wrong. One of her creations captured the interest of one of Jensen’s coworkers on set, a producer.

She walked into the studio where the bunker was built in.

“We all know how this ends, one of us dies!”

She heard them working on a scene.

She stayed behind the cameras with everyone, watching her friends working on what looks like a tough scene.

“Cut!” shouted the director. “Alright, that’s good for today.”

Everyone worked at cleaning up the set. She walked around to head towards the bunker library.

“Guess who’s back, back again!” she sang out.

“HEY! Y/N!” Jared cheered. Walking up to her to give her a hug. His large frame practically engulfing her.

“Hi moose, working hard today?” she asks.

“You know it.”

“Hey what brings you to Vancouver? Everything okay?” Jensen asked.

“Yeah, I just worked my last two weeks at my other job and now I’m here working on my project.”

“They accepted it?” Jensen asked, growing excited.

“They sure did. I start filming with Dabb on Season 9 next year.”

“I knew it!” Jensen cheered. Engulfing her in a hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around.

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart, I knew you could do it.”

“Well, I showed the right people. And I can’t wait.”

“We should celebrate tonight, meet up here at 7?”

“See you then Ackles.”

Jared and Jensen stood by their SUV by the studio as they waited for Y/N.

Their watches reading 7:05.

“I’m here! I’m here!” she shouts as she ran up to them from a cabby that dropped her off by set.

“I was wondering where you went off to?” Jared asked.

“Yeah, I don’t have a car, my insurance doesn’t cover for a rental vehicle so…I’m carless.”

“Well, we’re not going far. There’s a restaurant not far from your hotel that I have some reservations.”

“And I may duck out after a little bit, I have a flight back to Austin tonight.” Jared says.

“When’s your flight?” y/n asked.

“It leaves a 9.”

“Jare, go. You got to give yourself 2 hours to get to the airport and check in, so you don’t lose your spot. We can get together in Austin when I get back.” Jensen says.

“You sure?” Jared asks.

“Jared, it’s good. I don’t want you to miss your flight. Go, I’ll see you around soon.” y/n adds.

“Okay, I’ll see you guys then. Congrats again Y/N!” Jared says, going to his SUV and leaving set to go catch his flight.

“You ready to go?” Jensen asked.

“I’m ready.”

At the restaurant, they had already had their appetizer and some wine.

“How have your folks taken to your new job?”

“They’re proud either way, but not at all impressed that I had to quit my job. My boss couldn’t hold my position while I work on season 9. Besides, Dabb and Bob both loved how I write Dean and his little love interest, they think it’ll add a great human element into the show and into Dean’s character.”

“That they’re right on. But being a writer in this business is not at all bad. You’re always working, and being a writer for Dabb or even Bob, they’ll pay you accordingly to your job, hours and what not.”

“Benefits though?”

“You are covered, you can ask him yourself. We all are.”

“Nice. Not just the writers, cast and crew are covered too?”

“That’s right, the production company has to offer benefits so there’s no liability. If someone were to get seriously hurt on set or something like that.”

“Awesome.” She says while she nods.

Jensen saw the waiter coming with their food, she followed his gaze and saw their food as well and readied for dinner.

“I also have been meaning to ask you something.”

“What’s up?” she says.

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“What is it Jay?”

“I like you, like really like you. More than a friend like you. I think ever since you came to me the other day, upset, you were cuddling into me like you were, was the best night of my life. That I got to help the girl I love.”

She was taken aback that Jensen just said he loved her.

“And I’ve been meaning to ask you out, I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or scare you off.”

“I love you too Jay, I’ve been meaning to do the same, I just didn’t want to ruin the friendship we have. I mean, I am still a fan of yours.”

“You may be my fan, but your not like other fans.”

She nodded, with a shy smile.

“Is this actually happening?” she asks, the smile unable to leave her face.

“It is, I love you sweetheart.” Jensen says, reaching across the table to hold her hand giving a reassuring squeeze. She returned the same squeeze. Her smile growing wider across her face. Her cheeks heat up as she shied her face away.

He kissed her hand, placing his other hand over her hand.

“I’m so proud of you baby, I can’t wait to work with you in Season 9.”

“Same here Jay.”

“Lets eat up before the food gets cold.”

He took her back to his apartment after dinner.

They got changed into more comfortable clothes as they sat on the couch watching TV.

She snuggled into Jensen’s side; he wrapped an arm around her holding her close.

“You know, Jay, now thinking of this, we may be boyfriend and girlfriend now, and being best friends, we’re now best friends forever.”

He smiles with a chuckle. “Yeah, best friends forever.”

“I’ve always wanted a boyfriend that can also be my best friend. I’m glad it’s you.” She adds.

“Same here sweetheart.” He says, pecking a gentle kiss atop her head.

She snuggled into him more, wrapping her arms around his middle.

At some point in the night as they sat and watched movies on Netflix back-to-back, she looked up at him from where she sat snuggled into his side. He met her gaze.

She saw his forest green eyes, and her eyes trailed down to his perfect lips.

He leaned in, looking at her lips as well, and their lips met in a sweet and loving kiss.

Best Friends make the best partners to have in life.

Jensen Girls:

@luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @jayankles, @jeaniespiehs20, @akshi8278, @lyarr24, @moonlight-on-her-skin, @backseat-of-deans-67chevy, @salt-n-burn-em-all

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/21/2021

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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

Text

SMELLS LIKE QUARAN-NEROKIRI SPIRIT

Nero/Kyrie

“In quarantine, Nero and Kyrie spend time together.”

Rodeo’s Two Pieces:

First time writing for Nero/Kyrie. Tread lightly with my take of their dynamic.

(I)- Dalgona Coffee and Cookies.

Despite how everything was shut down and the grocery was found vacant of basic necessities, Nero was grateful to at least be with someone he loved the most.

“Look, we probably need some time off from kickin’ demon ass anyways,” Nico explained, smoking a cigarette during the video chat.

“Yeah, not like demons care about being six feet away. People don’t even do that.” Nero looked at himself in the little square in the corner of his phone. Clad in a grey hoodie, he hadn’t even bothered putting on anything over his boxers. No one had come to visit since the mandate to stay inside, what was the point?

Nico was in her garage again, from what he could see in the camera view. Cigarettes and old cups of coffee littered her desk, warbled country music playing off-view.

“Who knows, maybe I’ll make something to fix that. I was thinking a mask-gun, rapid-fire reloading.”

“Artisan of Arms, huh?” Nero laughed, getting up from his bed.

“You fuckin’ bet. Now I gotta go. Got some things to weld.”

“See ya, Nico. Stay safe, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gave a peace sign before pressing “end video call.”

The video chat ended and Nero tucked his phone into his pocket. Even banter just wasn’t the same virtually.

“Who was that? Nico?” Nero made it down the hallway to see Kyrie, bustling about getting things from the cupboards.

“Yeah, still building stuff as usual.”

Kyrie had been in their apartment’s kitchen, deciding to try her hand at some recipes she saw online. A bag of flour, too many bowls, and more chocolate than Nero remembered buying, all laid out on the table.

Just when he wanted something to eat, he’d have to wait or his girlfriend would practically make enough to feed an army and be surprised when he didn’t want anymore.

He opted for a cup of water instead.

Nero admired her hair, how it looked when it wasn’t in a ponytail, how it sat perfectly on her shoulders. Seeing how she started to measure some ingredients, he took the hair tie on his wrist, careful fingers bringing it into a low ponytail.

“Oh, thank you.” She commented, opening her booklet of recipes she had handwritten. Neat, slanted cursive in a smattering of blue, red, and black read out recipes for cookies, cakes, and bread.

“You look busy, planning to make all of those?” Nero rested his chin on her shoulder, shrouding her with warmth.

“Well, I don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck at home, might as well try some recipes out. Maybe we can deliver some to the orphanage.”

“That is if I don’t eat all your prototypes first.” She laughed, birdsong to Nero’s ears.

“As long as you help me I don’t mind if you do.” Kyrie handed him a measuring cup. Nero sighed, taking it. He always lost count of how many cups of flour he was supposed to put in the bowl.

A jar of porous dough caught his eye as he sifted some baking soda in his white mixture. He took it from Kyrie’s side of the island.

“Whoa, what is this? A science experiment?” Kyrie chuckled, watching Nero scrutinize the date on the white tape to the top of the mason jar.

“No, it’s a sourdough starter! It’s basically wild yeast. We can make bread with it since people bought out all the dry yeast in the grocery store.”

Nero shook it with curiosity and then opened the silver lid, making an “eh” face at the smell.

“It’s yeast alright.”

Kyrie continued whipping up the sugar and butter mixture, Nero helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips.

“Have you talked to your uncle and father? They must be staying at the shop in Redgrave.”

Nero shrugged.

“Most likely, I haven’t talked to them yet. Dante probably didn’t pay the phone bill and Vergil doesn’t know how to use the phone anyways.”

“Let’s just hope they’re getting along during this time.”

Nero thought back to all the “family outings” he had since his uncle and father returned from hell, mostly just jobs becoming contests of strength that turned to friendly family fights. Endless banter and elbowing.

Honestly, compared to that, standing next to his girlfriend while they shaped cookies for the oven was heaven.

Once the chocolate chip cookie dough was done baking, Kyrie insisted they make some whipped coffee while they cooled.

“I thought you didn’t like coffee, Kyrie.” She stooped down to find something in the lower cabinets. A robotic hand that was colored dark blue and black, his old Devil Bringer, appeared with a tiny whisk duct-taped to it.

“Yeah, but that TikTok made it look so good.” Nero handed her the glass container of instant coffee.

Turning on the Devil Bringer, the tiny whisk spun to life, rapidly mixing sugar, coffee, and water together. With her back turned, Nero popped a thing of cookie dough in his mouth.

“Honestly, Nico should have patented these Devil Bringers, make a bunch of money, and maybe she’d stop trying to rip me off all those times.”

“Support local businesses, Nero.”

He looked over her shoulder, surprised at how an abysmal brown mixture had become fluffy and thrice its previous volume.

Two cups of milk poured, the practically instantly whipped coffee laid on top like a decadent Mount Everest next to a still-warm plate of cookies.

“Cheers!” Kyrie clinked glasses with him, stirring her mug vigorously with a spoon. He copied her, taking a sip of surprisingly light and sweet coffee.

When he lowered his cup, Nero both revealed to the world a mustache of whipped coffee.

Kyrie snorted into her cup, covering her mouth as she bit back a laugh. Embarrassed, Nero went to wipe it off when Kyrie pecked him on the lips. She drew back to reveal an imprint of the ‘stache on her own upper lip.

“We match now.” Kyrie giggled, helping herself to another gooey cookie.

Half a plate of cookies and two mugs properly drained of its contents, Kyrie and Nero loaded up the dishwasher to do the work.

“This is coffee, why am I tired?” Kyrie yawned.

The couch was this god-awful IKEA purchase that took hours for Nero to just figure out what the instructions meant. But right now, it perfectly supported both of them while they slept away their food coma.

(II)- Curl Up And Dye.

After the second time the mandate got lengthened, Nero could sense that Kyrie was starting to wane in her ever-positive attitude. The news had nothing good to say, and the number of shows they had binged left them indifferent to watching anything more.

They did a lot of singing during quarantine, Kyrie always being the musical one. Evanescence was one of their favorites to sing together, Nero’s guitar skills and Kyrie’s ability to hit those high notes left many memorable nights of laughter.

After a while, Kyrie began to just sit on the couch a lot and have Nero pay her company.

“What’s wrong?” Kyrie sighed heavily, curling into Nero’s hoodie as he opted to stay shirtless.

“I don’t know Nero, it just feels like everything is the same. We go through the same things every day and I just feel...trapped.”

Nero kissed the nape of her neck, humming in agreement.

“Look, I’m usually the one going to you for stuff like this but...it will get better. It’s been a really hard time for all of us, and we’re just watching everything go downhill. It’s not a good situation but, you got me. Always. And there’s still a lot of things we can change up if that helps.” He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, feeling her take a deep breath.

“You’re right Nero. That really did help. Thank you for listening.”

“Of course.”

While he scrolled on his own phone, he didn’t heed all the things Kyrie was watching. She touched her own long hair, seeing the way other people recorded their own home-salon trims.

“Things to change, huh?” She mumbled.

So here they were now.

“It looks so bad!” Kyrie exclaimed, her face in her hands, hair on the bathroom sink. Nero shook his head.

“No it’s not, Kyrie! You look fine, just let me fix it!” In the mirror, Nero cringed at the way her hair was ridiculously over-layered.

“Um, what did you try to do-”

“Curtain bangs! Oh Nero, I shouldn’t have tried to change up my hair!” Kyrie was thoroughly upset, seeing how her bout of bravery lead to her bangs being mauled by her own hands.

Nero hugged her, noting that she had been wearing his shirt while she trimmed her hair.

Okay that shirt’s gonna itch for a while until all the hair comes out.

“It’s okay, let me see if I can fix it.” Kyrie blushed in the mirror, groaning at how bad her hair was cut.

“There’s no way you could make it worse than what I did.”

Nero gingerly took the scissors Kyrie put in the sink, a little bit too small for his hands but good enough. Although he was no stylist, he could tell where Kyrie had either cut too much off or unevenly.

Eventually, they did manage to cut it in a way that hid the previous mistakes. Kyrie took another deep breath.

“I shouldn’t have been so impulsive.” She murmured, arms crossed.

Nero chuckled at her rare emotional outburst. He was glad to have been able to be there for her. She always hid how she felt, helping others her way of expressing herself. Now with no one around but him, he totally understood that she felt helpless.

No one liked being helpless.

He kissed her cheek and a lightbulb went off in his head.

“You wanna dye my hair?” Kyrie turned around in surprise.

“What?”

“I mean, who knows how long this shutdown is gonna be, it’ll be fun,” Kyrie noted how Nero had forgone shaving, his peach fuzz becoming something more.

Honest blue eyes peered at her, wondering what she would think. Her surprise softened to a sort of relief in their solidarity.

“What color, Nero?”

“Neon green-”

“Nico’s going to make fun of you.” Kyrie giggled. Nero shrugged nonchalantly.

“I don’t mind it.”

(III)- Can’t Get Out Of It, Get Into It.

“Nero, you look so fucking ridiculous.”

“Shut up, Dante.”

His uncle finally managed to figure out how to work the virtual chat on his fossil of a computer, and Nero was already prepared to end the call.

His father sat slightly off-camera, not in the mood to entertain Dante’s antics to ridicule his son. Although, he did look oddly radioactive with his washed-out green hair and strong quarter-past five o’clock shadow.

“Quarantine did not do you a favor, good lord,” Dante commented, kicking his feet up on his desk. Nero flipped him off.

“Good to know you’re still living in shambles, not surprised neither of you cleaned up after yourselves.” The number of bottles on the floor was a travesty and the couch littered with poetry books Vergil had slowly begun to hoard.

Nico entered the zoom call, smoking another cigarette Nero was lucky to not have to smell.

“Nice broccoli head.”

Nero flipped her off as well. Kyrie came into view, smiling at her boyfriend’s family and their shared friends. Nero decided to get a drink, clicking a few buttons before letting Kyrie have the seat.

As they discussed how the business would continue with Devil May Cry, Kyrie sat next to Nero.

It was mainly business, until it got to a certain line that Dante said.

“I don’t know, it just feels like things are just going to keep staying like this. Hate to break it to you Nero, but it’s going to be tough for a while.”

Kyrie finally heard enough, scooching Nero aside so she could talk.

“Kyrie, wait-”

“We’re going to get past this. As long as humanity still keeps coming together for the sake of benefiting each other, and we keep working to make sure to keep safe, we will get past this. We just have to keep hoping, and sure, hoping isn’t always going to make you feel better. I would know. But in a time where we do feel helpless, we should connect with other people in a different way. That’s why we succeed, we keep moving, we keep adapting! And hope, hope keeps that going.”

Kyrie took a long breath. Looking at the dumbfounded group, she waited for a response.

“Um, Kyrie. You were muted.” Nero finally said. Kyrie realized her blunder and how Nero’s hand was attempting to unmute them.

“Oh.” Kyrie flushed, looking embarrassed.

“I have no idea what you just said, but that’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, that was so awkward.”

“Don’t worry yourself, Kyrie. I bet it was real sweet whatever you had to say,” Nico assured.

The zoom call was full of laughter since, a business call turned to a time to discuss how each person was doing.

Dante and Vergil had spent days and nights sparring, Vergil learning more about humanity from Dante, and “making their own pizzas.”

Nico had continued welding and making weapons for her own curiosity rather than based off of commission-based instructions. The van finally had the vinyl player fixed and she apparently gave herself a stick-and-poke.

“So what did you two love birds do?” Nico asked, lighting another cancer stick.

Nero and Kyrie looked at each other, smiling at their shared memories of this strange period in human history.

“Where do we even start?” Kyrie said, thinking of all the days and nights that seemed to breeze by and also slowly progress.

Nero ruffled his longer messy green hair, Kyrie tucking her curtain bangs behind her ear. As they were two peas in the pod, Nero had decided to get another set of gray sweats for Kyrie, matching finally.

Kyrie bit into a cookie, offering Nero some.

“Smells like quarantine spirit, huh?” Dante finger-gunned.

Nero chuckled.

“Hell yeah.”

#nirvana and dominic fike reference?#nirvana and dominic fike reference #not much vergil in this work i do not care for the man today #nero x kyrie #nerokiri #devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #nero sparda #kyrie #dmc kyrie #dante sparda #vergil sparda #nicoletta goldstein

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sparkkeyper · 3 years

Text

Variations on a Theme

I’ve been working on this one for a while and finally managed to finish it up for the Ace Omens discord prompt - Dancing.

The music I had on repeat while writing the second half was “So Close” from Enchanted. I like to imagine the record they end up with is one of those piano-only arrangements of it.

Also, you can’t tell me that Crowley didn’t jam to every Top 40 since music charts were invented.

(Now on AO3!)

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

"You mean you've only danced the gavotte?"

Crowley's sunglasses were barely hanging on to his nose as it was, what with the both of them being several drinks into their first bottle of the night. It didn't take many to banish the glasses these days, not when the pair of them were nestled comfortably in the back room of the bookshop, the failed Armageddon several weeks behind them. The demon stared incredulously over the tinted lenses as Aziraphale straightened from where he had begun to slouch with his wine.

"And why is that such a surprise? Angels don't usually dance at all."

"Yeah but you're not a 'usually' angel, you're you!" Crowley waved a hand wildly but did his glasses the mercy of setting them on the end table before they could fall. "You like the...the singing and the harmonizing and stuff. Humans have been moving to music since the Beginning and you really never, ever wanted to learn?"

"I did learn," the angel pointed out.

"Never wanted to learn more than the one?" Crowley amended. "Just the one in six thousand years?"

"It just didn't strike me as something I wanted to try," Aziraphale shrugged and refilled his wine glass. "The humans seemed to enjoy it sure enough, but it looked like such a hassle to attempt."

"A hassle!" Crowley threw his head back and grabbed his hair, and goodness did Aziraphale love to watch him wax dramatic when embroiled in a topic he was passionate about. "Dancing a hassle! Dancing a ha- It's not a job, angel, it's for fun!"

"Yes but in order for one to dance well, one must put in a certain amount of work."

"It's not about dancing well, it's about letting loose." Crowley rolled his eyes, stalking over to the angel's record collection next to the gramophone. "Unless you're in a professional stage company, you're not required to dance well."

"Somehow that sentiment isn't the least bit surprising coming from you."

"Oi, I'll have you know I'm an excellent dancer even though I'm not required to be. Come on, there's got to be something in here you can dance to."

"I don't know the proper steps to anything else."

"Bah, steps!" Crowley waved him off. "Don't need steps. Just make it up."

"I most certainly cannot."

"You most certainly can so. Oh for Satan's sake-" Crowley gave up his hunt and snapped, materializing a record in the gramophone and giving the handle a few solid cranks. "There we go!" His shoulders began moving to a heavy clapping beat that had definitely never been released on 78.

He turned back to Aziraphale, a grin on his face as his hips twitched to the music. "No steps, see? Just freestyle it. Come on, off the sofa, let's see it."

"This hit, that ice cold,

Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold,

This one for them hood girls,

Them good girls, straight masterpieces-"

He made a get-up gesture and Aziraphale rose uncertainly. "I really don't think I know what to do with this-"

"Don't have to, that's the best part. Just move to the beat. "

Aziraphale tried to imitate his friend, he really did, but there was no pattern to follow. One moment the movement was in Crowley's shoulders, the next it was in his hips, and now his feet were acting out a stomp-like rhythm on the carpet. It was a fascinating thing to watch, how dancing seemed to take over his entire corporation. With the gavotte, one's back remained quite straight. There was a level of control and skill to it that Aziraphale had greatly enjoyed: maintaining some parts of yourself in position while moving others. But with Crowley's dancing, the entire line of his body twisted and flowed. A movement that started in his neck might end in an arm, or maybe it would travel up one leg and come back down the other. He made it look effortless, like it took no thought at all.

"I'm too hot! Hot damn!

Call the police and the fireman.

I'm too hot! Hot damn!

Make a dragon wanna retire, man-"

The demon's eyes flicked over his stilted attempts to copy the motions and Aziraphale watched him bite back a smirk. "No, angel?"

"Perhaps it's this century's music - goodness, there's not much melody, is there? - but I really don't understand this sort of dancing."

"Not much to understand, really, but here. We'll step it back a few decades." He snapped again and a new record appeared in his hand, which was quickly swapped out for the one on the gramophone.

Crowley snapped his fingers to the beat, hips moving in time. "Oh, don't give me that look. You can't possibly dislike Bill Haley and His Comets."

"One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock, rock.

Five, six, seven o'clock, eight o'clock, rock.

Nine, ten, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, rock.

We're gonna rock! Around! The clock tonight!

Put your glad rags on and join me, hon',

We'll have some fun when the clock strikes one-"

"It's not that I dislike it..." Aziraphale did his best to imitate the hip thing, and the demon's stifled snort told him exactly how unsuccessful he was at it. "I just don't...connect with this style of dance, I suppose. That's the only way I know how to put it."

"So try your own style. It's not a right and wrong, it's just whatever motion speaks to you." Crowley threw his torso into a shimmy and goodness, what were his knees even doing? Aziraphale gave up trying to copy any of it.

"That's just it! Motions don't 'speak to me'. Dancing isn't...isn't...aimlessly gyrating! It's about form and style - about using form and style to bring the music to life. There's a language to it the same way there's a language to literature. Every kick and dip and bow means something and it's all spoken into being through movement! But there needs to be a form in order for that to happen."

"No no, that's the problem! That's so limiting! So much of the universe is already made up of forms and rules!" Crowley threw his hands up to encompass the heavens. "Laws and etiquette and physics, everywhere! Inescapable! Dancing is freedom! Music is emotion distilled down into pure audio form precisely so you can do what you want with it! How does it make you feel? What does it make you want? You take it and you process it and you feel it and move however it moves you! It's speaking, yes, but in a way no one else has control over! The thing about dancing is you get to be purely you, no matter what anybody else wants."

"I already am me," Aziraphale insisted. "And I like knowing what movement comes next. I like having straightforward expectations to fulfill. That's what's satisfying - completing the steps and knowing you've gotten them right!"

The moment stretched out between them as they both let this soak in. Somewhere along the way, the gramophone had made the executive decision to go silent.

"Certainly can't fault you for that," Crowley said slowly. "Preferring a solid plan. Expectations outlined and all. It's very you."

"Nor, I suppose, could I fault you for preferring more freedom in your movement. You've always had a penchant for finding new ways to express yourself. What with the clothes and the hair and all." Aziraphale fidgeted with the corner of his waistcoat absently. "It suits you, it really does. But not me. If that were my only option, I'd rather not dance at all." He shook himself with a tiny smile and sat back in his armchair. "Ah well. I had a good run with the gavotte, anyway. Got a few good decades out of it."

Crowley pursed his lips for a few moments, then switched the record again to fill the room with a smooth piano. "Can't have that, though, can we? One dance goes out of style and you're done? I don't think so. Come on, angel, get back up." He made a come-here motion until Aziraphale stood again.

"Look, I'm really not-"

"You want defined steps? I'll give you defined steps."

Aziraphale paused, considering. "What sort is it?"

"Easy one. Simple, can use it for a lot of dances. Waltz, foxtrot, all kinds of things."

Aziraphale chewed on his lip. He wasn't anxious to make a fool of himself stumbling over a completely unfamiliar style. But goodness, he missed dancing.

Crowley held out a hand to him. It was a hesitant thing, far enough out to be an offering but close enough in to be passed off as a casual gesture if it went unaccepted.

Aziraphale braced himself and accepted it. "Right. So how does this work?"

"Easy. Here, I'll lead. So you just - hand here... Other hand here..." Crowley positioned Aziraphale's right hand on his shoulder and loosely grasped his left. They stood like that together for a moment, a good distance apart so the angel could look down at his shoes. "And I step like this..." Crowley moved one foot forward. "So you step backwards to match me. Go on, then."

Aziraphale stepped as instructed.

"Right. And then I move here -" His other foot came forward and to the side - "And yours comes back and over along the same route. Yep. Now feet together, like they were at the start. Good?"

Aziraphale made certain he had his balance and nodded.

"Good. Now I step back, like you did, and you come forward this time... No no, leave your other foot there. Right. Now bring your other foot forward as mine comes back and over. Just stepping in a big square, that's all we're doing. And feet back at the start. Make sense?"

Aziraphale pulled in a deep breath. "Simple enough in theory."

"Here, we'll try it again. Back-two. Side-two. Forward-two. Side-two...that's right. Now we just add a bit of a turn to it and that's all it is. Like this... Back-two, side-two-"

Aziraphale clutched at him as they worked their way around the room to the music. (The furniture wisely backed itself up to give them space, twisting physics occasionally to avoid being tripped over.) The problem wasn't the steps, exactly. It was combining the steps with everything else: holding tight to Crowley to keep his balance while still trying to keep enough distance to give his legs room to work, figuring out which foot to have his weight on and when, incorporating the dratted turn into the rest of it, moving precisely in time with Crowley so that they didn't step on each other.

Humans had so many pieces to keep track of. So many parts moving a specific distance at the same time. He'd been in this corporation for thousands of years and usually had an excellent handle on how it operated, but that only made new movement patterns more difficult to master. It took so much work for him to commit such things to muscle memory. Each misstep threw his rhythm off and dammit, there, he was so close to overbalancing them both -

But Crowley kept him in place.

Crowley's palm rested just under his right shoulder blade, guiding the motion of his body through space. Holding him so steady even when he felt himself floundering. Wasn't that always the way? he thought distantly, eyes trained on his feet. Even after stepping repeatedly on the demon's toes (and heels, and instep, and in one spectacular fumble the back of his left knee) Crowley was a solid anchor keeping him upright.

Dancing of any variety did not come naturally to Aziraphale. Angels were built to be sturdy, immovable. It had taken him ages to make any headway at all with the gavotte. But Crowley didn't seem to mind. He chuckled a bit when Aziraphale stepped too early. He murmured advice, a smile on his lips. And his eyes sparkled. Goodness, how they sparkled.

Letting the music wash over him, Aziraphale put his trust in Crowley. Let the demon guide him here in their own little circle. Slowly, slowly, he was getting the hang of the steps - treading on toes less at any rate. It was nice, dancing like this, it really was...

And then Crowley spun him.

He didn't realize what was happening until it was practically over. The motion of Crowley's arm coming up and turning guided his whole body smoothly around and he clicked back into place against the demon like he was never meant to be anywhere else.

Aziraphale's feet faltered to a stop, eyes wide and all steps forgotten.

Crowley froze with him. "Too much?" he asked quietly.

"I - I..." Aziraphale felt like he was still spinning, heart beating entirely too fast. "I don't..."

"Too much," Crowley answered himself, releasing his hold and taking a step back. "Thought I might try mixing it up, but I misjudged. Won't do it again."

"Mixing it...oh. Of course." Aziraphale looked down at the space between them. It was barely two feet but it suddenly seemed so much farther. "This is holding you back, isn't it? This repetitive step. You'd much rather be improvising."

"I...well I didn't say that..."

"Like you said before. You'd prefer to let the music move you rather than be limited to a predetermined pattern. I can understand that even if I can't relate. You shouldn't be beholden to this."

"It's good," Crowley blurted out, making the angel pause. "For music like this. The down-tempo, largo stuff. This is a good way to dance to it. I like it." He swallowed hard and tried for a nonchalant shrug. "I mean, don't ask me to dance like this to Uptown Funk but for this style it's...y'know. It's good."

"Right. Good." Aziraphale fidgeted, hands feeling incredibly empty. "I admit, I'm very much out of my depth here. Angels don't... I don't know what I'm doing.”

"We can stop. No sense pushing it."

"I didn't say... I'll get used to it."

"You don't have to get used to anything you don't want to." Crowley made to step back but Aziraphale, in an instant of panic, stepped forward after him.

"I want to!"

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft piano. Crowley stood frozen, as though his next movement required the most careful consideration of his life.

Aziraphale steeled himself and raised his hands back to their dancing positions. "Please."

The demon looked over the two of them and very hesitantly replaced his hands, as though doing so might scare the angel off.

They stood there for a long time. Not moving, just holding on to each other with the breathless tension of men on the gallows, waiting for the trap door to open beneath them.

Aziraphale pulled in a deep, steadying breath. "I'm afraid it's going to take a long time for me to get this right. All of this. I'm not very good at this sort of thing when I don't know the steps."

"Take all the time you need," Crowley replied softly. "I'm just sort of making it up as I go, honestly."

"It might be very long. I can't improvise as easily as you can."

"I wouldn't expect you to." The demon tightened his grip ever so slightly and Aziraphale suddenly couldn't conceive of pulling away. "No spinning, promise."

"I - I didn't say that." Fingers itched to trace a familiar nervous pattern - straighten bowtie, adjust waistcoat. They tightened in Crowley's hands instead. "Just...warn me before you do. Let me prepare."

"I can do that, yeah." The demon held him so carefully, as though giving him every chance to break away, and started them off into their pattern once more.

The hesitant grip grew more sure with each rotation around the room, and it was impossible to tell if it was one or both of them. Each successful round of the sequence made Aziraphale feel a little bolder. It was the reassurance of a task set and completed: the very ancient satisfaction of expectations met. That desire had been ingrained in his bones since bones were invented and in a way it calmed him. There was so much he suddenly felt unprepared for but at least he could do this.

He wasn’t successful every time, of course. He still fumbled, still trod on snakeskin shoes. But the guiding hand was back under his shoulder blade and God, did it make a world of difference. It stayed with him through each failed attempt and carried him through to try again. Any wrong positioning of his legs seemed less important when he was sure Crowley would keep him where he needed to be.

He could see the tension draining from the demon as well. The sense that he was holding something fragile and afraid to break it was melting slowly back into the confident strides Aziraphale had seen from the start. The lines of motion flowed through him the way they had earlier, though more predictably at present. He was still amazing to watch, all moving lines and sharp joints. Aziraphale blamed more than one stagger on it.

"All right if I spin you?"

The angel braced himself. "All right."

"'Kay. Three, two-" Crowley twirled him again and for a single, dazzling moment it felt like flying. It felt free and easy and the most natural thing in the world -

And then he stumbled over his own feet coming back in and nearly collapsed against the demon's chest and drat, now he'd lost all the steps-

"Forward-two, right-two, back-two, you've got it, come on, forward-two -"

Aziraphale clung to the instructions and managed to get back on track within an eight-count, concentrating fiercely on the movements of their feet together.

"That's what I'm talking about. Look at you. Angel dancing something other than the gavotte. Who would have thought, eh?"

"Who indeed." There was a warm fluttering in his chest. So much to keep track of with these human bodies.

He was still going to need a lot of time and a lot of practice. He had a feeling there was a lot of unknown territory ahead regarding the two of them.

But he had Crowley to keep him steady. So they’d be all right.

#good omens #good omens fic #my writing #my fic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #dancing #discord prompts #in which aziraphale's attitude towards dancing is my attitude #how does one improvise I do not know #obsessed with these two figuring out how to be soft with each other

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